Waterborn

Asking her what she wanted never seemed to enter into this understanding of his, and indeed, he seemed to feel that doing that would be cheating. Ts'ih, the dashing pirate, would of course never have to ask; he would know. The only thing that ever dented Wezh's impervious armor of self-delusion was any visible show of anger on Hezhi's part. While he clearly had no recollection of whatever it was she had done to him that time, there was some distant corner of his mind that recognized danger when it was very near. Unfortunately, she was afraid to show her anger; Qa Lung would see it, see its effect on Wezh, and then he might wonder—wonder and talk.

Therefore, when Wezh leaned over and kissed her—on the mouth—she let him. It was peculiar, she thought, that people made so much of kissing. When Wezh kissed her, it felt as if someone were pressing wet liver against her lips—except that liver tasted better. Qey said that one got used to it, but she felt that it was all she could do not to pull away from him. She reminded herself that it was, after all, only the second time Wezh had kissed her. Perhaps it would get better.

He moved his attentions from her lips to her neck, and now it felt as if the wet liver were being sponged on her there. This was actually more pleasant than the lip kiss—it tickled a bit, and that wasn't bad—but it also meant that Wezh's head with its stink of half-rancid olive oil was right under her nose. She sighed in resignation.

Wezh, of course, took the sigh for one of passion and, thus emboldened, moved his hand up her thigh, toward the juncture of her legs. That was quite enough for her, Qa Lung or no Qa Lung. She reached down and firmly removed Wezh's hand from her body.

'Don't be frightened,' Wezh soothed. 'You'll like it, you'll see.'

Hezhi disengaged herself entirely, slid toward the nether end of the bench. 'I am Hezhi Yehd Cha'dune,' she hissed fiercely, 'and I know what I do and do not like.'

'No you don't,' Wezh assured her. 'You know only books and old paper. You have never been awakened by the caress of a man.'

She felt certain that he was quoting most of that, as well, though she didn't know from where. She fixed him with an angry stare. 'I wish to return to my rooms now. The afternoon has been a lovely one.' Now she was quoting—the lines of the heroine to an unwanted suitor, the villain of the piece.

Wezh nearly purpled. 'You little snake,' he growled. 'You let me bring you here.'

That was so outrageous, she had no reply at all. She merely stood up and narrowed her eyes.

'Sit back down,' Wezh said in a reasonable tone.

'If you don't take me home now,' Hezhi said, firmly and evenly, 'you will never see me again save at my wedding to someone else. Further, I will embarrass you right here, right now, in the Forest Courtyard. If you wish to leave this place with any dignity, you will do so now, and no one will know what happened or didn't happen back here. You can say whatever you wish. But you will not touch me in that manner.'

Wezh actually grinned at that, and, too late, Hezhi realized that her little speech must resemble yet some other drama, for Wezh suddenly grabbed at her. 'You resist,' he said dramatically, 'yet in your eyes I see submission!'

Wezh was much stronger than he looked. Hezhi could not break the grip on her arm, and then he was holding her, grappling her, forcing her down. She found herself suddenly out of breath, heart pounding with fear. He was strong! As Wezh pushed her down onto the bench, he let one of his hands free to grope at her barely existent breast. Hezhi's hand, given a life of its own by sheer panic, shot out as if to embrace him and snatched a full firm handful of his oiled hair. She wrenched at it, and Wezh's head snapped back up, a look of utter surprise mingled with pain distorting his features.

'That hurts'.' He groaned.

She yanked harder; he brought both hands up in an attempt to disengage her fingers, but at that moment she felt a sudden surge of strength from the place inside of her. Still jerking his hair, she wriggled out from beneath him.

'Let go!' Wezh all but shrieked.

'I want to go to my rooms,' Hezhi hissed into his ear, keeping his head pulled back as he swung his balled fists ineffectually back at her. He twisted wildly, gathered his own feet under him, and lifted his fist again, preparing a more accurate jab. She let go of his hair and stepped back. Wezh lost his balance and tumbled to the ground, crawled back up with murder in his eyes.

For a moment, she thought he would hit her, but then his hands dropped, fingers uncurling.

'I don't hit women,' he sneered.

She felt herself trembling, whether from fear or fury it was difficult to tell. 'Why not?' she snapped. 'You seem perfectly willing to wrestle them.'

Wezh brushed at his clothes. 'I'm going to forget this happened,' he said, then added sulkily, 'You don't appreciate romance at all.'

'Just take me home,' she demanded, voice dripping with as much venom as she could manage—which was quite a bit.

'With pleasure.'

The return to her rooms took place in utter, sullen silence. She caught Qa Lung eyeing her, but Tsem had noticed her mussed clothes and angry expression, too. He placed himself at her side, rather than walking behind, a clear message to all that, for the night at least, courting was over.

 

 

'Is this how it's going to be?' Hezhi asked Qey, when she was safely back in her rooms.

'No, little one,' Qey assured her, placing Hezhi's gown, neatly folded, before her. 'You mustn't think that all men are like that.'

'I see no reason to doubt it,' Hezhi returned, her lips tight.

'Things will seem better, later on. One day you will laugh about this, tell your girlfriends at court.'

Hezhi glowered back at Qey. 'I doubt this will ever seem funny to me, even if my face is smeared with nende'ng. He attacked me, Qey.'

'I'm sure he didn't see it that way,' Qey responded carefully.

'That makes it worse,' she snapped. 'How can someone not know he is attacking you? Must I be courted by men who don't even know the difference between romance and fighting?'

'Ssh, little one. No one is to say you must marry Wezh. Soon you will have many suitors. Some are reluctant now because you haven't ascended yet. Wezh is merely the most eager, trying to gain an advantage by courting you before you are certain to join the court. When you go up the Hall of Moments, suitors will follow you like the train of your dress. Many of them will respect you, will understand your wishes.'

'Many will be like Wezh, and I won't know it until after they attack me. How much of that must I endure? He frightened me, Qey, and I have seen things that should make him seem silly, unable to frighten a child…' She trailed off, suddenly realizing that Qey was looking at her worriedly. What did Qey suspect?

When she stopped, Qey regarded her for a moment, then took her hand.

'It isn't easy to believe this,' she said at last, 'but I was young once, too, and not even a princess. This seems very difficult now, I know. But it will get better, if you endure. One day, believe it or not, a man will put his hand on your leg and you won't want him to move it. You will want him to hold you and kiss you.'

'He didn't hold me,' Hezhi said softly. 'He grabbed me. Isn't there a difference?'

'Usually.' Qey sighed. 'Usually.'