The Lost Valor of Love

17 | RUMORS OF WAR

With Anash beside her, Istara entered her father's lavish dining room. He looked up from his mid-morning meal. "Daughter," he said, leaving the table to embrace her. "Come, sit. Have you eaten yet?"

"I am not hungry," she answered, suppressing a gag as the sharp tang of fried mullet reached her nostrils.

"No, I imagine you must not be." He poured her a drink. "Are you able to take a little wine?"

She accepted the cup, but could not bring herself to drink; she set it aside, untouched. Sensing her mistress's unhappiness, Anash pressed her nose against Istara's thigh. Istara stroked the dog's face, remembering when Urhi-Teshub had brought Anash from the north in a basket, a wiggling little puppy. It seemed a lifetime ago. Was he different then, or had he always been violent and dark, keeping his true nature hidden from her? Perhaps his predilections were the real reason he had not wished to marry her, or why he had not come to her on their wedding night, perhaps he feared what he would do to her--

"I could send you to Egypt. You would never have to see him again."

Startled, Istara looked up, catching the set of her father's jaw as he swallowed the last of his wine, the hardness in his eyes.

"Ramesses will just send me back," Istara sighed. "He will want no part of this."

Her father made a sound of annoyance. "You are probably right. Muwatallis was clever to marry you to his son, ensuring Kadesh could never escape Hatti's leash." He paced the room, agitated. "Ah! How I wish to be free of that tyrant and repay him for the crimes he has committed against us, for what he did to Azfar--"

A knock came to the door. Her father looked back, irritated, as his steward entered.

"Your Majesty, the Crown Prince of Hatti has requested an audience."

Istara met her father's eyes, and saw the question in his. She inclined her head. She would stay.

"Send him in," her father said, tight.

The steward left. They waited, tense. Footfalls approached. Istara recognized Urhi-Teshub's tread-strong, determined, purposeful. Nervous, she rose, hating herself for feeling the old, familiar thrill of anticipation he ignited within her. Until this morning, she hadn't seen him in almost nine months. Their journey to Kadesh had helped repair some of the damage between them, but Istara had kept herself aloof, unwilling to let him hurt her again. Then, there had been the letters.

Over the months, safe in Kadesh, her heart had begun to thaw, caught by the romance of his words. And when she heard he had returned, despite the lateness of the hour, she had put on her best dress and made her way to his apartment. When he did not answer, she realized he might be coming to her. She had hastened back to her rooms but the knock never came. Now she knew why.

The door opened. Urhi-Teshub's gaze went to her, enigmatic. Her heart betrayed her, beating faster, drawn to the familiar smooth planes of his jaw and the curve of his lips--the corners turned down ever since they fled Tarhuntassa. Despite herself, she admired his long dark hair, tied back in a leather thong, and his powerful, muscled body clad in leather and bristling with weapons; his two handed sword strapped to his back, its hilt rising above his left shoulder, the grip wrapped in strips of oiled goatskin. She hated herself for her reaction. How could she still long for him when she knew what he was capable of?

He inclined his head to her, then bowed to her father. "Your Majesty," he said, his deep voice sending a fresh, treacherous thrill through Istara's breast. "I come to request your permission to depart from Kadesh. I must travel to Babylon."

"Indeed?" Her father raised an eyebrow. "And what takes you all the way to Babylon?"

"My lord," Urhi-Teshub stepped closer to her father, "may I suggest we hold our interview in private?"