Teku's palace was built at the top of an escarpment, with the city below sprawling out across the plain. It was built from golden stone and faced in elaborate designs with white marble, and was reached by a wide white gravel road that wound up the hillside. The city boasted many plazas with elaborate fountains, and verdant gardens rich with fruit, and large, brightly coloured flowers. The narcotic scent of purple jasmine hung heavy in the evening air, and Sanna fantasised about a long hot bath scented with the oil of the flower as she rode up to the palace. Her slave rode behind her, his head down, though his eyes flickered this way and that as they went onwards.
The inside of the palace was even more ornate than its exterior. The floors were of pale honeywood and the walls were plastered white with elaborate borders painted in a myriad of colours. Sanna's home in Isken had been of cold stone, a necessity in the blazing heat of that country. Her rooms here had tall windows that began at the floor and ended at the ceiling, and were shuttered in the same pale wood of the floors. Heavy drapes served to block the ferocious winds that came whistling over the plains, though by day it was welcome. Her carpet was of ivory with a tracery of pale gold roses, and her couch was of sky-blue silk. Amidst all the opulence, her slave stood, head still bowed, as her travel chests were brought in, and then waited patiently for her orders regarding them.
"I want everything unpacked, pressed, hung, scented - everything," she said, her voice betraying her nervousness. "Make a thorough job of it."
He set to, working slowly, understanding her need to keep him by her side for as long as possible.
"He'll not call for you tonight," he said as he worked, "At least, not to his bed. That's not what he wants you for."
She walked over to him, as casually as possible. "Don't talk to me," she whispered as she passed him, with a glance at the walls. He nodded, realisation dawning on his face. She made a circuit of the room, pretending to examine and admire the delicate detailing in the murals.
"Here," said her slave quietly, standing by one of the panels. He held a long pin in his hand, one of her elaborate hat pins. It was tipped in blood. She swallowed hard.
"Thank you," she whispered. He shrugged.
"Now I can talk to you," he said.
Sanna looked over at her maid, who sat near the door as chaperone, and grinned. The maid grinned back, opened the door, and checked the corridor for lurkers. There were none, and Sanna and her slave retreated to the window balcony to talk.
"It will not be long before that spy's reported missing," she said.
"It will not," he agreed.
"Well, what do you propose to do about it ?"
He smiled, grimly.
"As I said, princess, I can do many things." He produced a small bag of powder from underneath his belt. "Black arum," he smiled. Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Black arum ? From my garden ?"
"The very same. It has certain qualities I thought would be useful."
"It's poisonous," she said. Her heart pounded erratically, though whether from fear or excitement, she didn't know.
"Yes," he replied, with a wicked glint in his eyes. She knew it would be useless to ask him whom he intended to poison, or how.
"You know too much about plants. Why haven't you poisoned me ?"
"I don't want to, princess."
She sank down into the vivid blue silk of the couch and leaned her chin in her hands. He hovered by the window, unsure of what to do with himself. She didn't invite him to sit, so he folded his hands in front of him and stood straight and rigid. His expression was stone, his eyes blank. The Prince entered, with two guards, and beckoned to Sanna.
"Come with me."
She looked alarmed, and rose, remembering to curtsey. Her slave and her maid followed but were quickly rebuffed.
"They stay here," said Teku brusquely, and grabbed her arm. He marched her down the corridor, and then down another one, and another, until she was thoroughly lost. The painted plaster and fine honeywood flooring gave way to cold bare stone and she guessed, from the lack of windows, that they were in the heart of the palace. Teku finally stopped, outside a heavy wooden door, and turned to her.
"Do you know what is in here ?" he asked. She shook her head. He smiled, a slow, cold smile, and opened the door. The last rays of the evening sun filtered in through a small window high up in the wall, barely lighting the room. She could see, however, clearly enough. There was nothing in the room but a stool, and a spinning wheel, and straw. Bales of it. Her heart faltered and she felt weak, a cold sweat breaking out on her brow. She struggled to breathe as he pushed her in and produced the key from his belt.
"This straw – all of it – must be spun into gold by morning," he said, "or you will die, for I will have no further use for you. Goodnight, my dear."
She sat alone in the poorly-lit room, the sun rapidly fading and long shadows flickering across the floor from the light of the torch he'd left her. She struggled to keep the rising hysteria at bay, but with little success, and almost shrieked out loud when the blackness enveloped her and her head hit the floor.