On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [50]
He shuddered as a deep sob racked his thin frame. “My little sister….”
Kevla could keep the barrier between them no longer. Jashemi’s torment called more loudly to her than her fear or her sense of propriety. He was in pain, and she had to do what she could to ease it. Deliberately, knowing full well she might regret it later, she put her arms around him.
Jashemi clung to her, burying his face in her neck. She felt the cool wetness of the water and the warm wetness of his tears. She ran her fingers through the thick softness of his hair, closing her eyes and opening to him, taking all the hurt and shock and angry grief into her own soft, compassionate body. She murmured nonsense words as if he were a baby, and rocked him until the violence of his grief was spent.
“My sister,” he whispered, over and over, “My sister….”
The time passed. Each day that unfurled was a step away from the terrible tragedy that no one was permitted to mention. The servants stopped speaking in whispers. Tahmu started to laugh and carry himself with confidence again. Even Yeshi seemed to revive, though there was a hardness about her that Kevla had not seen before. Her tongue was sharp, her words cold, and her laughter, when she did laugh, had an edge to it that made Kevla’s skin prickle. Yeshi had recovered, but she had not healed.
Nor did she ever call for her son.
Kevla suspected that she was the only one who knew how deeply Yeshi’s avoidance of Jashemi cut the youth. He did not show it in word, expression, or deed, but she knew how badly the rejection pained him. They stole time where they could, with Sahlik acting as their touchstone, but it was difficult. He never referred to their embrace in the caverns, nor did she; but there was a new ease in their mannerisms with one another, as if some barrier had been lifted.
One day, as Kevla was gathering up Tahmu and Yeshi’s bedclothes, she noticed certain stains on them. She stared, disbelieving. She knew exactly what sort of stains they were, having cleaned her mother’s linens, and if Tahmu had not been gone for several days visiting the Star Clan’s khashim, she would have thought nothing of it.
But Tahmu was gone. Had been gone since before these linens were put on the bed….
This could not be. Yeshi would not jeopardize her position. Infidelity to the khashim was treason. Tahmu could have her put to death for it. And why would Yeshi do such a thing? From all that Kevla could tell, Tahmu was a kind husband and probably a gentle lover.
Kevla felt a rush of anger at the betrayal which abated a moment later. It was not her place to either defend her lord or condemn her lady. She was a servant here, nothing more.
And perhaps these stains were something else. Perhaps she was making assumptions that weren’t true. Quickly, she bundled them up and was about to take them downstairs when she paused. A half-filled glass of wine sat on a small table. She took the wine, opened the sheets to expose the telltale stain, and poured the wine over it. Better the women who washed Yeshi’s sheets think her clumsy than adulterous.
Yeshi took to retiring early and dismissing her women. Tiah and Ranna were only too happy to be relieved of their duties, and immediately rushed to meet with their stableboy lovers. But Kevla worried that Yeshi and her unknown lover—or lovers—would grow careless. She made it a point to be the first to attend Yeshi in the mornings, and sometimes she noticed something that would have given Yeshi away, such as finding two glasses of wine where there should be one.
To Kevla’s great relief, the liaisons ceased when Tahmu was in residence. Yeshi might be indiscreet, but