texture. I ran my hand along my legs, from my knees to my toes and then back up, along my inner thighs. My flesh felt like satin. I sank deeper into the water and rested the back of my head against the curved edge of the tub and studied mybody. I wasn’t accustomed to being completely undressed, nor to such display. I found it unexpectedly liberating. My newly discovered breasts floated above the waterline, my nipples coral-tipped islands surrounded by a translucent sea. I couldn’t help but stare at this wanton abandonment. I felt a giggle build inside me as Hazefa dipped her hands in the water and began to tease the soap into fragrant bubbles. She produced a sponge and, rubbing the soap into it, started to scrub my legs. The combination of the slippery lather, her deft but gentle fingers and the roughness of the sponge tickled and I had to concentrate not to pull back my legs abruptly.
The firm stroking became rhythmic, and I tilted my head backwards and shut my eyes, enjoying the sensations. Gently, Hafeza lifted my swollen arm and trickled soapy water over it. It was still tender, but the fluid was soothing. I relaxed and my mind began to wander. Where my skin touched Hafeza’s, I could feel her strength, her health and, without meaning to, I drew from her as easily as I inhaled. The pain in my arm blossomed momentarily and then disappeared and a sense of well-being permeated my body. In my dream-like state, I began to extract more deeply. My arm was suddenly released, falling with a splash into the warm water. My eyes flew open and Hafeza sat back on her heels, holding her hand in front of her face, her eyes wide – not in fear, but with wonder.
‘Mi dispiace!’ I cried, gripping the sides of the bath, sitting up quickly and sloshing water over the floor. ‘Hafeza, I didn’t mean –’
She pressed a long, wet finger against my lips, silencing me. Pushing me back into the water, she pried my fingers from the edge and lifted my arm, nestling my formerly damaged elbow in the palm of her hand, examining my upper arm closely, running a finger down my forearm. Theswelling and redness were gone. I was healed. Without forethought or calculation, I had mended myself – and without harm to Hafeza. On the contrary, she seemed … delighted. She smiled sweetly, patting my arm for good measure before retrieving the sponge and, softly at first, but with increasing vigour, resumed washing me. I gave a little moan of approaval.
‘It doesn’t hurt – not at all,’ I said cautiously. She didn’t react. I waited a beat. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked her quietly.
Hafeza paused and looked at me in astonishment before her face creased into another huge smile. She nodded again and then encouraged me to lie back once again.
At first I found it hard to recapture my earlier mood, but before long, my thoughts escaped my tight leash and I began to wonder what I had done to my body. I rested the back of my neck against the rim of the tub, my eyes half open, my flesh submerged in perfumed water and relished being tended to by such experienced hands. I wondered what Dante would think of me, like this, naked and clean, being so fussed over and smelling of lavender. My imagination spilled into realms of longing and my budding laugh was rapidly smothered.
A spray of water in my face shocked me back into the present.
Hazefa waggled a finger at me and shook her head. She’d caught me retreating into territory that I could not afford to go. She really did understand.
More importantly, Hafeza, the Morokan slave, was right. What good did dwelling on Dante do? He was dead. Cane was dead. Pillar was as good as dead. And as for Katina … I had no-one I could trust, no-one to turn to – not anymore. No-one except the Maleovellis. I had to bury my thoughts, my feelings and my fears deep inside – if I didn’t, theywould rise and betray me. If not today, or tomorrow, then sometime in my unclear future. Dante would not want that, even
The firm stroking became rhythmic, and I tilted my head backwards and shut my eyes, enjoying the sensations. Gently, Hafeza lifted my swollen arm and trickled soapy water over it. It was still tender, but the fluid was soothing. I relaxed and my mind began to wander. Where my skin touched Hafeza’s, I could feel her strength, her health and, without meaning to, I drew from her as easily as I inhaled. The pain in my arm blossomed momentarily and then disappeared and a sense of well-being permeated my body. In my dream-like state, I began to extract more deeply. My arm was suddenly released, falling with a splash into the warm water. My eyes flew open and Hafeza sat back on her heels, holding her hand in front of her face, her eyes wide – not in fear, but with wonder.
‘Mi dispiace!’ I cried, gripping the sides of the bath, sitting up quickly and sloshing water over the floor. ‘Hafeza, I didn’t mean –’
She pressed a long, wet finger against my lips, silencing me. Pushing me back into the water, she pried my fingers from the edge and lifted my arm, nestling my formerly damaged elbow in the palm of her hand, examining my upper arm closely, running a finger down my forearm. Theswelling and redness were gone. I was healed. Without forethought or calculation, I had mended myself – and without harm to Hafeza. On the contrary, she seemed … delighted. She smiled sweetly, patting my arm for good measure before retrieving the sponge and, softly at first, but with increasing vigour, resumed washing me. I gave a little moan of approaval.
‘It doesn’t hurt – not at all,’ I said cautiously. She didn’t react. I waited a beat. ‘Are you all right?’ I asked her quietly.
Hafeza paused and looked at me in astonishment before her face creased into another huge smile. She nodded again and then encouraged me to lie back once again.
At first I found it hard to recapture my earlier mood, but before long, my thoughts escaped my tight leash and I began to wonder what I had done to my body. I rested the back of my neck against the rim of the tub, my eyes half open, my flesh submerged in perfumed water and relished being tended to by such experienced hands. I wondered what Dante would think of me, like this, naked and clean, being so fussed over and smelling of lavender. My imagination spilled into realms of longing and my budding laugh was rapidly smothered.
A spray of water in my face shocked me back into the present.
Hazefa waggled a finger at me and shook her head. She’d caught me retreating into territory that I could not afford to go. She really did understand.
More importantly, Hafeza, the Morokan slave, was right. What good did dwelling on Dante do? He was dead. Cane was dead. Pillar was as good as dead. And as for Katina … I had no-one I could trust, no-one to turn to – not anymore. No-one except the Maleovellis. I had to bury my thoughts, my feelings and my fears deep inside – if I didn’t, theywould rise and betray me. If not today, or tomorrow, then sometime in my unclear future. Dante would not want that, even
Similar Books
