Subikahn realized he might miss the trappings of the castle in a vague sort of way, when the cold nights of winter set in, when his clothing became filthy and tattered, or when he slept on a bed of moldering leaves. But the people he loved mattered most.Without his brother, his lover, his father, he was not certain he could last another day.
A tear splashed onto the tabletop, followed by another. Only then, Subikahn realized he was crying. He lowered his head, afraid someone might see him. His mother disdained weakness, as all Renshai did. He had found little to snivel about in Stalmize Castle; and, when he did, his father had always presented a swift distraction. Now, in the depths of his despair, Subikahn was incapable of holding back the tears. He buried his face in his hands and wept.
For once, Subikahn's Renshai instincts failed him. He did not hear another claim the chair beside him until a light hand ran through the silky black strands of his hair. For the moment, he did not care if the other meant him well or ill. Whoever had come could have all the money in his purse, could stuff a knife through his ribs for all he cared. Grief stilled even the deeply embedded desire to live.
Nimble fingers unglued wisps of hair from Subikahn's forehead and brushed them into place. Then, gradually, warm arms enwrapped him, pulling him close. The softness of the clothing, of the chest, told him his quiet comforter was a young woman. She held him in an embrace that radiated warmth and caring, made him feel safe as he once had only with his father. Whether from pity or compassion, she knew how to hold a crying man.
For several moments, they sat this way, him weeping, her embracing. Then, soft lips touched his ear and a voice whispered comfortingly into it, "I'm taking you to your room. I'll have the rest of your meal sent there."
Subikahn did not protest. It seemed best to take him away from where others might see and judge him. Head down, feet shuffling, he allowed her to guide him up the stairs, through a short hallway and into one of the inn rooms. She steered him to the bed, where he sat numbly, uncertain what to do next.
The woman did not suffer from the same uncertainty. She caught him into her arms again, crushing him against her, stroking his hair, muttering words that sounded more like doves cooing than speech. To Subikahn's surprise, he appreciated her efforts. His mother had had her tender moments, and he knew she loved him. Yet, he could not remember her ever clutching him with such sweetness, ever radiating as much caring for his pain. He knew he should feel embarrassed for acting so helpless, so childlike, but strength and words mostly failed him and he managed only, "I'm so sorry."
"Sorry? Sorry for what?" Her closeness muffled her speech.
"Sorry for humiliating myself. And you. Sorry for making a scene in a crowded barroom."
She finally pulled away far enough for Subikahn to look at her. She appeared to be about his age, but world wise, with soft, brown skin and dark eyes that radiated knowledge beyond her years. She had boyish features that Subikahn found more attractive than the classic ideal of feminine beauty: her face round, her blue-black hair cropped short, her brows prominent, and her lips bow-shaped and thin. Though dark in every way Kevral was light, she still reminded Subikahn of his mother. "You didn't make a scene. And you needn't apologize for feeling sad."
Sad barely grazed the scope of what he felt. "My name is Subikahn."
She smiled. "I know that, of course, Your Highness. My name is Saydee."
"Nice to meet you, Saydee." To Subikahn's surprise, he did not want her to leave. She seemed capable of distracting him from his wretched contemplation as no one else had. "And just call me Subikahn, please."
"All right, Your-" Saydee flushed, the redness barely tinting her dark features. "-Subikahn." The name fell hesitantly from her tongue, and the color of her cheeks deepened. She released him completely and sat nervously beside him.
Subikahn looked around the room, noticing his surroundings for the first time in days. He sat on a straw pallet covered with a blanket woven with fancy designs. Though old and worn, poked through with bits of straw, it was skillfully plaited and patterned. A plain, but solidly built, chest sat at the foot. Balanced on it, he found a pitcher and bowl, a chamber pot, and a crock of tallow. A torch burned in a bracket on the wall, and the only exit was the door through which they had entered. He looked at Saydee again. She wore a clean, patched dress with an ale-stained apron. Solid legs peeked out from beneath it, and woven sandals hugged clean feet.
Saydee quailed beneath Subikahn's scrutiny. "Well, I guess I'd better be going now."
"Wait." Subikahn placed a hand over hers on the pallet. "Please stay a bit longer."
At his touch, Saydee's face seemed to glow. She glanced demurely at her hem.
Not wishing to give her the wrong idea, Subikahn added, "I'd like to talk a bit, if you can spare the time."
"I can. As much as you wish." Saydee gazed into his eyes and smiled.
Subikahn could not help smiling back, his first in what seemed like a very long time. "I…" His grin wilted. "I… lost someone special… to me." That was the most he felt comfortable confiding in a stranger, but it felt good to get even that little bit in the open.
Saydee nodded knowingly. "Do you want to talk about her?"
It intrigued Subikahn that she knew at once he meant a lover, even though she made the obvious mistake assigning gender. "No," he found himself saying before he could think. He had lost too many days to pining. He could not remember much of those but aimless wandering and self-inflicted starvation. Already, he had had to tighten his sword belt and tie up his britches. "No, for the time being, I just want to forget."
"I can help you," Saydee said softly, looking at him with passion as well as uncertainty. She shifted closer.
Nothing. Subikahn felt no attraction to her; no woman had ever excited him, not even the ones who gyrated around him or feigned accident to reveal a breast, a belly button, a thigh. Tae's words came back to haunt him now: "Subikahn, this will give you a chance to experience… other things." Other things. He knew exactly what his father meant by that. He wants me to try loving women the way I do Tally. He wants me to try… to be… normal.
Without thinking, Subikahn dropped his head in shame. His love was deviant, evil to the lawmakers of the Eastlands, yet it seemed so right and real. His father had given him so much through the years, had always done right by him. He owed it to Tae to try. Steeling himself, Subikahn leaned toward Saydee, caught her into an embrace, and closed his eyes.
Her lips touched his, then locked into a kiss. For a moment, it was a dry, dispassionate coupling. Then, Subikahn imagined her mouth as Talamir's, brought his lover's face fully to life in his mind's eye.The kiss grew moister, hungry. She sucked his tongue into her mouth and, to his joy, he finally responded. They fell together onto the bed, his hands exploring but avoiding those most womanly places, the ones that might break the fantasy Subikahn constructed in his mind.
Though desperately inexperienced, Subikahn found the proper places, made the appropriate motions, did what was expected. He dared not prolong the experience for fear of losing his nerve or his enthusiasm, so it ended quickly in an explosion of guilty pleasure that left him feeling dirty and embarrassed.