Chapter 21
Sonya slept soundly and had sweet dreams of being in love and being loved in return.
When she woke up, she was alone. Azam was gone, a slight indent in the pillow beside her from where he had been. She was disappointed, though it was probably for the best. She recalled reaching for him at night, the warmth of his body beside hers, and her cheeks flamed.
Letting out a breath, Sonya got up and pushed aside the curtains, letting in the sunlight. She freshened up, and when she came out of the washroom, Azam was back, wearing the same trousers and shirt as yesterday.
‘Good morning,’ she said.
‘Good morning.’ He smiled. ‘I’ve asked for a breakfast tray to be brought up for you.’
‘Oh, thank you! Did you eat already?’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘I’ve been awake for a while.’ He looked a little sheepish then, and she wondered why. Her face warmed as she imagined him awake while she’d been asleep. She hoped she hadn’t drooled.
‘Did you sleep well?’ Azam asked.
‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied, and then she recalled Azam’s voice from last night. She couldn’t remember what the story was about. ‘I’m sorry, I fell asleep during your story. I was more tired than I realized. How did it end?’
Azam’s cheeks flushed. ‘Never mind that,’ he said, clearing his throat.
Before she could press, there was a knock on the door, and Azam quickly went to answer it.
‘Thank you,’ he said to whoever was at the door.
He closed the door with his foot and turned, revealing a breakfast tray: poached eggs, bread, strawberry jam, and a teapot.
Sitting barefoot at the vanity, Sonya dug into her breakfast. A carriage was due to arrive at eleven to take them to Ximena’s country estate.
‘Are you going to take those out?’ Azam asked, gesturing to the ribbons in her hair. They had held firm through the night, and she was excited to take them out to see how they looked.
‘Winnie said to do that last,’ she replied, taking a sip of tea. She was done with the rest of breakfast, and Azam left the tray outside the door. The room was getting warm, and Sonya walked over to the windows, pushing them open to let in some fresh air. Birdsong filled their room, and she smiled.
She turned back, watching as Azam took his suit out of his luggage, laying the clothes flat on the bed. It was nice being here with him. While she loved the cottage and the chaos there, she loved this, too—the quiet morning, the intimate room.
‘Do you think the ironing has held firm?’ Azam asked, holding up the suit. It was an old suit of his father’s that he had tailored.
‘It looks good to me,’ she replied. She went over to her luggage and pulled out her dress, which had held too. She went behind the screen and changed into it.
Before taking her hair out, she slipped on her shoes to run down for some water while Azam was still in the washroom, changing. Luckily, the inn was relatively quiet, so nobody saw her looking ridiculous.
Ream was at the counter with teen girls, who she introduced as her daughters.
‘Morning, Ream. Please can I have some water?’ Sonya asked.
‘Of course,’ Ream replied, grabbing a pitcher and glass. ‘Are you getting ready for the wedding?’
‘Yes,’ Sonya replied. The girls overheard and gasped.
‘You’re going to Lady Ximena’s wedding?’ the older one who’d introduced herself as Basma asked. Sonya nodded. The pair of sisters squealed, excited.
‘It’s going to be so grand!’ the younger daughter, Arwa, said. ‘Are you going to get ready soon?’
‘I’m nearly ready,’ Sonya replied. ‘I just need to take my hair out.’
The sisters exchanged a horrified glance. ‘This won’t do!’ Basma said.
‘Mum, tell her!’ Arwa agreed.
Sonya looked down at her dress, feeling self-conscious. She knew she wasn’t as fancy as she used to be as a princess, but she couldn’t draw too much attention to herself. ‘It’s the only dress I brought!’
The girls came over, one each at Sonya’s side. ‘Don’t worry,’ Basma said. ‘We just need to style you a bit better. Come on!’
They whisked her away to their room, sitting her down on a chair. Then, they got to work, and Sonya let them do their worst.
They had some color for her lips and cheeks, and even some kohl to line her eyes. When they finished with that, they took the ribbons out of her hair.
‘The curls are perfect!’ Arwa squealed.
‘We should pull it back,’ the older one suggested.
‘No,’ Sonya said, reaching for her hair. ‘I prefer it down.’
It was easier to hide her face that way, if she needed to.
Basma chewed on her bottom lip. ‘Well, we can at least add some oil. It’ll help the curls stay shiny and keep them from tangling.’
She rubbed coconut oil in her hands, then ran her hands through Sonya’s hair.
‘Do you have gloves?’ Basma asked.
‘Tell me you have gloves,’ Arwa pleaded.
‘Erm …’
The girls sighed, exasperated. ‘But your hands!’ It was true that Sonya’s hands had seen better days.
