AN: So just to let you know, anything culture related in any this story is purely made up unless I specify. The custom in the chapter that I made up was just that, made up. I liked the scene though and it may be odd but I think it really worked so I am not going to change it. Also sorry it has been a long time. I am using life as an excuse for it. Also I am trying this thing where I am describing more about clothing. I don't know if any of these styles are relevant during this time period. I would also like it no one told me a difference, it is nice to just describe what I like and hope it is nice. Enjoy :)
"Her father passed while you were gone," stated Dastan while they were taking their break from training. They sat on the edge of the sand arena while Tus and soldier took their place to train. Garsiv tried no to get upset by the way Dastan said that. For the last two weeks since he had been reunited with his home and family they had started to take this tone with him as if he hadn't been capture by the enemy. No, they made it out like he was out seeing the world ignoring his responsibilities to the people, his family, the army, and Shraga.
If any negativity was pointed at him, he was glad that no one was negative to Iryanna. From the spies he had among the servants he had learned that even Shraga treated Iryanna with kindness. Thinking of Shraga made him hurt, especially his heart and cheek. The wound she had left him was almost healed. When she struck him he had been so enraged that he couldn't even act. Now it didn't even bother him. Iryanna in the few times he had been alone with her, spoke wisdom into his mind about how he should not expect kindness from Shraga. Iryanna was also the one who told him to be patient with Shraga. His second wife with so gentle hearted and understanding that he almost felt guilty that he yearned so much for Shraga instead of her.
Now he was just learning that Shraga was dealing with more than she would ever share with him. Why hadn't anyone told him that her father had died until now? Why hadn't she told him? Maybe it was his own fault that she hadn't told him. He never gave her the chance to really talk about how she had faired while he was away. Damn, he was doing it too now. He had not been away on some sort of vacation, and he wasn't going to start punishing himself for not being here. He had been through terrible things while he was gone too.
It was not as if he did not sympathized for the loss of her father. He truly felt for her loss in his heart. His chest tightened, and he wished more than anything he had been right there when she found out so he could have comforted her. For a moment he wondered where he had been when she did find out about her father. No doubt that he was being dragged through the dessert behind the King's horse with his arms being yanked out of socket with rocks and sand scrapping harshly against his body and face from the ground.
Garsiv had been tortured, starved, and humiliated on a daily basis until he suddenly found the dagger and sword to ensure his escape. It was hard to admit, but he had almost been truly broken by then. Sometimes he didn't feel like the man he once had been, like there was a darkness in his heart that wouldn't go away. Or maybe that was the hole that was created when he wasn't sure how he would reconcile with Shraga. His chest tightened again. He had treated her wrongly. Iryanna was correct though, Shraga needed her space. There would be a time and place where he could talk to her more, but now wasn't the time and it hadn't been for the last two weeks.
"I didn't know that. Did she get to travel to the funeral?"
"No, the guards wouldn't let her since uncle advised against it before he took the rest of the troops to support the efforts in finding you. I pleaded with him to spare some men to escort her to her home village so she could be there, but he said during the time of war not a man could be spared. He also explained to me that while the passing of her father was tragic during the time in which you were being held captive that she needed to stay here in case you returned. Wifely duties as he called it."
The weight of guilt bore down on him more than it already was. Was he ruining Shraga's life? She hadn't even been permitted to go to her father's funeral for his sake. He closed his eyes and acted like he was trying to enjoy the cool wind that pressed against his sweaty skin. Really though he was trying to hide his thoughts from his younger brother's prying eyes. He wondered how she felt about such a thing. When he opened his eyes he spied Shraga and Iryanna standing in the gardens which were on the east side of the arena.
Both women were so attractive. They were smiling and laughing together. That must be a good sign. Iryanna turned and her eyes caught his. She suddenly stopped smiling when she saw him watching them. He wondered what they were talking about. She lifted her hand a bit and waved. She then turned back to Shraga who hadn't noticed his presence and started laughing again.
Dastan followed his line of sight.
"It is good that they seem to be getting along," he stated. Garsiv shrugged. He knew it was swell that they were getting along, but it made him slightly uneasy all of a sudden.
"I suppose so."
