Sandstorm (49 page)

“Feisty for someone who should be in trouble.”

“Ah, but pirates never got out of trouble by being complacent when they were in it.”

“How long did it take them to ink this?” Nanda asked, fingers delicately exploring the tattoo
across Beynum’s back.

“Hours. Days. Lots of money. The sort only seen by nobles and criminals.” Beynum rolled his
shoulders, sending the muscles in his back rippling.

“It’s beautiful.” Nanda said. “Though I’m surprised you were able to find someone willing to
do it.”

Beynum laughed and turned, catching Nanda’s exploring hand in a light grasp. “Where
there’s a want, there is someone willing to fill it.” His skin was darker, deepened by the sun
where Nanda spent most of his days indoors. Hands calloused in different places, a rough
edge to his movements and words, a willingness to grin and laugh.

“Indeed,” Nanda murmured, fingertips just teasing beneath the fabric of the new pants and
skirt in which Beynum had been dressed. He leaned up, breathing in the scent of fragrant
soap that still clung to him, but the smell of the sea and sand still clung, a rough edge
clashing with the smooth the palace was already trying to give him.

Fingers threaded through Nanda’s long hair. “So it’s okay if I touch you too, then?”

“I would be sad if you didn’t,” Shah said from the entryway. “I do believe I mentioned wanting
the two of you to get along.” He ran a hand up Beynum’s arm as the two men reached him.

“I’m surprised you’re not pierced,” he said thoughtfully, fingers tracing Beynum’s ear. “I saw
some of your former comrades; holes everywhere.”

Beynum grinned. “Mostly in their brains, trust me. If they’d listened to me in the first place,
they might still all be at sea.”

“Is that where you want to be, Beynum my pirate?”

“It was something to do, Majesty.” Beynum captured the hand playing with his hair and
leaned in to steal a kiss, making Shah smile. “Nothing interesting enough to keep looking
back on. Do you know what my ‘former comrades’ called me?”
Shah shook his head.

“Arrogant?” Nanda murmured softly.

“That,” Beynum said with a wink. “But they also called me ‘King’s Man’ – mostly as a joke,
but there was always more truth there than they realized.” He shrugged again, muscles built
by a life at sea rippling under his sun-darkened skin. “This wasn’t quite what I always figured,
but I think I’ll more than enjoy it while it lasts. Then who knows – maybe I’ll go back to being
a pirate.”

“Hmm,” Shah said thoughtfully. “I think, my pirate, that you will last longer here than you
think. But enough of this serious talk – I think I walked in to hear something about fulfilling
wants. Let us further that discussion.”

Aikhadour

He'd thought the inns and taverns as they traveled had been noisy, but the bustle of the
palace was something new again. Aik wished he had something to take for his head, or
better a still a quiet place to rest. He lowered his head a bit, barely listening as Eldest spoke
with his Majesty, King Shahjahan.

Already he missed the quiet of the temple, the remoteness of the mountain. Aik closed his
eyes and concentrated for a moment, breathing in and out slowly, willing away everything
that unsettled him, slowly regaining his center.

Opening his eyes slowly, feeling slightly more in control, he took another look at his
surroundings.

So many people, courtiers and nobles, servants and guards, and a seeming unending crowd
of people waiting a turn to be presented to the King. Foreigners seeking permission to live or
travel, nobles coming of age, visitors begging permission to dwell in the palace for a
time…on and on the list went.

Aikhadour had journeyed with four other monks to study in the royal libraries. He had barely
been granted permission; only his exceptional skill and devotion to his studies had earned
him the chance when men older than he were still not permitted to leave the sanctuary of the
temple.

He was beginning to wish he'd stayed. Forcing away the negative thought, for thinking so
would not improve anything, Aik let his eyes wander but was careful not to stare at anything
lest he unintentionally seem rude.

At last they settled on the throne, and suddenly Aik realized he was staring.

