Eliana dressed Kisha for eternity – a sapphire-blue tiered gown, gilded sandals at her feet, a circlet of gold set on her brow as a marker of her status. Her blue-black curls, so like her sister's, were washed and brushed out until they shone, forming a soft bed beneath her body. As a final touch, Eliana clipped their mother's lapis bracelet around Kisha's wrist in the hopes that it might give her a smile when she reached the underworld.
Perhaps it would also help their mother to recognise Kisha's shade – she had been so very small when they last saw each other.
Kisha was taken away to be entombed, the bed was cleaned, every trace of blood was washed from the floor, but the rooms would never feel like home again. The sun that warmed them had been extinguished.
Trying to make Sarri understand had been so difficult. She welcomed her new baby sister with a delighted squeal, and her aunt with a wary gaze. It had not occurred to Eliana that her niece would no longer know her – she had been away for five months, almost half the girl's life – she had only celebrated her first birthday six weeks before. Too young to understand the finality of death, but old enough to understand that Eliana was not her mother, Sarri had wailed for hours when Kisha did not come.
Eliana cried with her.
Eventually, Sarri quieted and snuggled into her aunt, snuffling and hiccupping occasionally as she caught her breath. She was a pretty little thing, with a cloud of dark curls and big black eyes like her mother's, framed by long lashes. She would be a beauty when she was older.
Eliana was almost grateful that the girl was so small that she would not remember her mother as she grew. It would be less painful for her that way.
Numb with grief and fired with anger by turns, Eliana tried to keep herself occupied – with a lively little one and a newborn in the rooms, there was plenty to do, and always a child to watch. Sarri had grown so much in her absence; she was pulling herself up on the furniture and toddling about, trying out her favourite word, telling anyone who would listen, no. Everything was interesting to her – Eliana and Mari had to be careful to keep everything not meant for her little hands well out of reach.
Just four days after Kisha's body was taken away, Ashan knocked at the door.
Mari answered it while Eliana sat giving the newborn her feed. Her heart sank as she looked at Ashan's face – his expression was grim; this wasn't a social call.
'What does he want now?' she cut straight to the heart of the matter, not bothering with a greeting.
'He wants to see you – you're to come with me now.'
'I'm busy. He can wait.'
'He doesn't wait.'
'Well he'll have to. I refuse to go.'
Ashan sighed. He had hoped that she wouldn't be stubborn – now that her chain was off, she was asserting control over her own movements again.
'You can't refuse – you know that he'll get you there one way or another.'
She shrugged, uncaring. Her hatred for Samsu was eating her alive – she blamed him entirely for her sister's death and could not be sure what she would do when she next came face-to-face with him.
'Eliana!' Ashan barked in his military voice. 'If you do not come with me, the prince may send his Brute after you, and then the girls will be in danger. Is that what you want?'
She shot him a withering look, 'of course it isn't. Don't be ridiculous.'
'Then you'll come?'
'Fine!' she stood abruptly, handing the baby to Mari. 'Take them out somewhere,' she instructed. 'Anywhere. The gardens, the bathhouses, I don't care. Just take them somewhere that isn't these rooms, where they can't be immediately found and used as leverage over me.'
Mari gave her a suspicious look, 'what are you planning?'
'I'm not planning anything, and therein lies the danger. I don't know what I'm going to do or say, so get these girls out for a walk.'
'Don't do anything stupid,' pleaded Mari, going to collect Sarri from her playroom.
Without waiting for Ashan, Eliana turned and strode from the room, towards Samsu's apartments. He chased after her, 'don't be an idiot, Eliana. He's well-disposed towards you, for now. Don't jeopardise it!'
She didn't answer.
When she reached the door to Samsu's rooms, she barged straight in without knocking. 'You wanted to see me, sir?' There was just a hint of a sneer in her voice.
If he heard it, he ignored it. 'Yes, karkittu. I've decided that I will take you as my new concubine. The ceremony will take place next week.'
'When Utu falls from the sky, it will.' Eliana fired back, quivering with rage.
