Chapter 54

Candlesticks twisted from gold and silver threads hung from the ceiling, casting a gentle glow over the two figures on the bed.

Izmir was temporarily incapacitated due to physical trauma, his vigor subdued. A stark damp patch stained the crucial part of his robe—the remnants of melted snow. Following the ice compress, any movement near the spot where a certain petite bottom had landed with full force still sent a dull ache through him, leaving him with no choice but to lie completely still.

As a warrior, this was the first time he had suffered such agonizing and unspeakable injuries. Only in the past, when traversing dark mountain forests and treacherous swamps, would Izmir ever miss the luxurious and warm quarters that Mura had arranged—spaces he usually disdained. Yet at such an awkward moment, he was profoundly grateful for the warm, spacious bed beneath him to rest upon.

With nothing else to be done at the moment, this novice lay side by side with the concubine he had assumed to be a "novice." Fortunately, Inanna possessed a soft and delicate bosom, and though her backside was small, it was wonderfully pert and upturned. Izmir held her tightly against him as they lay there, his grip fierce, serving partly as an outlet for his frustration and partly born from the anger of a campaign cut short before victory could be claimed.

Though Inanna had been forced into his bed, she still felt a sense of vindication seeing that he could do nothing. In this unreasonable era, endless compromise only cemented one's own weakness. At present, however, she was being gripped so tightly she could barely breathe; since he refused to let her go, she would not let him go either. General Hazzas's few draughts of wine had truly been a marvelous thing: "Your Highness, how do you expect to sleep like this?"

How could anyone sleep with such throbbing pain? Izmir gritted his teeth, thinking that no matter how gentle and docile Inanna pretended to be, there was always something in her eyes—something that piqued his interest yet remained entirely beyond his grasp, something she could never fully conceal. Tonight, having let her guard down under the influence of wine, he might as well seize the moment to probe her true feelings, which would make it easier to keep her in check later on. He hardened his voice and said, "Then let's talk!"

Inanna replied lazily, "Your Highness, you could let go of me first. We might as well sit up and have a proper conversation."

Izmir let out a cold snort, "You can go ask at the Temple of the Goddess Ishtar if there is anything improper about a man and a woman talking like this."

That statement was so utterly entitled it was infuriating. Inanna thought to herself: You have no way of dealing with Carol anyway; she simply loves the King of Egypt, and no matter how much you thrash about by yourself, you are just acting like an unreasoning rogue! Aloud, however, she said, "Your Highness the Prince, for a man and a woman to lie in bed together, shouldn't there be mutual affection? Could it be that you are fond of me?"

Izmir wondered why Inanna's self-esteem seemed to have suddenly skyrocketed. "I raised a little she-wolf. She isn't very obedient; I provide her with food and clothing, and I take care of her when she is sick, yet she constantly looks for a chance to take a bite out of me. But this little she-wolf can only be raised by me, and she will still have to help me hunt in the future."

Inanna desperately wanted to slap him across the face with a wolf's paw. "Your Highness, your ambitions are far too grand. If I were to help you hunt, simply running a full circle around your territories would be enough to exhaust a person to death. Let me ask you a different question instead: Do you fancy the Daughter of the Nile?"

"She is beautiful, with skin as white as snow, and far more clever and nimble than anyone else. Although her ability to foresee the future has yet to be proven, once I get my hands on her, I will find a way to make her serve our country," Izmir said ambitiously, rattling off a long string of reasons before finally adding, "I do like her!"

Upon hearing this, Inanna buried her face in the bedsheets, laughing so hard that tears streamed down her cheeks. Sensing her whole body trembling, Izmir was utterly bewildered. "What are you laughing at?"

After catching her breath with a couple of heavy gasps, Inanna said, "Your Highness, I finally understand why the Daughter of the Nile loves the King of Egypt and wants nothing to do with you. If you talk like this, no woman could ever possibly like you!"

This was a grave insult to any man's pride. Izmir burst into furious anger, snapping, "Sukamumu, you are far too insolent! Who do you think you are speaking to?"

Inanna rolled over and sat up, looking at Izmir with playful mockery. "Who am I speaking to? My master? My conqueror, or the noble Prince? So your idea of loving someone is turning them into an obedient puppet to satisfy your own needs? Because you only ever need to care about your own feelings, because you are the Prince of Hatti, and because you possess everything and no one can defy you, you only ever want others to obey you?"

"Allow me to teach you a principle, Prince Izmir, so you won't have to stumble down too many wrong paths in the future," Inanna said with biting sarcasm. "If you ever capture the Daughter of the Nile again, it will be quite enough simply to tell her that you love her for who she is. Don't go spouting nonsense about how you love her like the lotus flowers by the Nile—because their petals can be made into perfume, their seeds are delicious, the lotus roots have large holes, and their leaves can shield you from the rain! And then threaten her that if she disobeys you one day, you will strip her petals bare, devour her lotus seeds, split open her roots, and tear her leaves to shreds. What women love to hear are simply those three words. The King of Egypt and you are cut from the same cloth; it's just that he doesn't talk as much as you do, and he acts decisively enough!"

