Shirin rose and walked to the table. She picked up the bottle and waved for Sábria to precede her through the door. “After you, My Lady. Your masseuse stands ready and waiting to pleasure you to your heart’s content.”

  “To pleasure me? Now that sounds more like what I need than a simple massage.” With a grin, she left the offices and made her way to the Sanctum.

  Shirin wasn’t far behind.

  CHAPTER 7

  The following morning, Sábria and Shirin met Ailith and Terro at Lady Farryn’s villa. Sábria had sent a note first thing, asking Farry if they could join her for a mid-morning brunch, and the lady had readily agreed. The two women had been friends for many turns, and normally, when Sábria called, they took a light repast in the parlor.

  That morning, however, it seemed as though Farry was making up for sending one of Sábria’s shivs into the Codpiece by going overboard with her hospitality. The formal dining table had been set with elegant, gold-encrusted dinnerplates, fine silverware, and crystal goblets. Two servants in full dress livery waited with their backs to the wall while Lady Farryn escorted Sábria to the head of the table and placed Shirin to her right. The men hurried to pull out the women’s two chairs and pushed them forward as they sat.

  Ailith tried to sneak through the door to the kitchen, but Terrowyn grabbed her by the collar and hauled her back around. Terro hadn’t been brought up in a noble house, but she’d been a Blade long enough to have learned proper etiquette and protocol when interacting with the nobility. Ailith had learned how to behave at meals when she’d ridden with Lady Isobel, but she’d never become comfortable with her skill level in a formal setting. When she’d come in and seen the table set for royalty, she’d panicked and decided the kitchen would be her safest bet.

  Terro held onto the back of Ailith’s tunic and waited for Lady Farryn to invite them to the table. The lady would sit on Sábria’s left, and she indicated that Terro should sit in the seat next to her. That left the one next to Shirin, who was to sit on Sábria’s right, open for Ailith.

  Ailith glared at the crystal water glasses and then grudgingly walked around the table to her seat. As was proper, everyone stood behind their places until the servants held the chairs for Sábria and Lady Farryn. When they’d been seated, the servants moved to the Commander and Terro. To her profound relief, she was left to fend for herself. Her unease bled over into grumpiness, and when she sat back and crossed her arms, Shirin leaned over and whispered, “Hands in your lap.”

  Ailith lowered her hands, and when Shirin inconspicuously tapped the napkin beside Ailith’s plate with her little finger, Ailith quietly growled as she grabbed it and plopped it unceremoniously onto her thighs. Since she was glaring at her plate, she noticed that Shirin was lightly tapping all of her fingers on the table. Only now, instead of indicating something Ailith had forgotten, it was the steady rhythm of someone tapping out their irritation.

  Shirin was staring straight ahead, seemingly listening to Lady Farryn, who was happily conversing with Sábria. When Ailith glanced at her profile, the Commander slowly turned to look at her with one eyebrow raised.

  Ailith tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling before blowing out a breath to get her emotions under control. Always anxious at formal occasions, she sincerely hoped her mouth wouldn’t betray her. She looked down and rubbed her temple, and when a servant stepped to her side with a pitcher of juice, she nodded, telling him to go ahead and pour her some. A blush rose on her cheeks because she had no doubt whatsoever that even his social status outranked her own peasant upbringing.

  She leaned close to Shirin and whispered, “I can go wait in th’ kitchen, Commander. I don’t belong here.” The table was a heavy, elongated affair, big enough to easily seat sixteen people comfortably, but their small party only took up the upper third of the massive, one-piece panel of rare cherry wood. Even though Ailith and Shirin sat opposite Lady Farryn and Terro, the large expanse between them and the quiet way she spoke meant no one had overheard Ailith’s entreaty.

  Lady Farryn glanced her way all the same.

  Shirin lowered her hand to her thigh and waited until the lady’s attention was once more directed at Sábria before using the same quiet tone Ailith had. “You’re a shiv from the Temple of Elyon. Act like it.”

  Leaning in again, Ailith responded, “I’m a fowkin’ peasant what don’t belong here at a table like this.”

  The tilt of Shirin’s head and the soft tapping of her fingers against her thigh told Ailith that she was thinking about how to respond. Finally, Shirin whispered, “Watch me and do what I do.”

