Chapter 3The Aralel and the governor’s mistress were in the outer chamber, and they spoke as if they were alone and unobserved, unaware that Myril was listening. She wondered whether they would have changed anything they said if they’d known that she heard every word. She closed her eyes and pictured the scene within while the young priestess fidgeted, looking bored.
The Aralel was wearing some of her older robes. They made a soft, muffled sound when they moved. Myril heard her sit down, sigh, and brush back a loose strand of hair.
“Won’t you send for tea?” Tiagasa asked the Aralel. Her voice was as crisp as the cloth of gold in her scarf, and bright as the crinkle of her hair dressings.
“I think we’d better have wine for this,” the Aralel said. “It is yours to pour.”
Tiagasa sniffed a