For all that he'd heard nothing but praise for King Shahjahan, and more than a few remarks
on his looks and prowess - it was said the two men in his Harem were quite intriguing, one a
traitor, the other a pirate - he had not really expected the King to be as handsome as he was.

Dark skin and hair, eyes dark, probably brown, a solid build, neither slender nor overly large.

Most intriguing of all, there was no softness to him. He didn't look like so many other nobles
that Aik had spied on the long journey from the mountain. King Shahjahan looked like a man
who stood with his men, his people, instead of giving orders while safely ensconced on his
throne.

Perhaps he was over-thinking things. Though the real problem was that he noticed at all.

He'd never noticed what anyone looked like before. His life was the temple, his brothers. All
else was irrelevant. Aik frowned and looked away, but in his mind he could still see the King,
and now it was impossible to block that deep, warm, ever-so-slightly rough voice.

Realizing he was letting himself be distracted in the worst way, Aik began silently to recite a
prayer of concentration. He was halfway through it when someone nudged him, and he
realized with chagrin that he was being presented. Flushing, humiliated, Aik looked up at the
King then immediately down, kowtowing low, forehead just touching the floor.

"Brother Aikhadour," Shahjahan said, and Aik was jarred by the way his name sounded when
the King said it. "Be welcome in my home and consider it yours for the length of your stay."

"My most humble thanks and gratitude, your Majesty," Aik said, sitting up as he spoke and
kowtowing again as he finished. He dared another glance as he sat up, only to find that
Shahjahan was watching him. Disconcerted, Aik dropped his gaze and waited until they were
finally dismissed.

His brothers laughed once they were outside, a couple of them nudging him. "Poor Aik," one
said. "Is all this too much for you?"

The Eldest - highest ranking among them, a level eight - frowned. "Leave him be. Aik, are
you all right? Is all this too much excitement for you?"

Humiliated, Aik shook his head furiously back and forth. "No, Eldest. I…was simply
intimidated to be presented to his Majesty. I am only a humble student; hardly worthy of his
time."

"We are always worthy of the King's time," Eldest said calmly. "The royal family has always
looked favorably on the Order…" Aik stopped listening, knowing the story of when King
Shahjahan's great-great grandfather had been rescued by a monk. "Come," Eldest said
eventually. "It is time for our prayers and drills. By the time we finish, no doubt we shall have
to attend dinner." He said 'have to' but Aik could hear the eagerness there, and suddenly
wondered if they were here simply to study.

"How does a man look both humble and extremely smug at the same time?" Bey made a face.

Aik bowed from the waist, hiding a grin. His hair, just past his shoulders in length, finally fell free of the thong that had been getting looser and looser during the sparring match. He knelt to retrieve the fallen strip of leather, but did not restore it, merely shoved the loose strands of thick, dark hair from his face. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Bey." He bowed again. "Thank you, my better, for being so kind as too-"

"Oh, shut up." Bey interrupted with a grin. "You're not fooling anyone, decadent monk."

"A decadent man can not be a monk, and a monk cannot be a decadent man." Aik said patiently, as though instructing a temple initiate.

Bey threw his head back and laughed. "You're on a roll today."

"I guess I'm feeling rather playful after neatly trouncing you," Aik replied, then immediately turned and fled, chased by Bey's roar of outrage.

"You did not trounce me, monk!"

Aik bolted out of the training ground and into the King's private garden, both of which were only accessible from the King's chambers. Looking over his shoulder as he darted through the doors, Aik heard too late the shouted curse, turned - and crashed right into Nandakumar.

"Uh-oh," Bey said, trying to draw air and laugh at the same time and winding up coughing instead. "You're in trouble."

"Sorry!" Aik said, immediately contrite as he scrambled to his feet and then helped Nanda up.

"Didn't think you'd be awake yet."

