Inkblots: A Tale of Magic, Adventure, and Romance

XLII. An Understanding

As Zara led the way down the cool stone hallway, Alia forced her arms to stay at her sides instead of creeping around to cover all of her exposed skin. Spine tall, breathing normal, bare feet one after the other on the coarse rug that lined the floor. It was woven of something. Straw, rushes maybe.

Her legs brushed against one another with each step in an alien way. Alia wondered if all skin was this soft under the hair. If Kit's skin was this soft.

She sucked in a deep breath, laced with exotic floral perfume, and tried to still her echoing heartbeat. 

Zara passed a few doorways, some dark and empty, two with colorful silks blocking the doorway. Alia anxiously tried to keep track of the way to Kit's room. She needed to know the way alone if she was... If she was going tonight.

She was. 

It turned out not to be so far - just down the hall and then, once it turned a corner, the door on the left. 

Alia could hear the soft rumble of Kit's voice. She tried to memorize the turn, the number of doors, to prepare herself to slip down this hallway tonight, and then behind the red door tapestry that fluttered faintly in the gentle breezes. And then into his bed. But that was enough trepidation for now. She needed to worry about this moment. Later would... be later.

She braced herself, trying to smile, to quell the panic in her gut, to be somehow ready for Kit's eyes on her bare arms and legs. What would he say? Would he like it? Surely this was enough bare skin to shock him, to be somehow enticing.

She caught her lip between her teeth, feeling her pulse thud through her entire body. Was he talking to his own servant? Was it also a woman? She thought she heard a female voice alternating with Kit's.

Zara pulled the tapestry to the side and motioned Alia forward. Something in the other woman's smile still seemed faintly mocking, but Alia ignored it and stepped forward, trying to channel confidence. A chill went up her bare arms.

Inside, there was a small hall, and beyond it the visible edge of a round bed, much like the one in her own room. The air here smelled less floral and more of a deeper, muskier scent. Alia took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and strode the few steps down the hall, Kit's name ready on her lips.

But when she entered his room proper, lit by the flickering gleam of multiple lamps, it died back. Another white-garbed servant stood quietly next to Kit and a woman, reclined on red, ornately embroidered cushions and holding finely-hammered metal goblets. They laughed together, and Kit only glanced at Alia when he saw her, nodding impassively.

She froze awkwardly, suddenly feeling very small.

The other servant, Zara's equivalent, appeared at her side on delicately silent footsteps, proffering another brass goblet filled with something vaguely viscous. Alia took the cup. Whatever it held was cold, leaving icy condensation against her hand.

She took a nervous sip, feeling small blobs of something slimy brush against her lips. She froze and peered more carefully into the goblet. Seeds, maybe. Not insects, which had been her fear for a moment. Bracing against the strange texture, she took a full drink and was relieved to find it sweet, vaguely tangy, and actually quite pleasant.

Kit motioned to the cushions beside him, continuing his conversation. "...but she wouldn't, of course."

The other woman laughed, a full, rich sound. Alia peered at her more closely, trying and failing to sit down on cushions in a graceful manner. With skirts this short, how did anyone ever sit comfortably?