twenty-two
Between the wedding preparations and a heated affair that trapped her in the loft for half the week, Sulim was a busy woman.
So busy that even her husband didn’t question why she was too exhausted for their hangouts while watching broadcast digests, or to stay the whole half hour at the dinner table.
One time, he walked in on her in the bath, asleep with a book on the floor.
Not my finest moment.
She was in the middle of reading Orleah!
, a gift from Mira who claimed she bribed her “Uncle” Ramaron to bring her an original copy in Julah.
Originally, Mira’s grand plan had to be to read it out loud to her new lover, but instead, she told Sulim to try reading it for herself, despite only knowing a few words in Julah and basically none of the writing system.
Since it was paperback, she couldn’t as easily translate it as if it had been a digital copy with auto-translate, not that she thought that was a replacement for a proper translation by a fluent speaker of Basic.
What little Sulim picked up was salacious enough.
Orleah was the title character, the second child of a prominent julah House who discovered her sexuality while struggling to get through the rigorous testing of the Academy.
The whole tale was one of the usual julah heir angst of being arranged to marry someone they didn’t love, as well as family political intrigue, such as when Orleah’s older sister, the one expected to marry someone to be adopted into the family, suddenly perished,
making Orleah the only heir left in a patriarchal world.
The other thing Sulim picked up was that Orleah had a lot of sex with a lot of women. She figured this was why Mira gave her the book.
But she preferred to spend actual time with Mira, making memories that Sulim hoped would stay with a young julah who was expected to live for thousands of years.
When they weren’t sneaking off separately, whether for ten minutes or two hours, they were openly conversing on the back porch during breaks in Sulim’s chores or playing footsie beneath the dinner table, where they continued to sit across from each other.
The only time this almost blew up in Sulim’s face was when she accidentally bumped into her husband’s foot and caught his attention most uselessly. I feel bad about this. A little.
She would have to tell him, eventually. The sooner, the better. Before he figured it out for himself and was more hurt that Sulim didn’t tell him than about the affair itself. I think… Who knew how he would actually react?
There was never a good time, though. He was busier than ever as his father threw him into the throes of journeymanship regarding the summer’s work. Sulim, in turn, was given new responsibilities as the final wedding plans materialized.
Some things were known for months, even long before Mira and the others arrived.
The “real” wedding, as Jacelah constantly referred to it, would be held at Harksplit’s Temple, where Graella and Lewin would be joined beyond the Void just like Sonall and Sulim had been two years ago.
I barely remember it now. Arrahites were keen on short and intimate ceremonies with the big communal party afterward.
Lewin would only be bringing his immediate family and a close friend who would act as his attendant.
The Gardiahs were throwing a festival in the town square—all on their dime, yes—to breed goodwill among the local populace, but invitations were for the backyard banquet back at Gardiah Estate, where there would be live music, dancing, and toasts to the happy couple.
Graella and Lewin would have a very short honeymoon to recuperate (and, according to Jacleh, “Get matters out of their systems”) at a wedding suite in town before the whole party returned to Qahrain for the second wedding ceremony to celebrate the arrival of the future Lady di’Coraria.
Only Vern and Jacelah would be going with their daughter, as was customary when two faraway families joined in legal and spiritual union.
This meant that both Sonall and Sulim would be the highest ranking family members during their long absence, since between how long it took to travel via space cruiser both ways,
the three-day party a high-ranking Qahranian lordship would put on to make up for not being the initial binding spot for a wedding, and the in-laws surely wanting to take some time for themselves before returning…
well, it was a good thing that communicators were a thing, because Vern would be calling his son every day for a report.
It was up to Sonall to handle the herds well enough that his father didn’t have to race back to save the family’s coffers that year.
And it was Sulim’s task to truly learn her future place around there.
“Here.” Jacelah had closed the door to her salon and gone to one of the built-in drawers in the wall, right between Sulim and Sonall’s wedding portrait and a copy of her own mother’s dour demeanor.
“It’s about time I showed you where all of this is. When I get back from Qahrain, we’ll be having a long talk about you taking over some of my duties around here.”
