Page 9 of Be-Djinn At The Beginning

“For example?” she whispered.

Sahar cursed himself and tried to cover it by straightening to spin her again.

“Nothing, Little Bea, ignore my foolishness,” he said.

“Jack!” She hissed and grabbed his arms to hold him still, letting other couples weave around them. “You cannot know what it is like to have everyone speak in circles around you. Everyone is hinting at something that will happen when I’m married, and no one will tell me. To listen to half of them, I might think I’ll be murdered on my honeymoon!”

Sahar turned his face away, unable to look into those wide brown eyes and give her answers while his own instincts were screaming at him to show her.

“Nothing of the kind will happen to you. Now, don’t ask me questions,” he said, trying again to take up her hand, but she slipped it out of his glove.

“All my life, it is only you who would talk to me. Only you who spoke on any subject worth hearing. Now I am…” She paused. “I’m frightened. I’m leaving home and I’m leaving you and I don’t know what is waiting for me. I’m frightened, Jack. Will you not talk to me now?”

Bea’s voice wobbled and her eyes grew glassy in the shine from the fire. Sahar watched in horror, feeling cracks and crumbles inside that he was desperate to patch up before it was too late. At the sight of a tear dropping down her soft cheek which she quickly reached up to slap away, he couldn’t stop himself from clasping her around the shoulders and pulling her in tightly to his chest, cursing under his breath in his long-dead native tongue.

“I will talk to you, girl. Of course I will talk to you,” he hissed, leading her away from the dancing where to have a bit of quiet.

If she married this fool and Sahar could do nothing else for her, he at least owed her one last real conversation as a friend. If he could keep his own shameful desires from getting in the way.

5

PETER STANDS AT YONDER GATE, WAITING FOR A SOUL CAKE

“What everyone is hinting at,” he began, trying to be delicate for once in his life. “It is no evil thing. At least… it ought not be. You certainly shall be doing nothing wrong. The physical act of… well, love, it is only slightly different from embracing your friends and family, one just… carries on further.”

Beatrix, whose family had never much gone in for embracing her except on special occasions, frowned at his obvious embarrassment and fumbling.

“And this is what has every man over the age of fourteen smirking and tittering as if they share some great secret? A long embrace?”

“All hells, girl, there is more to it than that,” Sahar said, choosing a spot at the edge of the woods where they could still see the party at the town center. “There is a certain… intimacy involved. Very vulnerable, very… exciting intimacy.”

“Then why is it spoken of as something that can ruin a woman?” Bea asked.

Sahar growled, making her jump.

“Because your people have taught women that pleasure is only sinful when they experience it. Why do you think you have always had to hide your favorite books and men did not?” he asked. “Women need more time and attention if they’re to really enjoy the experience, and your people have this mad belief that this is asking too much. Any misuse of this manner of intimacy, or even ineptitude, is almost entirely the fault of men.”

Beatrix tried to take this in, but too many questions were clamoring for attention at once.

“Men… like the one I am to marry in two days?”

Sahar opened his mouth, then thought better and shut it with a clack of his teeth. He leaned back against a large willow, arms crossed, one foot against the trunk, as if ready to bolt at any moment.

Silence stretched for what felt like too long. He really ought to say goodnight and go back to his own world. He had already taken this too far. Let Beatrix remember their dance and go on to her new life where she would be safe and cared for, all the more so without him around to stuff it all up.

“There are things a man might do,” said Sahar, regretting each word as he said it. “To secure a woman’s pleasure. Perhaps you will both learn these things in time.”

Beatrix stared up at the skull mask which sat above a pensive frown, searching for any tell—any reason her heart was punching so hard she felt she might fall forward onto her face. Heat and cold flashed through her. Was it fear? Curiosity? Illness?

“What might a man do?”

“You ought not ask me such things,” Sahar huffed, pushing off from the tree with his boot.

“Jack!” Bea grabbed his sleeve. “How can you tell me only half of what I need to know? How can you say there is nothing evil in it and then behave as if it’s too shameful to discuss?”

Because such things are not for your ears, he thought, knowing he was a hypocrite and a fool all the while. Because I cannot bear to describe what you will be doing with some man that is not me. Because if I start down this path, I may never stop.

“You talk as if women deserve better than the censure of all the world and yet your behavior continually keeps me in the dark!” Bea tugged his arm so he would face her. “Why is curiosity praised in a man and scolded in a woman? Must you always hide from me, even my own fate?!”