Page 12 of Dark Shaman: The Lost Treasure
He'd suspected Lord Navuh was immortal, but evidently, he wasn't the only one. The ladies were immortal as well, and themembers of the house staff who had known them for years had kept it a secret from him.
Why hadn't they told him?
It wasn't as if he was ever leaving this damn place, so who would he tell?
So far, the one piece of juicy gossip he'd heard was that the warlord's black heart belonged entirely to the first lady, and that the other concubines were merely decorative additions to maintain his image. The other part of that gossip was that they were allowed to pick lovers from the male servants of the harem as long as these males resembled the lord in appearance, so he could claim their sons as his own.
Whether that was true or not, Eluheed had no proof one way or another. The men didn't talk, which they for sure would have if they'd gotten to sample from the lord's exquisite candy box.
"Oh, Tamira," the first voice said with fond exasperation. "You have as much talent as Rolenna, and she would be delighted if you joined her efforts to produce glasswork. It doesn't matter whether or not you succeed right away because you have endless time to get it right."
"Liliat is correct," someone else said. "I tried metalworking last year and nearly burned down the workshop until I got the flow right. We all need something to occupy our time with, even if we're terrible at it."
The footsteps drew closer, and Eluheed hunched lower, his forehead pressing so hard against the dirt that he was sure it would bear the marks of all the small pebbles.
The scent of expensive perfume wafted over him, something exotic he couldn't identify.
Driven by suicidal curiosity, he lifted his head a centimeter off the ground, just enough to view what was in front of him from under lowered lashes. He caught a glimpse of silk-slippered feet passing mere yards from his position.
One pair paused, and his heart nearly stopped.
"What a lovely herb garden." The voice belonged to the one named Tamira. "I heard we have a gardener who knows his way around medicinal herbs."
"Keep walking," Liliat chided. "We shouldn't stay out in the sun for too long. I want to get to the gazebo and sit in the shade."
The feet moved on, but not before Eluheed had caught a flash of azure silk and a fall of long, dark hair that gleamed like polished obsidian in the morning sun. He didn't dare lift his head further, but that brief glimpse was seared into his memory.
The ladies continued their conversation, discussing a new shipment of books for the library and speculation about when the next supply run would bring the new swimming suit collection from the mainland.
Only when their voices faded completely did Eluheed allow himself to raise his head and breathe properly again.
Tamira.
The name echoed in his mind with uncomfortable resonance. He'd lived for centuries, had known countless women, but something about that voice and that brief glimpse had penetrated deeper and affected him more strongly than it should have.
"The forbidden fruit," he muttered, pushing himself to his feet. "That's the allure."
The lovely concubines belonged to the warlord even if he didn't visit their beds and was devoted solely to his first lady. And if the rumors were true and the lord had no problem with his concubines dallying with members of the staff, it was only with those who looked like him.
Eluheed didn't look enough like Navuh to be considered, and until today, that hadn't bothered him. There had been enough lovely female staff members who'd happily shared his bed during the months he'd spent in the harem.
In a place like this, monotony and boredom were the enemies, and every newcomer was welcomed with open arms. Especially one who looked young, was decently attractive, and knew his way around medicinal herbs.
The warlord had been true to his promise, and Eluheed had been given a private room in the servants' quarters that had its own exclusive bathroom. It was modest in size and furnishings, but it had everything Eluheed needed, and it was luxurious compared to the places he had lived in before.
He'd entertained quite a number of maids and cooks in there since his arrival, and not just to provide spiritual guidance and herbal remedies.
As the service elevator descended to the servants' quarters, Eluheed remembered how impressed he'd been, when he had first arrived, by the architectural genius that had gone into building the harem's seven underground levels. Now the pyramid felt like a tomb. Everything here existed in artificial illumination that could never replace the real thing.
Sonia was waiting outside her room, her face drawn with worry. "He's wheezing so badly."
The boy most likely needed antibiotics, and it was easy enough to get them. The island had a large clinic that served its population and the resort guests. The doctors and nurses working there were not allowed to enter the harem, and those working in the harem were not permitted to leave it, but it was possible to submit a request for medications to be delivered.
He followed her inside to where Mika lay on a narrow bed, his eight-year-old frame shivering beneath the blankets. The boy's forehead burned with fever, and his breathing came in labored wheezes that spoke of fluid in the lungs.
"How long has he been like this?" Eluheed started mixing herbs in a ceramic bowl he'd brought with him.
"Since dawn. I've been sponging him with cool water like you showed me, but he's still getting worse."
