Peter Brett - The Skull Throne

“Better than any of the chin, perhaps,” Sikvah said, “but you must reach a greater standard if you are to be instructed in higher forms. Come.”

Kendall glanced at Rojer, but allowed herself to be led a short distance away to practice. Amanvah watched the women go, then turned back to Rojer the moment they were out of earshot. “Husband, explain. You often lament at how your people behave at the sight of your alagai scars, yet you do the same to your apprentice.”

Rojer swallowed. Amanvah had a way of cutting right to the heart of a matter. He was more than a little afraid of her sometimes.

“It’s my fault she got them,” he said. “I wanted to show off how good she was at charming demons with her fiddle. Pushed her to solo before she was ready, then wandered too far from her side. She made a mistake, and I wasn’t there to keep her from being cored.”

His vision blurred with tears. “It was Gared who saved her. Waded right into a pack of demons and carried her out. She nearly died as Leesha operated. I gave blood till I felt I might pass out, but it was barely enough.”

Amanvah looked at him sharply. “You gave her your blood?”

The tone pulled Rojer up short like a bucket of cold water. Krasians had a thousand laws and customs when it came to blood, but Rojer had never grasped more than the rudiments. Giving Kendall his blood might make her his sister, or it might mean she and Sikvah needed to have a knife fight. Creator only knew.

Amanvah lifted a finger toward Sikvah. She and Kendall had barely done anything at all, but immediately Sikvah began complimenting Kendall’s improvement. In moments, they rejoined Rojer and Amanvah. Kendall looked confused, but she, like Rojer, had learned it best to simply ride along when his wives began acting strangely.

“You must join us for lunch.” Amanvah’s words were as much command as invitation, an honor that could not easily be refused.

Kendall dipped another curtsy. “Be honored, Your Highness.”

They all climbed into the motley coach, riding to Shamavah’s restaurant. The count had forbidden the Krasians from owning property, but that had done little to slow Shamavah when she saw the building, a large ranch house not far from the center of town. Abban’s First Wife had deep pockets filled with gold, and it had taken her only one session of haggling with the owner to walk away with a century lease that would stand in any magistrate’s court in Thesa. Craftsmen had been at work night and day, adding extensions and additional floors. Already it was unrecognizable as the more modest building it had been before.

First to be finished were luxury quarters for visiting Krasian dignitaries. His wives, finding their room at Smitt’s Inn unacceptable, had transferred their things immediately. Rojer had not been consulted, but could hardly complain. Shamavah showered them in splendor while they waited on construction of Rojer’s manse.

Manse. He shook his head at the thought. He’d never truly had a home at all, and since Arrick died, he’d never had more than a single room to lay his head. Soon he’d be able to house an entire acting troupe with room to spare.

A crowd was forming outside Shamavah’s, waiting for tables at the bustling establishment. Many of the Hollowers had developed a taste for spicy Krasian cooking, and no sooner did one backside lift from the pillowed floor than another took its place.

But Amanvah was Krasian royalty, and Shamavah never failed to greet her—or even Rojer—personally. “Your usual table, Highness?”

“ Inevera, ” Amanvah said. It meant “If Everam wills,” but as with Kendall, all knew it was a command. “But first, a bath to wash away the sweat of sharusahk. ”

Rojer had neither seen nor smelled a hint of sweat on his wives, but he shrugged. Those two bathed more than every noble in Angiers. He had plenty of papers to review in the meantime.

He escorted the women to the large bathing chamber, where Shamavah’s people were already carrying in steaming buckets to heat the water. “I’ll be in the—”

“—bath with us,” Amanvah said, her tone pleasant and relaxed, as if his refusal was unimaginable.

Rojer and Kendall exchanged an uncomfortable glance. “I bathed just this morning …”

“A clean body is Everam’s temple,” Amanvah said, her grip on his arm like a steel vise as she led him into the steamy, wood-floored room. Sikvah had a similar hold on Kendall. Both of them resisted as the women began to pull at their clothes.

Amanvah clicked her tongue. “I will never understand you greenlanders. You bare flesh enough on the streets to bring a flush to the cheeks of a pillow wife, yet you balk at the thought of seeing one another in the bath.”

“Thought men ent supposed to see women naked unless they’re married,” Kendall said.

Amanvah waved a hand dismissively. “You are unbetrothed, Kendall am’Hollow. How would you ever find a husband if men were not allowed to inspect you?”

Sikvah began unbuttoning Kendall’s vest. “The dama’ting will ensure your honor remains intact, sister.”

Kendall relaxed, letting herself be undressed, but Rojer felt something akin to panic rising as Amanvah did the same for him. Her quiet tone was gently scolding. “You will wrap your apprentice in the intimacy of your music, but not share hot water with her?”

“She can have all the water she wants,” Rojer replied quietly. “Don’t need to see her bare bottom for that.”

“It’s not her bottom you fear,” Amanvah said. “And that cannot stand. You will face her scars and make your peace with them, son of Jessum, or by Everam, I will—”

“Ay, ay,” Rojer said, not even wanting to know the rest of the threat. “I get it.” He let her finish stripping him and moved to the bath.

Rojer’s wives never failed to tend him in the bath, and normally by this point he was fully aroused. Don’t want her thinking I’m trying to stick her.

Never stick your apprentices, Master Arrick used to say. No good can come of it.

Thankfully, Rojer’s nerves were taut and fraying, and he remained slack. But then Kendall gave him an appraising look, and he was suddenly nervous about that, as well.

“A woman will forgive a small cock sooner than a limp one,” Arrick taught. Rojer turned to angle his crotch from her as he hurriedly slipped into the water. His wives followed, and Kendall was the last to join them.

Rojer had spent so much time looking away from his apprentice, he had never truly seen her. She was young, yes, but not the child he thought of her as.

And her scars …

“They’re beautiful.” Rojer had not meant to say the words aloud.

Kendall looked down. Rojer realized she was once again unsure what he was staring at. He made a show of dropping his eyes lower for a moment, then looked up, meeting hers with a grin. “Those are beautiful, too, but I meant your scars.”

“Then how come you ent looked at me for more than a second since I got them?” Kendall demanded. “All of a sudden you put a river between us.”

Rojer dropped his eyes. “My fault you got them.”

Kendall gave him an incredulous look. “I’m the one that screwed up. I’m the one so busy trying to impress you I didn’t keep my mind on the strings.”

“I never should have pushed you to solo,” Rojer said.

“I never should have pretended to be ready when I knew I wasn’t,” Kendall countered.

Amanvah tsked. “The water will grow cold before you finish this argument. What does it matter? It was inevera. ”

Sikvah nodded. “Nie sent the alagai, husband, not you. And Kendall lives, while they were shown the sun.”