not want to understand her. How could Zahra have humiliated her so?
When they settled for their afternoon nap, Angeline was still seething. She hated being a slave. She hated the indignity of waiting on such people. She hated Zahra. She lay on her couch, fuming, listening to Zahra’s deep, even breaths. Aza lay close to her mother, snuffling slightly in her sleep.
And then it occurred to her. Zahra would sleep now for at least an hour. Why not slip out? She had no thought of escape, but she could find her way back to that courtyard. She could at least see Stephen. She half rose, watching Zahra and Aza, ready to quickly lie back down if either one of them showed any sign of awakening. She got to her feet and stood motionless for a moment. She could still use the excuse that she had to use the pot behind the screen to relieve herself if Zahra opened her eyes and saw her.
She took a few cautious steps toward the door, then, growing more bold, she reached for the latch and opened it as quietly as she could. In the next moment she had slid out and carefully pulled the door shut behind her.
The house was silent, drowsy with heat. She could not hear a sound anywhere. Perfect. She took a second to rehearse the way in her mind, then set out. It took only moments for her to reach the balcony. She rushed to the railing andlooked over, then suppressed an exclamation of disappointment. The courtyard was empty.
Of course. How could she have been so witless? No doubt Stephen and the gardener were also granted a rest during this hottest time of day. She stood for a moment longer, unwilling to give up. If only Stephen would come. If only he would somehow or other decide to work anyway. And then, as she watched, she saw a movement in the corner of the garden. Was it Stephen? Hope stirred within her and she leaned far forward, only to meet the eyes of the slave girl, Anka, who was gathering flowers, probably for one of the concubines.
They stared at each other, startled, then Anka ran back into an opening that led off the courtyard. For a moment Angeline stood frozen, too surprised to move, then a pang of fear knifed through her. Had Anka gone to inform on her? She had to get back to Zahra! She turned and ran.
In her haste she went down the wrong corridor. For a moment she panicked, then retraced her steps and found her way again, but she had lost precious time. When she reached Zahra’s room, the door stood ajar. She could hear Samah’s voice, loud and accusing. Anka must have run straight to her. Angeline almost fled, but that would only make matters worse. She tightened her hands into fists to hide theirshaking, held her head as high as she could, and entered.
Samah exploded with anger when she saw her. Zahra’s eyes blazed. Aza crouched on the bed behind her mother, eyes wide with anxiety. Zahra dismissed Samah with one curt word. Samah brushed past Angeline, glaring at her and muttering. Angeline braced herself. Zahra looked furious. She strode past Angeline, shut the door, locked it, then dropped the key onto the table where she kept her perfumes and cosmetics. She pointed to Angeline’s couch and snapped out an order. It was obvious what she meant. Angeline walked over to the couch with as much dignity as she could muster but, as she sank down onto it a hard, cold ball seemed to grow and expand in her chest until she could hardly breathe. She would be given no further chance to leave this room unsupervised, that was certain. What other punishments might be in store for her?
Aza bounced off the bed and began to run toward her. Zahra caught her and pulled her back down onto the pillows. She spoke sharply to her—more sharply than Angeline had ever heard her address her daughter. Chastened, Aza curled back up, finger in her mouth. Zahra lay down beside her and, without another word, drew the child close to her and closed her eyes toresume her sleep. Angeline felt as if she had been slapped. She sat, staring at them. From
When they settled for their afternoon nap, Angeline was still seething. She hated being a slave. She hated the indignity of waiting on such people. She hated Zahra. She lay on her couch, fuming, listening to Zahra’s deep, even breaths. Aza lay close to her mother, snuffling slightly in her sleep.
And then it occurred to her. Zahra would sleep now for at least an hour. Why not slip out? She had no thought of escape, but she could find her way back to that courtyard. She could at least see Stephen. She half rose, watching Zahra and Aza, ready to quickly lie back down if either one of them showed any sign of awakening. She got to her feet and stood motionless for a moment. She could still use the excuse that she had to use the pot behind the screen to relieve herself if Zahra opened her eyes and saw her.
She took a few cautious steps toward the door, then, growing more bold, she reached for the latch and opened it as quietly as she could. In the next moment she had slid out and carefully pulled the door shut behind her.
The house was silent, drowsy with heat. She could not hear a sound anywhere. Perfect. She took a second to rehearse the way in her mind, then set out. It took only moments for her to reach the balcony. She rushed to the railing andlooked over, then suppressed an exclamation of disappointment. The courtyard was empty.
Of course. How could she have been so witless? No doubt Stephen and the gardener were also granted a rest during this hottest time of day. She stood for a moment longer, unwilling to give up. If only Stephen would come. If only he would somehow or other decide to work anyway. And then, as she watched, she saw a movement in the corner of the garden. Was it Stephen? Hope stirred within her and she leaned far forward, only to meet the eyes of the slave girl, Anka, who was gathering flowers, probably for one of the concubines.
They stared at each other, startled, then Anka ran back into an opening that led off the courtyard. For a moment Angeline stood frozen, too surprised to move, then a pang of fear knifed through her. Had Anka gone to inform on her? She had to get back to Zahra! She turned and ran.
In her haste she went down the wrong corridor. For a moment she panicked, then retraced her steps and found her way again, but she had lost precious time. When she reached Zahra’s room, the door stood ajar. She could hear Samah’s voice, loud and accusing. Anka must have run straight to her. Angeline almost fled, but that would only make matters worse. She tightened her hands into fists to hide theirshaking, held her head as high as she could, and entered.
Samah exploded with anger when she saw her. Zahra’s eyes blazed. Aza crouched on the bed behind her mother, eyes wide with anxiety. Zahra dismissed Samah with one curt word. Samah brushed past Angeline, glaring at her and muttering. Angeline braced herself. Zahra looked furious. She strode past Angeline, shut the door, locked it, then dropped the key onto the table where she kept her perfumes and cosmetics. She pointed to Angeline’s couch and snapped out an order. It was obvious what she meant. Angeline walked over to the couch with as much dignity as she could muster but, as she sank down onto it a hard, cold ball seemed to grow and expand in her chest until she could hardly breathe. She would be given no further chance to leave this room unsupervised, that was certain. What other punishments might be in store for her?
Aza bounced off the bed and began to run toward her. Zahra caught her and pulled her back down onto the pillows. She spoke sharply to her—more sharply than Angeline had ever heard her address her daughter. Chastened, Aza curled back up, finger in her mouth. Zahra lay down beside her and, without another word, drew the child close to her and closed her eyes toresume her sleep. Angeline felt as if she had been slapped. She sat, staring at them. From
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