Thirty
“A man who is profane lacks discipline,” Bane’s mother had told him long ago. “And to become a great man, you must be disciplined.”
All his life Bane had done his best not to curse, even in the most trying situations. It was a way of honoring his mother. He had always been proud of his speech and vocabulary, even when in prison, for it set him apart from others, from those uncultured and ordinary, many who were intimidated by his floridity. But when Talia now emerged from her room in their London hotel suite, Bane found it difficult not to mutter profanities behind his mask, oaths of sexual frustration. With Maysam sharing their suite, he would have no opportunity to remove Talia’s stunning red dress. The sleeveless garment had a plunging v-neckline, teasing him with just a hint of her breasts, her skin smooth and flawless. The slim design followed every curve, reaching to mid-thigh, an unusually daring display overall, considering her grandmother’s presence. But this was not the palace in Rajasthan. Bane now better understood why the Islamic faith demanded its women to be covered.
Talia smiled at him, her lipstick perfectly matching her dress, her ample eye shadow giving her that sultry, smoky look that drove him wild and offset the sapphire beauty of her eyes. Her hair, though growing out from when she had cut it almost a year ago, was still short, but not so short that she could not pull it back and pin it, which is how she currently wore it. She came toward him, graceful as a cat in her black heels.
With a glance toward her grandmother’s bedroom, she said, “Habibi, how will you share our champagne with your mask on?”
“I will share it by enjoying watching you drink it, little mouse,” he smiled, fingers twitching in his fierce desire to take her this very minute.
“Talia,” Maysam’s distant voice admonished. “Don’t badger Haris about the mask.”
“How did she hear me?” Talia whispered with a half-smile.
When Maysam emerged from her room, both Talia and Bane stared. She had forsaken her traditional Muslim dress for a beautiful dark blue gown, one of simplicity and modesty with long sleeves and high neckline, its rich material flowing to the floor, hiding her feet.
“Jiddah,” Talia breathed. “You look so beautiful.” She reached for her phone on the nearby table. “You must let me take a picture.”
“Talia, no. I prefer you don’t.”
But Talia had snapped the picture anyway, grinning. “I’m going to send it to Barsad right now.”
“Talia!”
“Oh, Jiddah, don’t look so surprised. I’ve known about you and Barsad a long time.”
Maysam paled and looked almost accusingly at Bane.
“Bane didn’t tell me,” Talia laughed.
“Then—then how do you know?”
“Barsad told me a while ago. Don’t be angry with him; he was lonely and drunk.”
A fierce blush colored Maysam’s high cheekbones, and she could look at neither of them. “That was a long time ago,” she sputtered. “I am an old woman now. No man wants to see an old woman’s picture.”
Talia stepped over to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “You are not an old woman. You are a beautiful woman.”
“Yes,” Bane said, “I’m surrounded by beautiful women. Perhaps I should send Barsad a picture of both of you to torment him during his training.”
“Haris,” Maysam tsked.
Bane chuckled. “Come now, my beauties. The food is growing cold and the champagne is growing warm. We have much to celebrate.” He pulled out their chairs from the table where supper awaited, filling the suite with tantalizing scents. Room service had impeccably dressed the table with an immaculate white tablecloth, shining silver, and crystal glasses that caught the light from the chandelier.
Maysam, momentarily holding Talia’s hand, led her to the table, a proud smile on her face. Once she sat, Bane eased her chair closer to the table, then he stepped to Talia’s chair and did the same. With an echoing pop that brought smiles to all of them, Bane opened the champagne bottle—a particularly expensive one—and poured the sparkling liquid into the delicate stemware, including a small amount in the glass at his place setting.
Still standing, he elevated his glass in Talia’s direction. “To you, my dear. Congratulations on your degree and all the hard work it took to acquire it. I speak for both of your parents when I say how proud we all are of you. To think a child of the pit has arisen to such lofty heights is truly amazing and certainly just. And here is to the continuation of your education.”
Talia blushed. “Thank you, habibi.”
Their glasses gently chinked, and Talia and Maysam drank. Maysam made a small, astonished sound, for this was the first time she had ever tasted alcohol. Her widened eyes made Bane and Talia laugh with delight.
“Oh my,” Maysam said. “That was unexpected…and good.”
Talia laughed again. “We have corrupted you, Jiddah. What would Ayman say?”
Maysam gave an emboldened huff of satisfaction. “The hypocritical fool would probably have a heart attack.”
“If he hasn’t already,” Talia said. “The day we told him I was flying you here for the commencement, I thought he was going to have a stroke right then, especially when I told him he was not welcome.”
