Chapter 9: The Bride's Scent

"Majesty," Ruya said sweetly. "I came to say goodnight. I didn't know you had company."

"The perfumer was just leaving," Tamir said.

"Was she?"

Ruya walked in.

She set her lamp down on the low table, right beside his clean one.

She was wearing a perfume I'd made her myself, a year ago. Jasmine and pink pepper.

She'd worn it to the feast where she fell down.

"The perfumer from Tel Zahra," she said. "Who put the chamberlain to sleep in the Hall."

"My lady," I rasped.

"Do you know what everyone in the palace is saying about you?"

"That I sell foot oil?"

Tamir made a sound into his hand.

Ruya's smile stayed exactly where it was.

"They're saying you're the best nose in Qaresh now," she said. "Now that the last one's dead."

I held still.

"So I want my wedding perfume from you," she said. "The court ladies will judge it at noon tomorrow, in the Rose Court."

"If they like it, I'll wear it at the feast."

"And if they don't?"

"Then you go back to Tel Zahra." She tilted her head. "On foot, I should think."

"Ruya," said Tamir.

"It's a bride's right to choose her own scent, Majesty. Even your mother chose hers."

She picked up her lamp.

At the door she looked back at me once, kohl and gold pins and that patient little smile.

"Something that smells like a queen," she said. "Not like a camel."

The door shut.

Tamir's shoulders sagged.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Stop saying that. You'll wear it out."

"You don't have to do it."

"Yes, I do," I said. "If I refuse, I'm gone tomorrow, and so is your lamp."

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