On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [8]
“It will take time to prepare eusho,” said Keishla. “We will have tea instead.”
Tahmu did not need to be a kuli, a demon, to be able to read Keishla’s mind. She did not want him to stay.
“Tea would be welcome,” he replied. She nodded curtly and continued her preparation.
An awkward silence descended. Abruptly, Tahmu had had enough of the forced courtesy, the tense pauses, the sharp words.
“I will say what I have come to say, and then let this be an end to it.”
Keishla paused in her busy movements and turned to face him. He pointed to the cushions. For a moment, Tahmu thought she would say something, then instead, she settled herself quietly on the pillows, her face composed. A dark nipple appeared, then disappeared, brushing against the thin white fabric like something floating to the surface of the river only to submerge again. Tahmu’s breath caught in his throat. Keishla could still make him ache with desire as Yeshi never had.
If only it had been different. He felt a flicker of angry mirth. If only horses could fly.
“There was a great passion between the two of us once, Keishla. But our love was forbidden because of the gulf between our castes. We must pay the price for daring to flaunt the ways of our people. You have already paid. You brought forth a child, unasked for, unwanted. And over the last eleven years you have sold your body to keep food in your daughter’s mouth. Surely, even the Great Dragon must have forgiven you by this time.
“But the child has also suffered, for a sin that she did not commit. Keishla, you ever had a temper, and there is little doubt in my heart that you have raised your hand to her more often than was needed.”
He held up a commanding hand, forestalling Keishla’s denial. “I would not hear you lie, so be silent. I know, once-darling of my heart, that your anger was born of pain and frustration at me, and at what the girl represented. And that is a sin for which I must atone.”
Keishla’s color was high, but she was not contradicting him. That was good. If she knew how tenuous his control was at the moment, how his emotions threatened to boil over and destroy his calm demeanor, he would never be able to say what he needed to.
“One of my servants noticed Kevla in the marketplace two days ago. I wished to come then, but I feared what I might do. Only today have I calmed myself so that I might speak as befits a khashim, and not a lovesick boy.”
He permitted himself a sad smile. Tears sprang to Keishla’s eyes. Her own lips tentatively curved in response. Tahmu’s heart jumped, but he forced himself to remain composed.
“I knew at once that Kevla was ours, conceived in love and born in disgrace, to serve as punishment for our transgression. You have atoned, Keishla. Now, it is my turn. I would take the child back with me, to—”
“No!” Keishla cried. “Kulis take you, son of a skuura! You took my love, you took my life, and now you want the only piece of you I have left to cling to? You did not lie with a docile liah, Tahmu, when you lay with me—you lay with a simmar!” Indeed, Keishla seemed as wild now as one of the dangerous desert cats that were the bane of the goat- and sandcattle-herders.
Tahmu replied calmly. “Think of the child,” he said softly, “not of yourself.”
“A child belongs with her mother!”
“A mother who does not want her? Who beats her? Who would raise her to be a halaan?” Had he struck her, Keishla could not have flinched more.
Tahmu’s stomach twisted, but he continued mercilessly. “Keishla, you are too proud to accept help for yourself. Accept it for her. This