She frowned. ‘I don’t know any of your dances. Lilah knows all of them, along with your traditions and customs.’
He leaned against the doorframe, appearing to relax a little. ‘Princess Zara was rather confident in her plan, wasn’t she?’
Aisha dropped her gaze. ‘Lilah was the obvious choice.’
‘Not for me.’
She couldn’t find it in her to look up.
‘I’m confident they’ll like you,’ Tariq said.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. ‘Your reassurance would mean more if the king and queen weren’t so blatantly opposed.’ She watched the discomfort play out on his face. ‘You knew they wouldn’t approve. You just didn’t communicate it.’
‘Would you have come here if I did?’
‘No.’ She bit her lip.
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. ‘Then I did the right thing.’
Aisha unfolded her arms. ‘I need to know you won’t just throw me to the sharks tonight.’
‘I’ll remain at your side throughout the whole evening, if that’s what you want.’ He sounded sincere.
She stared at him. Of course she had to say yes. She couldn’t hide away in her room forever. ‘I’ll need something to wear.’
He straightened, nodding. ‘I’ve organised a permanent attendant for you. I’ll send her to help you. Whatever you need, she’ll organise it.’
Aisha felt her hostility towards him lessen. ‘Thank you.’
‘I’ll see you later.’ With that, Tariq left.
Later that afternoon, Aisha had just finished having a wash when there was another knock at the door. Wrapping herself in a robe, she walked over to the door.
‘Who is it?’
‘Your attendant,’ a woman answered.
Aisha opened the door to find a tall attendant standing there, silks draping her arm and tray in hand. The scent of herbal tea drifted into the room. The woman’s hair was cropped close to her head, her posture precise, her eyes light brown. Aisha guessed her to be in her late twenties.
‘Your Highness,’ she said, inclining her head to show respect without the tray moving at all. ‘My name is Maryam. Prince Tariq sent me to help prepare you for the evening.’
Aisha stepped aside. ‘Come in.’
Maryam entered, setting the tray on the small table by the window. Steam rose from the hammered-brass pot. She poured the tea, her movements as controlled as her expression.
‘To calm the nerves,’ she said, handing a cup to Aisha.
The porcelain was warm to the touch and instantly comforting. ‘Thank you.’ Aisha carried it over to the dressing table.
Maryam busied herself with the folds of fabric she had brought. ‘These silks were selected for their quality and colour. Gruisean nobility normally wear subtler shades, but this soft blue will honour your Avanid heritage.’ She held it up to show it.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Aisha said, finding a smile.
‘I am pleased you like it. Now we can begin.’ Maryam gestured towards the dressing table. ‘Take a seat. I will start with your hair.’
Aisha felt herself relax into the female company she had missed so much.
Maryam’s fingers moved through Aisha’s hair with practised ease. At one point, she started to hum, and it reminded Aisha of Lilah. Always humming. She watched the attendant pin her hair back in the mirror.
