On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [79]
Sickly, Jashemi realized he ought to have expected this. Now that Yeshi knew Jashemi knew about her and Halid, she would want him out as quickly as possible. Out, and as far away as she could contrive to send him. As khashima, she had the sole and undisputed right to arrange marriages for every male in the household. Tahmu had the same rights with regard to the women. Her choice could not be debated; it was absolute. And when the heir was wed, custom demanded that he live for one year with his wife’s clan. He felt sweat start under his arms, felt it gathering at his hairline and on his shaved upper lip.
“This is sudden, wife,” Tahmu said uncertainly, looking from Yeshi to Jashemi.
“Not at all,” Yeshi replied, reaching for a date and taking a small, dainty bite. “Jashemi has come of age, he is able to take a wife.”
“But he is still Waiting. He has not had the Acknowledgment ceremony yet, nor spent sufficient time in battle to—”
Yeshi paused, the date halfway to her mouth. Her dark eyes flashed. “You gainsay my decision, husband?”
“I have no right to. But I would ask you to reconsider.”
“I have spent a great deal of time thinking on this, believe me,” she said, her gaze flickering to Jashemi. He met her stare for stare. He had no doubt that she spoke the truth. “Jashemi will leave in two days’ time. His bride is eager for him.” Yeshi smiled. “She will no doubt count herself among the most fortunate of women.”
Jashemi had known that one day this moment would come. He would have no say in who his bride would be, any more than Tahmu had had a say in his own marriage. He knew that it was unlikely he would even have had a chance to meet the woman in question before the wedding. He knew this, and had accepted it.
But to be sent away so that his mother could more conveniently murder his father—to be sent away from Kevla—this could not be. She watched him with her clever eyes, searching for any hint that he would explode in anger and bring his own doom upon himself. Doubtless, she considered marrying the daughter of the Sa’abah Clan khashim too easy a fate for him.
He would not give her the satisfaction. He rose and bowed. “Excuse me, Father, Mother. I think my meat was spoiled.”
In the privacy of his room, he forced his anger into a corner of his soul, and began to think furiously about what, if any, alternative there might be.
Yeshi watched him go, then said calmly to Sahlik who waited on them, “My son’s food was spoiled. Beat the one who prepared it.”
Kevla ached.
Not from the beating that Sahlik had been forced to give her, for the old woman had gone gently on her back so that it barely stung. No, she ached from something else Sahlik had given her—news that Jashemi was to be married and live far from the House of Four Waters for a full year.
Far from Kevla Bai-Sha.
Sahlik had whispered the awful words in her ear before she began the beating, so that Kevla’s sobs and wails would be heartfelt and convincing. Kevla was strangely grateful for the opportunity to grieve aloud. She did not know if she could have feigned indifference in front of others.
She screamed and wept and sobbed, feeling her heart break in her chest. All these years, she had denied her feelings for the young lord, and her emotions would be silent no longer. Jashemi! Jashemi! She wanted to cry his name over and over, as if uttering it might make it possible for him to stay, but instead bit her lip till it bled to hold back the telltale word.
Now she sobbed into the cold stone floor and beat on it with her hands, for she, too, knew why Yeshi had chosen to do what she did. She had continued to watch in the fire, that night when Jashemi had confronted Yeshi and Halid. And she also knew Jashemi would not be able to steal away to meet her before he was forced to leave, for Yeshi would be watching them both.
The pain inside her was so extreme that she thought she would never sleep again.