Chapter 20 The Greedy Mistress
The Greedy Mistress
“Zahra.” Jala shook Zahra’s hammock. “It is time for the washing.”
Zahra groaned, pulling the sheet over her head. “Go without me.”
“Don’t fall back asleep,” Jala warned. “We need your help.”
Zahra sighed, rolling onto her back. She blinked a few times, trying to force the sleep from her eyes, and glanced at the window. Sunlight poured through it. How had it already gotten so late?
Zahra pulled herself out of her hammock, rubbing her eyes before she changed and slipped her sandals on. She stumbled out of the room, surprised to see her roommates standing outside. “I thought you left.”
“We don’t have enough hands to carry your load, too,” one of them said.
Zahra sighed, picked up the basket the others had prepared for her, and followed them outside.
Namir and Ramses would be there soon to pick her up.
Usually, she would meet them on the road, but today she would have to meet them by the river.
She blinked hard as she walked, her eyes droopy and her mind muddled.
The cold water touching her legs woke her, but her movements were still sluggish as she washed the clothes. A dull ache resided in her head, and vague thoughts of her death last night and the images she dreamed of floated about in her mind.
She was almost finished when a horse and rider approached the group. The other girls spoke to each other in hushed whispers, but Zahra stepped out of the water to greet the horse. She was surprised to see Ramses riding alone. He searched the area, spotting her as she came forward.
She lifted her hands and signed. “Where is Namir?”
Like every morning, Ramses had a reluctant and confused expression, but he quickly masked it as he dismounted and signed in reply. “He is in…”
Zahra’s brow furrowed when he made an unfamiliar sign. “Can you sign it again?”
Ramses repeated himself, spelling it for her when she still did not recognize it. “Iunu.”
Why was he all the way in Iunu? Last she had heard, he was still looking for his bride in cities near Inebu-hedj. “Why is he there?”
“He is purchasing something.”
This was unusual. They had followed the same routine every day for months. What had spurred him to go to Iunu?
“Zahra?” Jala asked. “Who is that?”
“A friend,” Zahra answered. She turned to Ramses and signed, “Will you take me to him?”
Ramses shook his head. “He said he would meet you here. I am here to offer my protection.”
Zahra froze at the sign for protection. She sighed. She did not wish to stay there, but if Namir wanted her to stay until he was done, she would. “I must return to work.”
“Then I will watch from afar.” He gestured to her roommates. “I know this must seem unusual for them.”
Zahra smiled. “It is good to see you, Ramses.”
He smiled at this, though there was still hesitancy in his eyes.
Zahra turned back to her chores, and Ramses rode his horse into the trees. Zahra sighed. Though she knew the spell’s effects affected everyone but her and Namir, it still hurt to see Ramses every day but not have him recognize her as well.
Zahra finished her morning chores and took Bahiti’s deben to go to the marketplace. It was strange going through the motions again. She had avoided her duties for so long, but the change was refreshing.
Zahra spoke briefly with Aaliyah, and she smiled as the Ur brothers ran into each other instead of plowing into her. Fukayna and Eshe fought as usual, and Zahra traveled back to Bahiti’s estate with her earned deben hidden in her bag.
She dropped the fruit and basket off at the kitchen and took the bag into her room to add the deben to her collection. She sighed, wishing she could count it all now, but Jala would be coming in soon, and she did not want to risk Bahiti’s wrath.
Zahra’s hand lingered on her necklace as she stood. The tiredness in her body weighed her down. She longed to return to her bed, even if only for a few minutes, but there was work to be done, and Bahiti wouldn’t like it if she caught Zahra napping.
A cry came from the servant’s area, and Zahra threw open the door, stunned to see Jala on the floor with Femi’s dress and Zahra’s letter sitting nearby. Bahiti stood over her, her hand outstretched as if to hit Jala again.
“Mistress, please,” Jala cried. “I did not steal anything!”
“You were snooping in my things,” Bahiti spat. She picked up the letter, covering its honey seal with her hand. “What else have you stolen? Jewelry? My deben?”
Zahra closed the door to her room behind her, bewildered at the sight.
This had never happened before—not on the day of the Feast. Zahra had always been the one Bahiti had punished.
But Zahra had not been here on the days that she did not lose the deben to the Ur brothers.
She had to do something, but what? Her feet were stuck, and her arms trembled by her side as Jala cowered on the floor.
Jala stammered. “I—I don’t know how it got in there. I swear, Mistress.”
Bahiti smacked Jala across the face. “Enough of your lies. I would call the medjay on you if it would not ruin my reputation. I will be adding the cost of your deceit and trickery to your debt.”
