FORTY-TWO
Philemon could not refuse her. He let the blade clatter to the floor.
Anahita kicked it out of reach. "Get out."
He stared at her. Surely she couldn't mean that.
"Is there anything you wish of me, my princess?" a new voice asked.
He stood in the doorway to the courtyard, too well-dressed to be a servant, yet not proud enough to be a prince. This lean man reminded him of a desert hunting falcon – tamed and kept hungry to serve one of the desert camps, waiting for his mistress's command.
The witch favoured him with a beaming smile. "My sister's man needs some air. Perhaps you could take him into the garden? He might find it cooler under the trees."
The man returned her smile, and bowed deeply. Not like a servant. More like...he was mocking her. He was the witch's lover, P
