Hearts in Zenith (Four Husbands and a Lover)

82. Bad Peace

On the drunken night when Idezza celebrated their triumph, Taffiz took me to a watchtower of Idezza's castle. The place was deserted, for he must have paid for it.

"Good thing we don't expect a surprise attack," I said and looked around.

The sky turned crystalline and starry, despite the bonfires and the funeral pyres smoldering at the Piazza Divina. Heights didn't make me dizzy, but my head spun because of our victory and my ascension to the title of Captain-Commander. Someone spread cushions, blankets and rose petals. Their fragrance completed the transformation of the rough-cut stone floor into the lovers' bed. Stars, pillows, rough surface—my lips stretched in an amused smile. This couldn't be a coincidence. Taffiz and coincidences didn't go together.

"Oh, sweetheart, you have more freedom than any other man I've met," I said. "But, apparently, all you've ever wanted was what Kozima had at seventeen?"

"Ah," he said, nuzzling my hair. "Isn't that what we all want? To be seventeen? After I've indulged so many of your dreams, fulfilling one of mine didn't feel like such a terrible idea."

"I hope there will be no surprise attack." I rubbed my shoulders. "I'm too exhausted to fight or even raise an alarm."

"There will be no surprise attack." He slipped a band of thick silk over my eyes.

I snorted. "Remind me of the last thing you've said? Something about not expecting any surprises?"

"Except for this."

Blindfolded, I sensed the warmth and pressure of his mouth on my lips more acutely. His teeth grazed my lower lip, a tiny pinch. I found his tongue with mine and nearly burst into laughter. He used chamomile to mask Ashanti!

I didn't have the heart to tell him that chamomile was the only flavor I abhorred more than Ashanti. Suppressing a wince, I tasted his mouth some more. Was it so bad? Bitter, but fresh. Hmm.

I pressed his head closer, digging my fingers into his silly plait to loosen his hair. He earned this. He was a good kisser. But the blindfold bothered me. Was he using it to save me from seeing his face while we were together? I touched the dark cloth and his lips slipped to my ear.

"I have silk bonds," he whispered. "If it helps... if you'll trust me more."

"No, I'll trust you more like this." I tugged the loose knot on the blindfold free and let it fall. A little shimmy, and with the help of his agile hands, my dress followed in the rustle of fabric. "I want to see you, I want to feel you and I want to know you."

His breath hitched as his glance roamed over my bare shoulders, breasts and hips.

"Did the story of your childhood really make Parneres weep?" I asked, taking a small step back.

"I lied," Taffiz confessed. "When I discovered that his unavailability wasn't what attracted you to him."

"So you lied, because you hoped I'd transfer my affection to you, if you can trick me into thinking your past was tragic?"

He shrugged. "When you put it like that... You have a strange effect on me, Ishmara."

"How so?" I pulled his shirt over his head.

"You make me behave irrationally." His eyes shone so brightly that I could see their glow through the black silk. Long limp hair glued itself to the shirt's fabric before I tossed the garment to the floor.

"Tell me anyway." I traced the neat arrangement of his stomach muscles with my fingertips.

He dropped to his knees, hid his face in my navel. "I was born in Saragon, in the City of Valenta."