  Ailith nodded, and once the proper protocol had been observed and they began the meal, Shirin put a pat of butter on her plate and returned the butter knife to the dish instead of immediately slathering the butter onto her biscuit.

  Ailith did the same. Lady Isobel’s lessons were coming back to her with each of Shirin’s movements, and after a while, Ailith felt the tension in her shoulders begin to dissipate. By the time Lady Farryn turned to her, she was relaxed enough that she didn’t immediately blurt her response when the lady addressed her.

  “Ailith, I need to apologize for sending you into the Codpiece. I had no idea of the danger you were putting yourself in on my behalf. I’m so sorry.”

  Since she’d never been in any real danger, Ailith’s brows descended, and she opened her mouth to say as much. When the heel of Shirin’s boot ground down onto the top of her foot, she rethought her response and was thankful when Sábria answered instead. “We were all fortunate that Ailith managed to take the food to the orphans in the Codpiece, Farry, without any major difficulties. In fact, that’s the main reason we came this morning. While your methods were questionable, your intentions were not. Those children need food, and you have obviously set up some type of system to produce the rolls and apples you were sending, correct?”

  Thankful that the attention had moved away from her, Ailith let out a shaky breath and picked up her fork again. She was surprised when Shirin gave her a companionable nudge with her knee after removing her boot from the top of her foot. Ailith glanced at her and was gratified to see the side of Shirin’s mouth lift a tiny bit.

  That small gesture, combined with the tap on her knee, drove away the last vestiges of Ailith’s nervous agitation. The Commander didn’t think she was going to embarrass Sábria with her peasant manners. She shifted back in her seat and sat up straighter, her confidence and pride in being one of the Daughters of Elyon restored. The Commander believed in her, and she could do this.

  Ailith dripped a small amount of syrup onto her blueberry pancake before cutting off a portion and carefully bringing it to her mouth. Normally, she’d pour copious amounts of the thick, sweet syrup onto her plate, grab the pancake in her fingers, roll it into a tube, and swipe it around in the juices until it nearly fell apart in her hand. But the Commander, and everyone else for that matter, were using their knives and forks to cut the pancake into small pieces that easily fit into their mouths.

  Ailith shook her head when she didn’t even have to chew the tiny piece before it slid down her throat. She’d always grumbled at Lady Isobel for making her eat small portions instead of shoving the whole pancake into her mouth where she could savor the flavors all at once. For Goddess knew how many times that day, Ailith sighed and cut off another small portion.

  “Problems, Ailith?”

  Sábria’s question surprised her enough that she jerked her head up in time to see everyone staring at her. “No, Milady.”

  “Then would you refrain from sighing after every bite you take?”

  “That’s just it, ain’t it, Milady? I cut off a tiny piece, put it in me fangole, and before ya know it, I gotta cut another fow—” At the warning tilt of Sábria’s head, she amended what she was about to say. “Ya gotta cut another piece, and then another, and ya gotta keep doin’ it over and over when all ya really gotta do is⁠—”

  Commander Shirin lightly placed her hand on Ailith’s forearm. She didn’t say anything, but the message was clear all the same.

  Ailith blushed, set her knife and fork down, and sat back in her chair.

  Lady Farryn quickly picked up the threads of the conversation she’d been having with Sábria, whether to save Ailith from acute embarrassment or simply because the lady had more she needed to say was anyone’s guess.

  When the Commander cut a piece of sausage and brought it to her mouth, Ailith took the opportunity to mumble, “Well, she asked, didn’t she?”

  Once more, Ailith noticed an amused uptick of the Commander’s lips. “She did.” The sausage disappeared into her mouth, and after exchanging amused glances with Sábria, she silently and unobtrusively pointed to Ailith’s plate with her little finger.

  Sighing again, Ailith picked up her knife and fork and grumbled. “I’m no a child.”

  Shirin, who’d put her fork on the edge of her plate, leaned over and whispered, “No, but you are a pain in the ass.”

  The reminder of the Commander’s nickname for her brought a small smile to Ailith’s lips. She hadn’t seen Commander Shirin this playful in…well…forever, and that made her wonder what was going on. Hadn’t they all been extremely angry with her the night before? She tuned into the conversation at the head of the table and, after listening for a short time, shook her head in exasperation.

  Sábria noticed the gesture. “Ideas, Ailith?”

