It didn’t do to underestimate Jhiral’s whims. They were all still learning that, up at the palace and across the city below. You’d think the lesson would have sunk in by now, but it seemed that—even for Archeth Indamaninarmal, most shrewd and pragmatic of imperial advisers—it hadn’t.
Archeth had a moment of retrospective sympathy for Kefanin. She recalled the mayor-domo’s face when she handed Elith over, his single, swiftly overridden attempt at a warning.
. . . an unexpected guest in your house.
. . . an unexpected young female slave awaiting your approval and command.
Tiny, trickling tingle in her belly at that particular thought.
. . . an unexpected and gracious gift of the Emperor, delivered and imposed with no possibility of demurral.
It explained what the girl was doing in her bedchamber. Jhiral liked his commands to be carried out to the letter, and didn’t mind detailing what would happen if they were not. The imperial messenger who brought the girl would have instructed Kefanin minutely, she supposed; and Kefanin, outlander by birth and slave from age five up, summarily castrated at fifteen, less than four years of manumission and citizenship to his name, mayor-domo or not, would have sprung to obey.
Archeth cleared her throat. Mumbled. “All right, fine. I see. You can—”
But the girl threw back the covers and came out of the bed anyway, naked, curve of hip and pale, bisected arse, soft, heavy swing of breasts, and crawled on her hands and knees across the rug to Archeth’s feet, and knelt there.
Archeth gritted her teeth.
“I was told to please you, milady.” Accent thick and intoxicatingly exotic as it softened and slithered on the Tethanne syllables. Her hair fell over her face. “In any way you see fit.”
It had been so long, so very, very long.
She let one hand fall toward the girl’s bowed head—
—snatched it back. Her heart felt abruptly like a panicked bird in a cage. She closed her eyes with the force of it. The blood thumped through her veins at jolting, krin-notched speed.
And then, of course, it was easy.
She swallowed and opened her eyes. Summoned a dry, self-possessed irony into her voice.
“The Emperor is generous beyond all bounds. It’s truly fortunate he is not here, for I am unsure what words I would find to thank him.”
She tucked the towel a little tighter around her. Self-possession or not, she did not trust herself to have the girl rise and stand facing her.
“I will no doubt be able to find work for you in my household, but for now I can think of nothing obvious. You should sleep until morning and then we will talk. What is your name?”
“Ishgrim.” It was barely a murmur.
“Good. Then go back to bed, Ishgrim. It’s late. I will summon you tomorrow.”
She turned and headed rapidly back into the dressing room, so she would not have to watch all that long-limbed, full-breasted flesh get up off the floor and move away from her.
SHE FLUNG ON A DRESSING GOWN, STABBED HER FEET INTO SLIPPERS. Faced herself in the mirror with a scowl, and then went loudly down the staircase. It woke Kefanin up and brought him hurrying out of the cubicle by the door.
“Oh, milady. You are already—”
“Yeah. Already home, already seen what’s in my bed. The Emperor is most pressing in his generosity, is he not.”
Kefanin inclined his head. “Just so, milady. I would have preferred—”
“Yeah, me too. Did our other guest settle in okay?”
“I believe so. She ate shortly after sunset and then retired.”
“Good.” She yawned. “I’m going to the east wing study. Can you bring me a decent bottle of wine from the cellar and something to eat?”
“Immediately, milady.”
“Are the lamps lit there?”
“No, milady. But I have a lantern here that—”
“Good enough.” She swiped up the lantern from its rack by the door, tinkered with it until the flame brightened. “Oh yeah, and get me some krinzanz while you’re at it, would you? There’s a bottle of tincture on top of the right-hand cabinet in the larder. The blue one.”
Kefanin scrutinized her face in the glow from the lantern. “Is that wise, milady?”
“No, it’s not. Your point is?”
