Rowena stood by with a long robe as Michanek stepped from the bath. Smiling, she brushed two rose petals from his shoulder, then held the robe open. Michanek slid his arms into the sleeves, then tied the satin belt and turned towards her. Taking her hand he led her into the garden. Rowena leaned in towards him and he stopped and took her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. His body was rich with the smell of rose oil and she put her arms around him, snuggling in to the soft robe. Tilting back her head, she looked up into his dark brown eyes. “I love you,” she said.
Cupping her chin he kissed her, lingeringly. His mouth tasted of the peaches he had eaten while lazing in the bath. But there was no passion in the kiss and he drew away from her.
“What is wrong?” she asked. He shrugged and forced a smile.
“Nothing.”
“Why do you say that?” she chided. “I hate it when you lie to me.”
“The siege is almost over,” he said, leading her to a small circular bench beneath a flowering tree.
“When will you surrender?” she asked.
He shrugged. “When I receive orders to do so.”
“But the battle is unnecessary. The war is over. If you negotiate with Gorben he will allow us to leave. You can show me your home in Naashan. You always promised to take me to your estates near the Lakes; you said the gardens there would dazzle me with their beauty.”
“So they would,” he told her. Slipping his hands around her waist he stood and lifted her swiftly, lightly kissing her lips.
“Put me down. You’ll tear the stitches - you know what the surgeon said.”
He chuckled. “Aye, I listened to him. But the wound is almost healed.” Kissing her twice more, he lowered her to the ground and they walked on. “There are matters we must discuss,” he said, but when she waited for him to continue he merely glanced up at the stars and the silence grew.
“What matters?”
“You,” he said at last. “Your life.” Rowena looked at him, saw the lines of tension on his moonlit face, the tightening of the muscle in his jaw.
“My life is with you,” she said. “That’s all I want.”
“Sometimes we want more than we can have.”
“Don’t say that!”
“You used to be a seer - a good one. Kabuchek charged two hundred silver pieces for a single reading from you. You were never wrong.”
“I know all this, you have told me before. What difference does it make now?”
“All the difference in the world. You were born in the lands of the Drenai, you were taken by slavers. But there was a man…”
“I don’t want to hear this,” she said, pulling away from him and walking to the edge of the tiny lake. He did not follow, but his words did.
“The man was your husband.” Rowena sat down by the water’s edge, trailing her fingers across the surface, sending ripples through the moon’s reflection.
“The man with the axe,” she said dully.
“You remember?” he asked, walking forward and sitting beside her.
“No. But I saw him once - at the house of Kabuchek. And also in a dream, when he lay in a dungeon.”
“Well, he is not in a dungeon now, Pahtai. He is outside the city. He is Druss the Axeman, Gorben’s champion.”
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked him, turning to face him in the bright moonlight.
His white robe shimmered, and he looked ghostly, almost ethereal. “Do you think I want to?” he countered. “I’d sooner fight a lion with my hands than have this conversation. But I love you, Pahtai. I have loved you since our first meeting. You were standing with Pudri in the main corridor of Kabuchek’s home, and you told my future.”
“What did I tell you?”
He smiled. “You told me I would wed the woman I loved. But that is not important now. I think soon you will meet your… first… husband.”
“I don’t want to.” Her heart was beating fast and she felt faint. Michanek put his arms around her.
“I don’t know much about him, but I do know you,” he said. “You are Drenai; your customs are different from ours. You were not high-born, therefore it is likely you married for love. And think on this: Druss has followed you across the world for seven years. He must love you deeply.”
“I don’t want to talk about this!” she said, her voice rising as panic flooded her. She tried to rise, but he held her close.
“Neither do I,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I wanted to sit here with you and watch the stars. I wanted to kiss you, and to make love.” His head dropped, and she saw tears in his eyes.
Her panic disappeared and the cold touch of fear settled on her soul. She looked up-into his face. “You talk as if you are going to die.”
“Oh, I will some day,” he said, with a smile. “Now I must go. I am meeting Darishan and the other officers to discuss tomorrow’s strategy. They should be in the house now.”
