Kismet's Kiss: A Fantasy Romance (Alaia Chronicles) by Cate Rowan

Author:Cate Rowan
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: king, harem, magic, sultan, paranormal romance, arabian nights, india, sheik, otherworld, fantasy, fantasy romance, romance, middle east, romantic fantasy, historical fantasy, healer, goodreads author

CHAPTER TWENTY

Varene spent the night clutching her pillow and drifting in and out of sleep, dreaming of a man with sea-green eyes.

In the morning, Priya hovered by her bed. “My lady, there are patients for you to see.”

Varene shot up on the mattress, one hand clutching her groggy head. “The bird illness is back?”

“No, please don’t worry. Just a few people from the city who heard of you and hope you’ll help them.”

Varene pulled on her indigo silk gown, newly cleaned by the palace laundresses after the riot. She wolfed down a small breakfast and then she and Priya trotted to the Infirmary. Three grateful patients waited for her, along with the guardsmen that had escorted them in from the gates. Fortunately, the afflictions were relatively minor—a bronzesmith with a broken arm, an overworked confectioner whose stomach pains indicated an ulcer, and a potter with a skin rash that hadn’t healed in months. After examining his raw fingernails and exploring deeper inside him with her kyrra, Varene suspected an allergy to his favorite clay.

The Infirmary’s fourth visitor was the shopmistress who had supplied the sugarwort for the palace ill.

“Rupal!” Varene exclaimed with a broad smile. “Your sugarwort saved many lives.”

The proprietress seemed to have developed uncharacteristic nerves. She shifted from one foot to the other and finally shrugged. “I had a stash of it handy. You were the one who healed with it.”

“Has your stall been repaired?”

Rupal grunted her assent, then added a bashful grin. “The sultan was more than generous. It’s in better shape than before that infernal mob ran it over. Which, eh, brings me to why I’m here. The sugarwort was in good condition?”

“Indeed. Especially considering the beating it took during the riot.”

“Well—” the proprietress glanced down at her pointy-toed shoes. “I’d be happy to find more for you. Or other herbs and such. If you like.”

Sohad, who was wiping down one of the examining tables, chuckled and looked over at Varene. “I’m sure our herbal needs will increase with you around. If she’s to become an official supplier, there’s a protocol with the palace accountsman. She’ll need to apply through his office.”

“Rupal, I won’t be in Kad much longer.” She glanced out the window. “But Sohad’s right—if I have my way, herbs will be an important resource for the next Physician in these walls. If you apply soon, I’ll see what I can do to help. The quality of your goods has been more than proven.”

“Thank you for noticing.” The shopmistress inclined her head gratefully.

Priya touched the woman’s arm. “Perhaps I can take you to the accountsman’s office and remind him of your recent service to the sultan.”

They walked out together, escorted by the last guard. Sohad’s gaze clung to the petite handmaiden until she’d moved out of sight.

Varene leaned her hip against the table. “Have you told Priya yet that you’re fond of her?”

Sohad’s head shot up and he stared at Varene. “What?”

“Have you?”

“I’m not.” He moved away from the table, gathering up the rags.

“Of course you are.

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