Page 88 of The Winner's Curse
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know. I imagine that, since the Valorian reinforcements will come through the mountain pass, he is analyzing its values and drawbacks as a battleground.”
Cheat gave her a gleeful smirk. “Does it bother you, being a traitor?”
“I don’t see how I am.”
“You just confirmed that the reinforcements will come through the pass. Thank you.”
“It’s hardly worth thanking me,” she said. “Almost every useful ship in the empire has been sent east, which means there is no other way into the city. Anyone with brains could figure that out, which is why Arin is in the mountains, and you are here.”
A flush began to build under Cheat’s skin. He said, “My feet are dusty.”
Kestrel had no idea how to respond to that.
“Wash them,” he said.
“What?”
He took off his boots, stretched out his legs, and leaned back against the bench.
Kestrel, who had been quite still, became stone.
“It’s Herrani custom for the lady of the house to wash the feet of special guests,” said Cheat.
“Even if such a custom existed, it died ten years ago. And I’m not the lady of the house.”
“No, you’re a slave. You’ll do as I command.”
Kestrel remembered Arin saying that she could sell herself in small ways. But had he meant this?
“Use the fountain,” Cheat said.
Anger spread through Kestrel, but she knew better than to show it. She sat at the edge of the fountain, dunked his feet in, and washed briskly, the way she had seen slaves work at the laundry. If she had been a slave, she might have been able to pretend that she was washing something else, but she had never washed anything other than herself, so there was no denying that she held skin and flesh and bone.
She hated it.
She lifted the feet out of the fountain and set them on the tiles.
Cheat’s eyes were half-lowered, the blacks of them very bright. “Dry them.”
Kestrel stood.
“You’re not leaving,” he said.
“I must fetch a towel.” She was grateful for the excuse to get away, to go anywhere, and not come back.
“Your skirt will do.”
It was harder, now, to keep her face from flickering with what she felt inside. She stooped, using the hem of her skirt, and wiped his feet.
“Now oil them.”
“I have no oil.”
“You’ll find some underneath a tile decorated with the god of hospitality.” Cheat pointed at the floor. “Press its edge. It will spring open.”
And there were the vials, covered with ten years’ worth of dust.