As Bane settled into his chair and poured the small amount of champagne from his flute into Talia’s glass, he grinned behind the mask. She had been insistent that she alone be allowed to escort her grandmother, for she did not want Ayman or one of Amir’s family members to spoil Maysam’s first trip out of India. Talia had been determined to make her graduation as much about her grandmother as herself. And she had done admirably, having spent the past week here in London with her grandmother, showing Maysam the sights, shopping, dining, attending plays. Bane, of course, had refrained from sharing such things, not only in order to keep a low profile in such a high profile city but because he had matters to attend to with the League. He looked forward to the end of training for Barsad and Yemi so he could delegate some of his duties to them. And besides that, he greatly missed both of them, especially Barsad. Bane could not refrain from grinning again when he thought of Barsad receiving Talia’s picture of Maysam, especially considering Barsad’s forced celibacy during his months of training.
Contented for the moment, Bane leaned back in his chair and enjoyed listening to the two women talk. Watching Talia eat further aroused and distracted him, but he managed to hide his passions, toying with his unused linen.
“I wish you could stay longer, Jiddah,” Talia was saying as she expertly sliced off another piece of filet mignon. She had always been skilled with a knife, whether eating or in training with the League.
“I have been away from home long enough.” Maysam smiled. “And I have loved every minute of it. But I think it’s only fair that the two of you should have a day just to yourselves without feeling that you must entertain me. I hate to think how long it might be before you see each other again.”
Bane stirred slightly, wondering once again if Maysam knew the true nature of his relationship with Talia. Talia always insisted that she had never said anything to her grandmother about it, a secret she felt was unnecessary but one upon which Bane insisted out of respect.
“You’re talking about a woman who had an affair with Barsad,” Talia often teased him. “She is not an innocent, Bane.”
“Nonetheless, you are her granddaughter, and I have no business sharing your bed, a man of my age. She believes I am your protector, not your lover. I would hate to lose her respect.”
“You could never do that. She loves you like a son; she told you herself. Besides, she is a woman, after all. She probably already knows we’re lovers.”
Considering Maysam’s words now at the table, Bane thought that perhaps Talia was correct, yet he would leave that to the realm of speculation. He did not want to risk seeing displeasure in Maysam’s eyes, those alluring eyes so like Melisande’s.
“I can’t let you leave without discussing this again,” Talia was saying to her grandmother. “You should come live with me in Gotham.”
“Oh, child. That is no place for me. You will be so busy at your new job and working on your master’s degree, I would be lonely, and that would only make you unhappy.”
“I would have plenty of time for you, Jiddah. I won’t know anyone there.”
“In no time you will have a swarm of friends,” Maysam insisted. “You are too young to be weighed down by an old woman from an old culture.”
“Bane,” Talia pouted. “Can’t you convince her?”
He chuckled. “No more than you can, little mouse. She is stubborn like you.”
“Besides,” Maysam said, “there is something you are forgetting, Talia.”
“What?”
Maysam set down her fork, and amusement gave way to sobriety, erasing the lighthearted mood. “The lives you and Haris lead are only going to become more dangerous. I won’t lecture you on your choices, and no doubt you have kept much more hidden from me, but don’t think I am unaware. Though you both believe you are indestructible, I am older and wiser. I have seen the premature end of many a dangerous, seemingly-indestructible life. By staying in Rajasthan, by keeping my husband’s home, I can provide both of you with a haven should you ever require it. You will always be safe there.”
Bane tried to infuse lightness into his tone. “Amir might say otherwise.”
“No,” Maysam said with cold certainty. “Trust me when I tell you he will have no say in the matter. I remind him regularly of what you have done for my granddaughter, and he has no doubts of my love for Talia nor any delusions about his part in Melisande’s imprisonment. Amir, believe it or not, does feel some guilt over her terrible fate, and because of that he will not deny anything I ask for Talia, whether Iba agrees or not.”
“You shouldn’t live there just for our sakes, Jiddah,” Talia insisted. “Wouldn’t you be happier with me?”
“There is no place I am happier than when I am with you, habibati. But we three must—as your father used to say—do what is necessary, yes?”
Bane nodded to himself in satisfaction over Maysam’s tactic. Of course by invoking Rā’s al Ghūl, Maysam had made the most poignant point in her argument, and Talia surrendered with a small sigh of frustration.
“We would never bring our troubles to your doorstep,” Bane said.
Maysam reached to take his hand where it rested on the table. “This is not negotiable, Haris. You will promise me that should the need ever arise, you will not hesitate to return to me, that you will deliver my granddaughter even if she insists otherwise.”
Bane frowned and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Of course.”
“Very well.” Maysam’s smile returned. “Now, enough of such matters. This is our last evening together, the three of us. Let us make it a happy one.”
