clean and freshly shaved, if a bit crumpled around the edges. She was no better. Saddlebags did not keep clothing in the best of press. He drew her like one bespelled, but the only spell was the man himself. Fortunately, Obed joined them a moment later or she might have shocked the servants. Certain things called for the privacy of the ilian.
The last tub had just been carried out when another knocking, this one far from genteel, pounded at the door. Likely the guard had been waiting for this moment. Kallista caught Torchay’s gaze, then Obed’s, silently reminding them one at a time of the promises they had made. Then she called out. “Come.”
The door flew open and the guard lieutenant filled the opening, a sturdy young woman with a square jaw, taut now with disapproval. “The prisoner, as ordered, Captain. My men will remain here at the door.” Obviously she disapproved of leaving her prisoner unguarded.
“Outside the door, if you please, Lieutenant.” Kallista tried a smile, but when that had no effect, she put on her captain’s face. “Produce your prisoner.”
The lieutenant saluted and stepped back, vacating the opening. With a rattle of chains, Joh Suteny was shoved stumbling through the doorway. The ornately carved door slammed shut behind him with a noticeable “on-your-head-be-it” boom.
Kallista could only stare. Joh’s rags were gone, replaced with…nothing. He wasn’t quite naked, she realized once she managed to blink. He’d been given a loincloth, the sort worn by the poorest of the poor beneath their ragged tunics when summer grew too hot for trousers. It didn’t cover much.
He stood motionless there at the far end of the room and let her stare. Kallista had always thought Joh a fine-looking specimen of Adaran manhood, but she’d never suspected him of hiding this sculptured perfection beneath his uniform. She took a deep breath. If the One had indeed marked him, as Obed had verified, Her appreciation of male beauty had not diminished any over the past year.
“Come.” Kallista beckoned him closer.
Hobbled by his shackles, Joh did as he was bid. Kallista sensed more than saw Torchay’s tension and quieted him with a touch. Joh’s hair, beginning to dry from its washing, streamed from the dropped peak at his forehead back over his shoulders nearly to his waist. He’d worn it in a queue before, but one three times longer than an enlisted man’s short regulation braid. The prison had obviously not required him to cut it.
His hair was brown, a rich color lighter than Kallista’s own near-black, and much darker than the pale brown left behind after Stone had cut away all his gold fluff. The warm shade somehow made his eyes seem a brighter blue.
The barber had removed his beard, revealing the clean angles of Joh’s face, exposing the crisp edge of the mouth that had so often before been pressed into tight disapproval. Now, his lips pressed themselves together, but with some other emotion Kallista could not read. His face was the same, but different—more lines, or perhaps the same lines carved deeper. He seemed somehow thinner, though his defined musculature mocked that thought. Still, he seemed…as if all the unessential bits had been burned away leaving behind pure Joh.
“Far enough,” Torchay’s voice growled out.
Joh halted, his chains rattling to rest. Kallista heaved a little sigh, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Torchay’s overprotective attitude. Joh stood a dozen paces away, too far for her to see any mark. Too far even for comfortable conversation. But she could change that when the time came.
“Sit down.” She gestured at the gilded seating surrounding them.
“There.” Torchay pointed to a high-backed chair upholstered all over in a pale yellow velvet. Kallista remembered it as deep and soft and well nigh impossible to get out of in a hurry. A good choice.
Joh looked at the chair and back at Torchay as if asking whether he was truly meant to sit in
The last tub had just been carried out when another knocking, this one far from genteel, pounded at the door. Likely the guard had been waiting for this moment. Kallista caught Torchay’s gaze, then Obed’s, silently reminding them one at a time of the promises they had made. Then she called out. “Come.”
The door flew open and the guard lieutenant filled the opening, a sturdy young woman with a square jaw, taut now with disapproval. “The prisoner, as ordered, Captain. My men will remain here at the door.” Obviously she disapproved of leaving her prisoner unguarded.
“Outside the door, if you please, Lieutenant.” Kallista tried a smile, but when that had no effect, she put on her captain’s face. “Produce your prisoner.”
The lieutenant saluted and stepped back, vacating the opening. With a rattle of chains, Joh Suteny was shoved stumbling through the doorway. The ornately carved door slammed shut behind him with a noticeable “on-your-head-be-it” boom.
Kallista could only stare. Joh’s rags were gone, replaced with…nothing. He wasn’t quite naked, she realized once she managed to blink. He’d been given a loincloth, the sort worn by the poorest of the poor beneath their ragged tunics when summer grew too hot for trousers. It didn’t cover much.
He stood motionless there at the far end of the room and let her stare. Kallista had always thought Joh a fine-looking specimen of Adaran manhood, but she’d never suspected him of hiding this sculptured perfection beneath his uniform. She took a deep breath. If the One had indeed marked him, as Obed had verified, Her appreciation of male beauty had not diminished any over the past year.
“Come.” Kallista beckoned him closer.
Hobbled by his shackles, Joh did as he was bid. Kallista sensed more than saw Torchay’s tension and quieted him with a touch. Joh’s hair, beginning to dry from its washing, streamed from the dropped peak at his forehead back over his shoulders nearly to his waist. He’d worn it in a queue before, but one three times longer than an enlisted man’s short regulation braid. The prison had obviously not required him to cut it.
His hair was brown, a rich color lighter than Kallista’s own near-black, and much darker than the pale brown left behind after Stone had cut away all his gold fluff. The warm shade somehow made his eyes seem a brighter blue.
The barber had removed his beard, revealing the clean angles of Joh’s face, exposing the crisp edge of the mouth that had so often before been pressed into tight disapproval. Now, his lips pressed themselves together, but with some other emotion Kallista could not read. His face was the same, but different—more lines, or perhaps the same lines carved deeper. He seemed somehow thinner, though his defined musculature mocked that thought. Still, he seemed…as if all the unessential bits had been burned away leaving behind pure Joh.
“Far enough,” Torchay’s voice growled out.
Joh halted, his chains rattling to rest. Kallista heaved a little sigh, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Torchay’s overprotective attitude. Joh stood a dozen paces away, too far for her to see any mark. Too far even for comfortable conversation. But she could change that when the time came.
“Sit down.” She gestured at the gilded seating surrounding them.
“There.” Torchay pointed to a high-backed chair upholstered all over in a pale yellow velvet. Kallista remembered it as deep and soft and well nigh impossible to get out of in a hurry. A good choice.
Joh looked at the chair and back at Torchay as if asking whether he was truly meant to sit in
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