Pain and loneliness. The impression was stark and raw in those few words. Selene had the impulse to reach out in comfort, but she knew Layla would deny she needed comfort. There was one thing Layla would accept, though. "I'd like to sup with you, Layla." Her gaze went to the fabric on the bed. "And I thank you for the draping."
Layla laughed. "It will truly be fine. You will see."
"Did you wear such a garment on your wedding day?"
Her smile faded. "No, we wed in secret. I wore the same white linen robes I wore every day. But I placed a lotus blossom in my hair. Tarik said I looked beautiful." She shrugged. "I knew he lied, but sometimes lies can be a great comfort."
"I'm sure you were beautiful."
"It didn't matter whether I was or not. I felt beautiful." She opened the door. "I'll return soon."
Tarik kissed her breast before whispering, "Will you wed me, Layla?"
She became still. "Marriage?" She raised herself on one arm and looked down at him. "You wish to wed me?"
He smiled. "Why are you so surprised? You know I love you."
"Yes."
"And you love me."
She was silent.
"Layla?"
She nestled her head into the hollow of his shoulder. "Why do you wish to marry? We couple; we have joy."
"Why do you not?"
She stared at the darkness beyond the window across the room. It was a hot, humid night, and she had left the woven shutters open. She smelled the scent of incense of palm oil she had burned to mask the stench of the streets. She knew those streets: the thieves who stole from the living and the dead, the beggars, the whores. She had forced herself to walk those byways and learn the wickedness that lay around every corner. But it was a world Tarik had never known behind the walls of the Great Library.
Until she had forced him to come out from behind those walls.
"Layla."
"I'm . . . not like you."
"Why should that matter?"
"I don't meditate and worship at the feet of those great philosophers whose words you copy down in your scrolls. Most of the time I don't think at all. I just do what seems best to do, what I want to do."
"You think a great deal. You're the most intelligent woman I know."
"Of course I'm intelligent. That's not what I meant." She curled closer to him even as she formed the words that would distance him. "I'm not--I don't--I should not marry you. You don't know me."
He kissed the top of her head. "Well enough. You've told me all I need to know."
"You know nothing. I'm selfish and--Do you know why I first came to your bed? I thought your interest in finding the scroll was waning. I needed to hold you. From the first moment I saw you at the library, I intended to use you to get what I wanted."
"I knew that."
She sat up and looked down at him in shock. "You knew?"
He laughed. "You're very bad at subterfuge, my love."
"That's not true," she said indignantly. "I've done quite well at fooling the priests all these years."
"Then perhaps I see more because I love you."