“No.” A sob worked its way out of Jala’s throat. “Please, Mistress, no.”
Zahra’s fists clenched at her side, and she stepped forward. “She was only trying to give me what was rightfully mine.”
Bahiti’s head shot up as if she had just noticed Zahra standing there. Her eyebrows raised in amusement. “What is rightfully yours?”
“The letter,” Zahra started. “It’s an invitation to the Feast, and it’s mine.”
Bahiti smirked. “And how do you know it is not anyone else’s? There is more than one maiden in this house, sobki.”
“Because everyone else has already gotten theirs. That letter is mine.” She stretched out her hand. “And I would like it returned to me.”
Bahiti stared at her a moment before she laughed. “Why would the King invite a sobki?”
Zahra clenched her jaw. “You know he did. That’s why you hid it.”
“That is preposterous.” Bahiti pursed her lips. “None of my servants are allowed to go. Why do you think you are the exception?”
Zahra opened her mouth to respond, but she was stunned by Bahiti’s words. “What?”
Bahiti nudged Jala’s leg with her foot. “What was it I told you when you received yours?”
Jala brought her hand down from her bruised lip, stuttering a response. “Th-That it was a mistake. Indentured servants are not allowed to go to the feast.”
“There it is.” Bahiti smirked at Zahra. “There was a mistake. Only those of higher birth are allowed at the Feast.”
“But that’s not true.” She looked around at the other servants. They avoided her eyes, their gazes downcast. They all knew it was not true, so why did they not speak up?
Because they were afraid. Bahiti had threatened them, and they wouldn’t risk her wrath, just as Zahra had so many times over.
But not anymore.
Zahra clenched her jaw. “You can’t do this.”
“I have done nothing wrong,” Bahiti claimed, stepping away from Jala. “And you will stop your accusations at once.”
“But why would you do this?” Zahra asked. “I understand why you would keep mine from me, but why would you bar everyone else from going? Why?”
It couldn’t have been that she feared her daughters would face competition with the servants. Bahiti’s daughters were beautiful, and Bahiti was too vain to let that scare her. No, there was something deeper here. Something Bahiti was afraid of.
Bahiti gritted her teeth, clenching her fist around the letter. She dropped it and raised her hand toward Zahra. “That is enough, girl.”
Zahra caught Bahiti’s wrist, which surprised them both.
The ring on Bahiti’s finger glimmered with gold, and a memory pushed itself to the forefront of Zahra’s mind.
She recalled handing the deben to the shopkeeper in exchange for Bahiti’s ring, a sum much more than what Darius granted his wife.
She had never questioned where the extra deben had come from.
Visions of ledgers filled her mind—records of every costly mistake a servant had made, her own name next to mistakes that were not hers, mistakes that had never existed.
Breaking a plate, losing produce, tearing a piece of clothing. They were repeated over and over again, piling extra debt onto the servants’ shoulders. The payments they made were recorded inaccurately, and Bahiti stashed amounts both small and large into a secret chest in her closet.
Zahra stumbled backward, and she let go of Bahiti’s hand as she let out a surprised breath. “You are stealing from us.”
Bahiti’s eyes went wide with shock, and she dropped her hand. “What did you say?”
“You are stealing from us.” Zahra met Bahiti’s eyes, standing tall. “That’s why you did not want us to go to the Feast, because by some chance one of us is chosen by the King, your secret will be discovered.”
Bahiti gritted her teeth. “That is enough, sobki.”
“I am right, aren’t I?” Zahra prodded, ignoring Bahiti’s threat. “That’s why you are afraid. And you hid my letter because you are cruel. You wanted me to think the King would never invite an Ionian to dance with him, but you are wrong! You cruel, cruel—”
Bahiti’s gaze darkened, and she stepped forward.
Zahra immediately regretted everything she had said. “M—Mistress.”
Bahiti hit Zahra hard across the face. Zahra’s body spun, her frame slamming into the wall and floor. A pained gasp fell from Zahra’s lips. She held a hand up, her frame trembling. “Mistress, please—”
Bahiti kicked Zahra hard in the ribs, and Zahra cried out. She covered her head as Bahiti hit her and kicked her again, pulling at her hair and clawing at her skin with her long nails.
Zahra had suffered death at the hands of many. She had fought for her life each time, but here—here she was stuck. Bahiti’s eyes were not filled with the keres’ familiar red, but they were filled with an anger Zahra couldn’t escape. If she fought back, the pain would only be worse.