His eyes narrowed dangerously. 'I beg your pardon?'
'I will never give my consent to this marriage.'
'Fortunately, I do not require your consent.'
'You'll have to drag me there – I'll kick and scream all the way!'
'If that's what it takes!' Samsu raised his voice; she could see he was beginning to get agitated. A smug feeling of triumph smothered any fear she might have felt. 'Ungrateful whore! You should be honoured.'
'Well I am not honoured. I am disgusted. You murder my sister and seek to put me into her place? I will not.'
'You will, if I command it,' he growled.
'You can force me to the altar, bind me to you with your strange ceremonies and foreign ways, but I will never love you, never respect you, never willingly obey unless I choose to. I don't even think I fear you anymore. You will find no easy, pliant wife in me as you had with Kisha.'
'I do not want an easy, pliant wife,' he said, coming to stand so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body. 'I want you, may Marduk have pity on me. You may never love me, that I do not demand, but you will respect me, and you will fear me.'
Slowly, deliberately, she spat at his feet.
Every muscle in him tensed.
'Have you forgotten how to bow, karkittu?' he hissed. 'Perhaps you've been too long in my company, grown too accustomed to taking liberties. Bow!'
She did not move, did not step back, but continued to stare him full in the face, her eyes full of insolence.
'I said, BOW!' stepping swiftly to one side, Samsu drove his foot into the backs of Eliana's knees, knocking her to the floor.
She immediately got to her feet. He clenched his fist and drove an iron blow into her stomach.
The pain was so intense that sparks danced before her eyes as she doubled over, stifling a groan. Forcing the air back into her lungs, she straightened up to face him again.
He raised an eyebrow, 'a smart whore would stay down.'
'Then I suppose I am a stupid whore,' she retorted. 'Why would you want to marry a stupid whore?'
'Because I say I do!' he slapped her face; her head snapped back with the force.
Whipping her head straight again, she did something she never would have dared had she thought about it first – she slapped him back.
Striking him across the cheek with all her strength, a satisfying crack resounded about the room. Within seconds, his cheek had reddened to show her handprint, all her fingers clearly visible in the markings.
He exhaled slowly, his eyes blazing now. An unexpected hand of panic gripped her gut – she had pushed too far.
His hand snaked out and caught her forearm, gripping painfully tightly; he yanked her up onto her tiptoes, so that her eyes were level with his. Catching a glimpse of the sudden fear, he bared his teeth in satisfaction. 'I told you that you would fear me.' He threw her to the ground so hard that her head bounced – she felt the skin split where her forehead struck the tiles; blood began to seep down the side of her face.
Samsu drove a brutal kick full into her face. Her lip split to match her forehead, stickiness oozing over her chin. He followed it with a boot to the midriff – she felt a crack in her chest with the impact.
Pulling herself into a ball, she tried to protect her head and stomach as the blows landed on every side with sickening force.
'Sir!' she heard Ashan's voice as if from a great distance – muffled and vague-sounding. 'She is no use to you dead!'
Samsu grunted and stamped on her leg with all his weight. 'Take her away,' he growled. 'Ungrateful bitch.'
She whimpered in pain when Ashan picked her up as gently as he could. It was a blessed relief when her consciousness began to slip away – she did not fight it, but let the darkness claim her.
**
Eliana's next fortnight was spent in bed.
The obsequious, owl-like physician had come to examine her, diagnosing two cracked ribs, a split lip, severe bruising and a concussion. For her pain, he left some more of the potion that had drugged her the day of Kisha's death – she had Mari pour it into the chamberpot. He ordered two weeks' bed rest for her.
Eliana felt a little guilty; confined to her bed, she could do nothing to help Mari, who now had her hands full as the sole carer for two small girls and an invalid. No visitors were permitted to the apartments, with the exception of the physician, and Eliana would sooner not have seen him. If she never saw him again, it would be too soon.
But she did not regret standing up to Samsu, whatever the outcome. She had said what she longed to say, and she had struck him. Hatred was slowly overcoming fear.
