around the same time as
this and
this. open to anyone still at the mesa!
one look; then ramesses had departed.
she had expected to feel sick, to feel weighted by the knowledge that akashingo's time had come; that the bear-folk were the vanguard in a war between the sun-man and the giant.
satsu felt lightness everywhere.
she danced along the hallway to where crowfeather rested.
the eyes of arsenio lingered somewhere in the now hollow palace;
alone with the fellahin lingering out of reach, tamar's eyes on her, sayf drifting nimbly through the alcoves.
all at once she felt she could scream.
tamar guarded the secret that jawahir had given her.
she guarded the look of arsenio's eyes.
she guarded the way that the man sihaya had made her blood cold.
she followed her mistress in silence.
pharaoh had gone with the war-party.
it was to his empty chambers that satsu went now, tailed by tamar.
she sought his throne and when she saw it, she could not move.
it was empty, as to be expected. it hurt to think of it remaining so.
she stepped to the man's empty bed that still reeked of him, of the fellahin, of strong ripe berry, and fell upon it as if it were her own. a bed she had never touched before; but she sank in to the furs that lined it, curled in to a ball.
tamar, by the door, forgotten.
did she love him?
tamar tried not to stare at the narrow strength of satsu's shoulders as she climbed into the bed ramesses slept in each night.
pharaoh was never alone. the queen curled into her furs at night with no one beside her.
was it loneliness then?
tamar settled outside the doorway in silence, her back against the sidewall.
a piece of satsu melted.
she thought of crying, as she had for the sake of crowfeather, or for pharaoh as she demanded that he return unharmed.
still there was something cold and hard about her.
tamar,
the girl murmured in to the furs, as if this were her bed in her own little space, not that of her betrothed; she did not wait long before reaching across the furs for the fellahin.
comfort, that was what she needed.
besides, when else would tamar ever be this near ramesses' bed?
tamar did not want to enter.
and yet she did all the same. satsu reached for her. the maidservant resisted only a moment more before she climbed gingerly into the pelts that reeked of pharaoh's body.
she was choked. overwhelmed. dutifully she nuzzled toward the queen, shutting her eyes and seeking the warm moment of a gentler contact.
and yet she was resentful that she had been brought here, taken to akashingo at all.
as she had before, in her own chambers, she reached for the fellahin. as the woman came close she was then pulled, collected, and made in to some kind of pillow for satsu to press in to.
regardless of how tamar felt, this was her job. this was what satsu had made of her. this was what satsu needed now, in private, wreathed in the scent of the man who would be her husband - while thoughts of crowfeather dominated her mind, and the memory of what had once before been lost.
this was what satsu had always longed for from her mother; she had always reached for it greedily, this closeness, and found the comfort now in the form of her attendant.
satsu curled near desperately against her.
tamar extended a paw over the small litheness of the royal figure, pulling satsu into her embrace. she said nothing. she merely existed to fit the hour of her queen's need.
the maidservant's own mind went to arsenio, arsenio and —
you were a gift to me.
satsu's face raised from where she'd placed it upon the furs, to rest upon tamar. her eyes were glassy and far-away.
he gave you to me, untouched. that, a gift.
she sniffed. pharaoh was everywhere.
she blinks, but there is no clarity to her vision. the room swims. turning now so that she looks up at tamar, seeing her jaw, her regal neck, and watching her as one might look upon an expensive settee.
when he returns, i should give you to him.
she doesn't know what she's saying, truly. then, then maybe
sniffing again, you can teach me.. what he likes.
she felt wrong to even say it.
even as soon as she did, she shook her head, turned, and burrowed in to tamar once more.
no, no, i can't make you do that. i can't do anything.
what if he did not come back?
tamar did not expect what came next.
a knell sounded in her chest. the idea of the pharaoh close to her, alone with her, embracing her — she sought to quiet the panicked gallop of her heartbeat.
before she could answer, satsu changed her mind again. tamar mindlessly stroked the queen's grieving head.
she thought of arsenio, how he had asked for her freedom. how he looked at her. she thought of jawahir, and how in this moment she could use the lack of royal blood against her mistress.
she thought of cunning, watchful sihaya.
"i will do whatever you choose, majesty," she whispered in a voice unlike herself, "whatever might help you."
the girl held close to tamar as if to wring the worry from herself, and found her face warm and wet against the ginger fur of the fellahin.
what helps me!
satsu felt a flare of some unnatural fervor shoot through her chest. she shoves against tamar then, pushing her away across the bed, then folds in to herself, groaning.
make crowfeather well again! bring ramesses back here, find nyra and choke the life from her! what helps me - what can you do but sit silently and follow at my heel.
her voice was scathing; it filled the lord's chambers enough that even arsenio might hear, if he were close.
i've seen the way you watch my door,
she meant the man who guarded it, of course. how am i to know you have not gone to him! you filthy thing.
oh, but she did not mean that - did she? satsu wailed and pressed her face in to the bedfurs, her tail rising as a triumphant banner only to puff and lay flat again, a great show of her distress.
her mumbling could be discerned through the furs now, as she continued: but if you have, you know more than i do.
her eyes gleam blue across a wheaten field of fur, a microcosm of the sky leveled at the fellahin.
satsu was cruel and then she was not.
tamar hovered close, helpless. she could do none of those things. but neither did she know what was wished.
when satsu leveled her accusation, the girl lowered her head, shaking it in a plead. "i have not, majesty," she attempted to assure.
did she mean pharaoh? arsenio? tamar dared not speak more as satsu mumbled and set the sharp blue of her eyes toward her own face.
hearing this, and knowing it to be true regardless of the answer, satsu raised her head and spat, adder-like.
then you are truly useless to me. what a gift!
her words scythed, and she rolled to her back, reaching and kicking the air before finally tucking her legs together.
she reached next for the furs and gathered them close, as if to spoon a body that wasn't there.
if i ordered you to learn, and to take a man to bed, you would have to.
better that some fellahin do the work that they were meant for.
satsu reveled in this power as the thought came to her, and only grimaced. what good was tamar if she couldn't fulfill her every request?
the threat again.
tamar hazarded a look toward satsu, twined in repose.
"yes." her voice was unsteady, blurred. arsenio filled her mind. but he was not of the rank that satsu might demand.
she would not be given to arsenio.
pharaoh at least was kind to his consorts. she begged within herself that the queen would not send her to sihaya, who might torment her before the act itself.
"i will learn. and i will — i will tell you what i have learned."
satsu did wonder if all kingdoms were run in such a way. she wondered if her own mother had been a fellahin once, or something close to it. certainly the daimyo had his choices; she was no longer ignorant to the hungers of powerful men, although she wished she could understand some things.
it intrigued her to know that tamar would accept her orders, whatever they may be. if satsu was in a better frame of mind she might have chosen a suitor better aimed for the girl's temperament; however, as this was her way of controlling something within akashingo, she said the first name to come to mind.
and when thinking of tamar at all these days, satsu often thought of the mazoi, then, arsenio. or another —
a slight kindness easing its way back in to satsu then, as the frenzy settled in her spirit.
—have your pick of them.
huffing softly, waving at the girl to send her away now, satsu held tightly to the bedfurs and wallowed.
tamar let out her breath.
the mazoi. but satsu did not name sihaya.
instead, it was the guard's name which her queen spoke. despite everything, there was a stab of gratitude inside tamar for even this small thought.
she backed from the room and fled.