Hello all! Sorry it took so long to get the next chapter up. It was a long week followed by a busy weekend, but here it is! As requested I added the midnight conversation. Remember I said slight mush. More will be coming later, I promise. Just not quite yet. Also, not song update yet. I'll get to the next stanza soon.
As always, thank you all for the reviews. I appreciate all of them. They are a huge motivator to keep this going. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
Layla
PS: They aren't mine. I'm just tormenting them for my creative amusement.
Tamina lay on her back, staring at the stars, unable to sleep. The fire had died down, only the barest embers still glowing. She sighed silently. Sharing a room with the three men last night had taught her several things: Garsiv snored, Bis mumbled, and Dastan could fall asleep almost in mid sentence. Not used to the sounds of anyone nearby, particularly male grumbling, she found sleep to be rather elusive.
Dastan was asleep a few feet away, the dagger folded into the cloth he was using as a pillow. Unlike the previous night, he'd been drifting in and out of sleep since they bedded down for the night, nearly as unsettled as she was. The faint glow of the fire reflected gently on his face. He was far less aggravating when he was asleep.
She and Dastan had spent the majority of the day's ride bickering over when the dagger's power should be used and when the gods ruling should be left alone. They'd finally had to change the subject when Garsiv threatened to gag them both for the remainder of the trip.
She turned over on her stomach, sighing again. Resting her head on the horse blanket that served as her pillow, she closed her eyes and once more tried to fall asleep. The tension was just starting to bleed out of her shoulders when Dastan woke once more. With a groan he sat up, resting his forehead on his drawn up knees, taking careful deep breaths. Even in the dim light of the moon, she could see he was pale and tense. He stayed that way for a long moment.
When he still hadn't moved, she gingerly sat up, being careful not to startle him. She'd feigned sleep the other times he'd awakened. Reaching for the water skin beside her, she handed it to him, an innocent look on her face when he gave her a questioning glance. "It's just water," she whispered.
He took a long drink and a deep breath before he replied. "Why are you awake?"
"I haven't been to sleep," she answered honestly, still whispering.
He gave her an odd look.
With a smirk she replied, "Acting. You didn't seem like you wanted to be disturbed." At his half-hearted glare she smiled. "Why can't you sleep?"
He looked away uncomfortably. "I'm just restless."
Tamina looked at him carefully, taking in the shadows in his eyes and remembering what Bis had said about being too tired to dream. "You didn't spend the day on the wall. You're having nightmares." It was a statement, not a question.
Dastan gave her a half-hearted glare. "Watching people you care about die in front of you does that."
"How is it different from a dream?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Dastan looked at her in surprise. "You've never used the dagger?" he asked.
She shook her head. "It is forbidden, unless doing so protects the dagger itself. The Guardians know better than anyone what happens when time is changed. We know not to take such risks."
He looked at her carefully, his eyes reevaluating something. "Have any of the Guardians ever used the dagger?"
"There was one, several centuries ago. The dagger was threatened, and she was forced to defend it. Her writings of what happened are now taught to all the Guardians."
"How did she describe it?"
Tamina gave him a tight smile. "She it was like holding madness in her hands. That she was as haunted by what did not become the future as by what did. She said mortal minds are not meant to hold such power."
Dastan shifted, "She was right. That knife is more curse than gift." He sighed, but then answered her original question. "It's like…eating tainted food."
At his bizarre statement, she gave him a baffled look. "What?"
He gave her a small smile. "Have you ever eaten tainted food? Where you get violently ill after you've eaten it."
Her confusion obvious and slight distrusting she nodded slowly. "I drank bad milk as a young girl."
Dastan winced in sympathy. "How long before you could drink milk again?"
Still suspicious she answered, but not without making a face. "Several years. I couldn't even smell the stuff, and I avoid it if I can now."
Dastan nodded. "It's the same with this. You really died in front of me this morning; it wasn't just an image from a dream. I can still smell the sand and blood. I can feel your blood on my hands and knees as I knelt and pulled the dagger from your satchel. Just like the smell of milk brings back your sickness, so strongly, because it really happened."
Understanding his comparison now, she looked away. How much like madness that must seem. "Do you always dream of our deaths?"
Dastan shook his head. "I haven't in several nights. Seeing everyone alive helps push the thoughts of what happened before away. This morning brought it all back." He paused and looked at her. "But why are you awake?"
Now it was her turn to shy away. "I couldn't get comfortable," she said, sounding as regal as possible while whispering.
He raised an eyebrow. "You're lying, Princess."
She glared. It wasn't fair that he could read her so easily. She glanced away. "I do not like that the gods will not take back the dagger. I don't understand why they are allowing it to remain in danger."
