Silk Dreams - Songs of the North 3 by Mia Marlowe

Author:Mia Marlowe [Marlowe, Mia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-08-01T05:00:00+00:00

“Distraction is the most frequent cause of failure.”

—from the secret journal of Damian Aristarchus

Chapter 18

* * *

“Ask whatever you will of me and I will happily comply.” Publius positively preened over Valdis's successful debut with his master. “What will you have?”

She wanted her freedom, but knew his effusiveness would only extend so far. Publius had been a slave since he was gelded, which Damian told her was fairly early in his life. He probably wouldn't even understand her desire to own herself.

“Come, my dear, don't be shy. Would you like some special delicacy? An iced drink perhaps?”

Valdis recognized this as an enormous mark of favor. Ice was decadently expensive, shipped overland from the mountains in straw-packed crates in a race against time. But to a daughter of the North, ice was only a reminder of the bitterness of winter.

“Just bring me what the other women are having.” Special treatment would breed resentment among the inhabitants of the zenana and she might need all the friends she could cultivate behind these gilded bars.

She was surprised when Habib Ibn Mahomet sent her away after her success without offering her even a mouthful of his sumptuous banquet. Publius explained that occasionally the master dined alone with one of his wives or concubines, but the women of the zenana never ate before other male guests.

“A woman unveiled and placing items in her mouth, of all unseemly things!” Publius was horrified when she mentioned it. “Such a sight might so enflame a man's passions that he could not be held responsible for his actions even if he insulted his host by ravishing the brazen woman on the spot.”

Perhaps her tutelage in the carnal arts wasn't as complete as she imagined. If seeing a woman eat was all it took to render a man incapable of self-control, Valdis thought the men who visited Mahomet's household too easily roused.

Publius left her, promising to see to her supper with his own hands. He wasn't gone more than a few heartbeats when Valdis heard a timid rap on her door.

It was the Frankish girl.

“Oh, it is you!” she said in heavily accented Greek. “I thought so, but feared my mind was playing tricks on me again. Do you remember me? We were sold together. Our captors wouldn't let us speak much when they brought us to this horrid city, but you were ever kind to me and ... my sister.”

“Of course, I remember. Come in,” Valdis said, before anyone could mark that she and the Frank appeared to know each other. “I'm called Valdis Ivorsdottir.”

“I am Landina. There is no need to give you my full title. Such things are of no import in this house." The Frank made nervous fluttering motions with her hands as she spoke, as if she feared her words might go astray and she must be ready to catch them. “My sister and I always spoke of you as the Norse princess since we did not know your name.”

Her heart-shaped face puckered into an expression of such sadness, Valdis felt tears prick at her own eyes in empathy.

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