Petra of the Shazastar is a thief on the run from an unforgettable past. But, like all thieves, her luck cannot last forever. When she is caught, she's given a choice: either face execution or become the fortune teller to the Mad Queen.
Not surpri...
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ALL THE DOUBTS I HAVE about being the Mad Queen's soothsayer, disappear as I walk into my suite. Luxury, opulence and silks of lavender - the Mad Queen sure knows how to spend those tax Florentines. I immediately walk to the bath and pull the rope beside the tub. It is time for me to get rid of the years of dirt and grime and truly live at my station.
A few minutes later a young girl comes in to assist me. She pours rose water and lavender soap creams and other things I did not even know exist. Years of outdoor living are washed off in a matter of minutes. I run my hands up and down my arms and marvel at how soft and lady like my skin is. The young maid begins to wash my hair, massaging deeply into my skull; the motion relaxes me and lulls me into a peaceful daze.
There was a time when Grams used to brush my hair like that - running her hands through the tangles gently. Late at night, when we closed our wagon for business and finished eating dinner, she would sit on her cot and I would lay my head on her lap. She would hum and brush out my hair until I fell asleep...
Soapy water seeps into my nostrils and burns down my throat. I sit up in a jolt - coughing hysterically as if I had been drowned. The young maid shrieks and I look down to see my naked body covered only by bath bubbles. I quickly sink back down into the tub.
"Leave!" My voice is hoarse from coughing. "I can handle it from here."
The girl stares at me with large doe eyes. She places my dress on the edge of the tub and runs out for dear life. I sit in the water for a little bit longer, until it is no longer warm and comfortable and I could feel myself prune.
I dry off and wrap a towel around me. The dress the maid left is a simple, elbow sleeved, form fitting green gown. I feel the material between my fingers. Simple yet elegant, the material alone costs more than I make - or steal rather - in a year.
I resist the urge to pack up the dress, wear my old garbs and escape through the balcony. I can pawn off the dress - maybe not to Fat Pete since he betrayed me - but to someone else and live comfortably for a long while. But I know that Giovanni de Luca would hunt me down to the ends of the earth just to bring me back and prove to his aunt that he was right about me. I will not have him have the last word.
Perhaps staying with the Mad Queen is a good idea after all. I will be protected by the most powerful person in the land.
I dress and step out into the balcony so that my unruly hair can dry. Not a few minutes after, another maid comes in and announces that the Altezza reale la Regina Meridian would like me to accompany her for lunch. I smile at the young maid and ask if she would please lead the way.
