Page 31 of Daughter of the Dark Sun
“Oh, Lady Apattar! Are you feeling well? This is drenched!”
Apattar smiled, remembering hazy fragments of the dream from the night before. How her flesh crawled with anticipation at the thought of someone desiring the woman starved for love. It fled at the thought of what the man represented.
A tool for Laisha. Nothing more.
“Yes, fine, fine. I think I am excited for the day, is all.” Apattar stepped out of the slip and sighed.
“It is your first day as a free woman, from a Named House even! Life is yours to take! Who wouldn’t be excited? With your lord father not returning for some time, have you decided to travel to Tír is Isneha with your sister? She wants to leave as soon as possible, I am told. Oh, you’d love Isneha; all the power and harmonic manipulation almost sets the air on fire, they say! Could you imagine being in the city where the Goddess Nehsan once lived?”
“I haven’t decided. I suppose it would be natural to follow her.”
Apattar sniffed and forced a hollow laugh in a desperate attempt to disguise her discomfort. The idea of fate oscillated between empowering and ridiculous; a year ago she despised the gods, viewed the shadows as a curse, not something to pursue. Could life change so quickly?
“Whatever you do, Lady Apattar, we will come with you, of course,” Saiya said, brushing a rogue coil of hair back under her pale blue veil.
Myris, the younger girl, gaily chittered away while massaging coconut and vanilla oil into Apattar’s thin black braids. Her short, thick fingers made quick work of the job and began massaging Apattar’s neck.
Saiya grabbed a sponge from a basin at her feet and gently scrubbed the sweat away from Apattar’s naked body. Droplets collected in the deep valley at the base of her throat. The water invigorated Apattar, cooling skin flushed with anticipation.Saiya eased the sponge over the young woman’s chest, clicking her tongue at the sight of ribs still visible.
Apattar returned from her journeys with a renewed heart, but her body grew frail and malnourished. Weeks of steady meals returned some of the lost weight, but she remained a thin, sharp-edged woman. In time, Apattar grew fond of the angular face staring back at her from the silver mirrors. A face entirely her own, even if marred by her father’s hatred.
Myris dried Apattar off and opened two small pots of cream pigments. With a delicate touch, she swiped a deep, metallic carmine red across Apattar’s eyelids, framing them with a black liner. She stepped back and disappeared behind a curtain. Saiya pulled the dark green silk dress over Apattar’s thin frame, tugging and fussing with the fabric around her chest. Saiya’s brow furrowed, in concentration or frustration Apattar could not tell. She flinched on reflex, body ready to recoil from Tela’s hand.
Why am I thinking of that bitch?
“I do not wish to speak out of turn,” Saiya murmured, “but I am glad for your sake Tela is not yourdanrennow. She was vile even before you were born.”
Saiya jerked her eyes away. Apattar did not reply, too stunned by the mention of the name she tried to erase from memory. It was as if Saiya read her thoughts. Mercifully, Myris arrived with a large oval mirror and propped it against a table for Apattar to observe her handmaidens’ work.
The silk dress hung from thin bands of gold beads threatening to slip off Apattar’s slender shoulders, the neckline plunging deep to her sternum. The harsh canyons of her upper ribs peeked out from behind silks dyed deep green like the thick circle of trees around the blue jewel of Av Madhira. A thin white ribbon cinched the dress at her waist, deep slits running up the length of the skirt to her upper thighs.
Apattar smiled at the vision before her. A rare black jewel in the golden desert.
“Is everything fine with the dress? It looks well enough to me, if a bit loose. My mother knows this is what I chose, of course.” Apattar eyed the interlacing pattern of swirling golden glass beads. She ran a bony finger over the beads, trying to convince herself the beautiful dress was hers.
“No, no. You are stunning, my lady,” Saiya said. “It is… different, to be sure. You are different, you should celebrate that. I only forget how thin you still are. You look more like us workers these days, not the plump girl who left a year ago. But now you are a woman. Forgive me, I should not burden you on today of all days.” Saiya did not meet Apattar’s eyes as she spoke, instead fussing over the pleats in the silk cascading from the waistline. Footsteps broke the silence hanging thick between the women.
Saiya perked up as Myris returned from behind a curtain with a tray of assorted hairpins and accessories. “Ah, Myris! You have the best timing, as usual. Come, we are ready for her hair now.”
Apattar sat on a reed stool and closed her eyes. Myris’s stubby fingers had little trouble twisting dozens of tiny braids over and under each other, pinning up the plaits with golden pins before gathering another section. Apattar lost herself in the gentle tugging and pulling. Peaceful moments of relaxation mixed with quick bursts of hot pain—a comfort, in some strange way
“What do you think, my lady?” Myris said after a time. “It’s as many braids as I could manage woven into your hair.” The young handmaiden beamed with pride as she extended a small mirror in front of Apattar.
An endless twisting maze of plaits made with impossibly tiny braids sat over the top of her head. A raven-black crown,it almost swallowed the slender woman underneath. Apattar twisted the single braid framing the left side of her face around a finger with care, drinking in the masterpiece.
As she sat holding the mirror, the young handmaiden added pins with small golden bells dangling at the end. A faint chiming filled the air as she worked. In honor of House Isht’iri, Myris added twenty-one golden doves clipped in the front of the braids, tiny wings glinting in the early morning light. Apattar’s eyes widened, stunned by the way Myris made her feel.
“There, a living goddess if I ever saw one!” Myris exclaimed. A slight giggle escaped, her excitement over Apattar’s reaction palpable.
“It is breathtaking, Myris. You are so talented, I wish I could braid with your finesse.” Apattar shook her head, a chorus of bells ringing out in reply. “I’m afraid if I touch this, I’ll send it cascading down, however. Come, let us find my sister. I am too eager to wait!” She stood and walked toward the sliding doors leading to her twin’s chambers, not waiting for a reply from her handmaidens.
Ninann’s room was quiet, the soft pillows and cotton sheets re-arranged on the large bed sprawling across the center of the room. A note sat on a nearby table, Ninann’s large looping letters spelling out Apattar’s name. The young woman snatched it up, eyes scanning the note with haste.
Apattar huffed, irritation underscoring her words as she spoke. “She wants us to meet her by the old granary they’re restoring. The one on the far side of the city. What could be so thrilling about the Reapers Quarter that she makes us walk an hour to find her?”
“Her friend, Adon? He’s not from the Towers District. He’s a skyweaver, quite gifted, too. I believe his parents were the same, or at least did something with food, I remember. I would have no doubt he is involved,” Saiya replied.
“He has asoerltoo, you know! Maybe you will become friends too, a twin for a twin,” Myris interjected, laughing to herself as if finding the thought amusing.
