The Lotus Ascension (35 page)

Merieke rolled
her eyes, but she did as Soren
said
, coming to take
the basin. And she flaunted her gorgeous breasts before Sillara's eyes as she
did so.

When Merieke
had gone, Sillara clung to Soren.

“You're sick.”
Soren's worry was clear.

“No, not sick,”
said Sillara. “Just—”

“Oh gods.”
Soren pulled back from
Sillara, holding her at arm's length to look into her face. “He got you with
child, didn't he? That backstabbing, thieving, deceitful—”

“No.” Sillara
shook her head. “Praise Melara, no.”

“How can you be
sure? You're vomiting but not sick?” Soren's grip on her arms was almost
painful. “When I think of his child in your womb—”
 

“No, my love.”
Sillara smiled,
despite her shame. “No, I have bled since he last took me.”

Soren relaxed
his grip and smiled, too. “I was eaten up with fear and jealousy, sister.”

“That is why I
was sick.” Sillara dropped her eyes.
“For I know that Merieke
will please you, and it is right that she should.
I would not want you
to miss even a single pleasure—”

“How could I
take pleasure in her arms now?” Soren leaned his brow against Sillara's. “Now
that I know
you
are the wife of my soul, that all this while I have been
seeking you in other people's arms, how can I take any pleasure in any other
embrace?”

Sillara
smiled,
her heart swelling with love for Soren. “You—”

Soren laid his
finger to her lips. “I know, sister. But when I think of
you
with
Konas—”

“The
Desertmasters nearly killed him when they saw us … coupling. They thought he
was taking me by force, but even when I told them otherwise, they said that no
pure-blood—they call those of a single race 'half-blooded' actually—could ever
be the Queen's King. They refuse to acknowledge him as my—” Sillara could not
say the word “husband”, so she went on in a rush. “They will not let him
anywhere near me, brother, so we are safe.”

At that moment
Sillara heard Merieke's foot on the stair, and she ceased speaking. She did not
trust Merieke, not since Nathen's attempt to use Lotus-tricks on her mind.

“Do not worry,
Sillara.” Soren kissed her brow and rose. “Sleep in peace, and know that I will
guard your heart.”

“Thank you,
brother.” Sillara took the cup of water from Merieke, and repeated her words.
“Thank you.”

“You're
welcome,
sister.
” The word on Merieke's lips was like a slap in the
face, and Sillara wanted to throw the mug at Merieke. She did not, however.

Instead Sillara
smiled at Soren.

Then Soren
withdrew to his bedchamber across the hall, and Merieke followed him. The door
closed behind them, but Sillara heard every word they spoke.

“You should
sleep downstairs, Merieke.” Soren's voice was not harsh or cold; it was simply
firm.

“But, Soren, my
love, I want you.” There was a pause, and judging by the sound, Sillara figured
that Merieke was slowly, with that catlike grace she always possessed, gliding
across the room toward Soren.

“Wanting is not
the same as having.” Soren's full meaning was clear to Sillara, as she knew
full well it would not be to Merieke.

“Come now,
you're just teasing me because Nathen's not here. You've no need to be jealous,
love.” Merieke's voice stopped moving suddenly, and Sillara knew Soren must
have stopped her with an outstretched hand.

“Go sleep
downstairs,” said Soren.

“I'm your
concubine,” said Merieke, her voice almost a purr. “I have rights to you, you
know.”

“No,” said
Soren clearly. “You don't. You are forgetting that neither your mother nor mine
is or ever
was
treated as a concubine. They were
treated as wives. You are
not
my wife.”

Sillara's heart
surged with commingled joy and shame. Merieke was not Soren's wife, but Konas
was her own husband.

“What?” Merieke
was obviously stunned.

“I have all the
rights,” said Soren. “I may do with you as I please, may do
anything
I
please, and you have no say.”

