The Bodyguard: Part One
Lakshmi brushed her long black hair until it shone under the light of the lamp hanging in her room. She studied her reflection in the mirror she had been given the year before. It was one of the finest in the palace, with no bubbles to mar the surface. The mirror was exquisite for its size, and reflected her even complexion back at her.
As a palace concubine, the gifts she was given were as much a mark of her value to the emperor as the time she spent with him. And she spent more time with him than most.
Satisfied with her hair, she went to her wardrobe and selected the day’s clothes. Lakshmi selected dusky red pantaloons and a billowy, nearly see-through blouse of the same color over startling black. A black net with gold settings went over her hair, and a thin veil hid lips painted the same color as her clothes. Set as it was just above her nose, it revealed rich brown eyes accented with bold black lines from the kohl she had smudged there.
She was going to leave the palace, and it wouldn’t do to go unprepared. Lakshmi had learned at a young age that it was important to always present herself as she wanted to be perceived. Growing up in court had taught her how to do that, and it was second nature now, nearly instinctual.
Lakshmi gave herself one last look-over in the treasured mirror before leaving her room. There were guards stationed just a door down from hers—they waited outside of the emperor’s door—and she gave them a nod and a coy smile that they just might see under her diaphanous veil, but surely could see reflected in her liquid brown eyes.
The guards stood straighter, puffing out their chests, and Lakshmi almost laughed. They were young and new to guarding the emperor’s private quarters. Dealing with the concubines so closely was still a novel concept.
She dismissed the guards as unimportant as she made her way down the corridor, hardly noticing the ornate runner that covered the marble floor. The emperor made sure that his palace lacked for nothing, as his father and grandfather had before him. Its splendor was without contest in all the kingdoms.
Lakshmi had vague memories of living in a small house in a rural part of the empire with her mother and several others. It had had none of the grandeur of the palace, yet she remembered being happy there. But her mother had not been happy. Her mother had missed court life, had missed being waited on, and had opted to come out of hiding and return to her life here in hopes that she could regain her position and once again enjoy the riches she had known as a young woman.
Lakshmi wondered if her mother would have made a different choice had she known how it would ultimately turn out. Somehow, she didn’t think so.
It had been some time since Lakshmi had thought of her mother, but now was not the time for such reflection. She was going to the market to select new fabric for a special gown the emperor wanted her to have. Needlework was one of Lakshmi’s skills, and she insisted on selecting fabric herself rather than have maids select it for her.
Those at the palace supposed she preferred to choose her own cloth because she refused to work with anything she considered inferior, but in reality she was looking for an excuse to escape the palace, even if it meant entering the hot, dusty world of the surrounding city.
“Are you ready, Lakshmi?” a large guard at the side door asked. He was a good foot taller than Lakshmi, and almost as wide as the door he guarded. Lakshmi knew the scimitars he wore at his waist had gotten good use in the years before he began working in the palace, and had not been idly sheathed since.
“Yes.” Lakshmi liked Creb, but she gave him no more than a quick glance. It wouldn’t do for the emperor’s favored concubine to pay attention to mere guards.
“The market?” Creb was often assigned to accompany the concubines, especially Lakshmi, when they chose to leave the palace, and she knew it was something he found slightly amusing after years as a soldier in the Army of the Sun.
“Silk Street,” Lakshmi confirmed. She wished she could wander the market alone and unnoticed. There were areas that were not meant for the pampered and wealthy, and Lakshmi wanted to visit them. But they were not places for a palace concubine, and Creb would never allow her to stray.
As a palace concubine, the gifts she was given were as much a mark of her value to the emperor as the time she spent with him. And she spent more time with him than most.
Satisfied with her hair, she went to her wardrobe and selected the day’s clothes. Lakshmi selected dusky red pantaloons and a billowy, nearly see-through blouse of the same color over startling black. A black net with gold settings went over her hair, and a thin veil hid lips painted the same color as her clothes. Set as it was just above her nose, it revealed rich brown eyes accented with bold black lines from the kohl she had smudged there.
She was going to leave the palace, and it wouldn’t do to go unprepared. Lakshmi had learned at a young age that it was important to always present herself as she wanted to be perceived. Growing up in court had taught her how to do that, and it was second nature now, nearly instinctual.
Lakshmi gave herself one last look-over in the treasured mirror before leaving her room. There were guards stationed just a door down from hers—they waited outside of the emperor’s door—and she gave them a nod and a coy smile that they just might see under her diaphanous veil, but surely could see reflected in her liquid brown eyes.
The guards stood straighter, puffing out their chests, and Lakshmi almost laughed. They were young and new to guarding the emperor’s private quarters. Dealing with the concubines so closely was still a novel concept.
She dismissed the guards as unimportant as she made her way down the corridor, hardly noticing the ornate runner that covered the marble floor. The emperor made sure that his palace lacked for nothing, as his father and grandfather had before him. Its splendor was without contest in all the kingdoms.
Lakshmi had vague memories of living in a small house in a rural part of the empire with her mother and several others. It had had none of the grandeur of the palace, yet she remembered being happy there. But her mother had not been happy. Her mother had missed court life, had missed being waited on, and had opted to come out of hiding and return to her life here in hopes that she could regain her position and once again enjoy the riches she had known as a young woman.
Lakshmi wondered if her mother would have made a different choice had she known how it would ultimately turn out. Somehow, she didn’t think so.
It had been some time since Lakshmi had thought of her mother, but now was not the time for such reflection. She was going to the market to select new fabric for a special gown the emperor wanted her to have. Needlework was one of Lakshmi’s skills, and she insisted on selecting fabric herself rather than have maids select it for her.
Those at the palace supposed she preferred to choose her own cloth because she refused to work with anything she considered inferior, but in reality she was looking for an excuse to escape the palace, even if it meant entering the hot, dusty world of the surrounding city.
“Are you ready, Lakshmi?” a large guard at the side door asked. He was a good foot taller than Lakshmi, and almost as wide as the door he guarded. Lakshmi knew the scimitars he wore at his waist had gotten good use in the years before he began working in the palace, and had not been idly sheathed since.
“Yes.” Lakshmi liked Creb, but she gave him no more than a quick glance. It wouldn’t do for the emperor’s favored concubine to pay attention to mere guards.
“The market?” Creb was often assigned to accompany the concubines, especially Lakshmi, when they chose to leave the palace, and she knew it was something he found slightly amusing after years as a soldier in the Army of the Sun.
“Silk Street,” Lakshmi confirmed. She wished she could wander the market alone and unnoticed. There were areas that were not meant for the pampered and wealthy, and Lakshmi wanted to visit them. But they were not places for a palace concubine, and Creb would never allow her to stray.