"That is until they join forces against you," laughed Dastan. Garsiv turned to look at his younger brother. Yes, he was younger, but with that comment Garsiv realized that was his exact fear. He felt as if he were losing Shraga. Could he bare to lose Iryanna too? His lips pressed into a thin line and he turned his eyes back to look at his wives, but they were gone. What if Iryanna started sympathizing too much for Shraga and turned on him too? He didn't think he could bare that as well as Shraga's wrath.
"Garsiv?" asked Dastan, drawing Garsiv's thoughts back to the moment.
"Sorry, I was just thinking."
"Not your best quality," stated Tus, joining them. Garsiv shot him a look but stayed silent. "By the look on your face brother I would say you are worried."
"What if they both start hating me?" finally he vocalized his fear.
"Don't you think that is selfish of you?" asked Tus. Dastan nodded, agreeing that he found the fear to be selfish of his brother. Garsiv sighed. It was selfish, but it still bothered him. He found himself wanting to ask his brothers so many questions but realized that they wouldn't offer him any advice that he didn't already know. He needed to give the ladies their space, and when they needed him, he would have to accommodate them.
He may have been the husband, but he suddenly realized he was a weak man. The women in his life were going to rule him. He didn't have the heart to treat them like he had tried to treat Shraga that one night. Yes he was the husband, and he wanted to be respected, but his father had never taught him to demand respect by forcing it. If he wanted his wives to respect him, he needed to respect them. He was in the wrong for demanding Shraga to act demure. He felt sick suddenly, and he needed to be alone. Without a word he was on his feet and left the arena.
Xxxxxxxxxx
She had been mostly left alone by Garsiv since she had been brought to his home. Since she had been left to her own devices, only the servants and Shraga were making sure that she was well taken care of. There would be no denying that she was lonely, but since the night of the fight between Shraga and Garsiv when he had sent her away with a cold goodnight she felt unwelcomed by him and his immediate family. They all kept their distance from her. It wasn't as if she had really expected a lot after he had told her that he was already wed. It was just, well she hadn't thought she would feel like this, alienated.
An emptiness hovered over her heart. She couldn't help it. Being in the palace and suddenly being a princess was so surreal that she had a hard time comprehending it. She accepted everything new to her with good grace, and open curiosity. Yet it hurt when the person who had every right to hate her was kind to her, and the people who were supposed to be kind to her overlooked her existence for the most part. If she saw Garsiv's mother or sisters they would speak to her with kindness, but they never sought her out to get to know her, though she didn't expect them to. Garsiv and his brothers had kept their complete distance from her and so she didn't interact with them at all except in the few moments she had gotten to be alone with Garsiv by seeking him out. During that time too all they had spoken about was Shraga. He never asked her opinion, but when he would ask how she was faring he would grow silent and look like he wasn't paying her any attention. So she would bring Shraga up, and only then would he listen. All she had was the servants and Shraga.
She had been scared at first after the fight between Garsiv and Shraga. She had really thought that Shraga was going to be terrible to her. It was the exact opposite. In fact, Shraga was the best one of them all to her. It was confusing, but Shraga made her loneliness subside sometimes. Iryanna couldn't help it though, within the two weeks she had started to resent Shraga's ability to be so friendly.
The first day when she had woken up, Shraga was the one who stood over her shaking her awake gently. It had scared her to no end. Garsiv has spoken highly about how strong of a woman that Shraga was. After the fight she knew that Shraga was still going to be seething, and she had expected to bare the brunt of that anger. That never happened. Shraga had apologized for the hour but she wanted Iryanna to wake to break their fast together, and then Shraga had called for a seamstress to come to take Iryanna's measurements.
The next day she had woken to Shraga waking her again to show her that some of her new wardrobe had arrived. It wasn't in her to complain either, Shraga woke her up at a reasonable hour when the sun was already into the sky. Shraga had worked easily to help dress Iryanna in the many dresses that had arrived. After trying on the third dress made of hand painted lapis lazuli blue silk that was made for the winter months that were trying to come Iryanna had asked if they were all dresses. Shraga had grown quiet before understanding that Iryanna was concerned about if she too would wear things similar to the green gossamer pantaloons that Shraga wore underneath a long golden silk tunic embroidered with green on the wide sleeves. Shraga asked her what she wanted to wear, and she hadn't thought she would be asked. She had told Shraga that she wouldn't mind some clothing like what she was wearing at the moment, to which Shraga promised to tell the seamstress.
