"Easy, my love," she said, her voice cracking. "Go back to sleep."
"I miss you…" Ziyad's voice trailed off once more.
Amani had to cover her mouth to keep from making noise. She stood and hastily dressed, not bothering to tie her belt-wrap before quietly opening his carav door. Once she shut it behind her, she walked barefoot to her own quarters, gazing up at the lovers in the sky. The moons Thiadra and Pamos were almost touching. Another couple of weeks and he'd catch her. They seemed to mock her in their silence, bathing Jikkar with their ethereal light.
There would be no blessing from the lovers for her and Ziyad. He loved Karis and he always would. What he'd said a few moments before was proof of that, regardless if he'd been dreaming.
Amani opened her own carav door and entered the darkened room with a heavy heart. She was numb. She was in love.
She was falling apart.
~ * ~
Ziyad awoke to the sound of a horn blast outside his carav. That wasn't his call to arms. Even in his own befuddled state, he knew whose horn that was.
The Falcon Prince.
The sun was already high in the sky by his estimation. He never slept so late. Must have been his minx of a wife that kept him right where he was. But when Ziyad rolled over, all he beheld were empty pillows.
He blinked a few times then glanced around the carriage. Amani wasn't there. Her robes were gone as well. She hadn't stayed with him.
Disappointment shot through every corner of his body. More than anything in the desert, he'd wanted to wake in her arms and kiss her to passion once more. But she was gone, leaving him in the middle of the night, just as he'd once left her.
He tried to tell himself she was only doing her duty. She wasn't his princess—she knew she couldn't stay in his carav all night long. But by the gods, he'd wanted her to stay. He'd hoped she would when he'd suggested they rest. If she'd fallen asleep, she might have woken with him this morning.
But the fact that she was gone jabbed him in the stomach. He knew he shouldn't take it personally. Amani hadn't rejected him. She was merely honoring his wishes as his wife, not his princess.
However, Ziyad had to wonder about the wisdom of his choice in putting Karis on a pedestal. She was the woman he'd loved, but she was gone. He couldn't hold her any more than he could hold the wind or the waters of his oasis.
She'd never speak his name or make love to him again.
Amazingly, the sting of that loneliness was lessened the more he thought on Amani. She'd opened up to him more than he thought she might. He wanted to spend every waking moment with his pretty wife.
Khalil's horn sounded once again. What was the Falcon doing at his oasis? With a sigh, Ziyad had a good idea. The Falcon was probably here to check up on him and make sure he hadn't totally destroyed the starry-eyed girl he'd shackled to him in marriage.
Wandering to one of his various chests, Ziyad pulled out a fresh black robe and donned it, along with clean undergarments and a silver belt-wrap. Out of habit, he tucked his dagger into the fabric, the one his uncle had given him upon his marriage to Karis.
Taking a deep breath, Ziyad vaguely remembered a dream he'd had the night before. He'd been holding Karis in his arms. He'd called to her, but she left their shelter. She'd told him to go back to sleep.
Gods. That hadn't been Karis. That had been Amani.
He closed his eyes with regret. She'd called him her love, no doubt to calm him so he wouldn't waken fully. He could only imagine what had crossed her mind at being mistaken for his princess. He knew her position as merely his wife was taking its toll on her. But Amani hadn't complained, at least not with her words. Her body betrayed her on more than one occasion. Especially after he'd mentioned his fellow princes would be jealous of her.
The moment he'd said that, he'd mentally kicked himself. Her bright, genuine smile had faded, and he could only blame himself for bringing that dark cloud across her pretty face.
Ziyad stepped from his carav and instinctively looked down the line at Amani's carav. There was his cousin Hyram, lounging in the grasses by the water, as if soaking up the sun. The Spider growled low in his throat.
"Ziyad!" Khalil's voice boomed from his own caravan. "I've come to take advantage of those favors you still owe me!"
Ziyad turned and smiled at the sight. Khalil and Zara walked toward him, each of them waving. Their son, Akim, held firmly to his father's hand. Ziyad couldn't be happier for the Falcon and his princess, who'd conceived his heir shortly after they'd killed the vile witch known as Mother.
Ziyad closed the gap between them and hugged each of them in turn. "It has been too long!"
"Yes," Khalil said, returning his hug. "It has." He looked over Ziyad's head. "Where's your wife?"
"Resting, I assume."
"But it's nearing midday! I say we wake her and catch up on old times." Khalil gestured to Zara. She smiled at him and took his hand. Ziyad fell into step next to the Falcon, who was marching toward his royal carav.
"She's not in there," he said, glancing at his friend.
Khalil stopped walking. "Well, where is she, then?"
"Her own carav."
His old friend's look darkened, making the threeclawed scars on his face seem all the deeper. "You have put her in her own carav?"
Ziyad fidgeted. Damn Khalil, but he was the prince of this caravan, not the Falcon! How dare he arrive and make him feel like a steaming pile of hatshef for giving his wife her own place to stay.
"She is not my princess," the Spider said, lifting his chin and giving his words a confidence that he didn't feel.
"Right," Khalil said sourly. "She is merely your wife. How obtuse of me to think your wife and your princess are one in the same."
"You know my princess is Karis."
"I know Karis is dead!"
Zara gasped. "Khalil, perhaps we should…" He put up his hand to stop her. She closed her mouth and took their son in her arms.
Ziyad's temper suddenly flared at Khalil's stance of self-righteousness. He'd never had to live through losing the woman he loved.
"Who are you to tell me what I do with my people?" he spat.
