WindBeliever (22 page)

The Princess Sybelle watched the color drain from the Serenian’s face, his jaw clench and she lifted one delicate brow. Her brother had unknowingly struck a nerve, but instead of pressing his advantage as the silence spun out at the table, Sajin turned his attention from Conar McGregor and said something soft and gentle to the Tzarevna, but Sybelle did not notice the echoing look of pain on Sajin’s face as he realized what his words had done to the young Serenian Prince.

“Don’t give yourself away, Sajin,” she begged, her thoughts almost immediately intercepted by the Serenian as he glanced at her. She saw raw shame in the man’s keen blue gaze and had to look away, chastising herself for her wayward thoughts. A soft whisper, the seductive caress of her name being called, touched her mind as lightly as the downy softness of a fledgling birth feathers, and she jerked, her notice going straight to Conar McGregor. He was looking at her with understanding. The whisper came again.

“I would never use such knowledge against any man,” it sighed.

Irrational anger flitted through Sybelle’s brain. Her face suffused with sheer fury for she realized not only had the Serenian intercepted, and correctly read, her own thoughts, he read Sajin’s, as well, and, in doing so, had learned a secret her brother had killed to keep. Clenching her hands tightly in her lap, she willed her mind to shut down, her thoughts to cease.

Conar continued to watch the Kensetti Princess for sometime, probing her aura gently, but there was an iron will behind those lovely cinnamon eyes and the door to her subconscious was shut firmly against his intrusion. Conar knew he had made a powerful, deadly enemy in this woman, for having inadvertently discovered her brother’s most intimate secret. Despite his reassurance that he would never use such knowledge against the man, he knew Sybelle Bath-Alkazar did not believe him. From that moment on, he knew he had to tread carefully around WINDBELIEVER

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Sajin’s sister.

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Conar stared across the room at the man standing beside the Tzar. He swept his angry gaze over the man’s thick, curly black hair, let his scrutiny linger on the finely-chiseled face with its dark eyes and thick lashes. He scanned the width of the man’s shoulders, the leanness of his waist, the flatness of his belly, the long, tapering length of his legs, the strength of his hands. He grimaced at the rich, mellow bass of his voice, scowled at the way unselfconscious laughter lit up the dark handsome face. He snorted at the ease with which the man conversed with the Tzar and his sons, tore his gaze away from the eager look on the man’s face whenever Catherine’s name was mentioned.

“There have many suitors for my daughter’s hands,” he heard the Tzar explaining. “But Catherine has yet to meet the man she will accept.”

Watching the younger of the two Steffensberg brothers pouring a liberal amount of brandy into a snifter, Conar’s left brow crooked with surprise when the Kensetti Prince declined the offer of the snifter.

“It is prohibited by my religion,” the man told Mikel.

Conar’s brow lowered and joined the other one in a deep frown.

“No bad habits?” Peter chuckled. “You don’t smoke. You don’t drink. What vice
do
you have, Sajin?”

Sajin Ben-Alkazar threw back his head and laughed. “I gamble now and again, Peter, but not to excess. I lose too much at gambling to try it very often.”

“If the rumors are true,” the Tzar remarked, “you have more money than you know what to do with, anyway. You can afford to lose, probably won’t even notice the money missing from the treasury.”

Sajin shook his head. “I don’t gamble with treasury money, Highness. I have my own money which is paid out to me from the Treasury. It’s a stipend, nothing more, to each member of the royal family.”

“I understand Kensett’s primary income comes from slave trade.”

The Tzar and his sons turned to look at Conar. All three men frowned. Such a remark was rude and socially not discussed. Embarrassed by both the cutting tone with which the Serenian had made the comment and the look of contempt on the young man’s face, the Tzar sought to rectify the faux pas, but was stopped as the Kensetti Prince answered the charge.

“Yes, our income is largely from such enterprises. It has been a way of life for my people for thousands of years.” His expression was neutral, but there was a spark of annoyance in his dark eyes.

“A hell of a way of life for those enslaved,” Conar snapped. “Do you agree?”

Sajin’s mouth tightened. “Yes, I imagine so.”

“So why don’t you change it?”

