Vast Fields Of Light

Chapter 3

Tamina huffed impatiently for the thousandth time that night and strained once more to hear her husband's footsteps approach her chamber, with no success. She turned over in bed again, trying to get comfortable. She knew that Prince Dastan had just returned from his two-day visit to the nearby city of Bisitun - that much was obvious from the scurrying and hushed voices she could hear from the palace staff.

It was only two weeks since the wedding, but the Prince had had to leave the previous morning on urgent Persian state business; his father was unexpectedly too ill to make the visit to Bisitun, and his brothers had left the region. Last night had been the first night since their wedding that Dastan had not been able to come to her chamber, to talk with her quietly before sleeping on the rug at the foot of her bed.

Finally the knock came at her door and she sat up immediately, lighting a candle and pushing her long loose hair behind her shoulders. "Yes."

The door opened slowly and the Prince cautiously poked his head around it. "Did I wake you, Princess? I wasn't sure whether to come." His dark hair was messy as usual and he had not trimmed his stubble; he looked tired, with a pale face and heavy eyelids. He wore a creased, smudged undershirt and plain trousers.

"Of course you woke me," she lied irritably, "but that was half an hour ago when you and your party arrived at the palace. The damage is done now. Come in, come in." He smiled and entered the room properly, closing the door and approaching the bed.

"Why are you so late?" she demanded. "We expected you at sundown."

He leaned down a little slowly to brush a kiss to her cheek. "Anyone would think you had missed me, Princess," he murmured.

"Don't be silly, you were only gone for one night," she retorted. "By arriving late you have inconvenienced the entire palace, and it is the feast of the Goddess Anahita tomorrow. We will all be very busy."

"I know," he said in a slightly apologetic tone, as he sat down on the edge of the bed and turned to face her. "One of my officers was taken ill and we had to find a healer for him urgently."

She eyed him carefully, ignoring the steady warmth of his closeness. "And is that why you moved stiffly just now when you leaned down to kiss me, and why you have a cut on the inside of your wrist?"

Startled, his eyes widened a little at her, but she just stared back at him levelly and raised her eyebrows. Huffing a soft chuckle, he shook his head and looked down. "No, that's because one of the council guards in Bisitun went rogue and tried to attack me."

"What? Why?" Her brow furrowed.

He shrugged and glanced at her awkwardly. "Apparently some sort of personal grudge against the Persian army - due to a war in his native land a long time ago - before I was even a soldier."

She pursed her lips. "Clearly you Persians are in the habit of going to war first and only trying peace later."

He tilted his head and gave her a softly reproachful look. "Anyway," he continued with a tired sigh, "it's not important. He was disarmed very quickly. He was no match for this mighty warrior." He gave a cheeky quirk of his lips and tried to puff up his chest comically, but she simply sighed, reaching out her fingers to graze the small cut on his wrist gently. He looked down at the gesture in slight surprise.

"I did not think I would have a husband who would make me worry by getting into fights at the drop of a hat," she muttered.