Kismet's Kiss: A Fantasy Romance (Alaia Chronicles) by Cate Rowan Read Free Book Online

cold eyes of his didn’t miss much.
    Without responding, he let his gaze roll past her as if she were beneath his notice. The rest of him followed, striding by her like she was flotsam in his wake.
    She turned, agape at his arrogance. Was he just going to leave her standing here?
    But instead of stalking off, or calling his guards to throw her out, he picked up her travel sack of herbs and gently swung it over his own royal shoulder. “Come, Varene na Seryn. I will take you to your patients.”
    The glance he cast her was measured and sure. Then, without looking back, he stepped through an arched doorway along a side wall.
    Varene stared after him, blood hammering in her temples. Kuramos’s quicksilver shift of mood, his hospitable, almost deferential gesture, left her bewildered. The cloak of indignation she’d clung to since her arrival now sagged somewhere at her feet.
    Next slumped her certainty. In the palace of the Great Sultan of Kad, perhaps all was not as it appeared.
    Her pulse stumbled like a drunken drummer as she followed Kuramos out of the glittering throne room.

 
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
    V arene entered a hall lined with tapestries of opalescent cities, vast grasslands and desert sand—the landscapes of Kad. The sultan of those exotic places strode ahead of her, tall and imposing, with a masculine grace that snared her attention.
    Although Kuramos carried her sack of remedies—chivalrously, she supposed—he also marched in front as if she were a peon who mustn’t share his air. Nor did he turn to make sure she followed. His confidence raised a growl that hovered at the back of her throat.
    She wasn’t quite sure why it felt so good to be angry. It just did. And that made her think. As their footsteps echoed down the hall, she considered the temper she’d displayed to him and his court.
    Sticks and stars, where had her sense gone? She believed in respect for authority, and always had. She’d even helped foster Alvarr’s respect for others—she’d been a mentor to the princeling since he was orphaned at age twelve. But Teganne was less formal, and respect wasn’t so rigidly displayed.
    Even so, she shouldn’t have antagonized a sultan. Even if he did need her and her skills more than she needed him…
    Ah, take care. She wasn’t in Kad on her own terms, no matter how much she wished it. And on this mission she was also a representative of Teganne, of her prince and princess, and of her very profession. She needed to act in accordance, no matter how much this place and its vexatious inhabitants shoved her off-balance.
    As the sultan passed the two guards at the end of the hall, they slammed the butts of their spears on the polished floor. When she crossed their vision seconds later, they stood stone-still, as if she were invisible. Hmmph . Though it was better to feel unnoticed than have those spears waving in her face again.
    They emerged from the echoing silence into an enormous courtyard rioting with flowers and palm trees. As she and the sultan walked a wide path, the blooms' scents burst over her. Leaves rustled all around them; geckos scurried, bees whirred, and birds called jaunty alarms. Water splashed from fountains into tiny, perfect ponds where rainbow fish swished and dove among the lilies. The overpowering heat of the afternoon suddenly made her long to dive among them, too, and live a simpler existence.
    Along the white walls edging the courtyard, graceful doorways beckoned her toward other halls and rooms. Simple half-oval arches vied with others shaped like elaborate keyholes. Through the latter she caught glimpses of cushions and rugs, draped silks and gauzes, and wondered if they were the quarters of Kuramos’s wives, or perhaps even his concubines.
    Paces ahead, the sultan passed under one of the half-ovals into a hall, shifting abruptly from light into shade. Though Varene’s legs were long, she had to stretch to keep up. He might be a royal headache, but he was the only person