her hands up when my eyes go wide with fear. “But he will not be in the cottage while you bathe!” She walks from the room, clucking her tongue.
I finish my tea, letting it sear my throat and wake me up, and then I rise from my bed. When I enter the main room of the cottage, I see that she has hung a cloth over the doorway. In front of the fire is a wooden tub. Anni gestures at me to remove my dress. “I can bathe by myself,” I say, praying she will not take offense.
“Of course you can, but you are a bride, and I am your mother, and today is my day to care for you.” She arches her rust-colored eyebrow. “Unless Itanyai have body parts the Noor do not, please believe I am aware of what is under your dress. No need to be shy.”
My cheeks are blazing. “But I . . .”
She reaches down and lifts my skirt, pulling my filthy, torn work dress over my head. I gape at her as she lifts my legs one at a time and yanks my boots off. I can smell myself suddenly, and my face feels as if it is on fire. I cross my arms over my chest and bite my lip as she pulls my undergarments off. She is so matter-of-fact that I feel stupid protesting. She guides me into the tub, and some of my embarrassment washes away as I sink into the hot water.
“Melik has checked in on you no less than three times since you fell asleep,” she says quietly as she picks up a thick bar of tan soap and rubs it over my shoulders while I pull my knees to my chest.
I lay my cheek on my knees and close my eyes as she soaps my back. My tired muscles thrill at the firm but gentle touch. “He has more serious things to worry about than me.”
“And he is worrying about them as we speak. He has sent riders to all the villages on the Line, asking for their strongest to come. He’s set up a warning system along the main road to Kegu, in case General Ahmet decides to punish Melik and the Dagchocuk men for their disobedience.”
My stomach tightens. “Do you think he will?”
She is quiet as she washes my arms, but then she says, “I do not know. He is a good man, but he has been hurt in so many ways. Melik’s defiance will not sit well with him.”
I stare at the fire. “Do you know General Ahmet?”
“He is from a village at the southern end of the Line. He was a friend of Melik’s father’s and a village elder, but chose not to go to Kegu with the other elders because he did not trust the Itanyai. It saved him, but when the war machines came through, it did not save his family.”
“He has very good reasons to mistrust the Itanyai government.”
“We all do,” she says, her hands running down my legs. My toes curl at the intimacy of it, but she is not treating my body as if it is any different from a dish she must clean. “But we cannot let those reasons blind us from seeing things and people as they are.”
“You believe what I have said about the war machines?” I ask.
Her deep blue eyes glint with the fire in the hearth. “I do not want to. I want to believe that I will never witness such horror again.” Her words are strained with memory. “But I trust my son, and he trusts you.”
“How can we be planning a . . . wedding . . . if everyone must prepare for an invasion?” It reminds me of what Dr. Yixa told me, about how Noor don’t plan for the future and live in the moment.
She lifts one of my feet from the water and begins to scrub it. “That is a very Itanyai thing to say, cuz.”
“Why?”
“Because it assumes that there will be a better time to celebrate than right now. When hardship is a constant companion, joy is a welcome guest. We do not assume that things will get easier. We assume now is the easiest and best and happiest time we will ever have.” She presses her thumbs into the soles of my feet, and I lean back and sigh, forgetting to be shy. “Are you frightened?”
“Of the war machines? Of course.” I’ve been closely acquainted with their