Warbreaker (Warbreaker #1)(24)
Would he take away her Breath?
No, that won’t happen, she told herself firmly. He needs me to provide him with an heir of the royal line. He won’t risk the child’s safety. He’ll leave me my Breath, if only until then.
But . . . what would happen to her when she was no longer needed?
Her attention was drawn away from such thoughts as several serving women approached with a large bundle of cloth. A dress. No, a gown—a gorgeous gown of blue and silver. Focusing on it seemed better than thinking about what the God King would do with her once she bore him a son.
Siri waited quietly as the women put it on her. The fabric was amazingly soft on her skin, the velvet smooth as petals from a highland flower. As the women adjusted it on her, she noticed that—oddly—it laced up the side instead of the back. It had an extremely long train and sleeves that were so long that if she put her arms down at the sides, the cuffs hung a good foot below her hands. It took several minutes for the women to get the ties done up right, the folds situated correctly, and the train even behind her. All this so that it can be taken off again in a few minutes, Siri thought with a detached sense of cold irony as a woman approached with a mirror.
Siri froze.
Where had all that color come from? The delicately red cheeks, the mysteriously dark eyes, the blue on the top of her eyelids? The deep red lips, the almost glowing skin? The gown shone silver upon blue, bulky yet beautiful, with ripples of deep, velvet cloth.
It was like nothing she’d seen in Idris. It was more amazing, even, than the colors she’d seen on the people in the city. Staring at herself in the mirror, Siri was almost able to forget her worries. “Thank you,” she whispered.
That must have been the right response, for the serving women smiled, glancing at each other. Two took her hands, moving much more respectfully now than when they’d first rushed her from the carriage. Siri strode with them, train rustling behind her, and the other women stayed behind. Siri turned, and the women curtsied to her one at a time, heads bowed.
The last two—the ones leading her—opened a door, then gently pushed her out into the hallway beyond. They closed the door, leaving her.
The hallway was of the deepest black. She’d almost forgotten how dark the stone walls of the palace were. The hallway was empty, save for Bluefingers, who stood waiting for her with his ledger. He smiled, bowing his head in respect. “The God King will be pleased, Vessel,” he said. “We are exactly on time—the sun only just set.”
Siri turned from Bluefingers. Directly across from her was a large, imposing door. It was plated entirely with gold. Four wall lamps shone without colored glass, and they reflected light off the gilded portal. She had no question as to who lay beyond such an impressive entrance.
“This is the God King’s sleeping chambers,” Bluefingers said. “Rather, one of his sleeping chambers. Now, my lady, you must hear this again. Do nothing to offend the king. You are here at his sufferance, and are here to see to his needs. Not mine, not your own, and not even that of our kingdom.”
“I understand,” she said quietly, heart beating faster and faster.
“Thank you,” Bluefingers said. “It is time to present yourself. Enter the room, then remove your dress and underclothing. Bow yourself to the ground before the king’s bed, touching your head to the floor. When he wishes for you to approach, he will knock on the side post, and you may look up. He will then wave you forward.”
She nodded.
“Just . . . try not to touch him too much.”
Siri frowned, clenching and unclenching her increasingly nervous hands. “How exactly am I going to manage that? We’re going to have sex, aren’t we?”
Bluefingers flushed. “Yes, I guess you are. This is new ground for me too, my lady. The God King . . . well, only a group of specially dedicated servants are supposed to touch him. My suggestion would be to avoid kissing him, caressing him, or doing anything else that might offend him. Simply let him do to you what he wishes, and you should be safe.”
Siri took a deep breath, nodding.
“When you are finished,” Bluefingers said, “the king will withdraw. Take the bed linens and burn them in the hearth. As the Vessel, you are the only one allowed to handle such things. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Siri said, growing increasingly anxious.
“Very well then,” Bluefingers said, looking almost as nervous as she was. “Good luck.” With that, he reached forward and pushed the door open.
Oh, Austre, God of Colors, she thought, heart pounding, hands sweating, growing numb.
Bluefingers pushed her lightly on the back, and she stepped into the room.
7
The door shut behind her.
A large fire growled in a hearth to her left, bringing a shifting orange light to the large room. The black walls seemed to draw in and absorb the illumination, making deep shadows at the edges of the room.
Siri stood quietly in her ornate velvet dress, heart thumping, brow sweating. To her right, she could make out a massive bed, with sheets and covers of black to match the rest of the room. The bed appeared unoccupied. Siri peered into the darkness, eyes adjusting.
The fire crackled, throwing a flicker of light across a large, thronelike chair sitting beside the bed. It was occupied by a figure wearing black, bathed in darkness. He watched her, eyes twinkling, unblinking in the firelight.