The Fated Blade (The Areyat Isles Book 3) by Aaron Rosenberg

Author:Aaron Rosenberg [Rosenberg, Aaron]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-11-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-four

Ruhi

Rolling over, Ruhi stretched and promptly bashed her arm against something. Stupid shared room, she thought, massaging her bruised elbow. Always banging into the wall.

Except that was back at Kosala’s estate on Surpakat. Here at home, her bed’s headboard was up against the wall, with space to either side.

Nor did she remember making it back home. In fact, she couldn’t recall anything after the tailor’s shop.

Forcing her eyes open, Ruhi saw at once that she was in neither place. She had just hit the wall, but this one was richly brocaded, with age-worn but still lovely tapestries hanging here and there, not the plain, clean white plaster of the room she shared with Sundra. And this bed was heavily carved, with tall, ornate pillars rising from each corner to support a frilled orange canopy. Beyond that she could make out a heavily beamed ceiling, also carved in great detail. The floor appeared to be a dark green marble, and sturdy gilded doors, also elaborately crafted, barred the entrance. The whole place was heavily scented with agarwood, camphor, and saffron, so thick it was almost cloying.

Where in the spirits’ name was she?

Sitting up carefully, Ruhi put a hand to her aching head. Normally she was a light sleeper, able to wake quickly and easily after only a few hours’ sleep. Why, then, did she feel so drained now, and so fuzzy?

The last thing she remembered was her and Pillai distracting the guards so Sundra and his friend could get by them and into the shop. Something had moved, off to her side, and she’d spun around to look—and then nothing. Running her fingers over her skull, Ruhi found a spot that made her wince when touched. So, someone must have hit her.

But how had she ended up wherever she was now?

Using the nearest bedpost as a support, she dragged herself to her feet. The room spun a little as she did, but a few deep breaths helped to steady her. Then Ruhi looked around, studying everything she could see.

Wherever she was, it was expensive, that much was obvious. The wall coverings, the furniture—a handsome dresser and a small bedside table, as well as a table and stool for donning makeup, in addition to the bed itself—the door and window, and even the floor and ceiling said as much. There was a grandeur here that she’d seen at Armaan Gounder’s, and a more subdued version at Sundra’s own home. Here, it was much more proudly displayed.

Crossing the room to try the door, Ruhi realized she was not wearing the clothes she’d had on yesterday and fallen asleep in last night, either.

Instead, she was garbed in a sari, with a choli and ghagra underneath. These were not the same ones Chhavi had loaned her, however. Those had been black and tan. These were red and gold. They fit her well, though, and had somehow been expertly adjusted in her sleep. Ruhi pushed away thoughts about privacy and modesty, helped no doubt by growing up around warehouse workers and then living among pirates.

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