Dreg (The Dreg Trilogy Book 1) by Bethany Hoeflich

Author:Bethany Hoeflich [Hoeflich, Bethany]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-08-20T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Tomar lived in a tent. A massive tent, to be fair— it lorded over all that surrounded it— but still, just a tent. Until she saw the interior, that is. Tomar nodded to the guards posted on either side of the entrance, then peeled back the white flaps and ducked inside, motioning for them to follow.

Mara stepped inside, eyes widening. It almost looked… cozy. Dozens of fluffy cushions were scattered about the room, begging her to dive in and take a nap. Exhaustion from the previous days spent in the saddle were catching up with her and all she wanted to do was sleep. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long before Tomar agreed to help them. Then, she could rest.

She scanned the rest of the room. By the entrance, a brazier full of scented oil was lit, freshening the interior with the smokey smell of jasmine. A painted urn, large enough that Mara could fit inside, stood proudly in the corner. Hanging from the canvas walls were tapestries made from thousands of colorful threads. The floor was covered with thick carpets, thank the gods. She’d seen enough sand to last a lifetime.

Five women with bare feet, each wearing a different color suvali, waited behind the cushions. Without a word, one woman poured the Rei a drink and another offered him a plate of fruit. Waving them away, Tomar pulled a woman wearing a purple suvali into his lap. She giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Mara shifted her weight from foot to foot. What were they supposed to do? Steel hadn’t told them much about Kerani customs, and she worried about offending the Rei. She cast a longing look at the cushions. Should they sit down? In her state, she’d probably start snoring in seconds. Mara settled for standing awkwardly with Wynn and Ansel.

Steel apparently had no such misgivings as he sank onto a cushion with a wry smile, helping himself to the fruit. He nodded to the woman on Tomar’s lap and said, “Your Reina, perhaps?”

“Certainly not. These beauties are merely my concubines,” Tomar said.

“Ahh, your father had similar… predilections, if I remember correctly.”

Tomar ran an affectionate hand down the woman’s face, tracing her profile with his fingers. “Indeed. Though, my father’s tastes were… far less refined than mine, I’m afraid. The women in my serali are nothing short of perfection.”

Steel chuckled. “I’m surprised your wife hasn’t slipped a viper in your bed. Remember the time your mother placed a scorpion beneath your father’s pillow after he spent the night with his concubines?”

“Well, I think it’s shameful.” Ansel stated, his face the color of a tomato. “You disgrace your… what was the word… your Reina, by spending time with these other women.”

The temperature in the tent dropped as silence descended. Steel’s controlled expression slipped for a moment, showing unfiltered fear, and Mara realized the gravity of Ansel’s mistake.

Tomar’s jaw clenched. He shoved the woman off of his lap and stormed over to where Ansel stood, speaking in a voice barely above a whisper.

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