Chapter One

I suppose it all went wrong when I was ten. Until then, one could argue my life had been pretty much perfect. My mother, father, elder brother, and slaves all doted on me. I had a younger brother, also, a beautiful, charming infant, all gurgles and smiles. I was a Tarkheena, a Calormene princess, the great-granddaughter of a Tisroc. Anything I wanted was mine for the asking. I lived in a beautiful house. I suppose I was happy, though the happiness I had then was not like the happiness I have now. I know now that I was also proud, selfish, and spoiled.

But when I was ten my eldest brother went to the wars, and my mother fell ill. From the richest, most content child, I suddenly became the girl with half a family in deadly danger.

I remember the day the messenger came from the lines with the scarlet scroll. My father knew what it meant at once, and I saw his face crumple like a leaf. My heart broke. I loved my brother. I stood still, though, and did not cry or shame my brother's memory, though my heart cried to Tash why the arrow had to take Kadmel.

We did not tell my mother. She was very sick by this time. But I think she knew. I think she saw it in our faces. Because three days after we received the news of Kadmel's death my mother, too, passed on.

The household changed after that. For a long time, there was no laughter and no dancing. Lines appeared on my father's face where once there had been none, and when he spoke, his words were harsher. I changed, too, they told me. They said I grew stern. For the most part, it was I that took my young brother Hashafed in hand. I took to riding alone on my mare sometimes, when the house seemed to be closing in upon me in its oppressive silence, and the ghosts of my mother and Kadmel mocked me by their absence.

The cruel, fashionable world of the Calormene nobility cared little for the loss my family had sustained, nor could I grieve openly while among them. I was obliged to smile, and to curtsey, and to quote poetry peaceably while my heart burned ice cold within me, lest I shame my father and displease our betters.

Still, for a while, at least, I was mistress of myself and of our house. And though I was no longer happy, or even a child, there was some good in that.

But my father was powerful, and still fairly young. When I was twelve years old, he married again.

Lanavisra was lovely. Her hair was long and shining, her lips were stained perfectly red, and she always wore the nicest clothes. She was young and healthy and clever, and my father was utterly enthralled by her.

I hated her. She wasn't my mother. My brave, laughing, witty mother who would sing softly to Hashafed and tell me stories until the first watch of the morning. Lanavisra was wealthy and powerful, from Tashbaan, and had spent much of her life in the court of the Tisroc himself. Her family had lured my father in as if she were the juicy grub at the end of a fishing pole, and she was only six years my senior.

After two years of self-sovereignty and of being the lady of the house, I did not surrender to Lanavisra's authority easily. So she hated me, also. In her defense, I probably could have made it easier for her to love me, but I still believe that she did what she did out of spite, to deliberately cause my unhappiness.

My stepmother wanted to get rid of me. I was approaching marriageable age. So she cast around for the most disagreeable, eligible man she could find, and finally settled on Ahoshta Tarkaan as the means for removing me from my father's house.

Ahoshta Tarkaan was old enough to be my grandfather. He was stooped with age and infirmity. His wrinkles had wrinkles and the little hair he had left was thin and grey and greasy.

He was ugly. Ridiculously ugly. His face was all leather y like a monkey's and he had a hunchback and gnarly, grasping hands.

But I think I could have put up with all of this if he had at least been kind and good-humoured. But I knew of him, and he was not. He had actually been a merchant at birth, but had risen to wealth and power by flattering all the right people. He was a supporter of the war that had killed my brother. Oh, he was rich and powerful. They thought he'd be made Grand Vizier any day back then. But it was also whispered how the people who injured him disappeared, and how he was harsh to his slaves and miserly with his crescents.

My father informed me that he had arranged the marriage for me the day I turned thirteen. He seemed very pleased with himself. He probably thought that since I would be well cared for, wealthy, and powerful all of my days I would also be happy.

"My wife has arranged it, O my daughter and O the delight of my eyes," he said to me. "This marriage will be a most prudent and advantageous one, and you owe it all to her shrewdness and generous efforts on your behalf."

My heart was screaming, but I gave no sign of it in my voice. "O my father and O the delight of my eyes," I replied, "When is this marriage to take place?"

"The marriage will occur at the time of high summer, O my daughter," he said, placing a hand upon my shoulder. "You have but three weeks left in my house." He smiled. "I know you will delight in the honor you bring to us by this marriage."