Izmir was currently suffering both below and in his throbbing head, yet Inanna's words stung him in a way that simultaneously brought a strange clarity. "The Daughter of the Nile doesn't like me? What about you, then, Sukamumu?"

Inanna shrugged—a gesture that looked rather peculiar to anyone else. "Me? My wishes do not matter. I am already your slave, Your Highness the Prince. No matter how high my aspirations, they cannot fly beyond the soaring walls of Hattusa."

This abruptly made Izmir realize that when he had used extreme measures to trap Inanna by his side, the branding iron on her lower back had sealed her fate—destining her to go nowhere. Yet precisely because of this, some of the precious qualities he had once seen in Inanna, qualities he had sought to possess, seemed to have vanished.

Even if she stayed here and treated him as her master, she would never pour her heart and soul into sacrificing herself for the man she loved, the way the Daughter of the Nile did for Mursili. Though Mursili was crude and hot-tempered, he certainly possessed superior skill when it came to handling women; the Daughter of the Nile was utterly devoted to him, heart and soul!

"So everything you said the other night was just a lie to protect yourself?" Izmir asked perceptively.

Inanna's eyes gleamed with a smile playing at the corners of her lips, though as the saying goes, in wine there is truth. "That's right, Your Highness. I lied to you."

The veins on Izmir's temples throbbed violently. Although Inanna's words that day had been a mixture of truth and falsehood, lacking true sincerity, Izmir had seen too many women throw themselves at him. Inanna, however, had never once resorted to throwing herself at him—much like how a person who never smiles suddenly breaks into a grin; even if the smile is awkward, one subconsciously perceives it as precious.

Yet Inanna remained entirely unfazed by his throbbing veins. "Your Highness, I am neither the first person to lie to you, nor will I be the last. Consider this a lesson for yourself," she said brazenly. "When facing ministers like Hazzas and Kethys, you maintain an air of humility and approachability everywhere you go; when dealing with those of lower status than yourself, you crush them directly with your sharp edge, not even deigning to speak to them; and before His Majesty the King, whom you must be wary of, you have already proven yourself exceptionally brilliant while remaining utterly low-key. Yet when confronted with someone like me who deliberately lies to you and knows how to read the wind, or someone shameless and completely uninhibited like Arzawa, you show signs of fatigue. You always choose to endure whatever you can, throwing away countless opportunities in vain, and you remain forever unable to let go of your resentment toward Arzawa. How can you ever exact your revenge like this? Just don't hold a grudge against me for telling you these things today."

Izmir thought to himself that there was currently one thing he had no desire to endure, regretting only his present lack of capability. His hand reached toward the back of Inanna's neck, debating whether he should simply strangle this audacious woman to death.

Yet the moment he raised his shoulder, the movement strained his muscles, making the pain below all the more acute. Inanna's words gradually dissolved into meaningless nonsense as Izmir's consciousness slowly drifted away. He thought to himself: This woman usually says nothing and even pretended to be mute for the longest time, yet in reality, she observes everything around her. The reason he hadn't flown into a rage was because Tutor Labarnus had warned him in his youth that even as a prince, with the reigning king still alive, excessive caution could arouse suspicion. Now that Inanna had pointed it out again, he felt that apart from women, his mastery over subordinates and his ability to handle petty individuals remained profoundly lacking—a frustration matching the campaign cut short tonight. Fortunately, Inanna belonged to his household; he could issue a minor punishment as a warning whenever the opportunity arose.

Unaware that she had narrowly escaped disaster, Inanna fell asleep alongside him as they talked. When she woke up in the morning, she was startled to find the bridge of her nose pressed flat against the wall. Izmir had squeezed her entirely into the corner while leaving the vast majority of the bed empty and unused behind his own back.

Inanna turned her head. Awakened by her movement, Izmir found his nose less than an inch away from hers. The hearth fire had long since died out, and the biting morning chill made the broad, warm, and sturdy shoulders and solid, heated thighs of the man behind her all the more apparent. The faint, warm puffs of breath from his nostrils were not unpleasant at all. Inanna's backside was pressed tightly against his lower abdomen, though the natural morning vigor expected of a young man seemed subdued, perhaps due to the heavy trauma of the previous night.

Inanna watched his Adam's apple bob once, then twice, before he finally lifted the covers and rose from the bed. Following that brief moment of warmth, he lapsed back into his habitual silence.

Hearing him summon the maidservants to help him dress and listening to his footsteps recede, Inanna finally stretched her limbs, tossing and turning freely across the bed to loosen her stiff body, intending to catch a bit more sleep before getting up.

Yet the more she lingered in bed, the more her head began to ache. By the time a female official entered bearing a set of fresh clothes, Inanna dragged a hand through her hair and sat up abruptly, vowing to herself that next time she would neither touch alcohol nor play along with the wild delusions of Prince Izmir and his overflowing ambitions.

Standing with her back to the window to tidy her clothes, she suddenly felt a persistent sense of unease. Because the people here looked down on her low birth, no high-ranking court lady from the upper strata had ever been willing to serve her; apart from Mura, the only attendants caring for her daily life were commoner maidservants sent by Mura herself.