Every day it was Shraga who woke her, and everyday there was something else that Shraga gifted onto her. The first few it was a new wardrobe, filled with many colorful clothing that she had never dreamed of wearing. Around the forth day Shraga bestowed many jewels on to Iryanna, stating that they would share such items. She gave Iryanna the choice to pick out her favorites. She had chosen several golden pieces that surrounded heavy colorful jewels that she had never seen before in her life. The fifth day they had traveled to the markets together to pick out scented shampoos, soaps, and oils.
The sixth day after Shraga found out that Iryanna had a hobby of painting and had taken her back to the market to procure various items to mix paints with canvas cloth that she could use as well. The second week hadn't been any less chaotic either. They were either in the market, or Shraga was teaching her the customs of her new life. It was very overwhelming that by the end of the second week she was exhausted with picking her favorites, trying on items, learning to dance, going to the market, learning history about the Kingdom, and the list went on.
One night before she had a chance begin readying herself for bed, Shraga had come to collect her to take her to the bathing pool in which the King's wives used. Iryanna had wanted to refuse, because she got the distinct feeling that Azada and her twin daughters weren't fond of her. Yet Shraga was already taking her hand and leading the way. Once there the found the pool that the twins inhabited and Shraga turned to start stripping Iryanna. Shraga's slender fingers found the knot of the belted scarf around Iryanna's waist and she began to tug gently at the fabric.
Iryanna reached out, grasping both of Shraga's wrists, terror building in her body. She knew the bathing habits of Persian women, but she didn't think she would ever have to be apart of them. She had been bathed before by women in her family, or by servants, but never her sister through marriage. This was the moment she began to resent Shraga's ability to treat her with kindness. Shraga just laughed good naturedly. She explained that this was something that needed to be done otherwise they wouldn't appear to be sisters, no matter how nice they were to each other. Helping each other in such an intimate way proved that their bond was just as thick as blood. Iryanna realized it was the truth among these people. She spotted the Queen in a different pool in the giant chamber with several other of the King's wives bathing each other. Shraga said she didn't like it at first, and even promised that they wouldn't have to do it often, only once a week. Even the twins were bathing each other as if to confirm that is was natural.
She let go of Shraga's wrists. Shraga then explained that today Iryanna would be the one to be bathed first to show that Shraga had accepted her. Every other time, Shraga was always to be bathed first which was custom. Iryanna nodded, and allowed Shraga to remove all of her clothes. Shraga then helped Iryanna remove Shraga's clothes, and before entering the warm pool together, Iryanna caught herself marveling at the sleek muscles of Shraga's body moving beneath her tanned skin. In comparison, Iryanna knew she looked like a slip of a girl with no strength. Shraga's body was fullers than hers in a curved yet athletic way. She had to force herself to look away.
Being bathed wasn't all that terrible. Shraga was gentle and didn't touch the places that would have made Iryanna blush. She just passed her the lye soap to do so herself. Shraga massaged her back gently with soapy hands and Iryanna wanted to cry. It felt spectacular the way she gently dug her thumbs into the place under her shoulder blades and up her spine to the back of her neck. Her muscles were sore so it was like being in heaven, but it conflicted her that Shraga was able to do such a thing to a woman that she had the right to hate. Even when Shraga washed her golden hair for her, she had massaged the scalp as well. Her face was wet so she knew that no one would see the tear slip down her cheek. When it was her turn to bath Shraga she made sure to do so gently and just as thoroughly.
And now they moved through the gardens together. It was the first day in which they really spent time relaxing. Shraga was showing her around the palace and this had been their last stop for the day. As she was listening to Sharga tell a story about while Garsiv had been captured, Dastan had tried to take her mind off of his safety by attacking her in the gardens to spar. Iryanna had giggled, and when she turned her head slightly she caught Garsiv staring at them both darkly. At first she thought about telling Shraga, but then she knew that it wouldn't matter. Shraga and Garsiv weren't on speaking terms yet since they fight and Shraga wouldn't acknowledge him. She waved and then turned back to Shraga, following her deeper into the gardens.
xxxxxx
The viper curled itself around her bare leg, seeking warmth and flicking its tongue against her knee. She didn't even glance down at the creature as she tried to remove the kohl that lined her eyes with a damp cloth. She was sitting in front of her polished looking glass. She abhorred the makeup, but Iryanna had gifted it onto her and even had wanted to do the lining herself this morning before they had toured the palace. Iryanna was a skilled artist in her own right and had been delicate when applying the kohl. Yet Shraga had been displeased about how dark the product was, causing her green eyes to look dusky in a way she didn't approve. When she tried to tell Iryanna she liked it, the girl had just laughed sweetly, calling her on the lie. Even Iryanna thought it looked too dark for her. Shraga had worn it though because it had meant something to Iryanna for her to do so.
