Free The King's Daughters by Nathalie Mallet Page B

make due with what's available." On these words, he gestured for us to come in. "Excuse the disorder of my room. I've been otherwise occupied."
    Nodding politely, I entered his room. Even though the place was spacious, it seemed small because of the insane quantity of furniture, cushions, artworks, mirrors encumbering it. No space had been left unoccupied; no decorating style had been forgotten either. This place was a mismatch of everything beautiful, rare or gilded. There were Sorelian rosewood benches, Farrellian tapestries, a pair of Atilian gilded chairs. I even spotted a blue enameled Telfarian urn.
    "I see that you fancy Telfarian pottery."
    "How could I not? Its lines are exquisite in their suppleness. Its glaze flawless. Your people have impeccable taste." His eyes wandered along the length of my body.
    I had to bite the inside of my cheek, hard, to control my expression and not let the distaste I felt for this man's appalling behavior expose itself upon my face. Confident that my expression had remained neutral and did not display any hint of my true feelings, I extended a hand toward Milo and said, "How fortunate. I brought you a Telfarian gift."
    Prince Diego eagerly approached Milo, and, to my dismay, he ran his fingers through the young eunuch's hair.
    Milo winced, yet he stayed motionless with the cedar chest held firmly in front of him.
    "What a superb gift. You certainly know my taste, Prince Amir." Prince Diego's hand glided down Milo's cheek to his smooth, beardless jaw and chin, where his hand lingered. "Soft as a sin. He's a real beauty."
    "My servant isn't the gift. The chest and its contents are."
    "Oooh, pity." Prince Diego lifted the chest lid and pulled out the kaftan that was inside. Milo had chosen a golden-yellow silk kaftan embellished with black arabesque and black fur.
    "Fit for a prince, there are no better words to describe your gift," Prince Diego said, wrapping the garment around his shoulders. "I adore it. However, I'm rather puzzled by this spontaneous act of generosity. Will you enlighten me on its purpose, please?"
    "I need your counsel."
    The long-haired prince produced a dour pout. "It's a pity you didn't come earlier. Before your disastrous introduction to the court would have been preferable. Some of those gifts where of questionable nature." He cringed so forcefully one could've believed that he had just sucked on a lemon. "Tsk-tsk-tsk," gave the prince. "Deplorable faux pas on your part. The saddest part in all this is that it was entirely avoidable. (Sigh) Let's forget that unpleasant event. It's in the past anyway. I'm glad you've decided to accept my offer—even if late. I will counsel you to the best of my ability . . . on one condition."
    My throat tightened. Damnation! Why were there always conditions? Hiding my discomfort, I asked, "Which is?"
    Prince Diego smiled ruefully. My body tensed up in response. "Simply, that if we are to become friends, we must do away with all these tedious formalities. Let's forget our titles and address each other as friends do. Let's speak each other's names freely."
    Relief flooded me; I had feared something far worse than that. "Agreed, Diego."
    A look of satisfaction crossed the long-haired prince's face. "Amir." He spoke slowly as if relishing in saying my name without its title. Quite frankly, he sounded far too delighted for my taste. "Tell me the reason of your visit," he said.
    "I need you to teach me to dance."
    "Really!" Chuckling under his breath, he shook his head. "This is not what I expected, but I can certainly do that. Will you permit me to dress first? I wouldn't want to lose my pantaloon in mid-rehearsal."
    "Please do," I said. By all means, spare me the sight of your bare bottom .
    While Diego was dressing in the adjacent room, I inspected the contents of this one under Milo's resentful glare. Paying him no mind, I approached the marble-topped table set under the window. Three swords were neatly displayed on top of it.