“A man who is profane lacks discipline,” Bane’s mother had told him long ago. “And to become a great man, you must be disciplined.”
All his life Bane had done his best not to curse, even in the most trying situations. It was a way of honoring his mother. He had always been proud of his speech and vocabulary, even when in prison, for it set him apart from others, from those uncultured and ordinary, many who were intimidated by his floridity. But when Talia now emerged from her room in their London hotel suite, Bane found it difficult not to mutter profanities behind his mask, oaths of sexual frustration. With Maysam sharing their suite, he would have no opportunity to remove Talia’s stunning red dress. The sleeveless garment had a plunging v-neckline, teasing him with just a hint of her breasts, her skin smooth and flawless. The slim design followed every curve, reaching to mid-thigh, an unusually daring display overall, considering her grandmother’s presence. But this was not the palace in Rajasthan. Bane now better understood why the Islamic faith demanded its women to be covered.
Talia smiled at him, her lipstick perfectly matching her dress, her ample eye shadow giving her that sultry, smoky look that drove him wild and offset the sapphire beauty of her eyes. Her hair, though growing out from when she had cut it almost a year ago, was still short, but not so short that she could not pull it back and pin it, which is how she currently wore it. She came toward him, graceful as a cat in her black heels.
With a glance toward her grandmother’s bedroom, she said, “Habibi, how will you share our champagne with your mask on?”
“I will share it by enjoying watching you drink it, little mouse,” he smiled, fingers twitching in his fierce desire to take her this very minute.
“Talia,” Maysam’s distant voice admonished. “Don’t badger Haris about the mask.”
“How did she hear me?” Talia whispered with a half-smile.
When Maysam emerged from her room, both Talia and Bane stared. She had forsaken her traditional Muslim dress for a beautiful dark blue gown, one of simplicity and modesty with long sleeves and high neckline, its rich material flowing to the floor, hiding her feet.
“Jiddah,” Talia breathed. “You look so beautiful.” She reached for her phone on the nearby table. “You must let me take a picture.”
“Talia, no. I prefer you don’t.”
But Talia had snapped the picture anyway, grinning. “I’m going to send it to Barsad right now.”
“Talia!”
“Oh, Jiddah, don’t look so surprised. I’ve known about you and Barsad a long time.”
Maysam paled and looked almost accusingly at Bane.
“Bane didn’t tell me,” Talia laughed.
“Then—then how do you know?”
“Barsad told me a while ago. Don’t be angry with him; he was lonely and drunk.”
A fierce blush colored Maysam’s high cheekbones, and she could look at neither of them. “That was a long time ago,” she sputtered. “I am an old woman now. No man wants to see an old woman’s picture.”
Talia stepped over to kiss her grandmother’s cheek. “You are not an old woman. You are a beautiful woman.”
“Yes,” Bane said, “I’m surrounded by beautiful women. Perhaps I should send Barsad a picture of both of you to torment him during his training.”
“Haris,” Maysam tsked.
Bane chuckled. “Come now, my beauties. The food is growing cold and the champagne is growing warm. We have much to celebrate.” He pulled out their chairs from the table where supper awaited, filling the suite with tantalizing scents. Room service had impeccably dressed the table with an immaculate white tablecloth, shining silver, and crystal glasses that caught the light from the chandelier.
Maysam, momentarily holding Talia’s hand, led her to the table, a proud smile on her face. Once she sat, Bane eased her chair closer to the table, then he stepped to Talia’s chair and did the same. With an echoing pop that brought smiles to all of them, Bane opened the champagne bottle—a particularly expensive one—and poured the sparkling liquid into the delicate stemware, including a small amount in the glass at his place setting.
Still standing, he elevated his glass in Talia’s direction. “To you, my dear. Congratulations on your degree and all the hard work it took to acquire it. I speak for both of your parents when I say how proud we all are of you. To think a child of the pit has arisen to such lofty heights is truly amazing and certainly just. And here is to the continuation of your education.”
Talia blushed. “Thank you, habibi.”
Their glasses gently chinked, and Talia and Maysam drank. Maysam made a small, astonished sound, for this was the first time she had ever tasted alcohol. Her widened eyes made Bane and Talia laugh with delight.
“Oh my,” Maysam said. “That was unexpected…and good.”
Talia laughed again. “We have corrupted you, Jiddah. What would Ayman say?”
Maysam gave an emboldened huff of satisfaction. “The hypocritical fool would probably have a heart attack.”
“If he hasn’t already,” Talia said. “The day we told him I was flying you here for the commencement, I thought he was going to have a stroke right then, especially when I told him he was not welcome.”
