by her side, and from his strength would fl ow the prosperity and security of the realm.
Batu felt sympathy for her sister, for she knew that Anan’s duty was a difficult one. Hers was a life consecrated to the kingdom. How fearful it would be to be in her spot, left without choice, forced to marry the one the priests chose for her.
For Batu was in love.
As she walked, she stared at the dais ahead, at the rich, golden throne, so that she would not look to her side at the line of soldiers guarding their path, so that she would not meet the eyes of the one man she desired above all others.
Egmath. Even the whisper of his name in her thoughts felt like a stolen pleasure. Soon they would tell of their love, soon. But for now, it was theirs to savor, still new in its full flower. When they informed the priests and Anan, it would be a public thing; they would be held separate until they’d married.
And Batu did not think she could bear it.
From the corner of her eye she saw the gleam of the gold cuff around his upper arm. She saw the strong muscles of his chest, the proud carriage of his head. And her heart swelled at the knowledge that this warrior, this man of honor, was hers.
Batu couldn’t help it—her eyes fl icked toward him to meet his gaze. The rush of it stole her breath. It seemed hardly possible that the love she’d always felt for him had transformed into this tremendous emotion that took her over. This was not the simple affection of children for children.
This was the love of a woman and a man.
Batu followed Anan up the stairs to the dais and moved to stand behind the golden throne as her sister sat. From there, Batu could stare out into the hall, looking at the torchlight flickering off the richly colored pillars. Looking out at the throng that packed the hall.
Looking at Egmath.
On the steps stood Hortath, the eldest priest. At the foot of the dais stood Lagash, the leader of the army, with his soldiers arrayed beyond him. And Egmath by his side.
The music ended, and the silence of the hall was broken only by the rustling of the throng.
Hortath cleared his throat. “May all the gods of this land give strength and health to our ruler, Queen Anan. Let great joy and celebration mark this day, the day the Queen will stand before you with her consort, a great warrior to keep the realm safe and bring forth heirs.”
But it wasn’t Anan’s choice. The priests made the decision, as they did in so many things. Anan would find out at the same time as the rest of the kingdom. She would take Lagash, they’d speculated, though she bore him no love and he was two score harvests older than she. She would take him into her life, take him into her bed.
Batu ached for her sister.
Hortath raised his hands. “Let stand forth the consort whom the gods have chosen.” He waited a moment for silence. “Let stand forth Egmath.”
And the hall erupted with cheers.
Let stand forth Egmath. The impossible words reverberated in Batu’s head. She felt stunned, as though the knowledge held the force of a blow. It was impossible, unbearable. Egmath was hers, her destiny. But the priests wished to control his power and they’d sworn him to Anan.
At the foot of the dais Egmath looked frozen, unable to move. And she who knew him better than all, she who could read every nuance in his expression, saw pure agony in the liquid dark eyes. He looked at her and for a moment they locked eyes, not caring, finally, about the multitudes around them. For a moment, words, feelings flowed through his gaze.
My beloved…
My only…
My lost one…
My duty…
And Egmath stepped forward and strode up to the dais.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Prologue
Upstate New York Saturday, April 29
“I AM SO DONE WITH THIS,” Julia Covington said to herself.
And stepped out the door into thin air.
Not surprisingly, she dropped like a rock. That was why smart people knew enough to stay inside the airplane.
They’d lied when they’d said it was like flying. It wasn’t a bit like flying. Or floating. What it was like was falling, strapped to a jump instructor, her stomach up her throat, the wind flapping around her, nothing to hold her as she watched the distant—and really large, really hard—earth come inexorably closer.
And her mind, analytical to the last, couldn’t stop processing. Acceleration due to gravity was thirty-two feet per second squared, which meant every second she fell thirty-two feet per second faster. Until terminal velocity, of course, a mere hundred and twenty miles an hour, which she should be reaching shortly. On the ground she’d get thrown in jail for going a hundred and twenty miles an hour. Up here she just got charged a lot of money for the privilege. A hundred and twenty miles an hour—more than sufficient to make a nice little splat when she hit the ground.
She really hoped she’d packed the parachute right.
She glowered at her old college roommate Sasha, who’d come up with the whole extreme-sports idea. It’ll be good for you. Live life on the edge. Grinning giddily, Sasha waved.
“How did I let you talk me into this?” Julia shouted, words that were ripped away by the wind.
Sasha cupped one hand to her pressure helmet. “Whaaat?”
Julia shook her head. It didn’t matter. She knew why she’d done it—the same reason behind nearly every absurd thing she’d done over the past eight months. Since her divorce. Since her emancipation from Edward Cleary, her controlling, disillusioned Svengali of an ex-husband. Edward, who’d loved her as the naive student he could mold and instruct. Edward, who wasn’t at all prepared for a Julia with a mind of her own.
And she’d been demonstrating that mind of her own since the papers had been signed by trying every foolish thing she could think of that would make Edward turn purple with disapproval. So okay, maybe the incident on the balcony at Mardi Gras hadn’t been well thought through, but she’d crash the Miramax party at Cannes again any day.
It
