Kismet's Kiss: A Fantasy Romance (Alaia Chronicles) (22 page)

“Hammam? What is that?”

“The house of baths.” Priya looked over with a bright smile.

“The house of… They’re
bathing
?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“All of them?”

“All.”

Varene’s brows knitted. “Together?”

“It’s their daily ritual.”

She stared at Priya a moment longer. “Baths in Teganne are a daily matter, too, though generally taken
alone
…unless the bath is intended for something besides, er, personal cleansing. Ahem. Here, women bathe together out of choice?”

“Oh, yes, the sultanas especially. They look forward to it every day.” Priya got a wistful look in her eyes. “Scented water washes away their cares. They’re scrubbed and cleansed,” she continued, pantomiming along with her words, “then anointed with perfumes and sweet oils. Their hair is tended and plaited, sherbets and sweetmeats are served them, and they gather to relax and talk.” She sighed. “Is it any wonder they enjoy it?”

“I suppose not,” Varene said, as amused by Priya’s reaction as by the sultanas’ habits. “I guess we’ll have to talk to them when they’re done bathing. When will that be?”

“Oh, a very long time, my lady. Mid-afternoon, at least.”

Varene’s brows rose.

“So, Healer.” The deep, amused tones sounded behind her. She whirled to find Kuramos leaning against the doorframe, his sensual lips curled into a half-smile. “Would you like to go to the
hammam
with me?”

V
arene’s heart did an unexpected shimmy. Kuramos couldn’t possibly mean…

“Come,” he said, in his arrogant, magnetic voice—the one that made Varene want to argue and purr all at once. “As Priya was saying, it’s an excellent time to talk with my wives.”

Varene gave herself a mental shake and walked out behind him, shadowed by Priya.

Following the sultan in his long-striding wake, Varene had cause for more amusement. Today he was not wearing a kaftan, but a stunning red churidar—thin pants that snugged in many tight folds around his lower legs. Perhaps because of the heat, his torso was bare. Varene enjoyed the play of light across his muscles and the glint off his armbands. Though the churidar wasn’t tight enough for her to get a good idea of the shape of his backside, she noted the athletic contours of his calves and how his broad shoulders tapered to a lean waist of tanned, smooth skin.

Perhaps this is why women in Kad walk behind their men without complaint.
She grinned.

As they strolled the halls, those they passed stopped what they were doing to bow deeply before their sultan—in the case of servants, so low that their noses touched their knees. He did not even glance at the bobbing shapes, but seemed to take it as his due. Yes, that fit—how annoyed he’d become when she’d not given him enough deference! The memory made her want to giggle.

This was all so different from Teganne, where no one gave or expected such obeisance. Even the royals’ servants simply nodded and went on with their duties. She doubted Alvarr or Jilian had ever thought to expect more—or would want it.

Perhaps Teganne was unusual. If so, she felt lucky indeed, for this pervasive awareness of rank made her want to roll her eyes to the heavens. Even in her birthplace of Fallorm…

She slammed that line of thought closed and shifted her attention to the sultan’s magnificent shoulders instead.

Soon he stopped before onyx double doors. Two guards flanked the entry and bowed low to the sultan, who swung around and watched Varene as she took the last few steps.

“Enjoy yourself in the hammam. And I hope you find the answers you seek.”

Varene blinked. “I’m only here to investigate, not to actually bathe.”

“Of course,” he said smoothly, and waved his hand toward the doors. The blank-faced guards swung them open as if their movement were merely an extension of his own.

She glimpsed gorgeous blue-toned mosaics fanning across the floors and walls, and the humidity rose as scented air from the baths swirled languidly into the hall.

She stepped forward and realized he wasn’t moving. “You aren’t coming in?”

His sea-green gaze snared her own. “Would you…like me to accompany you?”

She drew herself up. “No! No. I just don’t know your customs.”
Besides, it will be less of a distraction with you out here.

A tiny cough rose to her throat.
Naturally, I meant less of a distraction for the
wives
…

He shook his head, ruefully amused. “There are certain things women prefer to keep to themselves. I rarely join them in the baths. But perhaps later, you’ll tell me what you think of our…customs. And our baths.” With a wicked grin, he strode away.

She stared after him for a moment before remembering she was not alone. Priya watched her quizzically. The guards stood immobile, as if the two women didn’t exist.

Taking a deep breath, Varene turned and entered the hammam of the queens of Kad with the handmaiden Priya at her heels.

“T
o the left, my lady.”

At Priya’s murmur, Varene moved toward a room raised by one step. A forest-green runner cushioned her silk slippers, but the rest of the floor shone with condensation and humid air clung to her skin.

“If I may.” Priya somehow made her frail self slimmer and slipped past Varene into the room. With a bow, she waved the Healer into a nook with clothes rods and carved ivory shelves. Seconds later, the handmaiden was untying the laces of Varene’s gown.

Varene grabbed Priya’s hand. “What are you doing?”

Priya stared at her, wide-eyed. “Undoing your gown, my lady, so you can enter the baths…”

Varene’s brow quirked up. “I don’t need to be naked to ask questions, do I?”

