Chapter Fifty One: My Destined Bride

Kareem, fifth son of the great Razier, watched fixedly from the ground below as his cali made the climb up the outer wall of this seaside capital, running straight up the first six feet of stone before leaping and finding impossible finger holds in the roughened stones. She was such an agile little animal, and he found himself solidly disappointed she was not still dressed in that shortened silk night-shift. The view from down here would have been wonderful then, able to see right up her skirt, right between her spread legs, and make as long a study as he pleased of those perfect rounded peaches of her backside. This loose and moth-eaten burlap dress she had donned and the full length black trousers worn beneath it completely hid all such lovely sights from him now.

Duke Marseir’s agent had lent them both fresh and practical clothing alongside their every requested weapon. Still, his little cali had insisted they keep on the rags they had stolen from that cabin overtop these much more sensible outfits for the sake of blending into the slums on the other side of this fifty foot stone barrier.

Kareem would see his woman dressed in a proper wrap of softest cashmere with bared shoulders the second they were done with this errand of rescuing Charlotte Marseir. He would drape her in golden adornments and bind her as his wife, then see her spread out bare across his bed.

He had wanted her from the second he laid eyes on her, stepping out of that carriage in that most shameful dress with its plunging neckline and that entrancingly colored hair spilling out from beneath her veil. He had outright fallen in love the second he had lifted that veil and glimpsed for the first time those full lips of hers, that perfect creamy-skinned complexion and those cheekbones.

She spoke most disrespectfully, as might be expected of a cali. Still, he loved that sultry low voice of hers, and he was eager to explore every sound he could make come out of that beautiful mouth. She would happily reveal to him her true name, and she would scream his name in breathless ecstasy, night after night as he--

A length of cord slapped him in the face, and his eyes jerked back into focus, as he gave a glare to the insolent peasant balanced ontop the wall. She had thrown down a rope so he could make the climb after her, yet she had her eyebrow arched in clear challenge, as if she doubted he would be capable of it. He seized the length of cord between his hands and started hand over hand up and toward his waiting cali without the need to even make use of his feet. She kept that rope steady for him, anchored firmly in a loop around an iron flag pole jutting out from the battlements.

Those lines of definition across her forearms, standing out in clear strain at the moment, were not at all womanly, he had to say. Still, she was slender enough, and he would see her softened up appropriately once he brought her back to his hall. She would have no need to fight or hold a weapon, once she was safe in the harem of an Arakesh lord, and she would have no desire to. She would see for herself this day how formidable a warrior her new lord was, and she would entrust him forevermore to protect her and their soon-to-be children.

She pulled the rope up and coiled it back beneath her cloak, the second he joined her on that parapet. “We’ll need that to get down the other side,” he reminded her, and the assassin just arched an eyebrow.

“I won’t,” she retorted, leaping straight off the wall and landing in a wagon load of moldering hay and rubbish fifty feet below.

Kareem had no rope of his own to use to slide down there after her and avoid such a disgraceful landing. His cali was already striding out from her landing site, brushing herself off and staring up at him in clear and mocking challenge.

He cursed her beneath his breath, noting in muttered Arakesh, “Of course a cali feels compelled to start rolling in filth. Even if she can never be properly purified, I must bathe her most thoroughly after this.” And what a wonderful bath that would be… Oh yes. It would most definitely make worth it this most jarring long drop into flea-infested grasses.

He hit with a thud and could not hold in his groan. The hay and rotting fruit had softened the landing somewhat, but any drop from that distance was bound to hurt somewhat.

“At least you’re not afraid of heights,” his woman taunted, seizing his hand and hauling him out from the reeking wagon bed.

“The castle of Stalis has a proper, full baths, yes? We will make use of that as soon as we are able, to rid us of this stench,” he resolved.

“I highly doubt we’ll have time to fill a tub during this break in to a most heavily guarded fortress,” she responded wryly, “and you are truly such a fussy little lordling. ‘It is not at all manly’,” she mocked him, and he could see why her father had dealt her that fading bruise on her face.

It was horribly wrong to strike a woman, no matter the justification, and he would never do so himself. Still, this demon seemed to delight in pushing buttons and teasing out a man’s temper. Kareem would have to introduce her to his brother’s wives and get them to teach her to be sweet and demur and cherish him in the ways a woman was designed for.

He could save even the soul of a cali, he swore. Once she felt his love and carried his children, she would abandon her wicked ways and adopt a more pleasing disposition. Though… the myths never ended that way. They all ended in the noble man sinking deeper into sin then being dragged to hell once he gave into the urges of a cali. Still, Kareem’s myth would change the way of such stories, because his tale would end in a golden haired goddess grown from a cali, bound to him alone and sitting beaming by his side.

“You’re staring at me again,” she muttered.

He smiled, hovering his lips right over her ear, though he kept his hands carefully off of her, in case she opted to deal him another cut. “I was envisioning our wedding.” She blushed, shoulders tensing, and his smile further broadened. He floated a hand right over her back. “It will happen home in Arakesh. Do you wish me to paint the picture? I know the pattern of wrap that would suit you best--”

“And I’m sure you could go on for hours about even the cut of your own clothing, you puffed up ponce, but we are trying to keep our heads down and avoid notice, so stop speaking so loudly about your homeland,” she ordered, eyes darted to a group of ragged peasants eyeing them from a broken doorway a dozen feet away. “The closer we get to the palace, the harder it will be to..”

A pair of noisy, brass bells began echoing out over the city, and his cali stopped dead in her tracks.

“Warning bells?” he prodded, but she shook her head.

“Wedding bells,” she murmured, and he brightened.

“How appropriate. The fates are sending us another sign, my gem--”

“Those bells are not sounded for the unions between peasants,” she cut him off angrily, “and no local lords would be getting married this day, not under Yuri Gristhm.”

“Ah, so you fear Charlotte is being stolen away from us this very hour,” Kareem filled in, keeping easy pace by her side, as she jogged out the dingy alley and onto the main street.

The palace gates were creaking open and an armored carriage was clattering down the way, flanked on all sides by black armored northmen carrying crossbows. “Make way for Prince Carnen and his bride!” the soldier at their head bellowed, and the peasants went skittering fearfully to the sides of the streets.

They could not help but keep watching though, and neither could Kareem, as the procession went racing right toward the grand old cathedral that stood just outside the castle gates. A young woman poked her head out of that carriage and gave a little wave to her people, paired with a glowing smile. That most genuine expression of joy seemed to calm some of the tension in the air of this crowd, and Kareem found himself entranced by this goddess. She had the same golden hair and lovely features of his cali, but he could tell just by her blush and that nervous air that this was a true gentle lady, not a rough-housing demon who delighted in temptation.

He could not manage to catch her eye, dressed in reeking peasant garb as he was. Still, it was love at first sight, even more powerful than the last time, and Kareem knew this woman would indeed become his first wife. He could settle for nothing less.