Dastan's perceptive eyes watched her for a moment. "You are the dagger's Guardian, and yet they have thwarted your attempts to do what you've been taught."
She nodded. "This little adventure goes against every rule I've been trained to follow. They won't take the dagger back, but it is not safe in Alamut right now, so we are running around Persia with it. My husband was never to know about the dagger, and yet you are the one who saved it. And you've used it." She paused, debating if she should say her final thought. She'd known this man for a week, and yet he'd shown such trust in her. She continued, looking him in the eye. "My life is to be dedicated to the dagger, nothing is supposed to be more important than that, and yet you have made it clear that you will guard me over it."
Dastan took a deep breath, reaching into one of the food bags beside them, and pulling out a cloth filled with dates. He handed her one, before popping another into his mouth. "You told me, just before you let go of my hand in the chamber with the sands, that it was my destiny to protect the dagger, not yours. But I could not have done what I did without your help. And you would not have survived the attacks of the Hassansins without me."
He turned to face her, his eyes concealing nothing. "We are in this together, Tamina. Perhaps that much is Destiny. But we can choose what we make of it. So I will choose to protect you. I value you more than that dagger, but I know that you are its protector. It in guarding you, I guard it. That is how I will handle what your gods have given me."
With that look of unconcealed determination and affection in his eyes, she had to force herself not lean that inch forward and kiss him. It would be so easy to do, to satisfy her curiosity about what kissing him would be like. The dim fire embers and the moon setting a scene too easily taken advantage of. Her eyes flickered to his lips and back before she made herself pull back slightly and focus on his words.
He chose to protect her as his way of guarding the dagger. He wasn't denying that the gods had put the dagger into his path, he was just setting his own method of dealing with it. And he thought that they were meant to do this together.
So maybe that was where her choice came in. If he was destined by the gods to be a protector of the dagger and her husband, then she had two real options. She could push him away, force the situation to return to what she always assumed would be her future. She could have a distant and political marriage, guard the dagger as all the other Guardians had in the past. She could, with enough effort, make that reality.
But none of the other Guardians had ever had someone like Dastan to contend with. Their writings confirmed that. And while she firmly believed the gods were thorough and cared for their people, she doubted they took the time to consider what Dastan's lips felt like when he kissed her hand. Or what affect his gaze had on her heartbeat. Her attraction to him was not something the other Guardians had ever written about in their accounts of their husbands. They described honor and acceptance of their mates, of pride in knowing he would give them the daughters they needed, of their bravery in facing their marriages. Had they just left that out of their writings, or did she have something that they did not?
Clearly none of the other Guardians had ever stolen the dagger out of the city, had the gods reject its return, and gone running around Persia with two princes and their friend. Her situation was unique. So maybe an unconventional marriage to Dastan wouldn't be a direct violation of her duty to the dagger. She would guard the dagger, and Dastan would guard both it and her. And she did not have to force distance between them.
So then her pending marriage, whenever it was, was maybe one less thing to worry about, at least from that perspective. The gods had sent her down this path. They had placed the dagger into his hands, not once but twice, so they must have intended for him to have it. And as such, her as well. They were never going to be the typically royal rulers of Alamut, not with that beginning, but maybe that was okay. These were unusual times, and the usual rules might not apply. And just maybe that meant she didn't have to feel the twinge of guilt that followed the thrill at the idea he cared enough of about her, not her titles or duties, but her, to want to keep her safe.
It was something to consider. But not in the middle of the night with said prince watching her reactions and still far too close for her to forget his proximity.
"I will have to think about it," she acknowledged finally, offering him a slight nod of acquiescence.
At her haughty manner he quipped, "Don't hurt yourself, Princess." A cheeky grin curved his lips. Even in shadowy light she could see the humor in his eyes.
The corners of her lips twitched. "Considering that a you came up with the idea, I doubt it is that complicated. You'd strain yourself if you tried to think that hard."
He laughed quietly. He offered her another date, popping it into his mouth when she shook her head. He took one last sip of water and lay back down. "Dawn is still hours off. You should get some sleep."
"Tired of my conversation?" she teased, settling back down on stomach, but still watching him. She saw him smile, the scar on his cheek highlighted in the moonlight.
"Just tired. What sort of protector would I be if I fell asleep in the saddle tomorrow?"
"Persian," she responded immediately. Resting her head on her arms, she closed her eyes. "Good night, Dastan."
"Sleep well, Tamina."
Sitting just inside the main city gates of Nasaf on the back of a cart, her travelling cloak pulled close around her face, Tamina surveyed the scene before her. A small but rather boisterous group of men were huddled off to her left, placing bets and cheering on the fighters who stood in the center. Currently Dastan was taking a pounding trying to fight an enormous Turkish man who had more hair than teeth, and he was nearly bald.