Inanna froze, an instinctual prickling running down the hairs of her spine. With a swift roll backward onto the bed, a foot-long dagger plunged deeply into the exact spot where she had been kneeling just moments before.

Before she could scramble up, the unfamiliar woman smoothly wrenched the dagger free, lunging forward to pin Inanna down. Her agility was absolute proof of professional training. With one hand, Inanna grabbed desperately at the wrist of the hand attempting to strike, while using her other hand to grapple at the assassin's throat. Both women panted like exhausted beasts; Inanna could not cry out, the attacker's face turned pale from her grip, and Inanna's own vision began to blur as the strength in the arm blocking the blade slowly drained away.

Remaining in this stalemate meant certain death, so Inanna decided to take a gamble. She abruptly released her grip and jerked her head aside—a cool breeze grazed her ear as the dagger drove straight past her face and embedded itself deep into the mattress.

Inanna lashed out with a kick to the woman's lower abdomen, sending her tumbling backward. Reaching out, she grabbed the bronze censer used for burning calming incense from the nightstand and held it protectively over her head. When the next blow came down with lethal intent, the resounding, bell-like "clang" left Inanna, shielded beneath the censer, seeing stars. Missing her mark once more, the assassin's subsequent attack slowed. Inanna swung the censer down hard against the woman's wrist, only to see her draw a second blade with her free hand. Simultaneously, Inanna groped beneath the pillow. In the blink of an eye, the dull "squelch" of a blade piercing flesh echoed through the room; the assassin's belt was sliced through, falling away as her entire weight collapsed forward onto Inanna.

When Izmir and Hazzas burst through the door, all they beheld was the lavish, gold-and-silver-inlaid bed—carved intricately with vines—transformed into a pool of blood. Inanna sat silently within that pool, while the corpse beside her, already growing cold, stared blankly with upturned, fish-like eyes.

Though Inanna's face was pale, her composure remained intact. Hazzas spoke in a low voice, "Your Highness, you merely kept your concubine in your chambers for a single night, and already they could not bear it. I fear plots have been brewing ever since you established a harem. They are terrified that your deep favor toward Sukamumu might lead to the birth of an heir!"

Without a word, Izmir stepped forward and lifted Inanna into his arms, carrying her away from the blood-drenched bed. His face was close to hers—one striking, tall, and aloof; the other delicate, petite, and pale. His arms were strong and reassuring as he cradled Inanna's back and the bend of her knees, carrying her down the long corridor toward her own quarters.

Izmir's hand suddenly shifted away from Inanna's shoulder, and feeling her support instantly vanish, she instinctively clutched at the lapels of his robe. Izmir's hand immediately returned to support her back; only then did she realize he had simply been pushing open a door. Before them lay her modest yet neat and tidy room. Izmir set her down gently, though this brief interlude left her feeling somewhat awkward.

Looking up at Izmir again, she saw that his robe was skewed from the earlier clutch, stained extensively with vivid crimson patches. Yet he seemed entirely unaware of it, as if afraid she might be traumatized the way she had been in the city of Assur. He gently patted her cheek and asked, "How does it feel to have a blade pierce flesh?"

Inanna wanted to roll her eyes at him, but she lacked the strength; the sudden surge of adrenaline had given way to profound exhaustion. She had walked countless miles and endured boundless hardships not to bury her life here. If she could not even protect her own breath, how could anything else be discussed? Instead, she managed a weak, helpless smile and said, "Your Highness, perhaps I am truly unsuited for the harem. Even if it is luxurious, comfortable, and intoxicating, it is forever tainted with bloodshed. Bleeding is nothing remarkable, but I do not enjoy having the blood come from my own body."

Izmir paused, a faint smile dawning upon his face. To him, Inanna knowing how to hold a blade was one thing, but actually using it to stab someone was a monumental leap forward—signifying that she was far better suited to survive in this environment. Izmir was naturally handsome, though his expression was usually a blend of courteous detachment. Yet with this smile, it was as if a spring breeze from the mountain peaks had melted a frozen sheet of ice; his ordinarily stern brows and eyes suddenly softened, becoming remarkably warm and striking.

This was the first time he had revealed a genuine, appreciative smile, even though that smile still concealed a chilling undercurrent of calculation. "Since that is the case, change out of those bloodied garments and pack your few belongings. You will accompany me on the journey to Egypt. The Daughter of the Nile has rested in Mursili's arms long enough; it is time she opened her eyes to reality!"

Having traveled widely for years, Izmir had grown weary of this royal palace. It was not because of the assassins; to a ruler of this era, assassins were merely as frequent as summer mosquitoes. But he was an untamed hawk of the highlands, and his domain was vast and boundless.

Now that the King of Hatti sat firmly upon his throne, Izmir could once again set his footsteps across Mount Ararat, the plains of the Two Rivers, the deserts of Egypt, and even the Great Green Sea. No matter how magnificent a palace might be, it could only reduce the mountain winds to stale, artificial perfumes and turn the crisp streams of the wilderness into stagnant, muddy pools.