Peter Steffensberg groaned. He wished with all his heart his father had not wanted Conar to attend this meeting. The Serenian was baiting the Kensetti and, from the look on McGregor’s face, enjoying the discomfort on Ben-Alkazar’s.

“Prince Conar,” Sajin said in a soft, steady voice. “I am the youngest of twelve sons. I have no chance of ever ascending the throne unless some major cataclysmic catastrophe should suddenly rear up to claim my brothers. But I assure you, if I were to ever be given the chance to sit on the throne of Kensett, as you are entitled to sit the throne of Serenia, I would work to alleviate the slave trade. I agree wholeheartedly that it is a terrible, dehumanizing way to live.”

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“Dehumanizing doesn’t even begin to describe it,” Conar ground out.

“I think perhaps you understand better than I what such a life is like,” Sajin answered.

Mikel watched a strange emotion cross the Serenian’s face and looked at his older brother. At Peter’s small shrug of confusion, the younger man glanced at his father and saw the Tzar scowling horribly. He wondered what knowledge the Kensetti had concerning Conar McGregor that his father also seemed to share.

Conar’s jaw clenched against the nomad’s dig, surprised the man knew so much about him and furious that he knew next to nothing about the Kensetti.

“Getting back to Catherine,” the Tzar began only to have Conar cut him off.

“Is it true the men of your country are allowed more than one wife?”

All three Steffensburgs looked at the nomad. Here was a question that needed answering for if the match between Conar McGregor and Catherine could not be made, the next best alliance would be with the house of Alkazar.

Sajin knew what the Serenian Prince was up to. His wide smile told the man he did. As their gazes locked, he could see McGregor wished he had not brought the subject up.

“My eldest brother, Haji, has nine wives, Prince Conar,” he laughed. “That may be why the man’s going bald!”

Recognizing the nomad’s strategy, Conar could not let the matter drop. “And just how many wives do YOU plan to have?”

The Kensetti looked away from the man baiting him and smiled at the Tzar. “I will have only one wife, Your Highness. I hold a commission in our army and it is a position I respect and enjoy. I could not do justice to either my profession or my wife if I had to worry, as Haji does, about which wife I would attend that eve, who’s child was due next or which two or three or four of my wives were feuding. Can you imagine being caught in the middle of such a situation?” He shook his head. “No, I don’t care to have women fighting over me. It will be one wife for me, and I will cherish that wife for the precious jewel she is.”

Conar rolled his eyes to the heavens.

“Catherine is use to having her way,” Mikel commented. “I fear she wouldn’t be a docile mate.”

The Serenian pounced on that.

“Isn’t it true that the women in your emirate must walk ten paces behind the man?” At Sajin’s nod, Conar’s gaze narrowed. “That, to me, seems degrading. In my country women are thought of as our equals. They walk beside us, not behind us.”

A thick black brow shot up. “Then how can you protect her should an enemy attack? If your lady is behind you, your body shields her from harm.”

All three Outer Kingdom men looked to Conar at see how he would counter the challenge.

Conar smiled nastily. “But if she’s behind you, an enemy can grab her and you’d be walking blithely on your way, oblivious to her peril.”

The Tzar and his sons shifted their attention to Sajin.

The Kensetti’s gaze turned cold. “Believe me when I tell you, Prince Conar, no man lays hands on what is mine without my consent. From the moment strange hands were put on my woman, I’d know it and those hands would not be long attached to the arms that tried such a thing.”

Before Conar could growl another comment, the nomad asked a question of his own.

“I understand the women of Serenia are thought of as chattel, that a man can do with her as he pleases, even put her in a nunnery if he so desires to rid himself of her.”

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A quick flare of fury passed over the Serenian’s face. “That was under Tribunal law. It is MY

law that governs Serenia now. My wife was my equal and she always walked beside me.”

“If you should, by some quirk of fate, win an Outer Kingdom woman’s hand and heart while you are visiting here, Prince Conar, would you take her back with you to Serenia?” Sajin asked politely.

Three eager, curious glances leapt to the Serenian.

“Of course,” came the sharp retort. “I would not leave a woman I cared for here. Would you?”

The glances shifted to Ben-Alkazar.

“No, but Kensett is not thousands of miles from here, either. It is a matter of two days journey by boat, six by horse.”

