Free Beloved by Bertrice Small

concerned. It was not like Zenobia to be so quiet and shy. He wondered if she were ill, but then he realized that the prince, too, had said very little during the meal. Both he and Zenobia were behaving like two young animals placed in the same cage for the first time. Warily they circled each other, and sniffed the air cautiously for signs of hostility. The Bedawi chieftain smiled to himself, remembering himself in his younger days with each new girl; each girl except Iris. It had always been different with Iris. He was somewhat troubled that Zenobia seemed reluctant about young Prince Odenathus, but then she had never before been exposed to a suitor.
    The meal concluded with sweet cakes made of thin layers of dough, honey, and finely chopped nuts. There had been marvelous Greek wine served all during the meal, and the men were feeling relaxed. Zenobia had drunk very little, and seemed unusually sensitive to her half-brothers’ teasing. Normally she would have bantered with them.
    Finally Zabaai said in what he hoped was an offhand manner, “My daughter, the moon will not rise until quite late tonight. There is a fine display of stars. Take Odenathus and show him your knowledge of astronomy. You could put Zenobia anywhere on this earth, my Prince, and she would be able to find her way back to Palmyra by using the sky to guide her.”
    “I have a fine observatory in the palace,” Odenathus replied. “I hope you will visit it someday.” He rose and, holding out his hand, helped Zenobia up.
    Together they walked from the tent while behind them Zabaai quelled his sons’ ribald humor with a stern look. Silently they strolled through the encampment, and Zenobia stole looks from beneath her long lashes at the prince. He was really a very handsome young man, she had to admit. Unlike her father and half-brothers, who wore the long, enveloping robes of the Bedawi, Odenathus was dressed in a short tunic of natural-colored linen, a painted leather breastplate, and a red military cloak. Zenobia approved this plain and sensible clothing and his sturdy, practical sandals.
    As they walked she noticed that his hand was callused and dry and firm. It was a good sign, she thought. “Directly above us is the planet Venus,” she said. “When I was born Venus and Mars were in conjunction. The Chaldean astronomer who was present at my birth predicted that I should be fortunate in both love and war.”
    “And have you been?” he asked.
    “I have always been loved by my brothers and my parents. Of war I know naught.”
    “Has no young man declared his undying affection for you?”
    She stopped and pondered a moment. “There have been young men who act silly around me. They behave like young goats when they are trying to attract the attention of a desirable nanny.”
    “You mean they butt heads,” he teased.
    Zenobia giggled. “They have done everything but that. I do not believe, however, that that is love.”
    “Perhaps you have not given them a chance to offer you love,just as you have been denying me that chance this evening.” He turned her to him and they were face to face, but she shyly turned her head away. “Look at me, Zenobia,” he commanded gently.
    “I cannot,” she whispered.
    “What?” He teased her once again. “A girl who can lead a mounted troupe of soldiers cannot look at the man who would love her? I will not eat you up, Zenobia—at least not yet,” he amended. “Look at me, my desert flower. Look into the eyes of the prince who would lay his heart at your feet.” His hand raised her face up, and their eyes met. Zenobia shivered in the warm night.
    Tenderly, Odenathus explored her face with his elegant fingers, outlining her jaw, brushing the tips of his fingers over her high cheekbones, down her nose, across her lips. “Your skin is like the petal of a rose, my flower,” he murmured in a deep and passionate voice.
    Zenobia was riveted to the ground. She thought she would faint, for she couldn’t