The Other Side of the Sky - Amie Kaufman Page 0,70
screens set up just beyond it. Behind the screens …
I swallow. Her silhouette is unmistakable, every detail cast against the sheer fabric. An intricately carved chest sits at one end of the screen, draped with a thick, folded stack of fabric. Her staff leans against the wall beside it.
As she dries herself, the sheer fabric shows me her silhouette. I can almost imagine the warmth of her skin, steam from the bath rising off it.
“I-I-I’m sorry to interrupt,” I manage, my throat dry. “I didn’t realize this was a private room.”
“This is my ritual bathing chamber,” Nimh replies, seeming far less flustered than I am. “After the public portion of the feast’s rituals, I come here to cleanse and be cleansed by the temple waters.”
The rustle of fabric behind the screen is dizzying. My body feels almost as if it belongs to someone else, and I have to fight the urge to stare. She was graceful and lithe from the moment I met her, but somehow, here, away from prying eyes, she’s even more so.
For skyfall’s sake, North, get your shit together!
“And you did not interrupt,” Nimh goes on, making me realize that I’d been standing there in utter silence. “I was planning on sending for you when I was finished. How did you find me here?”
“The cat,” I rasp. That, at least, I can respond to safely. I look around for the beast, though now he’s made his mischief, there’s no sign of His Furriness anywhere. Figures.
Nimh laughs, the sound quiet against the revelry beyond the carved wall overlooking the party. “I should have known he would anticipate me. My robe is there, by the steps into the pool—would you mind handing it to me?”
The pool of crimson fabric is obvious when I turn. She must not have been in the water long, because when I pick up her robe, it’s still warm from her body. The cloth is fine and sheer, so delicate it’s hard to believe it wasn’t spun by machine. I can’t help but notice the way it slides across my palms, smoother than any soy-silk I’ve ever felt.
A tingle across the back of my neck makes me look up—and I meet Nimh’s eyes where she’s peeking around the edge of the screen.
“Sorry. Here.” I drape the swath of red cloth across her outstretched arm, careful not to touch her.
Her eyes linger on me a moment, lips parting as though she’s about to speak—but just as the silence threatens to draw out too long, she vanishes back behind the screen again. I start talking to distract myself from the silken whisper of fabric on skin.
“The ritual was beautiful,” I say, turning my back against the silhouette moving on the other side of the screen.
A thought, unbidden—You were beautiful.
“I’m glad I got to see it.”
“It is as ancient as the temple itself,” Nimh replies, voice briefly muffled as she pulls her robe back on. “I love the Feast of the Dying—I love all the rituals I perform. It is a heavy burden, to be the living divine, but performing the rituals … I feel connected to those who came before me. I am only the latest in a long line to bless these waters.”
The silhouette straightens and begins to move, giving me just enough warning to jerk my eyes away before Nimh emerges, clothed again. She crosses behind me to the more ornate door opposite the one I arrived by and calls for a servant. I instinctively step back out of sight as she murmurs a few words to the girl. Then the door closes, and we’re alone again.
Nimh turns back toward me with another of those little smiles, a curious, lopsided thing—different from the way she smiles upon her people. Though her eyelashes are still darkened with kohl and her lips are still dusted with gold, she hasn’t put the jewelry back on yet, and her hair falls loose around her shoulders.
“I asked for some food to be brought—I imagine you must be hungry.” Her eyebrows lift a little, turning the observation into a question.
“Did you read my mind?” I ask, looking away from a statue to study her now that she’s safely clothed. I’m only mostly joking. I’m less and less sure about what Nimh actually believes she can do.
“I am tempted to say yes, to see your face.” She flashes me another wry smile, then gestures at an intricately carved wooden screen along the far wall. “I can see the celebration taking place from