She raised her head and looked her reflection in the eye. And now you’ve contributed to the content of a legislative proposal, so what do you think of that?
A strange light crept over her face from beneath, turning its features unfamiliar. Selemei glanced down; a wysp had entered the room, and now turned circles beside her knee. She smiled at it.
The wysp understood. But she was going to do this anyway.
She raised both hands over her head, allowing Grivi to slip the sleeves of her silk robe over them. Then she closed the robe and took his hand to walk out to the bedroom where Xeref was waiting.
Xeref pushed up on one elbow at the sight of her. His worry-wrinkles were deeper than usual—he looked even more concerned than he had yesterday, if that was possible. She allowed Grivi to seat her on the edge of the bed; once Grivi vanished under his curtain, she took a deep breath.
“I’m all right, Xeref,” she said. And told her body silently, you are all right; show him. She pulled her legs up on the bed and beckoned. Xeref moved close to her side, and put his arm around her shoulders. His warmth, his stability, his soft silver hair faintly scented with perfume… simultaneous waves of nostalgia and longing crashed together inside her, brimming in her eyes and stealing her breath. She leaned into him.
“I’ve missed you so,” Xeref said.
All she could manage was a nod.
“It was harder to wait this time.”
Hardest to wait when that wait might never end. She nodded into the crook of his neck and shoulder. She could feel his soft-furred, warm skin against her side, against her breast. She reached for his arm and stroked it from elbow to fingers, found the outer edge of his hand and squeezed it as hard as she could.
“Xeref, I didn’t mean to push you away. I mean—I didn’t want you gone, I just was so scared to—”
The words brought back the reality of what they were attempting. She jerked back and found him staring at her in dismay. So he’d arrived at the very same thought. She blew out a breath between her lips. Carefully, carefully.
“We’re not doing this for politics. I—I’m not doing this for politics.” The words sounded false.
Xeref seemed to crumple in on himself. “Nobody could possibly agree to this,” he muttered. “Why did I ever make you—?”
“You didn’t make me; I convinced you. And Ustin helped me.”
He glanced toward the service curtain on his side of the bed, and heaved a sigh.
“Please don’t blame her,” Selemei said.
Xeref shook his head. “I don’t, really. She does her job well. Too well, some might say.”
“There’s no such thing as an Imbati who serves too well.” Selemei shrugged. “This is the only possible solution to our problem. And for her, this isn’t political; it’s normal.”
“We aren’t like them,” Xeref said sadly. “Fevers that kill Grobal scarcely touch them. Who’s to say you haven’t done something terrible with this medicine, and will never conceive a child again?”
“But I don’t want to conceive a child again.”
“Ha!” The laugh burst from him all at once, like a bark.
Her face burned. “Xeref, I thought we agreed!”
“No, Sirin and Eyn, I’m so sorry. We do; of course we do. It’s just, hearing you say it…” He rubbed his face with both hands. “I wish there were a way for this to be normal for us.”
“Passing the law would make it normal. Except we can’t pass the law until we try this. It’s normal for Lowers…” A thought struck her suddenly. “What if we were Lowers?”
“You’re not serious.”
Impetuously, she tossed her bathrobe back from her shoulders. “We’re both naked. Who’s to say we haven’t just set our marks aside? We could be Arissen—Residence guards, who’ve shed their castemark color.”
He raised his eyebrows skeptically. “I can’t imagine anything less romantic.”
“Not guards, then. What if we were Kartunnen? I’m a dancer.” She shimmied a little and ran her hands down the curve of her breasts and belly. “And you’re a…”
“Hm-mm.” That sound was still skeptical, but there was something of a chuckle hidden in it, too. “No; I can’t.”
She huffed at him. “Oh, come on. You’re… you’re my accompanist. And you play drums, with your feet!” She leaned over and shook one of his feet through the quilted silk. “And you play pipes of course, because you have such—” she found his hand “—marvelous—” she twined it in hers “—fingers.”
He gave her a real chuckle this time, one that awoke heat in her stomach. “You’re so beautiful. My Selemei.”
She placed three fingers over his mouth. “I can’t imagine who you’re talking about.”
“Someone…” He took a deep breath. “Uh, someone in a song.”
“That’s right, because we can sing, too.”
“And we paint ourselves every morning. Like this.” He licked one finger, and ran it over her lower lip.
Selemei pounced and caught the finger in her mouth. It didn’t stay long; Xeref’s mouth replaced it. Whenever her conflicting fears tried to rise up, she just kissed harder, and clutched him more tightly against her. Her leg twinged once, when he knelt between her knees, but she squirmed into a better position, and once he entered her she forgot everything but their ecstatic unity.
Xeref shifted beside her afterward, his panting gradually giving way to gentler breaths. Then he laughed. “Well. I know how to convince the cabinet to add medicine to our law.”
Selemei let out a sigh, and the weight in her mind floated away. “Sirin and Eyn,” she swore. “Part of me wants to do that ten times before morning. The other part of me is—a little tired.”
“Tired, my love? I’m sure if I can muster a bit more energy at my age, you can, too.” He stroked her face, her neck. His hand settled around her left breast. She stretched beneath his touch.
“Mm,” she said. “I didn’t say I couldn’t.” It troubled her, though, to be reminded of his sixty years. “Are we so old, Xeref?”
“I suppose we are. Does it matter?”
“I don’t know. I felt old, thinking of what it meant to retire. Thinking it would be the end. But I still wanted to.”
“Of course you did.”
“But now—maybe it doesn’t have to be.” She turned her head to look into his eyes. “If you can convince them, Xeref, it doesn’t have to be.”
“Do you know what else doesn’t have to end?” Xeref asked. His smile made her catch her breath.
Selemei breathed against his lips. “Tonight.”
“Let our law pass today,” Selemei murmured. “Sirin bring us luck to let it pass. Please, let it pass.” Her Grivi was in the midst of fastening the buttons at the back of her gown—she’d picked feldspar-gray today, to inspire herself with the steadiness of stone. Feeling nervous wouldn’t help. Only the cabinet representatives of the Great Families were allowed into the Cabinet room for the vote, but she was determined to go, even just to wait outside for the result.
“There you go, Mistress,” Grivi said.
“Thank you, Grivi.” She took his hand and they walked out across the private drawing room. Maybe this once, Xeref would let her walk there with him. Grivi pushed open the bronze double doors into the sitting room.
The sitting room was full of strange Imbati, all dressed in black, all marked with the crescent-cross tattoo of the Household. The vestibule curtain and the front door both stood open wide. Selemei shook her head, blinking.