22 Nights Read Free

head would be delivered back to the palace. He doubted anyone would bother with a note of regrets in his case.

Chapter One

Almost five weeks later Village of the Turis, Eastern Province
    AMONG the Turis, marriage was a simple thing. A man and woman promised themselves to one another with their actions more than with formal words. There was an exchange of gifts, a simple dance, a kiss, and then it was done. The clan gathered to celebrate their union with food and drink and general merriment.
    Bela did not feel particularly merry at the moment. She watched with sullen and openly acknowledged self-pity as her friend Jocylen offered Rab Quentyn a bowl of stew she had made with her own hands. He took it and drank some of the broth, and then he placed a ring of brightly colored spring flowers upon her head. They joined hands, and while simple, slow music played on a single lute filled the night air, they took a turn, skipped in unison, and spun about. Jocylen laughed, and because he was so pleased with her joyous response, Rab laughed, too. They kissed, a joyous cry from families and friends filled the air, and it was done.
    Bela did not shout or laugh, but she did move forward to offer Jocylen her congratulations. She wanted her friend to be happy, she truly did, and she knew how very much Jocylen loved Rab. But no one else understood her, no one else knew all her secrets, and now Jocylen would spend her days cooking and making a home, and in short order there would be children to care for and the newlywed would begin to spend her time with other married women who were devoted to their husbands, women who spent their days talking about babies and sewing and how best to cook a tough piece of meat.
    Bah! Bela had never cared for any of those things, much to her mother’s dismay. She preferred hunting with her brothers to cooking, and she had no intention of taking care of any man. Not ever.
    Jocylen smiled at Bela and took her hand. “You dressed well for my special occasion, I see.”
    Bela glanced down at the plain, drab green gown which draped simply and ended just short of her best sandals, sandals adorned with gemstones from the mountains which surrounded the village of the Turis. Unhappy as she was at the turn of events, she would not attend her beloved friend’s marriage ceremony in her usual male-style clothing. Heaven above, she had even washed her hair! “Did you expect any less?” Bela asked, as if her efforts meant nothing.
    “With you I never know what to expect,” Jocylen responded.
    The circlet of gold which adorned Bela’s brow was heavier and less comfortable than her usual cloth or leather circlet. Yes, she had gone to great lengths to make herself presentable. Perhaps she was displeased to see her friend marry and join the ranks of the wives of the clan, but she also wanted to see Jocylen happy. Which she was. Blast!
    “If he hurts you, I will gut him.”
    Jocylen’s eyes widened. “Rab would never hurt me.”
    “Well, if he does . . .”
    “He won’t!” Jocylen rose up on her toes, as she was a good half-foot shorter than Bela, and kissed a reluctant cheek. “Don’t worry so, Bela. We will still be friends. Forever, no matter what.”
    And then Jocylen was whisked away by new relations. Food and drink for all would follow, and then the newly-weds would retire to their home and do what newly wed couples did. Poor Jocylen. Bela had tried to warn her friend, but the warnings had been dismissed. Somehow the new bride expected bliss in her husband’s bed.
    She’d think differently in short order.
    Alert as always, Bela was among the first to hear the quick hoofbeats approaching. She and a number of the men rushed to meet one of a pair of guards who had been posted at the western edge of the village, on this side of the river. Since so many riches had been discovered in the nearby mountains, mountains owned and protected by the Turis, they’d had to take measures to secure the safety of the