"So you were just going to wake me up with your monkey antics?" Nanda snapped. His normally neat hair was bound but messy, disheveled while he slept. And until Aik had crashed into him, he had only just barely been awake.

Bey snickered. "If the councilors saw Nanda at this hour, they would cease to wonder how Shah can be so fearless about everything."

"It's far too early in the morning for bloodshed," Nanda said slowly, levelly. "But don't think that will stop me."

Aik elbowed Bey in the stomach, then took one of Nanda's hands and led him to the table.

"Breakfast should be arriving in a half hour or so, Nanda."

"So don't kill us," Bey inserted, cheerfully disregarding the warning look Aik shot him.

Nanda looked up from glaring at the table, a glint in his eyes. "If I asked prettily, Aik, would you beat him up for me?"

"How prettily?" Aik asked.

"Hey!" Bey protested. "He's the one who knocked you over."

Ignoring him, Nanda rose up on his knees so that he could nip playfully at the skin of Aik's flat stomach before wandering lower, fingers teasing and gripping up his legs, along his backside. "Very prettily."

Aik combed a hand through Nanda's hair. "Then consider it done, Nanda."

"Thank you, Aik."

Bey turned and ran.

If being presented had seemed overwhelming to him, dinner was positively dizzying. Aik
didn't know where to look and finally settled on looking at his plate, which was heaped with
foods they would never even think about in the temple. Rich, decadent,
extravagant…unnecessary. Aik frowned and finally looked up, not even certain how they all
were to be eaten. He was used to bowls of plain grain, vegetables from the garden and
simple tea. Occasionally he indulged in the wine the temple brewed, but he knew that was a
far cry from the dozens of carafes scattered across the wide table.

The table of the King, and he didn't understand at all why they'd been invited to sit here.

What was Eldest's true purpose in coming? He had hardly spoken of studying since giving
that as their reason for visiting in court.

Not knowing what else to do, and his brothers were too busy talking with other guests to
bother with their youngest brother, Aik mimicked those around him and sipped hesitantly at
the pale liquid in his drinking dish. It turned out to be a bitter, potent wine, and Aik was
surprised to find he liked it. When he dared to attempt one of the foods on his plate, he found
that the almond-sweet taste of it went splendidly with the bitter wine. Encouraged, he began
to sample other bits, mimicking those around him when he was unsure of how to eat one.

Several sips of wine later, Aik found himself relaxing and finally able to pay attention to some
of the conversations around him, though he could not bring himself to look at the King. He
sat drinking his wine and nibbling at the rich foods, allowing himself to be lulled by the
movement and noise all around him.

A rowdy laugh, so unlike the careful, cultured chuckles he'd heard so far, brought Aik's head
up. He stared down the long table at a man sitting on the King's left.

Definitely not of noble blood. His skin was unfashionably dark, no doubt from years in the
sun, and he had the build of someone who had labored hard all his life. His laugh was a real
laugh, an honest expression of joy and amusement, not simply a polite, tittering sound. Short
hair, even shorter than Aik's own, not the way most men of luxury wore it.

Then Aik noticed he was bare-chested - as if his proximity to the King weren't enough of a
clue - and realized this was one of the King's Harem. He ran the rumors he'd heard and
guessed this one must be the supposed pirate.

Curious now, Aik sought and immediately found the other member of the Harem. Where the
first was a rough sort of handsome, this one was elegant and beautiful. As cultured and
refined as the first was unpolished and easy. His hair was as long as rumors had said, and
he moved with the instinctive ease of one who had spent his entire life at court. Rumors said
he was a traitor, or tied to traitors, but Aik doubted it the way he held wine to the King's lips,
the way the King touched him when all eyes were elsewhere.

All eyes but his. Feeling guilty, Aik hastily looked elsewhere - and accidentally caught the
glance of the one called a pirate. Dark eyes regarded him with amusement…and something
like challenge. Aik had seen that look often enough in the sparring ring to recognize it,
though he did not understand why it came from this man.