“Is it true?” she asked.
“Emine,” his father scolded her. “Do as your son has bidden. Go inside.”
Kuresh took his mother’s hands in his. “Do not fear for my life, Mother. I swear to return here a free man, God help me.”
She squeezed his fingers, cast a dark look at his father, then climbed the narrow stairs back to the palace.
Every step she took shattered another piece of Kuresh’s heart. He swung around and faced his lord. “When has one life ever been worth three?”
Kalil frowned. “When I realized how much I have to lose. Look about you. Would you give this up easily?”
Kuresh refused to answer.
“Very well,” his father said. “Put your hands together and let Raffi tie them.”
Kuresh growled. “Touch me…” He glared at the advisor. “And I will take your worthless life.” Then he turned to his father. “I will do as you ask, but I will meet this infidel as I am now, free.”
Kuresh had never challenged his father. Silence rose between them.
“Follow me.” His father started toward the outer gates.
Guards swung the iron gates open, revealing the stranger that was to be Kuresh’s master.
“I present to you my three sons,” Kalil said. “My eldest son, Nasim. Kuresh. Cyrus.”
The stranger with dark hair considered Kuresh and his brothers. “You dinna lie to me, Lord Kalil. They are young and strong.”
The infidel spoke Kuresh’s language with a funny accent.
“And if I refuse to go?” Kuresh blurted, anger building inside him. No one had disarmed him; he could fight.
The stranger blinked at him and said, “Then I will kill your father.”
Kuresh could not stop from smiling. His father deserved to die. He gazed back at the palace he had grown up in—a happy life filled with laughter and music, luxury. The kind of comfort few ever experienced. For some unknown reason, he did not want to be a part of it any longer. With the exception of his mother and siblings, who would be safe now that his father’s life had been spared, there was no reason to stay.
“Will you resist?” the stranger asked. “Fight me for your freedom?”
“What do they call you?” Kuresh asked.
“Alexander.”
“And where are you from?”
“The Highlands.” Alexander pointed in the direction of the harbor. “Another world. Another lifetime.”
“Is it as beautiful as I have heard?” Kuresh knew of the barbarians and their island-home. The snow-covered peaks and heather-strewn valleys, the red-headed women and blood-thirsty warriors.
“Tis the most beautiful place I have ever seen.”
Kuresh offered his sword to Alexander, then kneeled. “I will serve you without question.”
“Stand before me, Kuresh,” Alexander commanded. “I am no’ in need of a servant. I require fierce warriors at my side. Walk as a free man, fight for me.”
Kuresh rose to his feet and sheathed his scimitar. He refused to live upon his knees as a slave and turned to his father. “I curse you. Disown you and everything you possess. If I ever set eyes upon you again, I will kill you.”