Sulim was studiously silent as Jacelah revealed a flat metal cashbox that contained a ring of keys, staff paperwork, copies of deeds, titles, and licenses, and a stack of cash that was referred to as the “grievous emergency fund.”
But the cash wasn’t as important as the keys and paperwork. Mostly the keys.
She sat down with Sulim and went over where every single key went and what the labeling system meant. She was not content until Sulim could recite back everything, which didn’t take long, because she was a quick study.
“You must know that Ysa will not get up before nine,” Jacelah said, as if Sulim didn’t know that one of the younger maids dealt with such bad insomnia that she had long given up being up at dawn like some of the others.
“You cannot change her unfortunate nature. Oh, and Laila is terribly allergic to nightshades. She eats a different lunch before tending to ours.”
Sulim knew all of this already, having spent so much time around the servants that she knew all of their quirks and habits.
Of course, Ysa didn’t start working until noon—that was why she tended to dinner service, long after other maids had retired for the evening and ate their own suppers on the third floor,
where they had their own rotation of broadcasts they watched together and games they played to wile away the evening.
But Sulim listened, determined to show her mother-in-law that she was reliable. After all, this was a big moment for Jacelah, who must have thought about this for the past few weeks.
She even showed Sulim some of the pay structure for the servants, something Sulim did not know. Only the Lady and the head steward were privy to leave requests and payment details.
I didn’t realize we paid them… so well… She knew that the Gardiahs paid for some of the best help on Arrah, and it often came with free room and board since they didn’t live close enough to town to be readily available.
But she didn’t know that the chef was professionally trained on Terra III or that Laila had once worked for the President of Arrah’s mother in Dassil.
Seeing Jacelah’s expenditures on servants—and this was before she would ever see how much the ranchers cost—put a lot into perspective, such as why many of them were comfortable speaking their mind in such a pleasantly courteous way.
They’re trained like that… And smart enough to let it make them lots of money.
“Then there is this matter.” Gravely, Jacelah locked up the drawer before putting her hand on the frame of her mother’s portrait. “You must speak of this to no one. Not even my son.”
“Of course.”
Jacelah looked toward the closed door before pushing on the frame. It gave way, clicking so softly that Sulim almost missed the mechanism using the portrait to cover a safe behind it.
“The code is my mother’s birthday.” Jacelah repeated it before admitting that it was probably woefully easy to guess—indeed, Sulim had thought that. “Everything in here has to do with my son.” When she saw Sulim’s confusion, Jacelah explained, “My other son.”
Sulim’s heart dropped into her stomach. “I see.”
Jacelah pulled out a few folders. As they perused them on the sofa, Sulim discovered photos of a growing boy, which Jacelah peered over with a rigid spine and a blank visage.
She was more interested in showing Sulim the expenditures to the maid who had adopted the boy to ensure that he got a quality education in Dassil and that he would not want for living in a nice neighborhood and decent food in his stomach.
Jacelah explained that much of this money came from her own dowry and allowance, and she wanted Sulim to swear to her that should anything unfortunate befall her mother-in-law in an untimely manner, she would oversee the continuing care of this boy with red hair and freckles.
“Of course,” Sulim said, looking right into Jacelah’s eyes. “You have my word.”
“The thing about that…” Jacelah blinked, sighing as she glanced away. “I believe you. If nothing else, Sulim, you’re good on your word.”
“I’m a lot of things.”
“Indeed, you are. Which is why I put both of my sons’ happiness into your hands.”
She knew Jacelah meant it.
The closer they came to the wedding day, which would now fortuitously be overseen by Lady Joiya, the more Sulim looked forward to some peace around the estate. Most of late spring would be spent with just her and Sonall on the second floor… and Mira, she supposed.
It would be easier to sneak around. Maybe that was the best time to tell her husband.
That’s right. I have a husband.
The word didn’t used to taunt her as much as it did now, with another kind of happiness in her hands. Sulim knew, though, that the day would come when Mira left. Her mother would finish whatever business had drawn her to Arrah, and she would want to return to Yahzen.
When she brought this up, Mira blew it off like she knew something Sulim didn’t.
“Ridiculous,” she said, while tea cooled on the table between them. They sat on the back porch while the kitchen bustled. “You make it sound like I’m going to up and abandon you.”