It was nightfall now and she could take it off to never wear it again. She rubbed vigorously at her closed eyes that she didn't see him enter through the mirror, but she did hear him. She had removed all of the kohl, but when she was done her eyes were red with irritation. As she turned to look at him over her shoulder she wiggled her ankle to convey the message that viper needed to hide. It slithered off her leg and disappeared into the shadows. She was lucky that he couldn't stop looking at her eyes so he didn't see the snake.
"Have you been crying?" he asked. There was a moment where she wanted to say that she had. Something told her that he wouldn't believe her. She wouldn't believe it either if she were him. She just shook her head no, then stood up to turn to look at him. Silence enveloped them and she waited for him to tell her why he was there in her room.
When it became painfully quiet she realized it was because he was looking at her body. She wore only a thin black silk robe. While it wasn't see through like some of her other robes, this clung to her the most, exaggerating her shape. It was also short, showing off her lower thighs and down. The way he was looking at her now was how she wanted to look at him earlier when he was in the sparring arena. She had pretended not to see him, but she had. He had his shirt off at the time, with sweat clinging to his skin. His muscles had bunched beneath his skin as he moved, causing the sheen of sweat to glint in the sunlight as he moved. He had developed more sinew since he had been gone. She wanted to admire her husband but when she almost turned to stare Iryanna's inquisitive voice reminded her that she was still angry with him.
"Do you need something?" she finally asked, hoping to get him to leave as quickly as she could without starting a fight.
"I just wanted to check on you since we haven't spoken in a while."
"I am doing well," she stated. She knew she should ask him how he was doing since he was now home. She knew she should still be expressing gratitude that he was alive and returned to her by the grace of the Gods. She couldn't force herself to express that gratitude when she was livid with the fact that he had asked another woman to be his wife. She was starting to think that she may never be able to ever truly forgive him. She wanted to, but she couldn't find herself doing so easily.
"Why did you attack me that night after you were the one who asked me to kiss you?" he asked suddenly forgetting the lack of manners she was showing him. She narrowed her eyes at him, considering her options. It would be too easy to tell him a lie, to watch him hurt as much as she was hurting.
"Because I desired you, and it felt the same as when I desired Zolm. That scared me so I attacked and then all my anger just poured out of me about the entire situation and so I kept fighting."
She decided on the truth. He took the truth a lot better than she thought that he would. He merely nodded with a lengthy sigh. He wouldn't say anything, he didn't really have the right after marrying another before he had even consummated his marriage to her first. She had realized it a week ago that if he had loved her as much as she had thought that he had when they had shared the connection through the necklace that he wouldn't have married another.
"I want you to desire me, and that not to bother you," he whispered as he looked down at the ground. Her brows drew together and she wasn't sure why he was being honest like that with her. It felt nice thought to know that he wanted her to not be confused by her feelings for him.
"I actually came here to tell you to keep away from Iryanna. I know you have lost your trust in me and I was becoming afraid that it would transfer over to Iryanna. I thought if I lost you then I couldn't handle losing her too."
As he spoke he took a seat on the couch, sitting forward with his elbows on his knees. After he finished speaking he ran his hands through his hair nervously.
"I realized that I am being selfish for thinking in such a way. But ultimately I am even more selfish than that. I don't want to lose you period. I married Iryanna because I pitied her, and yes, I desired her too, but mostly I pitied her. Hate me for this if you want Shraga, but I will not let you turn away from me forever. I will give you as much space as I can, but eventually things will have to change. You are going to have to let me be your husband again because I missed you so much while I was gone, and the entire time I have been home it has been driving me mad knowing you are so close, but are farther from me than you were when you still lived with your family. And also, Shraga, I didn't know about your father. We will leave tonight if you want so you can go visit your family. I know it is late, but I never would have wanted you to miss his funeral."
