Page 105 of The Seeker
She laughed, which only made it shake more.
Hmmm. Lovely.
Meera said, “I’m glad you’re fond of it, because it’s unlikely to be leaving anytime soon.”
“I find that reassuring.” He stood. “Let’s move. If you want me to do the talking, that wouldn’t be a bad idea. Most of the magic she needs to teach is to you, so make me the bad guy.”
Meera sat up and shook her head. “This could go so very wrong.”
“All the best ideas can,” Rhys said. “No point in dragging it out.”
Rhys dressed in his last pair of clean trousers and a linen shirt he’d washed and hung up two nights before. It was still damp, but it would have to do. They’d only been in the swamp four days, but it was remarkable how much dirt a body could attract.
He anointed his hair with the sweet oil he’d found in the bathhouse the night before and combed it back before he rubbed some oil on the dark beard that had begun to cover his face. He glanced at Meera, who was watching him groom himself.
“I think you like beards.”
She smiled. “I do. Most of the men in my life have worn them. It’s traditional for the Tomir to leave their hair uncut.”
He walked over to her and bent down, sliding his mouth over hers. “But do you likemine,sha ne’ev reshon?”
“I love it when you call me that.” She brushed her hand over his cheek. “I do like your beard. And I like you without. Whatever you prefer.”
“I prefer you.” He kissed her once more before he turned back to the small mirror he’d hung on the wall of the hut. “For now the beard stays since I can’t find my razor.”
“It looks very nice.” Meera stood and began unfolding a long linen cloth from her backpack. “Let us begin rudimentary fancy preparations.”
“Is that a sari?” He smiled.
“It is, though quite a plain one. Just ceremonial robes. In my defense, I didn’t know I would be greeting anyone formally.”
“I’ve never seen you wear one.”
“I like sundresses.” She began folding the sari in hand-wide pleats. “But I always bring a sari for ritual occasions. Most of the time in Udaipur”—she tucked the pleats in the pants she wore before wrapping the length of linen around her waist—“I wear linen pants and a tunic because it’s the most comfortable and people are very, very traditional there. But saris are nicer for formal occasions, and they’re quite easy to travel with.”
Rhys watched in amazement as yards and yards of fabric methodically became a garment. “Yes,” he said. “Easy. That was the first word that came to mind.”
Meera finished the wrap quickly, folding the fabric over her shoulder before she deftly arranged the remaining cloth around her waist and secured the garment with thick gold pins she pulled from her bag. She affixed two large gold hoops to her ears and coiled her hair onto her head with braids. In minutes she had gone from rustic traveler to elegant diplomat.
“Stunning.” Rhys blinked. “Heaven above, that’s quite impressive.”
She smiled. “I’m no stranger to formal events.”
No, he could see she wasn’t. Her bearing had changed completely. She was regal. Arresting in her carriage.
A queen.
He’d teased her about being a princess, but in that moment, she was his queen. Rhys cocked his elbow out. “Shall we?”
“We’ll both formally introduce ourselves,” Meera said. “Then you offer the invitation. As the scribe to be mated, it would be your role.”
“Very well.”
They left the hut and walked across the mound to the garden where Ata was weeding corn. She looked up, frowned at them, but immediately came to attention.
Rhys stopped a few yards from the warrior and bowed. “Atawakabiche, elder singer and last chief of the Uwachi Toma, guardians of the Western lands and keeper of Uriel’s fire, I am Rhys of Glast, son of Angharad the Sage and Edmund of Glast, heir of Gabriel’s library, archivist and warrior of Istanbul.”
Meera mirrored his bow, pressing her hands together in respect. “Great Atawakabiche, I am Meera Bai, heir of Anamitra,somasikaraof Udaipur, daughter of Patiala, guardian singer of Udaipur, and Maarut, commander of the Tomir warriors.”