Calling encouragement and also keeping an eye on anyone who walked through the gate was Bis. His left hand held the coins he'd wagered on this particular fight. He'd made a small fortune off of Dastan's previous victories, but the prince wasn't likely to beat his current opponent. Bis shot her a grin and returned to the gate and fight.
She was holding on to their meager possessions: Dastan's shirt, Bis's scarf, a few more wine skins filled with water and their dwindling pile of dates. Watching every man who came through the gate, her eyes were tired from squinting and her head hurt.
They had arrived in Nasaf just after midday, barely skirting the edge of a dust storm that had blown through headed to the main road. They had managed to keep going despite the horrible winds, but Tamina doubted she would ever get her skin free of the sand. For once she was grateful not have anyone looking at her, certain that her windblown face was red and scratched. But the storm had been a blessing. It had barely brushed past them. But it had crossed the road in full force, evening their odds of reaching the city ahead the Hassansin they chased.
They'd bedded down their horses at one of the stables used by Dastan's company of soldiers, figuring the risk of being seen there was far less than trying to stable warhorses in general stables. They had found a room for rent not far away, posing again as travelers to ensure they were able to make an easy escape should they need to follow the Hassansin to a new location. And to avoid the inevitable political mess of the palace learning that Dastan and Garsiv had smuggled in the unwed Alamutian princess. Dastan's intended or not, it would not have gone over well.
Tamina winced as Dastan took a particularly vicious punch to his left side, wrestling the larger man to the ground as he fell. He shouted a retort to Bis, who was calling backhanded encouragements, as he tried futilely to get out of the hold he was pinned in. It took several squirming seconds before he conceded defeat. Struggling to his feet, Dastan gave the man a nod of appreciation before he moved to stand beside Tamina.
Guzzling water from one of the skins, he noticed her gaze and gave her a cheeky grin, tossing unremembered words back at her. "See something you like?"
She gave him her most thoroughly disgusted look and returned her gaze to the gate. "So much confidence from a man who just lost. Shouldn't the Lion of Persia win when he fights? "A hint of humor leaked into her voice, but she willed the smile away.
He laughed and winked at her as he pulled on his shirt. Hopping up beside her on the cart, he snagged a date. "He's half giant and fresh to the fight. Killing him seemed unnecessary."
"Such nobility." She drawled, squinting at the group of men walking through the gates. "If we don't see him soon, the gates will shut for the night. I find it hard to believe we arrived that far ahead of him."
His eyes lingering over every man walking through the gate he nodded. "We'll have to start searching the hard way."
She faced him and raised an eyebrow, baiting him. "And fighting Turkish traders wasn't hard?"
Dastan leaned closer, his blue eyes shining with humor. "You enjoyed watching."
It took far more effort than it should have to force her eyes away from his. Her tendency to get distracted by his nearness seemed worse after their little chat the night before. "I was watching the crowd, not watching you."
He smirked. "You didn't wince every time Bis took a hit."
She glared. He wasn't supposed to have noticed that. "Since he took far fewer than you, I didn't feel as badly when he did."
"I'm sure that makes him feel better."
She opened her mouth to give an equally haughty reply when she saw him. The man was still dressed in black clothing, but he looked much worse for the wear. His horse was lathered, foam gathering on its ribs, as it trudged forward. Horse and rider immediately took a side street, pulling away from the rest of the incoming traffic and drawing little attention.
She elbowed Dastan. "There he is."
Before she could point the man out, Dastan was on his feet. He took two running steps across the bed of the cart, jumping and grabbing a hold of a timber sticking out of the roof of the building behind her. He kicked his feet, swinging his boy forward, he moved one hand to the neighboring timber, using the two pieces of wood to lever himself up. He managed to sit on one beam, before gaining his balance and standing up. In two quick steps he'd crossed the remaining wooden beams, leapt forward, and using his feet and an open window pulled himself on the roof.
Her jaw open in surprise, Tamina watched as he disappeared across roof tops, staying just behind and out of sight of the man he chased.
Bis appeared at her side. "If he's lucky, no one will notice him and he can follow the man to his destination."
She faced him, looking skeptical. "How could he not be seen flying across rooftops?"
Bis gave her a confident grin. "How do you think he took down the gate in Alamut?"
Tamina gave him an exasperated glare. Gathering the last of their possessions, she and Bis drifted quietly away from the fighting crowd. They made their way inconspicuously toward their rented room. With Dastan chasing the Hassansin and Garsiv still up at the palace informing Tus of what they had found, their main priority was staying still and in a known place until they could come up with a better plan.
so, what did you think? :-)