Malika

20 Book

There's a knock at the door and he leaves his balcony, walking back into the chamber. The fireplace is lit but aside that, only a few candles light the room. He grants permission to whoever is at the door to come in.

A maid walks in. Tamara, he recognizes her. She holds a tray in her hand.

"Your tea, sayidi."

"Thank you. Place it on the table."

She does as she's asked before clearing the table of any remaining dishes of the dinner. Adam studies her keenly as she does her job. He hasn't been ignorant to his servant's interest in her. He has noticed Daud multiple times stealing glances at the woman and acting sheepish around her. But he didn't bother pointing it out to him.

As if sensing his gaze on her, Tamara looks up and catches his eyes. Blushing crimson, she quickly looks back down and hurries to clear the table. Her movements become jittery and in her nervousness, she hits the cup she has set for him.

"My apologies--"

"Don't bother--"

But before he could stop her, she has already spilled the tea and burnt herself. Jerking away, she nurses her hand to her chest and stands up.

"I'll bring you another cup--"

"No need," he cuts her, going to hand her a napkin. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, sayidi. Thank you."

"Tamara," he says, and her gaze snaps to him in surprise. "That's your name, right?"

She nods stiffly, timidly, glancing down.

"Why didn't you accompany my wife to her home?" he inquires.

"She asked me to stay behind. Her other handmaiden, Roya, went with, sayidi," she explains.

He nods. "You can leave."

She hastens to pick up the tray and run away. But like before in her haste, she ends up stumbling, this time upon the hem of her dress, and sends the tray flying to the floor with a clatter and her following face first after it.

He leaps to save her of the fall and manages to grab her elbow, but loses his own balance and falls after her. A hiss leaves him as he tries to avoid crashing into her and accidentally cuts his palm over a broken saucer piece.

"My Ameer!" Tamara rushes to press the handkerchief he has given her to his wound. "I'm so ashamed to have caused you the trouble. Please forgive me."

"It's fine." He carefully retract his hand from hers. "Go tend to yourself."

"I'll clear this mess."

"Kindly send someone else to do it," he suggests instead, not wanting her to add more to the mess, but realizing he has embarrassed her when her cheeks redden. "For your convenience," he excuses.

He gets to his feet and offers her a hand, helping her up up too. She keeps her head down. He doesn't know if it's his presence making her anxious to the point of losing coordination, or the woman is just inexperienced in general with her tasks. He doesn't bother lingering on the thought for now, but makes it a point to address it to Noura how she works with an unskilled handmaiden.

As if reading his mind, she says, "I'm not usually this inept. But you make me--" she purses her lips, gaze flicking to him as if caught guilty before stealing it away, "... nervous, since you're the Ameer," she finishes awkwardly.

"Does the Amira make you nervous too, since she's the Amira?" he asks blatantly, cleverly, trapping her.

"No, but-- I..." She looks confused, struggling to answer, before admitting silently, "She doesn't, sayidi."