Annelise understood then that her husband’s secret was a fearsome one. Perhaps his caution was deserved. Perhaps he did not understand that she took her vows most seriously, whether there had been a witness ornot.
“There is only one way to know for certain, sir.” She dared to reach out and put her hand over his. “You could tell me ofyourself.”
He recoiled, but she continued before he could protest. “I am a prisoner within these walls. Regardless of what you confide in me, I cannot flee. I cannot share such tidings with any other soul.” She shrugged. “Well, I could tell the horses, but I doubt that theycare.”
He laughed then, laughed as if she had surprised him. She thought that he was not displeased. “You are right, my Annelise. Your thinking is most clear.” He laid his hand upon the book again, turning it so that he could open it once more. “How curious that you should find thistoday.”
His tone hinted that he did not find it curious at all, which made Annelisewonder.
“Perhaps someone left it for me,” she said, convinced that it had been him. “But that makes no sense as I cannot readit.”
He was turning the pages and paused at an elaborate spread. “Look at this,” he said with awe. “These calligraphers possessed such skill.” And he touched the script with his fingertip, as if to caress it inadmiration.
The letters shimmered for a moment. When the light faded, they were different. Annelise hastened to her husband’s side to look down at the book. It was written in the Latin script with which Annelise wasfamiliar.
“How did you do that?” shedemanded.
He shook his head. “I do not know.” He closed the book and opened it again, but the script remainedlegible.
“I suppose nothing should surprise me any longer in this palace,” she murmured and her husband chuckled. He cleared his throat and began toread.
There were, there were not, in the oldness of time, twin daughters born to a djinn and his wife. Herein lies the tale of Leila and Kira, twins born to Azima and Azzam. They were matched in looks but not inmanner...
“A djinn and his wife?” Annelise let her skepticism show. “This is no more than a fable forchildren.”
“Is it?” her husband asked in a lowvoice.
“Clearly, it is, and as such, it is of no usewhatsoever.”
“Howso?”
“We have no children and I feel no inclination for idleentertainment.”
He considered her for a long moment and yet again, she wished she could have seen his eyes. The book must be ofimport.
Before she could reach for it and read more, he swept to his feet and caught her hand in his. “Come for a stroll in the garden, my lady. I would talk to you while dinner isprepared.”
“But thebook...”
“Will remain at your disposal, should you care to entertain yourself during the day.” He spoke with a resolve that surprised Annelise, as if he was giving a command. When she looked back, the book had been moved to another table and a cloth had been spread upon the lowtable.
Dinner was beingprepared.
“I still do not see your servants,” shenoted.
He tucked her hand into his elbow and led her into the garden. “I misled you, my Annelise. I have never seen servants in this palace either, though it seems they mustexist.”
Annelise caught her breath, sensing that something had changed. Her husband was not avoiding her questions but seemed inclined to answer them thisnight.
That could only be an excellentportent.