"I am your peer, Spider Prince," Khalil said, his voice low. "I am the only one present with any authority to knock some sense into you. And you know damn well your god doesn't care what you call Amani. She is your princess!"
Ziyad began to feel like he'd been backed into a
corner. His fists balled and his body tensed for a fight. He knew he'd have to confront the Falcon sooner or later. He'd been hoping for later.
"Karis wears my armband," Ziyad said, trying like mad to keep his voice even.
"The armband is a symbol, nothing more." Khalil raked his hand through his hair. "You are yelling at me when your argument is unfounded. You cannot claim Amani is merely your wife. You are royalty. You have married a woman. That makes her royalty as well. Ziyad, you are squabbling over semantics!"
"Karis was—"
"Karis," the Falcon interrupted, "gods rest her soul, will never return to you. Let her rest in peace. Look at your wife."
Khalil pointed at something over Ziyad's shoulder. Once he turned, Ziyad recognized Amani bending over a wailing child by a large palm tree. It looked as if he'd skinned his knee. He couldn't hear her voice, but he saw her pull the boy close and tuck his hair behind his ear. The child nodded a few times then ran to his mother, who was approaching from a nearby carav.
The boy's mother embraced Amani and smiled, and then both women stood and chatted.
"Amani might not be your princess, Ziyad," Khalil said behind him. "But she is theirs. Do not deny your people the mother of their caravan."
Seeing Amani's lovely face lit from the sun sparkling off the water made Ziyad's heart swell near to bursting. His emotions raged within him. Karis was his princess. But Karis was dead. Amani stood before him, more regal and caring than anyone he'd ever known.
Turning back to the Falcon, he saw his old friend walking away with his family, apparently giving him time to think on his words. But Ziyad felt ripped in two. A part of him would always belong to Karis, and yet, Amani had managed to wiggle beneath the wall he'd erected around his heart. He didn't know what to do.
Therefore he just stood there, gazing back at his wife like a lovesick fool, praying to his god for guidance.
Eleven
Amani fidgeted under her husband's powerful gaze. She'd brought a servant before him, the one who'd asked what she'd like prepared at the feast tonight. Apparently, the arrival of the Falcon at the Spider's oasis was cause to celebrate.
She hadn't known what to say to the man about the feast preparations. Therefore she'd sought out Ziyad, who looked as if the sun had risen on the wrong side of his carav.
They stood in the sand, not too far from the water and Ziyad crossed his arms.
"What do you need?" he asked. His voice was even, but his eyes shot sparks. Was he angry with her?
"Your servant has asked what I'd like prepared for the feast to come, so I brought him to you."
Ziyad shrugged. "I do not care what you choose."
Amani bit her lip. "I don't know what you like. I don't know what the Falcon likes. I…I don't have the authority to make commands. I thought you might be better suited to tell your cooks what you'd like prepared."
"Amani, I am overseeing my water supply today. We must fill the barrels on ten of my caravs by tomorrow morning. Then we leave for Parradh. I cannot be bothered with this banquet."
"But I—"
"Are you not my wife?" he said harshly.
Amani flinched. She'd never been confronted by his fury before. "Y-yes."
"Then deal with it."
With a twirl of his robes, Ziyad left her staring after
him. He began barking orders, making his servants jump, just as she had. Her eyes stung and her own temper flared.
"Your…Your Grace?" the man beside her whispered. "I do not need to know what you wish right now. When the time is convenient we shall talk."
Amani watched the man scurry away, probably uncomfortable at what had just transpired. Every time she had a problem, Ziyad had told her to come to him. But the one time she did, he'd yelled at her for it.
She had no idea if the arrival of the Falcon had soured his mood. If she was Ziyad's princess, she would have marched right after him and demanded they have it out. As it was, she was too afraid to go near him. She wasn't his princess. She didn't have the right to speak to him as an equal.
Amani turned away to find the servant who'd fled from her. If Ziyad wanted her to act like his princess without giving her the title, what else was she to do but his bidding?
~ * ~
Amani had met the Falcon Princess only one time, two cycles ago when she and her husband had informed Amani's father, the governor of Suridesh, that Ziyad had accepted her as his bride. The Falcon Princess was a beautiful woman, who obviously loved her husband and young son more than life itself.
But as Amani tasted samples of foods from the kitchen carav, the Falcon Princess herself walked right up to her with a large grin.
"Hello, Amani," she said, her tone friendly.
Amani had been fascinated with the Falcon armband she wore, and had once wondered what the Spider armband looked like. But she'd never know. It was whispered among the servants that Ziyad had buried it with Karis. All Amani had to prove she was his wife was her Spider ring.
Amani cleared her throat. "H-hello, Falcon Princess."
The woman held up her hand. "My name is Zara."
"No, no, I can't call you that."
Another servant brought a plate from the kitchen, allowing her to sample a few of the delights for dessert. Amani's eyes grew at all the possibilities. Bractav, desint, and even some minty komerant greeted her. Not to mention
cream-covered rahala seeds.
Zara pointed to the seeds. "Those are Ziyad's favorite." She pointed again to the bractav. "And that is Khalil's."
"Thank you, Your Highness," Amani said, feeling some measure of relief.
"Zara," the woman corrected again.
"No, I cannot. I do not have the right."
"You do, Amani. You are the Spider's wife."
"I am not his princess."
Zara smiled. "Ziyad may not call you his princess, but you are. The god of Spiders does not worry himself with such a petty thing as pride."
"I cannot cross my husband on this."