The two weeks of quiet were good for Eliana. They gave her time to come to terms with her loss – she wept, she mourned, she raged, she remembered. She waited for Kisha to come and tend her, as she always did when her little sister was ill. Only her shade visited – Eliana dreamed of her sister the night of Samsu's attack; they had clung to each other, bidding their final farewells. As Kisha began to melt into the shadows, she whispered one word – Kisuri.
The newborn had a name at last.
At the end of the fortnight, Ashan came to visit.
Eliana was dressed and sat on the bed playing with Sarri when he arrived. He gave a tentative smile, as if not sure of his welcome.
She beckoned him over and called for Mari to take Sarri away. 'What brings you here now?' she asked.
'The prince sent me to see if you're well enough and looking pretty enough to be married in two weeks.'
'And what will you tell him?'
'What would you like me to tell him?'
'I would like you to tell him that I will never be well enough to marry him... but if you cannot tell him that, tell him three weeks instead of two.'
He smiled briefly, but his expression turned serious again. 'You won't try anything like that again, will you? With Samsu, I mean. He might kill you next time. When the red mist descends, he's like a wild animal – barely knows what he's doing.'
'I might,' she sighed. 'I don't care if he kills me – I won't be trampled over any longer. I hate him with every part of my being.'
'Hush!' he urged. 'Do you hate him because of what happened to Kisha?'
'Of course! And for a dozen other reasons besides.'
'Well, ask yourself: if Kisha had been given the choice – what would she have chosen?'
'Life!'
'But life for whom? It was her life, or the baby's. Whose would she have chosen?'
Eliana looked away, tears clouding her vision, 'the baby's,' she whispered.
Ashan took her hand, 'Kisha's daughters need you. The people of Nippur need you. I need you. Don't defy Samsu and die pointlessly – you can do so much more good in the world if you live.'
'But I can't live without her,' the tears spilled down Eliana's cheeks.
He wiped the tears away. 'She would want you to, Elly.'
His use of her sister's pet name for her was a shock – she forgot to breathe momentarily, trying to decide whether the diminutive sounded right or wrong on his tongue. He leaned in and tucked a stray curl behind her ear.
Before she knew what was happening, they were kissing. It was urgent, intense – not the soft and gentle kisses she had experienced from Ashan before. She liked it – there was an edge of desperation, of need.
She twined her fingers into his hair and kept his mouth on hers until she felt faint; losing her balance, she toppled backwards onto the sheets, pulling him down with her.
He looked at her in surprise.
Not giving him time to think too hard, she kissed him again, arching her back to press her body down the length of his.
Ashan groaned in response, sweeping a tender hand from her neck, over her breasts, into the curve of her waist and down the side of her thigh. It was as if his hand were alight, for every part of her that he touched burned with longing for him.
He kissed her again, deeply, her lips opening under his and encouraging him sweetly. Touching her gently, caressing her, Ashan seemed on the very edge of self-restraint.
Giving a frustrated sigh he pulled away, 'we shouldn't be doing this. Is this what you really want?'
'Yes,' she whispered. 'Is it what you want?'
He began to fumble with her gown in reply, pushing it up to her hips and freeing himself from his tunic. He positioned himself, brushing lightly against her, teasing. Even then, he stopped to ask, 'are you sure?'
Eliana grabbed his shoulders and arched her hips into his in response. He slid in easily – she gasped, shivering with an arousal she had never felt before in her young life. Holding his weight carefully on his elbows so as not to further damage her ribs, he made love to her as she had never known it could be done. Tender and considerate, he listened to her responses, seemed keen to give her the pleasure that she had never expected after her relations with Samsu.
For just a moment, she felt truly, uniquely happy.
When Ashan was spent and she was exhausted, they lay together in silence for several minutes, their hearts beating as one.
She felt a little pang of sadness as he slid from the bed. 'This can't happen again, can it?'
He shook his head, and whispered, 'but I'm glad it happened once. I love you, Elly.'
Placing a little kiss on her forehead, he drew the sheet up over her as she drifted into sleep.