A prince he might be, but he had buttocks like any other person, a part of the body Elen always found delightfully absurd. In fairness, from this angle, she had to admit the prince’s muscular legs looked like those of a person who could indeed have conquered the ten peaks, whatever they were, and been proclaimed eloquently graceful. Maybe he had danced up and down the ten peaks with the ease of wind. Equally muscular arms and sculpted shoulders suggested he was an adept soldier too. Weren’t princes required to be adept soldiers, or at least trained as if they were? Except for the hair on his head, his body had been shaved smooth, as they were rumored to do in the palace.

The concubines each took an arm and escorted him down the steps. There he stood while they washed, scraped, and brushed him from top to toe in a remarkably intimate and surprisingly thorough manner, leaving not a scrap of him untouched. The intendant and his companions had all turned their gazes to the floor, but Elen watched with amazement. Why not? The world was harsh. Beauty should be appreciated when it appeared! A gorgeous sunset. A perfectly baked loaf of bread. A soaring hawk. A warm-hearted laugh. An exquisite body. Sadly, the prince did not get an erection; his mind seemed to be on other things than the attendants’ hands and the soap and the washing.

Next to her, the theurgist made a tiny noise, a soft clearing of the throat barely enough to get Elen’s attention. She glanced that way, and the old woman met her gaze and winked. Winked!

A spark of shared amusement leaped between them, a deep instinct signaling that one stranger has found another who is like them in temperament or guile or outlook, an intangible essence they both grasp and recognize in a heartbeat. The theurgist had been ogling him too, and there was no one to notice because all of the prince’s attendants were focused on him as the centerpiece of their lives. The theurgist, Elen, the intendant, and his valet were as taken for granted as the walls.

The wardens had remained outside, on guard. No refreshing bath for them! Imperial menials scurried to and from the courtyard bringing hot and cold water for rinsing while others brushed clean the prince’s trousers and jacket. The whole procedure was an intricate dance accomplished in a third of an hour. Astounding! Elen couldn’t wait to describe the entire scene to Kem, who would laugh himself sick. Not to Joef, though. That boy was a gossip, and he’d tell his aunt, and that august woman would tell just one friend and then it would be all over the Halt and the consequences of Elen’s insufficiently respectful behavior and insolent commentary would crash onto the intendant.