“The army? Coming back?” Emerahl’s heart skipped as the full meaning of Rozea’s words came to her. The army was returning from the pass. For Rozea this was an opportunity to put her wares on display that was too good to miss. For Emerahl, being put into the sight of hundreds of priests could be disastrous.

“Yes,” Rozea said. “They’re coming back down the road. I don’t know why. We’ll find out when they get here, which will be in a matter of moments. Tidy yourself up. I’m going to see to the other girls. I’ll send a servant back to you.”

Emerahl took the bowl and towel. As Rozea left she began to wash her face. I have to find a way to avoid this—and quickly. She looked down at the box and pushed off the lid with a toe. If she was less than presentable, Rozea might let her remain unseen. The reason would have to be convincing, but then Emerahl had seen enough sick people in her long life to know how to pretend to be unwell, and healing powers could be used for other purposes.

Picking up the water bowl, she closed her eyes and began to concentrate on her stomach.

When the door flap opened again, Emerahl was lying across the seat, this time with her head by the door. As bright light streamed in, she cringed away and buried her head in her arms. The servant stared at her, then at the contents of the bowl, and hurried away. A moment later Rozea appeared.

“What’s this?” she asked, her voice strained.

Emerahl shifted her head slightly so Rozea could see the paint-darkened skin under her eyes. “I tried,” she said weakly. “I thought I could pretend…I’m sorry.”

Rozea called back the servant and had the girl take the bowl away. She climbed inside the tarn.

“What’s…what’s wrong with you?”

Emerahl swallowed and rubbed her stomach. “Bad food, I think. When I sat up before…Urgh. I feel sick.”

“You look a sight.” Rozea scowled in frustration. “I can’t have you scaring customers off, now can I?” She drummed her fingers on her sleeve. “That’s fine. You’re my favorite, not to be seen by just any common soldier. Only by those who can afford to pay for a glimpse of rare beauty.”

Emerahl made a small noise of resignation. The madam smiled, then patted her on the shoulder. “Get some rest. These things don’t last long. I’m sure you’ll be well by tonight.”

When she had left, Emerahl raised her head and lifted the door flap a little. She could see nothing, but the sound of marching was louder now. The faint giggle of the other whores close by made her smile. This would be exciting for them. Then a male voice—one of the guards—called out, “Here they come!”