His speech was long winded, selfish, a bit pushy, but oddly enough, it was sweet. She felt conflicted for a few moments. The hassansin in her won over though. Duty came first. Her duty was to her husband so ultimately decided to give him the comfort he needed. She still didn't know everything he had been through, and they were never going to make progress if she couldn't start trying to forgive him. He made a mistake, just like she had. It didn't matter if they were going to be forever living with his mistake, and not hers, it was still a mistake, and Iryanna wasn't a bad person. Shraga would eventually grow to care for her, she knew that she could.
"My place is here, and I don't think I can handle seeing my mother, knowing that I would have to leave her behind. Your offer is very kind though and I can't thank you enough for showing me that compassion."
As she spoke she moved forward so she could stand in front of him. He had his head in his hands so he hadn't noticed that she had moved and when he looked back up at her, he had startled. She just gave him a forced smile, trying to convey to him that she wasn't going to attack him. He relaxed. Part of her wanted to thrive about him being afraid of her. It was delusional thought. He wasn't really afraid of her, he just didn't want to fight her any longer. And he wanted her. That finally sunk in and she suddenly felt warm even though tonight was a particularly cold evening. Her husband could be anywhere he wanted to be, but he chose to be here with her.
"Have you eaten tonight?" she asked. He shook his head that he hadn't, and then she asked him if he would dine with her tonight, just the two of them in her chambers. A smile tugged at his lips and he nodded. She was trying to be sensible and maybe eating dinner would distract them enough while creating a place so they could have conversation. It would be a friendly environment she hoped.
She called a servant to deliver them some food. The woman nodded and left the room. When she turned back to Garsiv again the way he was staring at her reminded her that she needed to put clothing on. She excused herself into the closet space that housed her now many clothes. She twisted her long hair up and pinned it to her head in a loose bun, then she chose a Kurdish gown made of alizarin crimson habutai (like a Chinese silk but heavier) sewn with amber thread. She slipped on some matching amber slippers and an amber belt embroidered with crimson roses. She had thought about wearing one of her newer gowns made of the traditional gossamer that his own mother would have worn, but she didn't want to be seen through the near translucent fabric.
When she returned, the food had been served at the table near the balcony doors. Garsiv already sat at the table, pouring wine for the both of them. He looked surprised that she had dressed so quickly by herself but then a look passed over his face. It was as if he remembered that she wasn't born into a life where others took care of her. She could take care of herself. She didn't even need him. He pressed his lips into a thin line. He wanted her to need him. In ways she did. She just wasn't sure about what ways those were anymore.
Taking a seat she picked up the glass of wine he had poured for her and took a long sip. Without realizing it she drained the entire contents of the glass. A heat lifted to her cheeks and she was embarrassed for looking as if she relied on the wine for courage. Yet the alcohol burned minutes later through her veins and she felt a calm center her. The next glass she poured for herself was just of water.
"Why do you think that the King of Scythia became so sloppy?" she asked. He looked to her confused. "I know you probably don't wish to talk about it, but it is just curious that he spent so much time trying to break you that he would suddenly make the mistake of leaving weapons within your grasp."
"I have thought about it more than I wish to. I can only assume that he thought that I had been broken by the beatings and other various things he had done to me." As he spoke she cut herself a piece of fish that had been for them to share. She sank her fork into the delicate meat and then ate it. Halfway through chewing she realized it must look like she was uncaring to his story. She swallowed carefully and then waited for him to continue. When he didn't continue she couldn't ignore the pained look on his face.
"What did they do to you?" she asked. But of course she of all people would ask. No one had asked him since he had been home. Not his brothers, his fathers, his mother, not even Iryanna had wanted to know and she had been there, though she had been hidden from it. She knew it was pushing him to ask such things but she was curious. Something in her needed to know what had happened to him so she could try to better understand the new man who sat in front of her.
"It isn't really dinner conversation."
"Then what else should we talk about? Our future? Iryanna's future? How your father is building a perfect empire? How your sisters flirt with the two guards who stand post at the nursery? These are things we could talk about any time. I want to know what happened to you. If you can't talk about it that is fine, but just say so."
