Blood and Politics
Well before dawn she felt him go. He whispered in her ear, but she was too sleepy to remember his words. She should have reminded him to ask about Fis. And she should get up, bathe, and dress for the dawn wedding ceremony. It seemed a damned foolish time for formality, typically Ishteri after a night of revelry. She drifted back to sleep, her mind full of red-gold moths landing on her arms and face, shaking the bedclothes. Irenya opened her eyes and recoiled from the face leaning over her.
‘Greetin’s, lady.’
She groaned and tried to roll away.
‘Git up now. Canna miss the weddin’.’
The bedroom was a flurry of activity. Two servants puffed in bearing steaming pitchers. An enormous metal bowl appeared with a youth’s legs underneath. It looked like a giant upside-down w
