Cursed by Ice (24 page)

“I will be frugal,” Sarielle said. “There is no need to go wild.”

“There is a need if you wish it,” he said, raising her from the chair and kissing her softly. “Please yourself. After so much time in captivity, you deserve to be free in this way at the very least.”

Sarielle was smiling as she left him. He was so enthusiastic it was infectious. And he gave with all his heart. She didn’t think he had a bad bone in his whole body.

She walked out of the room with Davine and together the women exited the keep.

“It still feels strange to be able to come and go from here so freely,” Sarielle said.

“No doubt it does,” Davine replied, her soft voice just as exotic as the rest of her.

“Can I ask you something?” Sarielle said hesitantly.

“You may ask me anything. You are the conqueror’s mistress. You have a position above me now.”

“I am not above nor below you,” Sarielle said sternly.

“Many people look on me with a jaundiced eye,” she said quietly. “They see only the evil bennesah’s mistress and think I should be dead too.”

“No one thinks that!” Sarielle said.

“Oh, but they do,” Davine said, her eyes lowered. “I have heard it said when they did not think I could hear them.”

“Well, I don’t think that way.” Sarielle walked in silence beside her for a moment. “I wanted to ask you how … that is, how did you know what the bennesah wanted from you?”

“He wanted what all men want,” Davine said with a sly smile. It made Sarielle laugh. “But you mean how I present myself. How I make myself alluring. How I keep a man interested.”

“Yes,” Sarielle said on a sigh. “All of those things.”

Davine laughed gaily. “Do not worry! I will help you to be pretty, yes? For our new bennesah. So he will make you his mistress and keep you.”

“Well, I don’t know if I want that exactly …”

“Then we will make you pretty for you,” Davine said. She smiled softly and touched Sarielle’s hair. “You need a little work, but there is much we can do for you.”

They entered the bazaar a short while later and Sarielle was immediately overwhelmed with the sights and sounds and smells. Many merchants were inside tents, while some were sitting out on rugs with their wares on display. The bazaar was a maze, almost haphazard, but everywhere she turned, there was more to see and feel and even taste. Fruit vendors put pieces of fruit on her tongue and cloth vendors came and touched fabric to her arms as she passed to try to lure her in. Sometimes it worked and she found herself fondling the most
sumptuous of fabrics, fabrics like the ones Davine wore. Like she was wearing even then. Although Sarielle wasn’t sure she had the nerve to wear some of the things Davine wore. But she did find one fabric, a thick silk one that slid like water through her hands and was the deepest green she had ever seen.

“I like this,” she said to the vendor. “May I have enough for a dress, please?”

“What kind of dress will it be?”

“It will be something decadent with long, flowing skirts!” Davine declared with a laugh.

“Yes, mistress lady,” the vendor said to Davine. She then cut the fabric, wrapped it in paper, and handed it to Davine.

“Now for a dressmaker,” Davine said, grabbing Sarielle’s arm and hurrying her through the bazaar. “They will have more fabrics there and you can order as many dresses as you like, for you and the little girls!”

They rounded a bend and there it was, a huge tent in the hub of the bazaar filled with dresses on display. There were wicker mannequins shaped like women and the dresses were upon their reedy bodies. Each dress was more beautiful than the next. Sarielle eagerly followed Davine inside.

“See? Look at them all! Over there is for the children, and over here is for you. Look at this one. You would look delicious in this! He could never resist you!”

Sarielle blushed as she looked at the daring gown. It was completely transparent.

“I could never wear that! No one could!”

“Nonsense. I have two myself. They are for inside the bedroom, not out,” Davine whispered to her.

“Oh! Well … then I will have to have one,” she said with a sly smile. “And I like the blue.”

“It should fit you. Let’s try it on,” Davine said. She
turned to the vendor. “We would like to try on this dress.”

“Who would?” the merchant asked, her eyes narrowing on Sarielle. “We don’t serve her kind in here.”

And just like that, a sharp, bitter coldness was dashed into the face of Sarielle’s day.

“I beg your pardon?” Davine said, her voice lowering to an almost threatening level.

“I don’t serve the scourge,” the woman repeated, biting the words out.

“Let’s go,” Sarielle whispered.

“No! There is no scourge anymore,” Davine defended her to the vendor. “They are all free now.”

“Just because an invader comes and says something is true does not make it true to those of us who know what they are. She is filth and she will not try on any of my clothes. I have a clientele to think of. What would they think if they saw the scourge wearing the very dresses they would like to try on for themselves?”

“Davine, please. Let’s go,” Sarielle said, pulling on the other woman’s arm.

“The new ruler will hear of your treatment!” Davine promised her as Sarielle pulled her away. “This will not be the end of it!”

Sarielle had lost all her stomach for shopping, but Davine persisted. “No,” she said, “we will not let the ignorance of one woman color our day out together. We will find another merchant. There are simply dozens of them.”

Davine chattered on and Sarielle tried to listen, but all she kept thinking about was the vendor’s attitude toward her. She had grown up with that attitude all her life, so why had it shocked her now?

Because Garreth had taught her to want more. To expect more. To deserve more. But right then she couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or not. He had raised her
expectations and now she had been thoroughly disappointed.

“Here. Here is Jugot, my favorite dressmaker. Look at all his lovely things. Jugot, you will serve me and my friend, will you not?”

“But of course, Davine! I thrive on your generous business. Come! Bring your pretty friend. I have had many fine things just waiting for you to see.”

“Tell me what you have!” Davine demanded excitedly.