“I suppose not.” Priya glanced at Varene’s garment and frowned. “But this lovely dress would be ruined if it got wet, would it not?”

Varene laughed. “These are my working clothes. They’ve seen much worse during my work, believe me.”

“My lady… aren’t you hot in them? In Kad we wear much less, as you can see…” She held out her bare arms and swept her gaze from one to the other over the small, high bosom nearly bursting from her tight silk bandeau.

“Yes, indeed,” Varene mused. It
was
warm in the hammam; locks of hair that had escaped her ponytail clung to her neck and temples. “But in Teganne, we tend not to be naked in front of others. Unless…well, you know.”

Priya giggled. “Kaddites tend to be naked for that, too.” She blushed then, and gave a quick bow, as though that alleviated her embarrassment. “But here women often bathe together, just as men often bathe together. Being cleansed is a celebrated ritual, one best enjoyed with company and talk.” She gave Varene a thoughtful look. “It will be even hotter in the baths themselves. Are you sure you wish to remain so…dressed?”

Varene glanced down at her own torso. It was already damp, her linen shift clinging unpleasantly. But she wasn’t about to go parading nude in front of Kuramos’s wives.

“Perhaps I could remove the gown, Priya. The undertunic will preserve my…Tegannese modesty, shall we say.” She let the handmaiden loosen the laces and pull the gown over her head, and then stood self-consciously in her beige shift, covered from neck to wrists and ankles, as Priya carefully folded her gown.

Ridiculous
, Varene scolded herself. How many times had she had to undress patients over the years? She was a Healer, for goodness’ sake, long familiar with every aspect of the body. Why should her own be different?

But it wasn’t only about being exposed… It was about being so in front of women who’d long shared Kuramos’s life and bed.

She’d met nearly all of Kuramos’s wives in the course of her healing, and had no doubts that the wives of a sultan were chosen for their beauty and other charms. Varene knew she was attractive—some men had even said beautiful—but she’d never compared herself to the most exquisite women of an entire realm. Especially cosseted, nubile sultanas.

Priya tucked the gown on a shelf and placed two wooden pattens by Varene’s feet. “Bath sandals, my lady. So you won’t slip.” The soles of the sandals were held off the ground by five-inch trestles. Mother-of-pearl inlays along the wood created a gorgeous contrast, but Varene’s brow creased as she wondered how she could possibly walk on such contraptions.

Without further ado, Priya located a second pair for herself and began to strip off her own garb.

The maidservant was going naked, too? Varene would be the only one wearing a stitch of clothing!
Well
, she thought, bemused,
at least my “Tegannese eccentricities” should excuse me.

For an instant she wondered if she shouldn’t just strip… She reached for her shift, but her fingers clung to it for comfort.
Fine, then. Let’s just be done with this.
She slipped her feet into the leather straps of the pattens and took an awkward, exploratory step.

Sticks and stars! Could she be more ungainly? Surely women weren’t meant to clop around on stilts.

She should have waited to speak to the wives in a normal environment. Maybe she could stop now and go talk to those still in the infirmary…

“Priya?”

At the contralto tones behind them, Varene turned. A rotund woman approached, wearing a turban, a frown, and nothing else.

“What are you doing here?” The woman shifted her skeptical gaze to Varene, which was fortunate, since the Healer found it much easier to focus on the woman’s eyes than the rest of her fleshy exposure.

“Madam Tirou.” Priya’s bow was deep and fervent. As she rose, she gestured at Varene. “Mistress of the Grand Hammam, may I present Varene na Seryn, the Royal Healer of Teganne? She’s searching for the origins of the illness. She wishes to speak with the sultanas and examine the baths.”

Madame Tirou’s eyes narrowed on Varene. “Have you reason to suspect my hammam is the origin of the scourge upon this palace?”

“Not at all.” Varene spread her hands reassuringly. “I only want to find out why the illness appeared so I can prevent a recurrence.”

“Hmmph.” But Madam Tirou’s many chins and folds seemed to soften as she appraised Varene. “I heard you healed the young prince and the sultanas.” After a long moment, she gave a sharp nod that jiggled across her ample flesh. “You are welcome to the hammam. My lady.” The corners of her keen eyes crinkled with an unexpected smile. “The Sha’Lai sent word she will not come today, but the others are here or on their way.” She glanced down at Varene’s shift, darted her questioning gaze to Priya, then shrugged and closed her mouth. “Please, this way.”

Despite Madame Tirou’s heft, she moved off like the prow of a ship, capacious and graceful as she cleaved through the wet air. Varene clumped along on her mini-stilts as best she could, with Priya following more competently behind.

Skylights in the vast domed ceiling illuminated the bathhouse and its many pools. Lapis, emerald and violet mosaics swirled in exotic patterns over the floors and walls. Naked servants in the corner crushed flower petals in white basins and mixed them with oils, and their hushed voices echoed off the marble of the room. In the center yawned a sprawling rectangle of gently steaming water with shallow steps along one end. Four sleek women lounged there in various states of submersion. They turned, almost as one, at the clatter of Varene’s shoes.