normally slender hips were augmented by the swaying brocade-jeweled panniers in
which her personal vipers were accustomed to ride. Her thigh-length fair hair
had been supported and wired until it hung about her like a cloak and condemned
her to look neither up nor down, nor side to side, but only straight ahead. It
was a costume she had worn since childhood but now, after a season in the modest
attire of the Rankan nobility, she felt awkward and feared for the outcome of
the rites they were about to perform.
“You must not sweat,” her aunt chided her, reminding her of the physical
discipline demanded of Mother Bey’s avatar.
She steeled herself and the offending perspiration ceased.
Footsteps came through the tiny doorway behind her. “You’re nervous,” a welcome
voice consoled her as the prince reached out to take her hand.
“Our priests would have us wait until the fifth decoction has been made but we
dare not. Not after this afternoon. We have countermanded the priests; it is the
first time we have done so. They are anxious but we think the waiting is more
dangerous than success or failure.”
“Mother Bey guides you,” Kadakithis assured her, squeezing the be-ringed fingers
ever so gently.
Shupansea lifted her shoulders a fraction. “She says only that I must not be
alone afterwards.”
The prince, who had finally edged his way through her women to stand where she
could see him, made a wry face. “You are never alone, Shu-sea.”
She smiled and gave him a stare which proved Beysib eyes could be erotic and
unsettling at the same time. “I will be alone tonight-with you.”