  Ailith glanced at the Commander, who looked at her expectantly. “Well, aye. Yer makin’ a big production of things, and that’ll scare ‘em fer sure.”

  “They won’t see Commander Shirin blocking the entrances since they’re all down in the sewers, so really, all they’ll know is that you and Terrowyn are bringing more food.”

  The disbelieving look Ailith turned on her had Sábria second-guessing herself. “Why would they be frightened at that?”

  “Do ya honestly think naught happens that they don’t know about? They have their own spies out, don’t they? They’ll know th’ Commander and th’ Blades are cuttin’ off th’ ways in ‘n out so’s ya can trap them in th’ Codpiece. They’ll scatter out of there faster than ya can say bubbled arse, right into th’ arms of th’ nobles if yer not careful.”

  Sábria covered her eyes with her hand and lowered her head.

  Commander Shirin glanced away from Ailith, and Lady Farryn bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing.

  The perplexed look on Ailith’s face was almost as comical as her lack of decorum at a formal dining table. “What?”

  When Sábria’s hand moved to her mouth to cover her amusement, the laughter in her eyes gave her away.

  Before she could speak, Lady Farryn broke the silence. “I assure you, Sábria, that Ailith has visited us enough now that I’ve become quite fond of her rather colorful colloquialisms.”

  The lady didn’t usually insult her, so Ailith cocked her head and stared at the woman. “Me what?”

  Farry smiled at her. “Sayings, Ailith. Colorful sayings that might not be used on a regular basis by members of the nobility.”

  Sábria, who’d been staring at the table, lowered her hand and looked Ailith in the eyes. “What would you suggest, then? And please, try to be a bit less…colorful with your ideas.”

  Not really sure what part of her last comment had been taken as colorful, Ailith’s brows lowered, and she tilted her head again as she thought back over her words. The brows rose again when she thought she had it. “Oh! Ya mean ya want me to talk like th’ magickers when I describe somethin’ like that? Um, let’s see, th’ magickers called ‘em pus-filled boils, and I’m happy to call ‘em that, too, if ya prefer.”

  Shirin, who was still facing away from Ailith, began to shake, her shoulders bouncing with the laughter she was trying very hard to contain. She held up a finger, apparently asking to be excused, and not only left the table but walked through the door leading into the parlor as well.

  Ailith turned confused eyes on Sábria, who was pinching her nose shut and shaking just like the Commander. A tear ran down the Priestess’s face, and she, too, rose and left the room, followed quickly by the Lady Farryn. A bit of knowing mischief stole into Ailith’s eyes as she glanced at her Senior Guardian.

  Terro was the only one remaining, and she simply crossed her arms and glared at Ailith with a disbelieving look. “I don’t know, Shiv, but sometimes I think th’ Goddess was kinda confused when she brought ya to us.”

  “I wonder that meself, sometimes, Senior Guardian. What th’ fowk am I doin’ havin’ fancy breakfast with th’ likes of them, eh? They don’t want me sayin’ bubbled arse nor pus-filled boil. What would you have called it?”

  Terro continued to stare. “I should of let ya go to th’ kitchens, but no, I’m thinkin’ it’s only polite to have th’ skut-nosed shiv sittin’ at th’ table with th’ rest of us.”

  A grin spread across Ailith’s face, “Aye, next time ye’ll be lettin’ me get th’ fowk outta th’ room, won’t ya?”

  “I’ll be openin’ th’ door and plantin’ me boot in yer ass to get ya through all th’ more quick like.”

  They both turned as the three women returned and took their seats. The grin remained on Ailith’s face as she crossed her arms and sat back in her chair.

  Sábria shook her head affectionately. “Oh, Ailith. What am I going to do with you?” She sobered and brought the conversation back to the topic at hand. “Now, where were we?”

  Ailith shrugged, “I were sayin’ ye’ll be causin’ more trouble fer th’ skellis and nints by blocking th’ ways in ‘n out.”

  “What do you suggest?” Sábria’s eyes became serious again.

  “Well, Ghost likes to be helpful, ya know, buryin’ th’ bodies and now rakin’ up th’ muck in th’ stables, so⁠—”

  Terro immediately shook her head, “No.”

  At the same time, Lady Farryn asked, “Bodies?”