As Bane settled into his chair and poured the small amount of champagne from his flute into Talia’s glass, he grinned behind the mask. She had been insistent that she alone be allowed to escort her grandmother, for she did not want Ayman or one of Amir’s family members to spoil Maysam’s first trip out of India. Talia had been determined to make her graduation as much about her grandmother as herself. And she had done admirably, having spent the past week here in London with her grandmother, showing Maysam the sights, shopping, dining, attending plays. Bane, of course, had refrained from sharing such things, not only in order to keep a low profile in such a high profile city but because he had matters to attend to with the League. He looked forward to the end of training for Barsad and Yemi so he could delegate some of his duties to them. And besides that, he greatly missed both of them, especially Barsad. Bane could not refrain from grinning again when he thought of Barsad receiving Talia’s picture of Maysam, especially considering Barsad’s forced celibacy during his months of training.
Contented for the moment, Bane leaned back in his chair and enjoyed listening to the two women talk. Watching Talia eat further aroused and distracted him, but he managed to hide his passions, toying with his unused linen.
“I wish you could stay longer, Jiddah,” Talia was saying as she expertly sliced off another piece of filet mignon. She had always been skilled with a knife, whether eating or in training with the League.
“I have been away from home long enough.” Maysam smiled. “And I have loved every minute of it. But I think it’s only fair that the two of you should have a day just to yourselves without feeling that you must entertain me. I hate to think how long it might be before you see each other again.”
Bane stirred slightly, wondering once again if Maysam knew the true nature of his relationship with Talia. Talia always insisted that she had never said anything to her grandmother about it, a secret she felt was unnecessary but one upon which Bane insisted out of respect.
“You’re talking about a woman who had an affair with Barsad,” Talia often teased him. “She is not an innocent, Bane.”
“Nonetheless, you are her granddaughter, and I have no business sharing your bed, a man of my age. She believes I am your protector, not your lover. I would hate to lose her respect.”
“You could never do that. She loves you like a son; she told you herself. Besides, she is a woman, after all. She probably already knows we’re lovers.”
Considering Maysam’s words now at the table, Bane thought that perhaps Talia was correct, yet he would leave that to the realm of speculation. He did not want to risk seeing displeasure in Maysam’s eyes, those alluring eyes so like Melisande’s.
“I can’t let you leave without discussing this again,” Talia was saying to her grandmother. “You should come live with me in Gotham.”
“Oh, child. That is no place for me. You will be so busy at your new job and working on your master’s degree, I would be lonely, and that would only make you unhappy.”
“I would have plenty of time for you, Jiddah. I won’t know anyone there.”
“In no time you will have a swarm of friends,” Maysam insisted. “You are too young to be weighed down by an old woman from an old culture.”
“Bane,” Talia pouted. “Can’t you convince her?”
He chuckled. “No more than you can, little mouse. She is stubborn like you.”
“Besides,” Maysam said, “there is something you are forgetting, Talia.”
“What?”
Maysam set down her fork, and amusement gave way to sobriety, erasing the lighthearted mood. “The lives you and Haris lead are only going to become more dangerous. I won’t lecture you on your choices, and no doubt you have kept much more hidden from me, but don’t think I am unaware. Though you both believe you are indestructible, I am older and wiser. I have seen the premature end of many a dangerous, seemingly-indestructible life. By staying in Rajasthan, by keeping my husband’s home, I can provide both of you with a haven should you ever require it. You will always be safe there.”
Bane tried to infuse lightness into his tone. “Amir might say otherwise.”
“No,” Maysam said with cold certainty. “Trust me when I tell you he will have no say in the matter. I remind him regularly of what you have done for my granddaughter, and he has no doubts of my love for Talia nor any delusions about his part in Melisande’s imprisonment. Amir, believe it or not, does feel some guilt over her terrible fate, and because of that he will not deny anything I ask for Talia, whether Iba agrees or not.”
“You shouldn’t live there just for our sakes, Jiddah,” Talia insisted. “Wouldn’t you be happier with me?”
“There is no place I am happier than when I am with you, habibati. But we three must—as your father used to say—do what is necessary, yes?”
Bane nodded to himself in satisfaction over Maysam’s tactic. Of course by invoking Rā’s al Ghūl, Maysam had made the most poignant point in her argument, and Talia surrendered with a small sigh of frustration.
“We would never bring our troubles to your doorstep,” Bane said.
Maysam reached to take his hand where it rested on the table. “This is not negotiable, Haris. You will promise me that should the need ever arise, you will not hesitate to return to me, that you will deliver my granddaughter even if she insists otherwise.”
Bane frowned and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Of course.”
“Very well.” Maysam’s smile returned. “Now, enough of such matters. This is our last evening together, the three of us. Let us make it a happy one.”
