And I did not like being alone in the room with him. Not one bit.
“You do realize,” he drawled, “that you can never have him? Not that way. Your weak mortal mind and flesh would shatter like eggshells under the onslaught of his power. There wouldn’t be enough left of you to send home to Darr.”
I folded my arms and gazed pointedly at the corridor beyond Scimina’s couch-throne. If she kept me waiting much longer I was going to leave.
“Me, though…” Abruptly he was on his feet and across the room and entirely too close. Startled, I lost my pose of indifference and tried to face him and stumble back all at once. I was too slow; he caught me by the arms. I had not realized until then how very big he was, taller than me by more than a head and well-muscled. In his night form I barely noticed his body; now I was very, very aware of it, and all the danger that it posed.
He demonstrated this by spinning me around and pinning me again from behind. At this I struggled, but his fingers tightened on my arms until I cried out, my eyes watering from the pain. When I stopped struggling, his grip eased.
“I can give you a taste of him,” he whispered in my ear. His breath was hot on my neck; all over my body my skin crawled. “I could ride you all day—”
“Let go of me right now.” I gritted the command through my teeth and prayed it would work.
His hands released me, but he did not move away. I danced away instead, and hated myself for it when I turned to face his smile. It was cold, that smile, which made the whole situation somehow worse. He wanted me—I could see that plainly enough now—but sex was the least of it. My fear and disgust pleased him, as had my pain when he’d bruised my arms.
And worst of all, I saw him relish the moment when I realized he had not lied. I had forgotten: night was the time not just of seducers but rapists; not just passion but violence. This creature was my taste of the Nightlord. Bright Itempas help me if I were ever insane enough to want more.
“Naha.” Scimina’s voice made me jump and spin. She stood beside the couch, one hand on her hip, smiling at me. How long had she been there, watching? “You’re being rude to my guest. I’m sorry, Cousin; I should have shortened his leash.”
I was feeling anything but gracious. “I haven’t the patience for these games, Scimina,” I snapped, too angry and, yes, frightened to be tactful. “State your business and let’s be done.”
Scimina lifted an eyebrow, amused by my rudeness. She smiled over at Nahadoth—no, Naha, I decided. The god’s name did not fit this creature. He went to stand beside her, his back to me. She grazed the knuckles of one hand along his nearer arm and smiled. “Made your heart race a bit, did he? Our Naha can have that effect on the inexperienced. You’re welcome to borrow him, by the way. As you’ve seen, he’s nothing if not exciting.”
I ignored this—but I did not miss the way Naha looked at her, beyond her line of sight. She was a fool to take that thing into her bed.
And I was a fool to keep standing there. “Good day, Scimina.”
“I thought you might be interested in a rumor I heard,” Scimina said to my back. “It concerns your homeland.”
I paused, Ras Onchi’s warning suddenly ringing in my mind.
“Your promotion has won your land new enemies, Cousin. Some of Darr’s neighbors find you more threatening than even Relad or I. I suppose that’s understandable—we were born to this, and have no antiquated ethnic loyalties.”
I turned back, slowly. “You are Amn.”
“But Amn superiority is accepted the world over; there is nothing surprising about us. You, however, are from a race that has never been more than savages, no matter how prettily we dress you.”
I could not ask her outright about the war petition. But perhaps—“What are you saying? That someone may attack Darr simply because I’ve been claimed by the Arameri?”
“No. I’m saying someone may attack Darr because you still think like a Darren, though you now have access to Arameri power.”
My order to my assigned nations, I realized. So that was the excuse she meant to use. I had forced them to resume trade with Darr. Of course it would be seen as favoritism—and those who saw it as such would be completely right. How could I not help my people with my new power and wealth? What kind of woman would I be if I thought only of myself?
An Arameri woman, whispered a little, ugly voice in the back of my mind.
Naha had moved to embrace Scimina from behind, the picture of an amorous lover. Scimina absently stroked his arms while he gazed murder at the back of her head.
“Don’t feel bad, Cousin,” Scimina said. “It wouldn’t have mattered what you did, really. Some people would’ve always hated you, simply because you don’t fit their image of a ruler. It’s a shame you didn’t take anything after Kinneth, other than those eyes of yours.” She closed her eyes, leaning back against Naha’s body, the picture of contentment. “Of course the fact that you are Darre doesn’t help. You went through their warrior initiation, yes? Since your mother wasn’t Darre, who sponsored you?”
“My grandmother,” I answered quietly. It did not surprise me that Scimina knew that much of the Darre’s customs. Anyone could learn that by opening a book.
Scimina sighed and glanced back at Naha. To my surprise, he did not change his expression, and to my greater surprise, she smiled at the pure hate in his eyes.
“Do you know what happens in the Darre ceremony?” she asked him conversationally. “They were quite the warriors once, and matriarchal. We forced them to stop conquering their neighbors and treating their men like chattel, but like most of these darkling races, they cling to their little traditions in secret.”
“I know what they once did,” Naha said. “Capture a youth of an enemy tribe, circumcise him, nurse him back to health, then use him for pleasure.”
I had schooled my face to blankness. Scimina laughed at this, lifting a lock of Naha’s hair to her lips while she watched me.
“Things have changed,” she said. “Now the Darre aren’t permitted to kidnap and mutilate their boys. Now a girl just survives alone in the forest for a month, and then comes home to be deflowered by some man her sponsor has chosen. Still barbaric, and something we stop whenever we hear about it, but it happens, especially among the women of their upper class. And the part they think they’ve hidden from us is this: the girl must either defeat him in public combat and therefore control the encounter, or be defeated—and learn how it feels to submit to an enemy.”
“I would like that,” Naha whispered. Scimina laughed again, slapping his arm playfully.
“How predictable. Be silent now.” Her eyes slid to me, sidelong. “The ritual seems the same in principle, does it not? But so much has changed. Now Darre men no longer fear women—or respect them.”
It was a statement, not a question; I knew better than to answer.
“Really, when you consider it, the earlier ritual was the more civilized. That ritual taught a young warrior not only how to survive but also how to respect an enemy, how to nurture. Many girls later married their captives, didn’t they? So they even learned to love. The ritual now… well, what does it teach you? I cannot help but wonder.”