Merieke's voice
had lost all its displeasure, and it was instead filled with desire. “Oh, I
know. I know that I am yours for the taking, and I have nowhere to turn when
you would take from me
whatever
you want.”

“And I want
nothing from you,” said Soren. “Go downstairs to sleep. There is a bedchamber
there. It is yours now.”

Sillara heard
the door opening and closing, and then she heard her own door being opened
nearly silently.

At that moment
she realized that Nathen was certainly the more thoroughly trained of the
siblings, for he had been able to climb her tower wall without her hearing him.
Merieke, on the other hand, Sillara could hear, though she doubted if anyone
else—aside from Soren—could have.

And Sillara
lay
perfectly still, keeping the rise and fall of her breast
perfectly even. She did not want to heap further shame on Merieke. Sillara
heard her door close again, and Merieke's footsteps carried her down the
stairs.

****

“Are you really
going through with this coronation, Soren?”

Sillara was so
shocked by the fear in Merieke's voice that she nearly spilled the juice she
was pouring out.

“If I were not,
I would certainly have told them before the day of the ceremony.” Soren took
his mug from Sillara's hand, and he smiled at her.

Sillara returned
the smile. These past five days had been, though in some ways painful, in
others very like their childhood days, except with more chores. “They say it is
the will of the gods, of Abrexa in particular, that Soren be their King. And I
must say that they show excellent judgment, for who could be a better King?”

Merieke stroked Soren's thigh.
“Who indeed?
But why would you
want
to be the King of
such a backward, ignorant, poor people?”

“They are not backward,” said
Sillara.

“Or ignorant or even
poor.”
Soren finished her thought.

“They have an old culture of their
own, old as the Fihdal and Vadal and older than the Zenji.”

Merieke gestured from her own fine
linen gown to the Desertmaster garments Sillara wore. “Primitive.”

“Not really.” Sillara ran her
fingers along the embroidery of her loincloth. “They have little in the way of
fabric, to be sure, but during the day the temperature requires no more. And
their cloaks are lovely.”

“The poorest girl in Tambril's City
has jewelry of wurm's-teeth,” said Soren. “And only the Sunjaa Queen could
match them.”

“They don't even know how to fix
their own technology,” said Merieke. “Konas said so himself.”

“But they have it.” Sillara pointed
to the kitchen. “I have water that pours into my basins with the turn of a
handle. The Sunjaa do not even have so much.”

“So you would be willing to leave
Arinport forever?” Merieke took both of Soren's hands in hers, and Sillara
flinched.

“Yes,” said Soren.

“Why?”

“Because I am not purely
Sunjaa.”
Soren shook his head. “You, Merieke, can only partly understand. To be sure,
you are not pure-blooded like your father, but your mother was a Zenji Lotus.
If you had married some purely Sunjaa nobleman, your beauty would more than
make up for your lack of Sunjaa blood. Your children would be more Sunjaa than
yourself, and you would be able to move among the Sunjaa as an honored, if
exotic, woman.”

Merieke laughed, and to Sillara's
shock transferred her clasp from Soren's hands to hers. “And every word he
spoke applies to you as well as to me, applies to
him
as well as to me.”

“Not really,” said Sillara. She
understood Soren's thoughts and shared them. “My brother is not considered
merely as a handsome Sunjaa nobleman,
nor
even as a
lovely half-blood. He is not considered a person, no more than I am. We are
curiosities, desirable in the same way a gladiator is desirable, but not
loveable. We are not people.”

Merieke's fingers strayed up
Sillara's arm, caressing her, and Sillara knew at once that Merieke had some
stratagem in mind. “And to the Desertmasters you are people?”

“We are necessary to them,” said
Soren. “It is enough, and it is better than Arinport.”

Sillara caught Soren's eye, and she
knew that he understood. Their location did not matter, so long as they were
together.

