The Healer's Warrior by Renee Lewin Read Free Book Online Page A

rushed at Tareq.
     
    Jem’ya was startled out of her sleep by male shouting and high pitched cries. The ground rumbled as though a herd of bulls were crashing through the middle of her village. Her heart raced at the chaotic sounds of men yelling in Rwujan and Samician. Shaking with fear she stumbled to the door of her hut and threw it open. The breath was sucked from her body as she watched her tribe, her family, being killed or captured. Then she heard her brother’s voice.
     “Today you fight my heart!” he yelled. “You fight my heart! You fight my heart!” he screamed it over and over again as he wrestled one of the Arab warriors to the ground and began to strangle and shake him. He screamed it until the Arab drew a long sword and stabbed it through his stomach. She recognized the man as Tareq when he sprang to his feet and stood over Kibwe’s convulsing body.
    “KIBWE!” she cried.
     
    A woman’s guttural scream caught Tareq’s attention. When he saw Jem’ya falling to her knees the sword fell from his hand. His heart stopped. His hazel eyes went wide. He shook his head in shock. The hairs on his neck stood on end as his hands began to tremble. He watched Jem’ya begin to inch on her hands and knees in the direction of her dying brother, a tortured crawl. She was desperate to comfort her brother, but too shaken and shocked to move. Her face and trembling mouth were streaming with tears as she sobbed and cried out for him. “ Aaaaah ! Kibweee !”
    Tareq was rooted to his spot. He couldn’t move. He could hardly believe that it was her, couldn’t believe what he’d just done. His throat constricted with emotion. He swallowed to loosen it but his mouth was completely dry. “Hakan. Hakan?” he whispered. His throat began to relax again. “Hakan! Hakan!” he began to call out, though unable to take his eyes off of Jem’ya.
    Hakan was a hulking great man, the warrior that Tareq trusted the most. He had the Samhian star and cobra tattooed under his right eye to mark him as a supreme warrior. Hakan rode quickly over to Tareq.
    “Commander?”
    “I want…I want you to take this woman to the palace. Now.”
    Hakan looked at Prince Tareq curiously but followed the order. He pulled rope from his belt, hopped down from the horse and went to her.
    “Be careful with her!” Tareq shouted as he watched Hakan tie up her arms and ankles too roughly.
    “Yes, sir,” he grunted as he stood with Jem’ya slung over his shoulder. Her blue dress was streaked with dirt. Overcome with grief, Jem’ya did not struggle. Hakan got onto his horse with her.
    “Give her to Bahja,” Tareq instructed. “Tell her I want her kept hidden from everyone, but she must wait on her as well as she waits on me. Cover her face before you reach the capital. Keep her protected and keep her hidden .” He pointed at Hakan with a trembling hand. “And you do not touch her except to take her back down from that horse! Understood?!”
    “Yes, Commander,” nodded Hakan.
    “ Kibwe !” Jem’ya wailed again and again.
    Hakan glanced at Jem’ya. “You belong to the future King of Samhia now,” he said. “Yah!” Hakan bellowed at his horse and they sped off.
    Tareq watched Hakan and Jem’ya leaving the village and then looked around at his men rounding up fallen tribesmen and dragging women and children, Jem’ya’s people, out of huts. Tareq’s voice roared above the chaos. “RETREAT! I ORDER YOU, LEAVE THE REST AND RETREAT!”

 
     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
    Tareq looked down at the hands holding Sultan’s reins and didn’t recognize them. It was like he was now a different person from who he was before the killing in Tikso . Before, he was Prince Tareq Samhizzan, but now he was something unspeakable.
    His body felt foreign and numb, but his mind was unbearably present, replaying the events again and again, his emotions an endless loop of self-hatred, sickening regret, disbelief, anger, and intense shame.
    Tareq glanced over