  All Sábria had to do to quiet Terro was hold up a finger, but Lady Farryn wasn’t as attuned to the Arch Priestess’s gestures. When no one said anything, Farry repeated, “What bodies? And what ghost?” She turned to Sábria, “Surely you don’t believe in ghosts.”

  Before Sábria could respond, Ailith piped in, “There’s a skelli what’s called Ghost. Terro kept her alive by feedin’ her ever since she were born, and th’ little skunt decided it weren’t right to⁠—”

  Terro raised up in her chair, “Skunt?”

  The angry look flashing in her eyes had Ailith leaning back and holding up her hands, “Sorry, sorry, just habit. Ghost ain’t no skunt.”

  Terro had risen halfway out of her chair, and she remained frozen in place as she fought to rein in her temper.

  “Terro.” Shirin pointedly glared at her, indicating she should sit.

  Very slowly, too slow as far as Ailith was concerned, the Senior Guardian lowered herself into her chair.

  Sábria glanced at the ceiling and blew out a breath. “Could we continue, please?”

  Although it wasn’t what Sábria had intended, Ailith took that to mean she should take up where she left off. “Anyway, Ghost has her own way of thinkin’, and to her, well, and me, too, skellis and nints shouldn’t just be thrown onto th’ midden heap to rot when they cark.”

  The noblewoman’s brows pulled down low. “Cark?”

  “Aye, ya know. Like when th’ nobles split ‘em up th’ middle with their pricks and⁠—”

  This time, Sábria shot up from her chair and barked a rebuke, “Ailith!”

  Knowing that kind of reaction meant her mouth had gotten her in trouble again, Ailith flinched and leaned away to get away from Sábria’s wrath. “Sorry.” She looked down at her plate, realizing too late that maybe the realities of the Codpiece weren’t something the nobles liked talking about.

  Farry tore her gaze off Ailith and glanced up at Sábria. “What is she talking about, Sábria? What does cark mean? And I refuse to believe something so despicable as what she’s describing happens with any regularity.”

  Snapping the napkin she’d wadded up in her fist open again with a distinctive popping sound, Sábria lowered herself into her seat and turned a forced smile on her friend. “Perhaps that’s a conversation for another time, Farry. Ailith was getting off topic.” The meaningful glare she turned on her shiv was enough to frighten even the most seasoned Blades. “You were saying, Ailith? Without the extraneous information concerning Ghost.”

  “Extran…extrane what?”

  Shirin sighed. “Extra. Be careful what you say.”

  The Commander’s raised brows told Ailith she’d better pay a bit more attention to what she was saying and not let her mouth run away with her. “Oh, okay. Um, if Ghost went with th’ Senior Guardian and me, between us, we can double th’ number of bags we’re carryin’ and still get th’ job done.” She cocked her head and looked at Terro. “Except….” She narrowed her eyes.

  Sábria prodded her to continue, “Except?”

  “Well, I changed me mind, ‘cuz I go over th’ rooftops and, no offense, Senior Guardian, but yer no roof topper.”

  Terro took that as her excuse to put in her opinion of Ailith’s plan. “Ghost is not coming with us.”

  Sábria held up a hand. “Just a minute, Terro. Ailith has a point. With Ghost accompanying you voluntarily, that gives you more credibility as far as the children are concerned. The problem is, I refuse to send just the three of you into the Codpiece with bags full of food. I know you can hold your own if it comes to having to fight off anyone who might come for you, but Ghost would most assuredly run away. Plus, I don’t want to risk you and Ailith being brought up on charges of killing or wounding a young lordling out for a lark.”

  Sometimes, Ailith didn’t understand how the empire was run. “Well, Milady, yer a co-ruler with Aloric, right?” At Sábria’s nod, she continued, “Well, can’t ya just bring a few more Blades in from other temples and put ‘em all into th’ Codpiece? Flood it, like, with Blades what’ll protect the skellis and nints? Then spread th’ word to th’ poxy nobles—” she stuttered to a stop at Sábria’s glare. “Sorry, Lady Farryn, there’s naught poxy about ya.” She turned back to Sábria, “But can’t ya spread th’ word that even though th’ Emperor says it’s okay, yer courts’ll deal with anybody what hurts the lollies and skellis? That’s what we’re supposed to do, right? Protect th’ women? Not just the merchants and nobles, but all women, big and little or with their pockets full of coin or no, right?”