Urdaisunia Bonus Scene #2: The Kiss
(Eruz POV) (From Chapter 9)
Eruz and Rashali walked along one of the ponds that dotted the Jewel, the great gardens behind the palace. Mizalilu stood on the other side of the pond, throwing pebbles into the water and laughing at the splashes they made. While keeping an eye on his daughter, Eruz had been trying to explain to Rashali why it was so important for the Urdai to cooperate with the Sazars in defending the harbor city Kubiz from the encroaching Sangh presence, and in facing the other threats aligned against Urdaisunia, and why the Sazars couldn’t simply return to the mountains they had come from.
But no matter how he explained and reasoned and pleaded, she refused to listen. “So you traded your own hunger for that of the Urdai,” she retorted, “and you took all our work, all the fruits of our learning and labors, for yourselves – the dams and canals, the great temples, the palace, even these gardens.” Contempt – an enormous amount of it for someone who was a conquered peasant – dripped from her voice. “You Sazars have no skills or knowledge to make such things, so you had to steal them from us. You didn’t even have writing until you began using ours.”
He couldn’t hold back a flinch. It was true, her people had built a great civilization of art and learning, wisdom and invention, industry and enterprise, while his were scrabbling for survival in hide tents in the wilderness. “We do have skills and knowledge of our own,” he said in defense of his people’s honor and his own.
“Making swords. And breeding and training warhorses. Nothing like this.” She indicated the Jewel with a broad gesture of her arm. “You could never make something like this. Even now, you depend on Urdai slaves to maintain the gardens.”
That stung his wounded pride even further. “Not entirely.” Eruz stopped beside one of the low nariyi trees, with its thick hand-shaped leaves and large white buds wrapped with green. He found a bud that would serve his purposes and plucked it. “We have skills besides those of warfare.”
He looked at the nariyi bud, filling his mind with its present state and its potential. Then he drew breath in the name of Kuz, the breath and power with which Kuz blessed those who worshiped Him. In the ancient language of the god of magic, passed down through generations of his people though it had been long lost among most other nations, he whispered a command – politely and reverently phrased – to the bud, and blew the breath of Kuz lightly upon it.
The bud obeyed. Slowly, its green sepals unwound from around the five thick, perfectly white petals, which then unfolded into a bowl-shaped blossom. The flower’s sweet, rich scent filled the air.
“Here.” Eruz took Rashali’s hand and placed the flower in it. Though her hand was thin and worn and the flower lush and luxurious, the bloom looked like it belonged in her hand. “We worship Kuz more than the Urdai do, and he has given us a number of gifts.”
She stared open-mouthed at the blossom, then looked up at him, her eyes wide with wonder. He couldn’t look away from the gaze of those dark eyes, filled with the knowledge and wisdom of a heritage far older than his and with all the pain she had borne and the courage that had brought her to the palace, or from her lips, soft and parted now rather than tight and stern as they usually were. That was why the flower didn’t look out of place in her hand; the flower and the woman each bore the perfect beauty of their own kind.
A small breath escaped her. “That – That was –”
And there was nothing to do before such beauty but worship it. He bowed his head and claimed her mouth with his, offering himself to her.
She stiffened, and he was afraid she would push him away – as she probably should. But then her resistance gave way and she melted against him. He wrapped an arm around her back, holding her close against his chest so she wouldn’t fall. She felt so thin and fragile, yet so warm; the curves that even months of hunger hadn’t been able to erase were soft against his body. With a tiny sound deep in her throat, her lips parted beneath his. He accepted the invitation and deepened the kiss, tasting, exploring, drinking her in. A heat stirred inside him, beyond anything the women given to him had ever brought to life.
“Papa?” The small voice and a tug on the leg of his trousers pulled Eruz out of the pleasure and wonder he had lost himself in. Here he was, kissing a woman he was most definitely not supposed to be kissing, right in front of his daughter. He quelled a brief flare of annoyance – not at Miza, he could never be annoyed with her, but at himself and his life and everything that went with being who he was – and forced himself to break away from Rashali. Her chest was heaving, and she kept her eyes averted from him, looking down at Miza.
“Papa, I want flower!” Miza insisted.
Though he was as breathless and discomfited as Rashali, Eruz couldn’t help smiling. “She wants a flower, too,” he explained to Rashali in Urdai. He picked another bud and brought it to bloom, then gave Miza the opened flower. “Take this and show it to Nurse. She will think it’s as pretty as you.”
As Miza ran back towards the palace, carefully carrying the flower, a wide smile on her round-cheeked face, Eruz stood in silence, wondering what he should say to Rashali, or if he should say anything at all and pretend that what had just happened between them hadn’t happened. But he had to say something; otherwise, they might stand here in awkward, uncomfortable silence until nightfall. “I must go. I’m due to meet with the captain of my personal guard.”
Tension seemed to rush out of her, though she still didn’t look directly at him. “We’ve walked a long time, and I think my sandal is giving me a blister, so I should return to my room.”
“Of course.” Eruz signaled to the guard who had brought her to the gardens, who had been waiting discreetly just outside the entrance to the Jewel. He hoped the guard hadn’t seen him kissing Rashali. Not that the guard had anything to say about what the High Prince did, but still, it would be better for Rashali’s sake and his family’s and his own if gossip didn’t spread.
As the guard walked over to Rashali, Eruz left her with a nod and headed for the garden entrance. Behind him, he was very aware of her standing there, still holding the flower. He didn’t dare look back, lest the desire to kiss her again overcome him. It had been a kiss he would remember the rest of his life, during the many lonely moments when the burdens of being bound to women who didn’t love him and serving a king who thought he was useless weighed heavily on him.
