by Euren's father after she'd married Ihsan, to help Asli train her to be queen. He would probably be torn between amusement and annoyance when he learned Gulden had become one of her concubines.
"Let's go bathe, then maybe have dinner while we finalize how we are going to travel home," Canan said. "Come on, Gulden."
"Very well," Gulden replied and followed along as Euren led the way from the temple, down the slight hill behind it along a well-trod footpath to the river. The clearing where they settled, in a small bend well hidden by heavy trees and tall, lush flowers, had become their favorite spot as they whiled away the days and months and years.
It was a much more peaceful existence, usually, than she had expected to enjoy when they'd made the decision to run away. The worst part of that day was that they had not even been able to run away together. Euren had left hours before Ihsan, under cover of not feeling well while he endured a long banquet. They met up days later at a prearranged location to which Ihsan had arrived late. It had the first of many scares the damned man had given her, though nothing would ever be as bad as believing him dead.
Even in the midst of war he had always managed to come see her every few months. Two years and seven days without even a letter, she had been on the verge of giving up and going home to build a new life from whatever was left of the old.
"Enough brooding, Highness," Gulden said, fingers deftly unknotting the belt of Euren's robe. She pushed if off Euren's shoulders with bold fingers that were withdrawn slowly and teasingly. "It's hotter than a heathen stumbling into a royal orgy out here."
Euren clucked her tongue and tried not to laugh. "Not all heathens shy away from orgies."
"Rittuens never say no, that's for certain," Canan replied as she waded into the water. "This water is cold enough to freeze thoughts of orgies."
Asli snickered as she slid into the water and splashed some at Canan, then dove when that got her a bellow of protest and promised retribution.
Leaving them to their battle, Euren picked a quieter bit of river where she could lean against a sun-warmed rock that was a pleasant counterpoint to the cold water. "Going to be strange being home again, all the people and noise."
"No more helping the monks smuggle people out of Tavamara to save them from His Majesty," Gulden added.
Euren's mouth quirked. "I would like to finally meet whoever is on the other end of the arrangement." All they'd ever known were the middle men who got people out of the city and across the country. The monastery then took them to a smaller port city where they were able to flee without all the trouble and danger that escaping via the royal port would have entailed.
It would have been especially dangerous, even impossible, for Princess Zehra, who had been pregnant and distraught when she'd arrived at the monastery. But even she had not said who'd been responsible for getting her out of the palace.
Smuggling was not something with which Euren had ever expected to become familiar, but it was useful knowledge. The monks had been horrified when she'd first chanced upon them smuggling out a poor little harem boy along with barrels of wine and costly spices.
Since then, she'd become a rather adept smuggler herself. Their connections with the market met with the monks in the city, handed over wine, spices, other goods that the crown taxed heavily. Most of Tavamara's wealth was made on trade, and the crown knew its business well enough to tolerate a certain amount of smuggling. Which meant there was plenty of money to be made selling certain goods to those places where they were forbidden—especially Tavamaran wines, varied, potent, highly unique.
The monks stored the goods to be smuggled, and once a month carried it all down to the coast to be taken away by pirates who would sell it elsewhere. Every now and then, some of that cargo was people. Watching them get on the boat, pale and
"Let's go bathe, then maybe have dinner while we finalize how we are going to travel home," Canan said. "Come on, Gulden."
"Very well," Gulden replied and followed along as Euren led the way from the temple, down the slight hill behind it along a well-trod footpath to the river. The clearing where they settled, in a small bend well hidden by heavy trees and tall, lush flowers, had become their favorite spot as they whiled away the days and months and years.
It was a much more peaceful existence, usually, than she had expected to enjoy when they'd made the decision to run away. The worst part of that day was that they had not even been able to run away together. Euren had left hours before Ihsan, under cover of not feeling well while he endured a long banquet. They met up days later at a prearranged location to which Ihsan had arrived late. It had the first of many scares the damned man had given her, though nothing would ever be as bad as believing him dead.
Even in the midst of war he had always managed to come see her every few months. Two years and seven days without even a letter, she had been on the verge of giving up and going home to build a new life from whatever was left of the old.
"Enough brooding, Highness," Gulden said, fingers deftly unknotting the belt of Euren's robe. She pushed if off Euren's shoulders with bold fingers that were withdrawn slowly and teasingly. "It's hotter than a heathen stumbling into a royal orgy out here."
Euren clucked her tongue and tried not to laugh. "Not all heathens shy away from orgies."
"Rittuens never say no, that's for certain," Canan replied as she waded into the water. "This water is cold enough to freeze thoughts of orgies."
Asli snickered as she slid into the water and splashed some at Canan, then dove when that got her a bellow of protest and promised retribution.
Leaving them to their battle, Euren picked a quieter bit of river where she could lean against a sun-warmed rock that was a pleasant counterpoint to the cold water. "Going to be strange being home again, all the people and noise."
"No more helping the monks smuggle people out of Tavamara to save them from His Majesty," Gulden added.
Euren's mouth quirked. "I would like to finally meet whoever is on the other end of the arrangement." All they'd ever known were the middle men who got people out of the city and across the country. The monastery then took them to a smaller port city where they were able to flee without all the trouble and danger that escaping via the royal port would have entailed.
It would have been especially dangerous, even impossible, for Princess Zehra, who had been pregnant and distraught when she'd arrived at the monastery. But even she had not said who'd been responsible for getting her out of the palace.
Smuggling was not something with which Euren had ever expected to become familiar, but it was useful knowledge. The monks had been horrified when she'd first chanced upon them smuggling out a poor little harem boy along with barrels of wine and costly spices.
Since then, she'd become a rather adept smuggler herself. Their connections with the market met with the monks in the city, handed over wine, spices, other goods that the crown taxed heavily. Most of Tavamara's wealth was made on trade, and the crown knew its business well enough to tolerate a certain amount of smuggling. Which meant there was plenty of money to be made selling certain goods to those places where they were forbidden—especially Tavamaran wines, varied, potent, highly unique.
The monks stored the goods to be smuggled, and once a month carried it all down to the coast to be taken away by pirates who would sell it elsewhere. Every now and then, some of that cargo was people. Watching them get on the boat, pale and
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