her throat.
Veiled by clouds, the sky was heavy and opaque, moonless and starless. The west wind blew in from the desert. Soon it would die down, and the
zarhmat
, bringing the autumn rains and winter ice from the north, would chase it away.
The diadem of the Apadana shone above the sleeping city, as it did every night. Lilah could not help thinking again of Antinoes.
Her eyes searched for the tower that had witnessed their lovemaking. It was hidden in darkness, but she saw it anyway, just as she still felt Antinoesâ breath on her skin, the thrill of his caresses.
She placed her hands on the wall, searching for the support she wanted from her loverâs shoulders and solid chest. For that was what Antinoes represented for her: not only the heat of desire but a peace and a calm that no one else could give her â certainly not Ezra.
Regret overwhelmed her now. Aunt Sarah had been right. She had lacked courage when she had seen Ezra. At the first sign of his anger against Antinoes, she had fallen silent. She had broken her promise.
What would she say to her lover when they met again? âBe patient. Be patient a while longer . . .â
âIâve been patient for so long already,â he would reply.
Was he asleep at the moment, or awake, like her, his mind in turmoil? Was he up there on the tower, trying to glimpse her through the darkness?
She smiled at her own childishness.
âLilah . . .â
The whisper made her jump. She turned, heart pounding.
She could see nothing but the blackness of night.
âDonât be afraid, Lilah. Itâs only me.â
She recognized Axatriaâs voice. A shadowy figure took shape beside her. âAxatria, what are you doing here?â
âI didnât mean to frighten you.â
âWhy arenât you asleep?â
Axatria gave a tender little laugh and took her hand. âFor the same reason as you.â She lifted their joined hands and pressed them to her cheek, which Lilah realized was damp with tears.
âWhy are you crying?â
âIâve been telling myself I was silly and that I ought to ask your forgiveness.â
âWhat have I to forgive you?â
âMy foolishness. My ill-temper. Our quarrel thismorning. I thought of joining you in your bedchamber because I knew you wouldnât be sleeping, but . . .â
Lilah embraced her. âI forgive you, Axatria. Of course I forgive you.â
Axatria pushed her away gently, sighed, and wiped her tears with a corner of her tunic. âIâm afraid.â
âOf what?â
âIf you quarrel with Ezra, whatâs to become of me?â
âAxatria . . .â
âLilah, Antinoes came back to marry you, and because of that, youâre going to quarrel with Ezra.â
Lilah looked out at the darkness and said nothing.
âEzra will never agree to your becoming Antinoesâ wife, and if you marry him without his blessing, heâll never see you again. You wonât be his sister any more.â
âHow can you be so sure? Did he tell you that?â
âThereâs no need. You know very well thatâs how itâll be.â
Far away in the royal city, dogs barked. The sound of a horn or a flute rose in the darkness. Then the wind carried away the echo. In some houses the night was a celebration . . .
âEzra canât live without you,â Axatria sighed,âbut heâd rather not see you than share you with Antinoes.â
Lilah knew Axatria was right: she had put into words exactly what Lilah dreaded. âAntinoes canât live without me either,â she replied in a low voice. âHe tells me I protect him in battle.â
Axatria nodded. âI believe him.â
Axatria squeezed Lilahâs hand until it hurt. They were so close, Lilah could feel Axatriaâs body shaking with sobs, even though Axatria was trying to control them as best she