“
Your
Graces!” Chief Priest Vaelus knocked on their door. “The hour is right. May
Abrexa's blessing, as well as Veirakai's, well up in you like
fountains.
”

Merieke's mouth twisted. “What did
he say, sister?”

“It is time for the coronation.”
Sillara detached her hand from Merieke's as she turned to Vaelus. “The King and
I are ready.”

Vaelus bowed and turned to lead
them to the great temple-tomb.

“And what of me?” asked Merieke.
“Where am I to stand? What is my place?”

“You may go with the rest of the
crowd to see us crowned, or you may stay here if you like.” Soren smiled at
Merieke kindly.
“Whichever you prefer.”

Sillara saw the flicker of Merieke's
fury, but it died away almost at once. “Now how could I not be present when my
husband is crowned King, even if of a barbaric, savage race?”

“Master,” said Sillara. “Not
husband. You are a concubine.”

Merieke shrugged, but Sillara knew
her words must have stung. “Still, they are mere savages, and their ceremonies
are not like the Sunjaa ones.”

Soren's eyes told Sillara that he
felt the same ironic pleasure she did, for were they not Tamari?
A race of Ausir who had called
themselves
“The Savage Ones”?

Vaelus smiled at Merieke, though
Sillara knew he could not speak to be understood. She saw both lust and
admiration in Vaelus's looks, and she could have wished Vaelus would speak of
love to her former friend. “Please, Your Grace, tell the lovely Merieke that if
it pleases her, I can have her seated with the nobles of my house.”

Sillara relayed his offer, and
Merieke nodded.

The sun was dazzling as Soren and
Sillara walked, side by side, behind Chief Priest Vaelus. Merieke trailed
behind them, clearly unwilling be left back at the house, but yet not wanting
to take a place so obviously inferior to Soren's. When they reached the square,
Merieke was escorted to a covered bench on the north side of the square.

Sillara and Soren were the center
of every eye, and Soren took her hand.

“Sister, did you ever think that
when you were crowned Queen, it would be at
my
side, as
my
Queen?”

“No, but no more did I ever think
that when I left Arinport, it would be west rather than east.” Sillara pressed
Soren's fingers. “I am glad to be your Queen, even if I cannot be all to you
that I wish.”

“I have heard Chief Priest Vaelus
speaking of their prophecy, and, Sillara, it fits us.”

“I know.” Sillara felt a pain in
her heart, like a thorn lodged inside her. “And were it not for Konas's
deceptions, the goddess's will would have been done.”

“These Desertmasters have been
waiting for us since their founding, and yet one arrogant Ausir can bring the
gods' plans to nothing.”

Vaelus entered the temple-tomb, and
Sillara and Soren followed. The door closed behind them, and Sillara welcomed
the cool dimness. Ahead of her rose the high stairway leading to Tambril's
sarcophagus, and at the foot of the stairs stood two acolytes, each holding a
wurm's-tooth crown, white like ivory and strong and glittering like gold.

“You are the gold-horned Queen
promised by the goddess Abrexa, and you are her King come down from the sky.”
Vaelus bowed to Sillara first, then to Soren.

Sillara remembered the words to
speak, for she and Soren had both read over the ceremony the day before. “I am
your Queen, gold-horned as Abrexa is gold-chained, with the craft of Veirakai
in my hand and the passion of his Abrexa in my heart. I swear that I will rule
you and serve you as befits a Queen.”

“I am her King, come down from the
sky with law in my right hand and justice in my left, and I swear I will
distribute both to you.”

“I, Chief Priest Vaelus, do accept
your oaths on behalf of all the Desertmasters.” He bowed low before them. “And
equally on their behalf I do swear to you our fealty from now until your crown
passes to your heirs.” Then he straightened up and went to the sarcophagus at
the top of the stairs. “Tambril, you were our founder, and we honored you with
our city's name. But we have now a King and Queen, and they will now give this
city a name of their choosing.” Vaelus bowed to the sarcophagus and returned to
Soren and Sillara.