“Froma silk, my love! Froma silk! It came in right before this awful business with the invaders. Who knows what will become of it all! The western half of the bazaar was burned to a crisp! I know many friends who lost their entire livelihood in this terrible war. Some even lost their lives!”

“I am sure it has been hard,” Davine said. “But I have it on good authority that these invaders mean to be very fair and have ruled many other cities well.”

“They can’t do much worse than the bennesah, I’ll say. Now, let’s see what you have there. Oh, a fine cloth for a day dress, I daresay. Well! Let’s get you fitted for the style you like and you can try on anything else in the store.”

“Thank you,” Sarielle said, her whole heart in the words. She had needed to be accepted and this man was doing just that, as simply as the sun was out. It comforted her a great deal.

She was very grateful to Davine as well. After they bought dresses for her and for the twins, with bundles in their hands, they went shopping for what Davine called “essentials”: perfume, lotion, bath salts. Then they spent the rest of the day finding little things like jewelry and shoes. Sarielle’s eyes went wide at the sheer cost of things and the freedom with which Davine spent money. It didn’t escape her that Davine was choosing
things for herself as well and also charging it to Garreth’s accounts.

When they got back to the keep, they tumbled inside, arms exhausted from carrying their burdens.

“I must say, I could have used a good slave today!” Davine sang out. Then she stopped and whirled to look at Sarielle. “I didn’t mean—!”

“It’s all right. The truth is, you are used to using slaves, just as that vendor is unused to serving them.”

Davine went up to her. “I do not look at you as a slave. I think I look at you as … a compatriot. For, in my way, I too was a slave. The only difference was that people thought I gave myself to the bennesah willingly. They forget that men in power can take whatever they want. He saw me in my father’s shop one day and he wanted me. That was the end of my days as a simple girl and the beginning of something different. You have seen the end of your days as a slave, and now is the beginning of something different.”

“It will be different for you too. You are free to do whatever you like now.”

“Well, we’ll see. I’m not sure I know how to do anything else anymore! Now, come. Let’s find the children and have them try on their dresses. I cannot wait to see their faces! And the dolls you bought them!”

Davine’s excitement was catching and Sarielle eagerly followed her, all thoughts of that vendor forgotten.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Sarielle had never had a friend before—that much was obvious to Davine. Davine wasn’t much for friends either. She had lost everything the day she was elevated to being the bennesah’s latest mistress. As such, she had learned there was no such thing as a real friend. If someone tried to make friends with her, it was because they wanted something from her. Or, more precisely, from the bennesah. They knew Davine was guaranteed to have his ear once every few nights … if not every night … and if they did something for her, she might drop an idea in the bennesah’s ear.

Those were the kinds of friendships she had treasured. That was how she had managed to put aside a nest egg for the day when the bennesah would finally grow tired of her. A day that had been rapidly approaching if she’d had to lay bets. But nest egg or not, it wasn’t enough for her to live in the comfort she had grown used to. It was bad enough that her slaves had been freed and now she was forced to share serving girls with the rest of the household. Paid serving girls. Who had ever heard of such a thing? Paying for help?

She missed slaves. Her slave Betima had braided her hair perfectly. Her slave Chantro had given the finest
massages. When Davine had gone shopping, each had been there to help carry her purchases. When she had said she missed slaves, she had not forgotten whom she was talking to. Just like she had known that vendor would never serve a scourge. But Davine had taken Sarielle there purposely to do two things: one, to remind the upstart of who she really was, and two, to put herself firmly in Sarielle’s corner. To bring them together. To make them appear to be
friends
.

So as she lowered herself to braid the slave girl’s hair to make her more attractive to Garreth, she reminded herself of the bigger picture. Playing her hand right would bring her comfort for the rest of her days, and all she had to do was drive Garreth and Sarielle apart.

It was going to be incredibly easy, she decided. The girl had been sheltered; for all she had been a slave, protected in a cocoon. Well, now she was out in the big, bad world and she was going to find out just what kind of insidious teeth it had.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” Sarielle asked, looking into the looking glass that Bento had had imported from across the Faspin Sea just for Davine, because it was the clearest glass known to man and he had wanted her to be able to see herself completely unblemished. It galled Davine that she now had to watch this slave girl use it as her own, with
her
doing the serving.
Her
, a natural born Kithian! The world had surely come to an end the day these vanquishers had come … for all they were handsome, stalwart, and, it appeared, wealthy.

“He will love it,” Davine assured her. “Do you not think so?” she asked, purposely baiting the girl.

“Well, I’m not sure. I’m not sure I know what he likes.”

Davine laughed at her. “Pussy, darling. He likes pussy. All men do. It’s as simple as that. All you have to do is figure out if he’s the sort to like just one … or if
he’s the sort who likes a great many different ones at once.”

Sarielle was flushing hotly. “How do you know?” she asked.

“Well, they all show their colors eventually. But I must warn you. Finding one who likes just one is nearly impossible. Eventually they almost all stray. The bennesah most certainly did.”

“From
you
?” Sarielle was shocked. “Why would any man stray from you? You’re perfect!”

“It’s not about how perfect we are. They simply cannot help themselves. But I made certain never to complain when I caught him at it. Nothing will get you kicked out of a man’s bed faster than telling him what he can and cannot do with his penis.”

“But that’s terrible.” Sarielle then forced herself to brighten. “I am not concerned. Garreth is not the sort to seek out many women.”

“You do not know him that well,” Davine warned her.

“No. But I have a sense of him. Thank you for all your help. I had fun today. I hope we can do it again sometime.”

“Tomorrow at least!” Davine declared, making Sarielle laugh. “Now I’m going to go. I believe I see a light on under your master’s door. Good night, Sarielle!”