‘We could use a nourishment mask?’ Arwa suggested.
‘A what?’
But the girls were on a mission. ‘That’s a great idea!’ They returned with a small pot of delicious-smelling cream and lathered it onto Sonya’s hands. It was thick and squidgy, and sat on top of her hands like another layer.
‘Is it … meant to be like this?’ Sonya asked. She couldn’t even separate her fingers.
‘You have to leave it on for ten minutes and then wash it off,’ Basma explained. ‘It’ll leave your hands perfectly smooth and soft.’
Sonya lifted her hands to her nose, inhaling the scent of lavender and hyssop. ‘Splendid,’ she said. ‘Am I ready yet?’ Her gaze strayed to the clock. It was nearly time to go!
‘Yes, yes, you’re ready!’
Sonya stood, and they ushered her toward a standing mirror, letting her see the final effect.
‘Oh!’ Sonya smiled. She did look very pretty. The curls fell perfectly and the make-up enhanced her sharp facial features. ‘Thank you, girls. How ever can I repay you?’
‘Promise you’ll tell us all about the wedding tonight?’ the older sister asked. ‘We want to hear every single detail!’
‘Yes, of course.’ Sonya couldn’t help but smile, their excitement was contagious. ‘Now, I really must go!’
She headed for the door, then realized her dilemma. The girls giggled, opening the door for her. They helped her upstairs, where they knocked on her door.
When Azam opened the door, he went still, his jaw slack. His eyes were wide as he took her in. Sonya’s heart skipped a beat at the expression on his face.
The girls giggled, pushing her in.
‘Sonya, you look …’ He trailed off, at a loss for words. ‘Beautiful is too small a word.’
He touched a finger to her hair, as if he couldn’t help himself.
‘It doesn’t look silly?’ she asked.
‘No, not at all.’ He swallowed, taking back his hand. He shook his head, as if trying to clear it. ‘If you’re ready, we should head down.’ He glanced at the clock, which was about to strike eleven, the time their carriage was meant to pick them up.
‘Yes, I just need to—’ She kicked off her shoes and reached for her stockings, only to remember the cream on her hands.
Azam noticed as well, furrowing his brow. ‘What on earth is on your hands?’ he asked.
‘It’s cream,’ she replied. ‘The girls insisted—they said it would make my hands heavenly soft.’
‘Is it supposed to be like that?’ he asked, coming over and looking at the thick mixture.
‘Apparently,’ she replied. ‘I still have a few minutes before I’m supposed to wash it off.’ She made an exasperated sound. ‘Can you, please?’ she asked without thinking, gesturing to the stockings.
She was used to being dressed by maids, so she hadn’t thought anything of asking for a second pair of hands—but she had never been dressed by a man before. She went still.
Azam’s cheeks flushed but he didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Sit down.’
She took a seat, and he knelt down in front of her. The sight of him sent a dangerous thrill through her. Carefully, he lifted one of her feet, and she held it in place as he gathered the material of the stockings and slipped it onto her foot.
He pulled the stockings on slowly, his hand gliding over the smooth skin of her ankle and calf, up over her knee. He didn’t lift her dress and she watched as his hands disappeared under the fabric.
Heat welled across her skin everywhere he touched her as he settled the fabric above her knee, then brought his hands down to put her foot into her shoe, lacing it. Then, he moved onto her next foot, to do the same.
He was moving slowly, savoring it—or was she imagining that? Or had time slowed? Either way, she was at once glad and tormented.
She wondered what would happen if his hands went higher. She ached for it in a way that made her blood rush dangerously fast. She caught her breath, feeling dizzy as he settled the fabric above her knee, hands gentle yet firm.
He brought his hand down, his fingers skimming over her calf, down to her foot.
He lifted her ankle with one hand, using the other to hold her shoe as he inserted her foot in.
He laced up the shoe. When he had finished, he settled one hand on either of her ankles, as if he wasn’t ready to let go yet.
It wasn’t enough. Desire burned through her, scorching.
He was still on his knees in front of her, but his gaze had been trained on her feet, her calves. Now, he brought them up to her face, and she stared into the dark depths, her own eyes wide and unblinking. Her pulse quickened.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, his lips parting. With some difficulty he dragged his eyes up to hers, and she heard the sharp inhale of his breath. There was misery on his face.
Tension pulled her muscles tight. She whispered his name, and he closed his eyes. A small crease appeared between his brows. He was trembling, face scrunched as though he was in pain.
Her chest ached. She wanted to reach a hand out and touch his face, then remembered the ridiculous cream on her hands that stopped her from doing so.
They were both frozen in place until the clock dinged.
He opened his eyes. They were dark pools.