Her words were forceful but she didn't think she needed to coddle him. Terrible things had happened to him, but he needed to make those things mean something to build him into a man, not use it to break him down into a coward. She pursed her lips and waited patiently.
"The beatings weren't really the worst thing. I have been fighting all my life, and I can thank my father for never allowing his guards to take it easy on us when we were training. I was meant to be a soldier and my father would have done a disservice to me if he would have allowed them to take it easy on me. So when they beat me, it wasn't the worst thing that they could have done. Nothing that they did would have killed me either so that helped. It is when they would starve me that I was at my worst. Going to sleep hungry at night was what started to break me. I only ate when I was obedient enough to do so. Quickly you learn to become obedient to ensure your survival. Looking back they wouldn't have allowed me to die but when you are hungry you lose your ability to concentrate.
"The other thing that began to break me was the miles he would drag me behind his horse. The walking was never a bother. Yet he would jerk the rope leading me, causing me to fall and pull me all day until I lost consciousness and my arms were pulled out of socket. Then when we would stop for camp his men would pop my arms back in place and then I would have to serve the king despite the pain I was in."
She listened without showing any emotions to how she felt about what he was telling her. Once he stopped talking she knew he was finished talking about it in general. He had told her enough though to satisfy her curiosity. She pushed the plate towards with the fish on it and told him to eat. He did so quietly. She nibbled on some of the fruit that had been on the table before she was satisfied. After she finished eating she watched him sate himself too. He ate with manners, but she could tell that he still looked as if this may be his last meal.
"Your left shoulder didn't heal correctly the last time they popped your arm back into its joint."
He was wiping his mouth, ridding the sauce that clung to the corner of his mouth when she spoke. He tried to hide his surprise that she had noticed. Today when he was in the arena with Dastan she had observed him favoring his left shoulder. So had Dastan, and immediately his brother had taken it easier on him. He nodded that it was true.
"Have you told the healer?" she asked.
"Yeah, he comes daily to rub herbs on it to take the swelling down and tells me to keep fighting to regain strength."
"You are right handed, but maybe you should try to fight left handed for a while to ensure that you are exercising it enough." He considered her words and nodded that it was a good idea. Shraga in his memory of her always had good ideas. She really hadn't changed either. She watched as he looked like he knew her worth to him but he wasn't sure how to express it to her. Out of the corner of her eye she caught the movement of one of her vipers slithering closer to the lit fire for warmth. She didn't move her head but when she focused back on him she knew he could see that she was distracted.
She had forgotten about their presence and realized that she had to stay even headed here. If things between them were to suddenly escalate, her vipers would sense her frustration and would act according to their nature against their master's enemy. Things were going well so far, but who knew if things would get out of hand. Usually around the two of them, things got out of hand.
"I am glad that I was able to find the sword you gave me before I made my escape," he said. "It had meant a lot to me and had kept me alive until I was taken, and then it kept me alive one my way back home."
"I am just glad you are home and alive," she stated. He stayed quiet which she was thankful for. There had been a moment where she thought he would say something sappy. Such as something along the lines of 'the thought of you kept me going'. It would have only fueled her anger that in the chambers next to hers slept his other wife.
"This has been a pleasant evening," he said as he stood. He was going to leave because she couldn't stop the dark look from her face when she had thought about Iryanna. He was being smart, he was going to flee before things turned ugly between them. She stood as well and noticed that he hadn't gotten the sauce in the corner of his mouth. Before he could say goodnight she snatched a napkin from the table and stepped forward so she could clean his face. He let her do so.
She invaded his space and reached up with the napkin in her hand. Once the sauce was gone she went to move away from him. He stopped her though by sliding an arm around her waist. She couldn't stop herself from stiffening but she didn't push him away. In this room it was just him and her, she told herself. Just him and her, and he was her husband. He had lived, he had returned, and he was hers. She dropped the napkin and cupped the side of his face as his forehead came to rest against hers.
Her heart was hammering in her chest and she was thankful that he hadn't pulled her close enough to feel it. She was positive that he could feel her sudden rapid breathing on his face though. Her hand smoothed up his face, grazing over his ear, and lacing her fingers into his hair. His hair was soft against her finger tips. She clutched his hair gently, her nails grazing the back of his scalp. He shuddered in her grasp and it excited her all the more. She felt herself giving in to the want she had for him. When the desire pooled in her stomach she didn't reject the feeling. This was okay for her to feel towards him. He wasn't Zolm, he was Garsiv and he was her husband.
