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Zarrah forced herself to smile. “As you wish, Lady Coralyn.”
After the woman departed, she sat at the table and ate, forcing as much food into her stomach as she could fit.You must get healthy,she chanted.You need to be strong.
After, the servants again brought in the large tub, filling it with tepid water and scrubbing the sweat from her body. More servants arrived with an armload of Maridrinian dresses, all made of thin silks and cut to entice. And while she normally had no time for such things, as she looked into the mirror, Zarrah found herself not averse to what she saw.
Bronze silk hung from narrow straps, the fabric clinging to her body as though it had been made for her. Which she supposed it had. The neckline was cut down to below her navel, revealing the inner curves of her breasts and the hard lines of her abdomen, the back so low that wearing any undergarments was impossible. On her feet were sandals of bronze leather decorated with bits of gold. Her wrists were encased in glittering cuffs, and her ears were laden with black diamonds that brushed her shoulders.
Her hair was held back from her face with golden clips, and one of the servants applied cosmetics, lining her eyes with kohl, highlighting her cheeks with gold dust, and painting her lips a dusky rose. If seduction had been her goal, she’d have felt well dressed, but if she had to run or fight, she’d have been better off naked.
Clever old bat,Zarrah silently grumbled, allowing the guards to escort her along the corridor and then down the stairs, the doors opening to reveal the garden.
All of the harem seemed out, the women rolling balls across the lawn or playing games at the tables. But the laughter and conversation and commotion faded to a drone as Zarrah was slapped in the face with the stink of corpse.
Bodies still dangled from the inner walls, flies buzzing around them and crows picking at their faces. Though Zarrah had seen more corpses than she could ever count, the similarities to what happened to her mother had her massive breakfast threatening to rise up her throat.
Then male laughter caught her attention, and Zarrah turned to see Keris dodging between topiaries and fountains. He was dressed only in shirtsleeves and had a young girl balanced on his shoulders while a horde of children racing at his heels screamed, “Catch them!”
He jumped on the edge of a fountain, racing around it only to leap off the other side, the girl on his shoulders shrieking with delight even as Coralyn shouted, “Show caution with your sister, Keris!”
Ignoring her, he circled the garden, staying well away from the corpses as he led them on a merry chase, displaying the agility and strength that, logically, Zarrah knew he possessed. And yet it still surprised her. For a moment, it was as though the prince had exited the scene and the Maridrinian had taken his place, causing her chest to tighten and an unwanted longing to fill her core.You can’t want one and hate the other,she snarled at herself.That’s madness.
Yet the admonition did nothing to temper the flare of anticipation filling her as he wove in her direction, distraction rendering him oblivious to her presence. He was almost upon her, looking over his shoulder and shouting at his younger siblings that they’d never catch him, when the children caught sight of her.
“Valcottan!” several of the elder ones screamed, and Keris slid to a stop, nearly colliding with her. He caught his balance, his eyes widening as he took in her ensemble. “Valc… Lady Zarrah. I…” He trailed off, seemingly lost for words.
His reaction was a dangerous one, and yet it made her heart skip with something other than fear. Especially as his gaze ran down her body, her nipples tightening as he lingered on her breasts before returning to her face. If any other man had looked at her in such a way, she’d have blackened both his eyes for his troubles, but violence was the last thing on her mind. Forcing her tone to a coolness that belied the flood of heat between her thighs, she said, “Your Highness.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “I see the harem has been playing dress-up.”
Zarrah should’ve been offended. Should’ve snapped back that she wasn’t a doll to be played with. Instead, she said, “They seem to think your preference is that I dress in Maridrinian styles.”
“I didn’t realize that it mattered what I thought of your attire.”
It didn’t. It shouldn’t. Her tongue ran across her lips, his eyes moving to her mouth as she did. “Are you suggesting that you’d prefer me dressed in something different?”
Why had she asked that? What he thought of her clothing didn’t matter, and she certainly had no intention of scampering off for a costume change. Yet she found herself holding her breath as Keris looked her over once more.
“Dressedis rarely my preference, my lady, but”—he inclined his head—“I appreciate you taking my desires into consideration.”
Zarrah’s skin prickled with goose bumps as tension mounted between them, entirely inappropriate, given they weren’t alone, the children, including the girl sitting on Keris’s shoulders, watching with interest.
“Good,” Coralyn said. “You two have found each other.”
Zarrah jumped at the sound of Coralyn’s voice, turning to find the old woman approaching down the path.
“Keris, rather than running about like a fool with your siblings, perhaps you might direct your excess of energy into exercising your prisoner.”
Keris lifted one eyebrow, showing no sign of discomfort despite the fact his aunt might well have heard him flirting with said prisoner. “She’s not a horse. Surely she can exercise herself.”
“And get into all manner of trouble while she does it?Youwill walk with her and ensure she keeps to the paths. Take your little sister with you—she weeps when you put her down.” Coralyn snapped her fingers at Zarrah’s guards, who stood a respectful distance away. “Remain within arm’s reach.”
With an aggrieved sigh, Keris started down the path, adjusting his younger sister so that she sat more squarely on his shoulders. Her legs, Zarrah saw, were underdeveloped enough that she doubted the girl capable of walking far unassisted, much less racing around the gardens with the other children.
“What is your name?” she asked the child, who was a pretty little thing, her hair so blond as to be nearly white, her eyes a soft brown.
“Sara.” The tiny princess regarded her with interest. “Is it true that you are a warrior?”
“It is, yes.”
