Page 59 of The Jasad Crown
Sefa studied the high ceiling, counting the virulent colors painted on the stone beams braided into the wall. She had not seen so much bare skin since she’d lived on the streets with Marek. The small issue of vagrancy hadn’t stopped his adolescent self from tumbling a new girl every time Sefa left the tent for more than ten minutes.
“Your Majesty?” the man murmured, still unabashedly aroused by the window. Sefa may as well have been a sentient pile of buttons.
Sultana Vaida rose and poured from the water pitcher by her bedside table. She took a long drink. Without glancing back at the man, she said, “The day wastes, Ajil. Lace your trousers and go see to making the most of it.”
“My name isn’t—”
The Sultana’s neck rotated, the knives in her eyes slashing the rest of Not-Ajil’s sentence to ribbons. He gathered his clothes, his haste to leave an ironic replica of Sefa’s entrance.
The door shut behind him. Sefa became freshly conscious of the food splattered all over the bone-white rug. “Sultana, I am so sorry.” Sefa rushed around the bed and swallowed a dismayed hiss at the sticky honey saturating into the carpet’s fibers, sharing company with flakes of overturned fiteer and soaked tea.
“Leave it.” Vaida glanced over the mess dismissively. “Someone will take care of it.”
Sefa blinked. “Am I not the someone?”
The corner of Vaida’s mouth indented. “Not for this. Come. My head is splitting, and I distinctly remember being warned against sleeping with this”—gesturing at the paint streaks—“on my skin.”
Vaida settled herself in the chair across from her dresser. A slimleg shifted under her robe as she crossed it over the other. Vaida tipped her head back, eyes shut and fingers lightly tapping at her temples.
Not eager to commit another misstep in a morning full of them, Sefa sprang into action. More bottles, powders, tubes, and vials cluttered the dresser than Sefa had seen in her entire life. The volume of beautification products displayed on this one surface could destroy the self-esteem of at least a hundred girls. What did Vaida need all this for? It wasn’t as though anyone had a hope of competing with her.
Sefa uncorked the bottle sitting next to a stack of folded cotton squares and brought it to her nose for a cautious sniff. Lime and eucalyptus.
“Lightly pour it onto a square and dab.” Lethargic eyes opened and settled on Sefa. “Sometime today would be excellent.”
Sefa soaked a section of the cotton square. Clear liquid splashed onto her fingers, the bottle quivering beneath her unsteady grip.
Applying the cotton square to the base of the Sultana’s throat, Sefa pretended she didn’t notice the Sultana openly studying her. She dragged the cloth upward.
A delicate clasp of her wrist. “I saiddab.”
“Apologies.” Sefa dabbed.
Vaida’s throat vibrated in a hum. “I make you uncomfortable.”
After a brief pause, Sefa drew a breath. The cloth traveled to the spot where jaw met ear. “Of course. You are the Sultana.”
The cheek under the cloth drew up in a smirk. “Merely a healthy respect for my rank, is it?”
“Yes.”
Before Sefa knew what was happening, the Sultana’s arm struck out. A strong hand closed around her throat, and Sefa was yanked down to eye level. “That was your first lie.”
Nails dug into the back of her neck. “I brought you here to serveas my eyes in the palace. In my presence, the truth alone may fall from your tongue, or I will have no recourse but to liberate the muscle from your mouth.”
Vaida’s grip slackened, and she returned to her languid sprawl. Sefa rubbed her throat, frustration warring with fear. “I didn’t lie.”
“Oh?”
Sefa was painfully aware of the fragile fate of her tongue. But Vaida had demanded honesty, and Sefa could afford this piece of it.
“Even a trained botanist would hesitate to stroke the petals of a poisonous flower without knowing when its toxins may burst.”
Sefa deliberately dabbed the corner of the Sultana’s eye, staining the rest of the cloth red. “I am cautious, not uncomfortable.”
When Vaida remained quiet, Sefa worried she had overstepped her bounds. But Sultana Vaida, Sefa was quickly coming to understand, rarely encountered a bound she didn’t cheerfully tear apart.
“What kind of flower do you think I would be?” Vaida asked with great interest. “It isn’t typically the petals you should fear when it comes to poison, unless you plan to eat them.”
