Page 50 of Vows of Sacrifice

“I think I understood that detail. But . . .”

Dovah scratched his throat thoughtfully, and I did everything in my power not to let my gaze wander over his sculpted torso.

“ . . . you’re attracted to me, aren’t you?”

I held back a groan of shame. Yes, indeed, he had extracted this confession from me in the bedroom, before Nadrisse interrupted us.

“Would you like me to repeat myself to satisfy your ego?”

In response, he smiled widely.

“Yes.”

His honesty was sometimes disarming.

“Not out of ego, but because the possibility that I please you delights me,” he corrected nonetheless, without breaking his smile.

* * *

The rest of the night passed peacefully, even if sleeping with the feeling of him near was an exercise I’d had little practice in. A curious surprise awaited me when I awoke. Or rather, three. The first was the absence of Dovah. The second was double. Two women, to be precise, smiling at me from the foot of my bed.

One was a tall, curvaceous brunette whose long hair was braided into two plaits, and whose eyes were black, while the second, more slender, had light-brown hair curled to her shoulders. The latter’s eyes were brown, tending slightly towards pale green, and shone with a friendly glow.

One detail about them jumped out at me: they were both dressed in the fashion of Muvarian servants, wearing a white linen tunic and sleeveless surcoat with side lacing, blue for the brunette, green for the curly-haired one.

“My name is Luanda, and this is Marione. Lord Dovah has asked us to be at your service, Lady Ashana. He even sent the Isamane’s attendants away. We’re here to help you,” she added.

I straightened up and smiled back at them. Inwardly, I frowned. Did Dovah have any idea why I hadn’t brought any Muvarian attendants with me?

“Pleased to meet you, Luanda, Marione.”

I cleared my throat reflexively. It was sometimes a sign of nervousness for me.

“Ahem. I see you are wearing Muvarian clothing. Although I’m very touched by your gesture, I wonder if it won’t be hard for you, given the lack of habit.”

The woman whose name was Luanda smiled, this time with genuine sincerity.

“It’s Lord Dovah’s idea. Above all, he wants you to feel comfortable. He knows it’s not going to be easy for you to integrate into the Osacan court, so you have a choice. If you prefer to wear Muvarian clothes, we will do the same. He even told us to give you this message: ‘My lady, here are your allies. Count on them as you count on me. They will be a great help to you.’”

Marione took a step forward, then did an awkward curtsy that I found adorable.

“He’s waiting for you on the training ground. After you’ve had breakfast, of course, Lady Ashana,” she added, blushing.

The two women exchanged embarrassed glances.

“We are laundresses,” continued Luanda. “I hope you’ll excuse our lack of manners. Marione and I don’t know much about etiquette. To tell the truth, Lord Dovah saved us from a terrible situation last night, and being in your service saves our lives. So . . . thank you.”

Both bowed deferentially. I began to understand and felt a surge of admiration tinged with affection for my husband and his charitable, humane gesture, even if I could not help wondering what he’d saved them from. Or from whom. I felt my smile warm, then widen.

“Very well! I am happy to be no longer alone in this castle, and I’d like to thank you for taking care of me. But first, let me explain what your tasks entail.”

While Marione served me my breakfast, consisting of an omelette with a very strong-tasting herb, bread, dried meat, and dried fruit, I explained to them what the position of chambermaid and lady-in-waiting entailed. They listened to me religiously, then asked me timely questions, before becoming interested in my homeland, its customs, and especially its religion, which was very different from the worship of the Dark Gods.

Once I was ready—I was not yet comfortable enough with Osacanian fashion to dare adorn myself again in all those transparent sheers—I felt a pang of guilt for Luanda and Marione, who found themselves engulfed in Muvarian dresses.

However, with great kindness—which touched me all the more—they assured me that it did not bother them, and that on the contrary, it had a taste of exoticism in their eyes.

Under the intrigued gaze of a few members of Nadrisse and Elendur’s court, as well as the royal guard present, the three of us made our way to the famous training ground where Dovah had requested me. The latter was located slightly outside the castle courtyard and was accessed via a narrow, roofless corridor whose walls were so high that I felt a kind of vertigo contemplating them from the ground.

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