Brie ca’Ostheim
“YOU WISH HELP DRESSING, Hïrzgin?” Rhianna said. Brie
saw Rhianna’s gaze slide quickly to Jan, then just as rapidly
return. She didn’t look at Jan again, though Brie felt Jan hanging
in the room behind her. “Here, let me get these under-lacings for
you . . .”
Brie turned, allowing
Rhianna to reach the laces of the back-closed corset. Jan’s
attention was somewhere over Brie’s shoulder, but he seemed to
shake himself to find Brie’s eyes. He smiled at her, a bit
guiltily, Brie thought, then opened the door of the dressing room.
He nodded to Brie as Rhianna tugged on the lacings and closed the
door behind him. Brie glanced at the mirror on her dresser,
watching Rhianna through the silvered surface. She hadn’t looked up
to watch Jan leave; that pleased Brie. Maybe
I’m wrong . . . The girl—no, the young woman—was handsome
enough, with strangely muscular arms. Her hair was raven-black and
the eyes were such a strange light blue against the hair and
olive-complexioned face . . .
Nearly all of Jan’s
affairs had been with dark-haired women, Brie realized. She
wondered what he was trying to find in them.
Rhianna was perhaps
five or six years older than Elissa. No more.
“There,” Rhianna said
behind her. Her voice held the slightest of accents, one Brie
couldn’t quite place. “Does that feel comfortable, Hïrzgin? I could
loosen them a little if they’re too constricting . .
.”
“It’s fine,” Brie
told her. “Bring me my tashta—there, the one on the bed . . .” She
watched Rhianna pick up the tashta, carefully rolling up the hem in
her hands. “So Rance has assigned you to our personal
staff?”
“Yes, Hïrzgin. I have
to admit that I was surprised by that, so soon after being hired,
but he said I’d done well in my other duties and there was an
unexpected opening.”
“Yes, trust Rance to
be ever-vigilant for openings that will benefit the Hïrzg,” she
said. “It’s one of his better qualities, I’m sure.”
Rhianna looked
puzzled, as if she sensed the subtext but didn’t quite know how to
respond to it. She brought the tashta to Brie and placed it over
her head as Brie lifted her arms. “Here, let me find the sleeves
for you, Hïrzgin. I’ll be careful of your hair . . .” She slid the
tashta slowly down, and Brie stood to allow the folds to fall over
the rest of her body, Rhianna went to her knees to tie the sash at
Brie’s waist. “This is lovely cloth, Hïrzgin. Such a beautiful
pattern and color, and it goes so well with your coloring . .
.”
“Rhianna,” Brie said,
“you don’t need to flatter me.”
Rhianna’s face
reddened. Brie saw no guile at all in her, only a genuine
embarrassment. ‘Hïrzgin, I didn’t mean . . . I was only saying what
I was thinking . . . I’m sorry . . .”
Brie brought a finger
to her own lips, smiling gently. “Shh. You needn’t apologize, dear.
I would hope . . . Well, I would hope that if we’re to be together
often, that we could come to trust each other.”
If anything,
Rhianna’s blush deepened at that. She hesitated, seeming to search
for a response. “Oh, you can trust me,
Hïrzgin,” she said.
“Then,” Brie said,
still smiling, “if, say, the Hïrzg were to say something to you
that I should know about as his wife, you’d tell me, wouldn’t
you?”
The blush darkened
even further, which told Brie all she wanted to know. He’s already approached her . . . “Why, yes,
Hïrzgin,” Rhianna stammered. “I would. Of course.”
“Good,” Brie told
her. She touched the young woman’s cheek. So
smooth, so untouched . . . but then her fingers found a
rippled scar along Rhianna’s jawline. A knife
stroke? She wondered at that, but she lifted the servant up
with her hand. She sat again on the chair before her mirror and
opened a jewelry box, lifting out a necklace. “Here,” she said,
handing it to Rhianna. “I think this will go well with the tashta.
Put it on for me, please . . .”
As the servant put
the necklace around her throat and set the clasp, Brie watched her
face, and she wondered.
