The Courtesy of Kings | ☑ Queenkiller, Kingmaker #2

38.2

❖ ❖ ❖
                                     

It was its colour that gave the White Asraam its name. It was a construction of wood the same shade as milled rice, broken only by powder-grey columns that had been built into the walls and the silver clay tiles that curved and dipped between every level.

Like the academy asraam, it was difficult to tell how many levels exactly there were to the boarding house—so uneven and haphazard it looked from the outside, with its terraced roofs and balconies peeking out under extended eaves. The greatest difference was that it was much smaller than the academy asraam. It was not even a quarter its size, with its highest level only just rising above the trees.

Isla came upon it from the trees. She had circled around her grandmother's compound, squeezed through a weak break in the hedge maze and cut through the groves, guided only by that peep of silver clay tiles, until finally the trees thinned into the shrubs and stone pathways of the White Asraam's private gardens.

The bell tower was chiming for evening eight-bells when she crossed the ungated yard. Light flickered behind thin curtains; the higher levels still mostly dark but for a few windows here and there, but the ground floor was lit from head to tail. Even with the panel blinds shut, Isla could still make out the potted greeneries decorating the wooden porch that wrapped around the building.

She'd be having her evening meals with the rest of the early-bloomers. Perhaps she should wait, but any longer and it would be close to Rinju's bed time.

Isla faltered before the stepping stone that led up onto the porch. Stone lanterns sent her shadow dancing in all directions. Why was she bothering Rinju, anyway? She should be letting the girl enjoy her time with her friends, and the further away she was from Isla, the better. If all her plans came crashing down, they would be looking at every horse and stablehand that so much as breathed in Isla's direction.

The sound of scraping wood stopped her before she could turn back.

A woman peered out at her from the now open door, squinting in the darkness as light spilled around her. She was young still, with a long nose and thin eyebrows, her hair hidden beneath a round cap that hugged the top of her head. 'I thought I saw movement. What is a dhayang doing here at this time?'

'I've just come to check in on a friend.'

Her face softened. 'Well then, what are you still doing out there? Leave your slippers by the stone and come in. We have enough food to share. My name is Mistress Sasya. I'm their dance and song instructor.'

'Pardon me for the late intrusion, Mistress. I couldn't leave my duties earlier.' Isla stepped out of her shoes. The porch was cold and dusty, but Mistress Sasya pulled a pair of indoor slippers from the corridor for her to borrow. 'My name's Lilja. I came to Kathedra a long time ago with Rinju, so I like to see how she's doing now and then.'

'That's very kind of you. Not many of our girls have anyone checking in on them at all. Though for future reference, we prefer our guests to come knocking from the main entrance, not come sneaking from our side exit like a stray-snatcher.'

Isla grimaced at the comparison, but the woman had a point. She slipped into the indoor shoes—bright orange and feather-soft—and followed her inside.

The noise greeted them all at once. It came from the other side of the paper-thin walls that shaped the corridor: chatter, laughter, the occasional shout and gleeful scream, and a woman clapping above them all to quiet. There was no doorway or entry, but Mistress Sasya led her down the hallway and around the wall where it simply opened up to one side into a long room lined with rows of tables upon rush mats.