Reluctant Concubine

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Authors: Dana Marton
Tags: Romance, Fantasy
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on a low stool in front of me and pulled up his tunic. His back had been beaten raw, the bloodied skin mangled to expose his muscles.
    “Tahar wastes no time, does he?” My fingers trembled with rage as I reached for the phial that hung on the cord around my neck, hidden under my tattered tunic. “He had only just arrived home. What could you have possibly done?”
    “Not Tahar, Kumra. For sending her daughter food that made her sick.”
    I bit my lip as I cleaned his back with water, then dabbed the worst of his wounds with moonflower tears. They were no use against poison, so I could not help Keela with them. But the drops worked well on wounds, fighting off both the yellow pus that brought with it fever and the deadly blackening.
    I used all I had to help Talmir, then, when no one watched, I unraveled from my body the fine fabric I had taken from Kumra and wrapped the cloth around Talmir’s wounds and pulled his long tunic over it.
    “Keep that from the eyes of others,” I said, knowing I did not have to. “I will come back for it later.”
    “Thank you, little sister.” He drew me to him and kissed me on the forehead as a father would his daughter. “You better hurry before they miss you.” He handed me a tray of cold sweetmeats to take to Tahar’s Hall, but I barely reached the kitchen door when I bumped into Igril.
    “I’ll take that.” She set an empty jar at my feet and snatched the tray from me. “You fetch some water. And be quick with it.”
    I did not mind. She probably wanted to hurry back to Maiden Hall to ready herself for the feast. I preferred the walk to the creek even in the biting cold. After being cooped up in Keela’s chamber for so long, I needed some fresh air.
    The sun had set while I had been in the kitchen, the courtyard teeming with warriors now. I hurried along the crowded path that led to the end of the fields, impatient with the slow pace of the water carriers and the warriors heading to the creek to wash the grime of battle off their bodies.
    Something wet touched my face, and I looked up as a sparkling speck of white dust floated by me. I stopped and watched in wonder as more and more snowflakes came floating out of the sky.
    I had seen snow before, on the top of distant mountains. I knew it was cold and wet. Some Shahala—very few indeed—had gone that far and brought back strange tales. But the snow on the mountains looked like a solid white blanket the peaks drew over their shoulders. Here the snowflakes floated around me as fragile tiny stars, the gifts of the sky. I tried to catch them on my fingertip, but they melted too fast and would not allow any length of examination.
    I dared not linger as I knew Kumra must be waiting for the water, so I strode forth in the snowfall, smiling with pleasure as a few stray flakes clung to my eyelashes. For the first time, I saw the beauty in the country of the Kadar, the buildings and fields that were slowly sprinkled with diamond dust, sparkling in the moonlight. I kept out of the way of the men and walked up-creek for fresh water.  
    The wind, blowing from the sea and carrying its salty tang, gained strength. I turned my face from its icy fingers as I thought about my escape and wondered how long I would have to wait for it.
    In every direction I looked, I saw Tahar’s sentries in the moonlight, more than he had ever posted before. Perhaps Talmir had heard right and the enemy was coming. 
    A bush rustled to my left. I glanced that way but saw nothing. Probably the wind. I filled the jar and stepped onto the bank to turn toward the house when rough fingers closed around my ankle.
    A warrior had been behind the bush, I realized too late, as he yanked my feet from under me, and I fell onto the withered grass, the jar slipping from my hands, the water spilling.
    “No!”
    My shout of alarm brought three more warriors from farther down the creek.
    Instead of helping me, they stood around laughing. They were not Tahar’s men. They

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