His other arm snaked around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. His head was dipping down and she felt a rush of emotions with the anticipation of him trying to kiss her on his own terms. His breath was hot on her skin, causing her to flush even more. Despite eating fish, his breath only smelled of the red wine that he had been drinking. His lips pressed to hers and she sighed. She angled her head so that his mouth could slant over hers. Before she knew it his mouth was pressing harder against hers. He was pouring all his pent up desire into the kiss. She threaded her fingers into his hands tighter than they were before.
Before, the first time they had kissed, her husband had teased the seam of her lips, asking for her silent permission to open to him. Now he didn't silently ask her permission. He just claimed her as his. The moment he slanted his mouth over hers again it forced her mouth to open. Immediately his tongue plunged into her mouth as if it would be the last time he was ever allowed to taste her. She didn't waste time before she reciprocated his actions. Her own tongue slid against the length of his and he groaned almost in pain into her mouth. The vibrations rippled through her and with her free hand she made a first with the fabric on the front of his shirt. She hadn't even noticed her hand had found its way to his chest. Her nails dug into the muscled flesh beneath his shirt as she kept making the fist.
Everything halted though when they were interrupted by the door opening. Slowly they broke the kiss and he was the first to see who was now standing in the room. When he started to detach himself from her while clearing his throat she knew who it was. She forced herself to calm down for many different reasons, her vipers being a main reason, and when she turned to look at their company she wore a passive expression.
Iryanna stood there with her mouth open and her pretty blue eyes swimming with emotions. Her mouth worked a few times but she couldn't seem to find her voice. Shraga noticed that Iryanna was holding a framed canvas. It was small, but Shraga realized that she had painted her something. Shraga found the strength to look past the jealousy that she spied in the younger woman's eyes to move forward, away from Garsiv who just stood their almost stupidly. Shraga had accustomed herself into thinking that Iryanna was a girl. The jealousy in her eyes though was a woman's jealousy.
"What do you have there?" asked Shraga, reminding the woman that she had come here for a purpose. It extinguished the hurt look on Iryanna's face and the woman forced a smile as she held the canvas up so that Shraga could see.
"I know it isn't much, but I painted you a picture," she said.
Shraga looked over the painting and it was beautiful. Iryanna was an artist. A smile broke onto her face and she couldn't hide the appreciation. She had painted the scene in which Shraga had told her about when Dastan had attacked her in the gardens. In the picture the two figures seemed to look like they were dancing with swords. The gown that Iryanna had painted her in was a rich green pigment that swirled around her legs.
"I thought this would be better than the black kohl I gave you earlier," she whispered. Shraga laughed and took the painting. Immediately she found a place for it and placed it on a barren table near her bed. She propped it up on the wall and knew she would have to find a better place for it but for now this would do.
"It is wonderful Iryanna, I cannot thank you enough."
"You painted that?" asked Garsiv.
Iryanna suddenly so shy, seeming like a girl again.
"She is quite the artist," said Shraga. "Maybe for your next painting you could do something for Garsiv so he can see how talented you are." She knew it was dumb for her to suggest such a thing but if this were to work she was going to have to stay strong and accept this situation.
"I would like that," he whispered at he turned to look at Iryanna who blushed under his gaze. She nodded though and agreed that she would paint him something next. Before she could flee though Shraga stopped her by walking up to her and placing her arms around the her sister's shoulders. Iryanna to her credit didn't stiffen at the contact like Shraga would have.
"Thank you again," Shraga whispered as she gave the woman a tight squeeze of appreciation. Iryanna squeezed back. They stepped away from each other and Iryanna bowed her head and said she would leave them alone again. This time Garsiv stopped her. Iryanna flushed when he waved her closer to him. She obeyed though, looked uncomfortable when he drew her into a light hug. He whispered goodnight to her and she said it back. He then brushed a kiss across her temple and let her go. Iryanna bowed again and scrambled from the room.
When they were alone again though Shraga couldn't hide the fact that she was again uncomfortable in his presence. It was as if they were going to take one step forward and then three steps back every time.