Reluctant Concubine Read Online Free PDF Page B

“Straight from the Lord’s bed, her virgin’s blood still flowing. It is good luck for the men.”

CHAPTER THREE
    (Pleasure Hall)
     
     
    That night, I had a dream—the last one for a long time to come.
    In my dream, I searched the woods behind our house for fresh herbs when a great mist descended on the mountain. I crossed the foothills and reached the mountain with the speed of a dream. At first, I could not see anything. My heart flapped inside my chest like a caged bird. Then I heard a faint voice, my mother’s, calling me up the mountain and deeper into the mist.
    As I walked, the mist began to swirl around me. I recognized the good spirits of the Shahala, and I knew they had come down from the sky, not to harm but to protect me, to lead me to my mother. I ran forward as fast as I could, all the way to the top, and when I reached the highest snow-covered peak, the mist disappeared.
    I looked down the mountain to search for my mother and saw a great multitude below: the Shahala, the Kadar, and all the people of all the lands from as far as the Kingdom of Orh. And they lifted their eyes to me.
    I woke up in tears, wishing I had caught even a single glimpse of my mother instead of all the nations, but I did not have time to ponder the dream long, as the next moment, the door flew open and Kumra walked into our room.
    I received one more day to heal, a day of anger and sorrow that I spent alone, missing Onra’s company. The warriors prepared for war outside. I could not see them but heard them through the window holes.
    The women cried their farewell as Tahar left with the best of his men for the harbor. They would sail to Wotwor, a nearby kingdom ravaged by rebellion. Their king had paid for Tahar’s services.
    The next morning, my first morning as a servant, I jumped up with the rest of the girls and listened to Kumra’s orders as she made her way to me, her gown of golden silk trailing on the floor behind her. She stopped in the empty spot where Onra’s pallet had been before—one of the girls had folded it and leaned it against the far wall after the feast. Kumra grabbed my chin with strong fingers and lifted my head to examine my wounds.
    Her scent, the strong essence of the lorba flower, twisted my nose. She clicked her tongue, I hoped not in displeasure.
    “What is your name?”
    “Tera.”
    She let go of my chin and pointed to the two girls standing next to me. “You will take Tera and clean behind Warrior Hall today.”
    When they deepened their bows, so did I.
    As Kumra moved on, I followed outside after the girls, across the gravel courtyard surrounded by stone buildings. I wrapped my arms around myself against the cold, but the wind bit into my skin. I hurried, the sharp gravel cutting my bare feet.
    I shivered at the sight of all the stone around me, large, evenly cut boulders, hundreds and hundreds of them piled on top of each other to form the buildings’ unnatural shapes. These stones had not been taken out of the fields by men who worked the land—my heart trembled at the thought—they were cut from the mountains.  
    I could see in my mind those scarred mountains and their angry spirits demanding retribution for their damaged sanctuaries.
    Did the Kadar respect nothing? Did nothing stand beyond being used for gain? Did they not know that by chipping away the mountains, they were bleeding the strength from their own lives?
    I swallowed my grief and made sure to note the square buildings, the high wall that protected them on what I knew was the street side to town, the multitude of small huts, the open fields behind the Servant House at the end of which, Onra had said, ran the creek.
    The land stretched like flatbread toward the horizon, and although I could not see it, I could smell the ocean and heard the cry of its birds in the air. Dahru was a vast island, too treacherous to cross on foot. If I were to return home someday, I would have to go over the water again.
    I shivered, my worn