Once more the eager scrutiny passed to Conar McGregor.

“Won’t you be installing your lady in a seraglia?”

Tzar Thomas Steffensberg flinched as his attention, along with his sons, settled on Sajin Ben-Alkazar again.

Sajin frowned, seeing the other man’s ploy, wishing for once that he wasn’t the kind of man who never lied. He shifted his stance from once foot to another and answered with hesitation.

“Yes,

but….”

An expectant hush stopped the breath of the three Outer Kingdom warriors as they quickly looked at the man who interrupted the Kensetti.

“And is it not true no other normal male may enter that velvet prison except you?”

Sajin ground his teeth together as he saw his host and the man’s sons switch their notice to him. He felt like putting his fist through the Serenian’s face, fully understanding what the bastard was implying.

“Well?” Conar scoffed. “Is that not true, Prince Sajin?”

“It isn’t a prison,” Sajin snapped, stalling for time, acutely aware that the inquisitive gazes of the three other men in the room had not left him.

“Can another male other than yourself visit her there whenever he chooses?” Conar pressed the dagger deeper into Ben-Alkazar’s pride.

His answer was a snap of air and he hoped it didn’t sound to other ears as defensive as it did to his own.

“The Tzar and Tzarina are welcome to come any time they like to Khamsin to see Catherine.”

“Khamsin is the province where you live, isn’t it, Sajin?” Peter asked, hoping to forestall any further animosity between the two foreign princes. “I mean, Kharis is the capitol of Kensett, right?”

Sajin nodded, not looking at the young man, but instead glaring at the Serenian, prepared for any further nasty remarks from the man.

“There are five provinces in Kensett,” Conar answered. “Khamsin is the closest to Rysalia.”

The nomad cocked his head to one side in acknowledgement of the Serenian’s acquaintance with Inner Kingdom geography.

“I’m surprised you know anything of my country,” Sajin quipped.

“I knew two Jabolian princes when I was in the Labyrinth,” Conar told him.

“Raman and Nadar Jaleem,” the Kensetti answered. “We heard they died in that foul place.

Their brother mourns them still.”

A faint twist of memory prodded at Conar, but skipped away before he could reach out and WINDBELIEVER

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grasp it.

“Well,” the Tzar said, getting up from his chair, wanting to stop any further questioning. “I think that’s enough for one night. Shall we join the ladies in the drawing room?”

“I would love to,” Sajin replied. He looked at Conar and smiled. “Will you be joining us, Prince McGregor?”

“Count on it!” Conar growled.

“Well, what did you think of him?” Yuri asked Conar as the Shadow-warrior joined the Serenian.

“The bastard is as slippery as an eel and twice as sly.”

Yuri grinned. “And your judgment of him is?”

Conar glared at the nomad who was speaking to the Tzarina. “He’s arrogant. He’s cocksure of himself. He’s use to having things his way, getting what he wants, when he wants it, daring anyone to deny him. I’d say he’s ruthless when he has to be. He doesn’t take opposition well.

Doesn’t bend, won’t break, and can’t be made to do anything he damned well doesn’t want to do.” He snorted at the rich male laughter that came from the Kensetti. “The bastard is sharp, I’ll give him that.”

“We are talking about the same man aren’t we?” Yuri inquired.

McGregor’s brows drew together as he turned to look at Yuri. “Prince Sajin?”

Yuri grinned. “Prince Conar?”

There was a moment of confusion, then a sheepish look settled on the Serenian’s face. He chuckled.

“Did sound a little like me, didn’t it?”

“If the boot fits,” Yuri replied.

Conar glanced over at the nomad and shrugged. “I suppose we do seem to be a lot alike on the surface.”

“Enough to either be the best of friends or the worst of enemies.”

“He’s the best of the lot, so far,” Conar grudgingly admitted.

Yuri sighed. “No, my friend. Not the best.” He stared hard at his companion. “But the man we prefer to ask for Catherine’s hand has not the courage to do so.”

“Courage has nothing to do with it. The woman doesn’t want ....”

“Cat doesn’t know what she wants,” Yuri interrupted. “She needs to be TOLD what she wants and what she needs.”

“She needs her ass whipped is what she needs,” Conar snorted.