Page 39 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
But that wasn't what Eluheed really wanted to think about right now. His mind conjured an image of azure silk and dark hair, a musical voice that had asked about his herbs.
Tamira.
Would she be at dinner? Would she claim him for herself?
Did it matter? He needed to find a way out of the harem and not get involved with a lady who was someone else's treasure. Eluheed had his own treasure to take care of, and he couldn't allow himself to get sidetracked.
He moved to the balcony, looking out at the artificial paradise of the courtyard. Fountains played in the eternal twilight of the underground complex. Exotic plants bloomed in carefully tended beds. It was beautiful, in its way. A perfect illusion of life.
Across and to the sides were the balconies of the ladies' quarters, and above, across the entire span of the top level, the first lady and the lord's, and scaling the walls to get there didn't look difficult. The access to the tunnel the lord used must be in his rooms, and it was possible to reach them from this illusion of a garden.
Perhaps that's all any of them had here—illusions. The ladies were pretending this was a home rather than a prison. The servants pretended they had chosen this life. Navuh was pretending his paranoia was wisdom, his cruelty strength.
And now Eluheed was pretending to be a human shaman while hiding centuries of secrets and a sacred duty he could never abandon.
13
RUVON
Ruvon checked his appearance in the mirror one more time, straightening his shoulders and pulling them back. Three gym sessions in a week weren't enough to create dramatic changes, but his trainer had been right—posture made all the difference. When he stood properly, he looked less like a man apologizing for existing and more like someone who belonged.
"Shoulders back, chest out, chin up," he muttered, repeating his trainer's mantra. "Confidence is ninety percent presentation."
That meant not walking around hunched over like—what had Gareth called it? The Hunchback of Notre Dame.
Ruvon had to look that up, and then he spent an evening watching the animated movie because the live-action version looked too depressing. It had been illuminating. And mortifying. But also strangely hopeful, because even the hunchback had found love with the beautiful Esmeralda.
Although in the Disney version, she'd chosen the handsome captain instead.
But the resemblance between the animated Esmeralda and Arezoo had been striking enough to make him pause the movie several times. Same lustrous dark hair, same golden skin, same graceful way of moving. Arezoo's eyes were brown instead of green, but everything else...
He would never tell her about that comparison, though.
Ruvon grabbed his wallet and headed out, his heart already racing at the thought of seeing her again. Over a week had passed since their first date. They still spent time together at the end of her shifts in the café, but not wanting to overwhelm her, he'd waited to ask her out on another date.
They'd shared conversations over coffee, poetry readings, smiles across the table, and brief touches of hands, but no kisses. Not since that perfect moment at the lookout point when she'd taken control and shown him exactly what she wanted. The memory still made his chest constrict with something between joy and terror.
He was in love.
The realization had hit him a while ago, sometime between their third post-shift coffee and the fourth time he'd caught himself staring at her instead of his computer screen.
Ruvon had never been in love before. He'd experienced attraction, even affection, but nothing like this consuming need to be near Arezoo, to make her smile, to make her happy, to prove himself worthy of her.
It was terrifying.
As he approached her house, Arezoo emerged before he could knock, just as she had on their first date.
The sight of her stopped him in his tracks.
She wore a white sundress printed with bold black and yellow flowers that made her golden skin glow. A tiny black cardigan that looked more decorative than functional was draped over her shoulders. Her hair fell loose around her face, and she'd done something with cosmetics that made her eyes look even larger and more expressive.
"You look beautiful," he said, the words inadequate for what he wanted to express.
She did a little twirl, the dress flaring around her legs. "Do you like it? It's new. I bought it with my first paycheck from the café." There was pride in her voice. "My first purchase with my own money."
A cool evening breeze rustled through the trees, and he frowned when he noticed her slight shiver. "It might get cold later. This pretty sweater doesn't look warm."
"I'll be fine," she said, linking her arm through his with an ease that expressed growing comfort. "Besides, the pub will be warm."
