'I remember your eyes when we first met. You were eleven years old? Twelve? Your eyes were as dull as a cow's, but you looked lovely dressed in silks. You still do, don't you, my jewel? You are beautiful adorned in gold, so who cares about your dim eyes?
'And I remember how your eyes changed after sleeping one night in my house. You no longer had cow eyes, but mouse eyes, rabbit eyes, the wide eyes of prey. How much I enjoyed that night, I really can't express. Besides you, there's only one other person still living whom I've allowed to see me feeding. I hope you feel that honor, Lady Saren.
I trusted you with that secret because I know you'd never dare tell.'
Here he laughed with a dark, dry rasp, and I wished I knew what he was speaking about. My lady lay on my bed, one arm wrapped around her face, the other clinging to my waist, her entire body quaking.
'That's when I wanted you as my own. I told your father then that you would be my bride. But I won't knock down this tower for you, not today. I won't force you out yet. I'm having too much fun.'
His voice was nearly a whisper, and yet we could still hear. 'The day will come when you will choose me over the tower. Knowing what you know, you will still choose me. I hunger for that day.'
Then for some time, silence.
I think he'd been gone a long while by the time we could sit up and breathe. My lady still clung to me. I was too shaken to sing anymore, my voice felt sticky and my heart clattered about, so I held her till she could stop shaking, too.
'You'd met him before, my lady? You knew his temperament, that's why you refused to wed.'
'Yes,' she said. There were secrets laden in that word 'yes' that she didn't explain. I could feel it, and it made me afraid.
'His voice is heavier than lead,' I said. 'And he slaps harder than your honored father. Do all gentry slap people? I suppose it's a noble's right, but I wonder, your khan doesn't seem like to slap.'
'No,' she said. 'I chose him because I thought he was safe.'
She was so beautiful as she said those words, even with the red eyes of crying. She made me believe she could choose whomever she wanted, and the poor man would have no choice but to fall in love with her, too. Perhaps even Lord Khasar was in love with her, in his own way.
'Did Khan Tegus make you laugh?' I asked.
She shrugged, and I realized I'd never heard her laugh. She pulled her knees up and stared at the fabric of her deel stretched tight between them. She took a deep breath and I hoped, hoped, hoped it meant that she was going to talk more. It's so rare with my lady. I don't know if she was always a quiet one or if her will to speak has been smothered by the tower darkness. When she opened her mouth, I had to suppress a sigh of contentment.
'After my father and I spent time at Lord Khasar's house, after I saw what that man was, I thought to betroth myself to someone else before Khasar officially asked. I knew he would ask, as soon as I turned sixteen and was of an age. I chose Khan Tegus. He was on friendly terms with my father and I thought him gentler than most. We wrote letters for years. I told my maid Oara what to say and she wrote for me. Oara was my best friend. When my father condemned me to this tower, she ran away.'
My lady's eyes were empty as she spoke. I shivered, imagining being a child in that large house with floor stones that look to be cut from ice instead of passing winter nights in a snug gher. To be raised by a fierce lord who slaps instead of by a mama who sings.
This was the most my lady had ever confided in me, and I longed to keep her talking. 'How did you first know you loved Khan Tegus? Did you --'
'I'm tired,' she said and climbed the ladder to bed.
And that's how it is with my lady. Sometimes we share a few words about the food or My Lord's prowess with the rats or the cold that burrows between bricks, but let me broach the topic of her khan, or black-gloved Lord Khasar, or her father and his house, and my lady is suddenly as tired as a weeping willow in full leaf.
My Lord the cat is asleep on me or I would've ended my account and gone to bed long ago. His purring shakes my lap but steadies my hand.
Day 160
The guards generally don't speak with us. Sometimes they shout at us, but they don't expect a response. Times I've asked them for news of the world, for fresh meat, for anything. Even knowing they'll say no, it's a thrill to holler through the hole and know that another person hears my voice and might answer. Her honored father must have warned them sharply to leave us well alone, but this morning I got one to speak.
I held open the flap to dump the wash water and splashed someone's boots.
'Watch it, now!'
'Sorry,' I said, not afraid, for I knew the voice as belonging to one of our regular guards. 'Is he gone?'
'Lord Khasar? Yes, gone two nights ago, thank the Ancestors.'
'Did he hurt any of you?' My hand still smarted from the bashing and made scrubbing my lady's stockings and unders no pleasant task.
'Not much,' he said.
It was more than he'd spoken to me in all our tower days, so I risked more questions.
'Can you tell me, what does the sky look like today?'
'Sky? It looks like a sky.'
'Is it blue?'
The guard snorted. 'It's always blue.'
