But the sound of her voice cast all the loss, the pain, and the loneliness from his thoughts.
She was reaching for him through the crossed iron bands of the closed portcullis separating the Centurai wing from the other areas of the subatria. Drakis swung his field pack off his shoulders and tossed it quickly toward the base of the wall where Belag and the others were already setting theirs down. He ran over to her, casting a quick, worried glance down the length of the chakrilya as he took her hand.
“You’re not supposed to be here,” he said.
“And you’ve grown hair.” Mala Shei-Timuran gazed up at him through her large, emerald eyes as Drakis pressed her palm to his cheek. She leaned forward against the bars, the sinque mark of the household easily read on the crown of her shaved head. She was half a foot shorter than he, her waist narrow but her hips full and desirable, achingly beyond his reach.
“Yes,” he laughed. “But no doubt I’ll be properly shaved and cleaned up before long.”
“So you did return to me after all,” she said, turning her face up to look into his eyes again. “I prayed to all the gods each day that they would bring you back to me.”
“All of the gods?” Drakis smiled at her through the squared openings of the portcullis.
“Well,” she admitted, her small mouth twisting mischievously, “perhaps not all of them-but certainly each of the House gods. You pray to all the gods and you’re bound to offend one of them. So. . are we to be paired?”
Drakis choked slightly. “What? I just came through the gate and. .”
“You said before you left that if the campaign was successful, Lord Timuran would look favorably on mating the two of us,” Mala said matter-of-factly, her eyes taking on a look that Drakis always considered dangerous. “The plunder was brought by the caravan porters yesterday, and you’re here before any of the rest of the Cohort so-you must have honored the House, am I right?”
“Mala,” Drakis said, pulling back a little as he spoke. “I don’t think that’s why we’re here.”
“Oh, but wouldn’t it be wonderful if it were?” she said with a gentle smile. “You, honored by Lord Timuran and the two of us paired? Maybe even ascending to the Sixth Estate. We’d no longer be slaves and could contribute to the Imperium on our own!”
“Yes, it would be wonderful, but I don’t think. .”
“I’m not saying that it will happen, you know that, don’t you, Drakis?”
“Of course, beloved, but. .”
“It’s just that it’s such a wonderful dream.”
Drakis held her hand tightly for a few moments, uncertain what to say as he looked into her eyes. She had a lovely heart-shaped face with a small chin. Her cheekbones gave her face a sharp beauty. Everything about her he found desirable, but it was her eyes in which he always lost his thoughts and his heart to her. How could he tell her that things had gone terribly wrong in the campaign. . that he was not even certain whether he had won the prized crown or not.
“Yes, they are wonderful dreams, Mala-and I’m very pleased to hear that the plunder arrived,” Drakis reluctantly let her go. “The Tribune has sent us back here to present the treasures to. .”
“What is that?” Mala interrupted, pointing toward the somewhat worse-for-wear pile of flamboyant clothing shuffling toward her.
“Oh,” Drakis said. “This is a dwarven fool-in more ways than one, I suspect. He’s part of our spoils. We’ll present him tonight for House Devotions.”
“Greetings, good woman,” Jugar said, bowing as deeply as his restraints would allow. “My new companion, Drakis, has given me only the most glowing reports of your beauty and your sagacious and erudite conversational skills, and I see now that he has portrayed them to me with crystalline accuracy! I am charmed and gratified to make your acquaintance.”
Mala stared at the dwarf.