I curtsied, and left my father. I went to my stepmother in her chambers. "How could you?" I asked, without preamble.

Lanavisra smiled at me. "With some difficulty, Aravis. It was difficult finding a man of sufficient power and deficient taste to take you, dear. Ahoshta Tarkaan will not mind that your fingernails are dirty and your hair disordered from perpetually riding that horse of yours. He will not mind that you know how to shoot a bow and wield a scimitar like an accursed barbarian. All he will see is a young face and a warm body to bear his heirs."

I shuddered. "But he's monstrous! I don't want to marry him!"

Lanavisra narrowed her eyes. "The contract has been signed. You have little choice, you ungrateful pig! Do you think I wished to marry your father? Kidrash Tarkaan, who was more than twenty years my senior and," she gave me a nasty look, "who came with a headstrong, ill-mannered, boyish brat of a daughter? I did not. But the contract was signed, the dowry was paid, and I was sold. I had as little choice in the matter as you have. So what did I do? I made the best of it. Your father is rich, and he is kind, and Hashafed, at least, is a sweet child. So I took what power I had and made my own situation a little better. What of it? So what if Ahoshta is old and unpleasant. He is rich and much more powerful than your father. You will never want for anything, and I am well rid of you, Aravis. I suggest you follow my example and make the best of it. Now begone!" She waved me away, and I went.

I went to my room, and with a word to my slave, indicated I was not to be disturbed. And then I cried. I cried for a long time.

When my face was hot, my mouth dry, and my eyes nearly swollen shut from all of the tears, I had to stop. But still I lay there on my pillow, despairing. My mother was gone. My brother was gone. Hashafed no longer needed me. And I was to be married to Ahosta Tarkaan. Live in the city among the cruel, fashionable court I hated. Trapped in marble palaces and perfumed silks. To watch helpless as my husband sent more innocent Calormene boys like my brother to their deaths. To curtsey and smile at the Tisroc and his heartless princes and empty-headed princesses. And every night to cringe as those withered, grasping hands ran over my body.

I would not! But I could not openly disobey my father. He would marry me in chains to Ahoshta to honour their contract. It was the custom. And such a marriage would only add to my stepmother's happiness. But to marry Ahoshta would be a living death, and chains would shame me.

I looked at my brother's armor and weapons. My father had gifted them to me to remember him by. A grim smile twisted my lips. I would die before marrying Ahoshta. I took my brother's dagger, and early the next morning, I told my slave to saddle my mare and I rode out alone.

The morning was still and the birds had not yet polluted the stillness with their harsh cries. The sun caressed my back, not yet hot enough to burn. But it held no pleasure for me. It was, as we said back then, dark in my eyes. I felt the dagger at my side.

I was not sad to leave my father. If he thought I'd be happy as Ahoshta Tarkaan's wife he was lost to me. I was glad to thwart my stepmother. I was sad to leave Hashafed. He would miss me, but if I married Ahoshta he'd miss me, too.

I rode out over the fields, to a forest where I knew no men lived. Quietly, I dismounted from my mare, patting her once on the neck. I unbuttoned my clothes and bared my breast. Setting my teeth, I drew my dagger with a quick prayer.

"Oh, milady, don't!" said a voice. "Don't kill yourself. It can't be as bad as all that, and even if it is, it can always get better. If you die, you'll just be dead!"

I blinked. For a moment it had seemed to me that my mare had spoken. I glanced at the dagger, and I blushed. I thought I was hearing things, just to give myself pretext for not killing myself. I was ashamed. My brother had died bravely, I had been told. Was I to thus disgrace his memory with unseemly fear of death? No. I raised the dagger again.

But in a moment, my mare was there, and her head was between me and the dagger. "Aravis," she said, and this time I saw her lips move. "Don't be a fool." I dropped the dagger in surprise.

My mare continued. "Now, think of how this will grieve your brother when he is old enough to know. Think of how it will impact his relationship with your father. And I don't know exactly what you're going into that seems so evil that you feel that there is no escape, but I remind you, Tarkheena, that you are free, and young, and have much ahead of you to take joy in. Now. Button up your blouse."

Staring, I did so. My mare kicked away the dagger I had dropped and stepped back a single step. She looked me in the eyes, and now I saw that all of the times I had spoken to her as a child I had not been imagining her understanding.

"O my mare," I said in wonder. "How…how did you learn to speak?"