But it must never happen again.
(Eruz POV) (From Chapter 9)
Eruz and Rashali walked along one of the ponds that dotted the Jewel, the great gardens behind the palace. Mizalilu stood on the other side of the pond, throwing pebbles into the water and laughing at the splashes they made. While keeping an eye on his daughter, Eruz had been trying to explain to Rashali why it was so important for the Urdai to cooperate with the Sazars in defending the harbor city Kubiz from the encroaching Sangh presence, and in facing the other threats aligned against Urdaisunia, and why the Sazars couldn’t simply return to the mountains they had come from.
But no matter how he explained and reasoned and pleaded, she refused to listen. “So you traded your own hunger for that of the Urdai,” she retorted, “and you took all our work, all the fruits of our learning and labors, for yourselves – the dams and canals, the great temples, the palace, even these gardens.” Contempt – an enormous amount of it for someone who was a conquered peasant – dripped from her voice. “You Sazars have no skills or knowledge to make such things, so you had to steal them from us. You didn’t even have writing until you began using ours.”
He couldn’t hold back a flinch. It was true, her people had built a great civilization of art and learning, wisdom and invention, industry and enterprise, while his were scrabbling for survival in hide tents in the wilderness. “We do have skills and knowledge of our own,” he said in defense of his people’s honor and his own.
“Making swords. And breeding and training warhorses. Nothing like this.” She indicated the Jewel with a broad gesture of her arm. “You could never make something like this. Even now, you depend on Urdai slaves to maintain the gardens.”
That stung his wounded pride even further. “Not entirely.” Eruz stopped beside one of the low nariyi trees, with its thick hand-shaped leaves and large white buds wrapped with green. He found a bud that would serve his purposes and plucked it. “We have skills besides those of warfare.”
He looked at the nariyi bud, filling his mind with its present state and its potential. Then he drew breath in the name of Kuz, the breath and power with which Kuz blessed those who worshiped Him. In the ancient language of the god of magic, passed down through generations of his people though it had been long lost among most other nations, he whispered a command – politely and reverently phrased – to the bud, and blew the breath of Kuz lightly upon it.
The bud obeyed. Slowly, its green sepals unwound from around the five thick, perfectly white petals, which then unfolded into a bowl-shaped blossom. The flower’s sweet, rich scent filled the air.
“Here.” Eruz took Rashali’s hand and placed the flower in it. Though her hand was thin and worn and the flower lush and luxurious, the bloom looked like it belonged in her hand. “We worship Kuz more than the Urdai do, and he has given us a number of gifts.”
She stared open-mouthed at the blossom, then looked up at him, her eyes wide with wonder. He couldn’t look away from the gaze of those dark eyes, filled with the knowledge and wisdom of a heritage far older than his and with all the pain she had borne and the courage that had brought her to the palace, or from her lips, soft and parted now rather than tight and stern as they usually were. That was why the flower didn’t look out of place in her hand; the flower and the woman each bore the perfect beauty of their own kind.
A small breath escaped her. “That – That was –”
And there was nothing to do before such beauty but worship it. He bowed his head and claimed her mouth with his, offering himself to her.
She stiffened, and he was afraid she would push him away – as she probably should. But then her resistance gave way and she melted against him. He wrapped an arm around her back, holding her close against his chest so she wouldn’t fall. She felt so thin and fragile, yet so warm; the curves that even months of hunger hadn’t been able to erase were soft against his body. With a tiny sound deep in her throat, her lips parted beneath his. He accepted the invitation and deepened the kiss, tasting, exploring, drinking her in. A heat stirred inside him, beyond anything the women given to him had ever brought to life.
“Papa?” The small voice and a tug on the leg of his trousers pulled Eruz out of the pleasure and wonder he had lost himself in. Here he was, kissing a woman he was most definitely not supposed to be kissing, right in front of his daughter. He quelled a brief flare of annoyance – not at Miza, he could never be annoyed with her, but at himself and his life and everything that went with being who he was – and forced himself to break away from Rashali. Her chest was heaving, and she kept her eyes averted from him, looking down at Miza.
“Papa, I want flower!” Miza insisted.
Though he was as breathless and discomfited as Rashali, Eruz couldn’t help smiling. “She wants a flower, too,” he explained to Rashali in Urdai. He picked another bud and brought it to bloom, then gave Miza the opened flower. “Take this and show it to Nurse. She will think it’s as pretty as you.”
As Miza ran back towards the palace, carefully carrying the flower, a wide smile on her round-cheeked face, Eruz stood in silence, wondering what he should say to Rashali, or if he should say anything at all and pretend that what had just happened between them hadn’t happened. But he had to say something; otherwise, they might stand here in awkward, uncomfortable silence until nightfall. “I must go. I’m due to meet with the captain of my personal guard.”
Tension seemed to rush out of her, though she still didn’t look directly at him. “We’ve walked a long time, and I think my sandal is giving me a blister, so I should return to my room.”
“Of course.” Eruz signaled to the guard who had brought her to the gardens, who had been waiting discreetly just outside the entrance to the Jewel. He hoped the guard hadn’t seen him kissing Rashali. Not that the guard had anything to say about what the High Prince did, but still, it would be better for Rashali’s sake and his family’s and his own if gossip didn’t spread.
As the guard walked over to Rashali, Eruz left her with a nod and headed for the garden entrance. Behind him, he was very aware of her standing there, still holding the flower. He didn’t dare look back, lest the desire to kiss her again overcome him. It had been a kiss he would remember the rest of his life, during the many lonely moments when the burdens of being bound to women who didn’t love him and serving a king who thought he was useless weighed heavily on him.
But it must never happen again.
