Ba'an…stared.

Arete only smiled widely and clasped Ba'an's limp hands in hers.

"It looks like your shopping trip was a great success! Excellent. You must tell me all about it later. For now, I must ensure the banquet is ready on time. But I look forward to speaking with you again soon!"

And with that she was gone, sashaying away with her bevy of handmaidens and leaving only the scent of sweet flowers behind her.

Well, no. She had left behind her other servants, the men who were hauling her things up the stairs and into her bedroom—the bedroom next to Ba'an's.

Ba'an noted that its positioning meant Lukios could not approach Ba'an's own room without passing Arete's first.

She refrained from pinching the bridge of her nose. Dita only looked on with mild curiosity, which was a small mercy; Aika would have been fidgeting by now, perhaps even talking up a storm of disjointed thoughts. It would have been disastrous if she had blurted out something indiscreet in front of Arete or her servants, though…

Arete knew. Of course she did; how could she not?

"Kyria?" Dita stepped forward. "We will help you wash and prepare for dinner." Calloe and Nene, who always stood one step behind Dita, nodded; they were all agreeing, for once.

Ba'an glanced out the window. Dinner wasn't for an hour or two, yet. "I will wash alone. I do not need…help."

Dita frowned. "But it is a formal dinner." By her tone it was clear that she did not think Ba'an could manage dressing herself. "Who will braid your hair and coil it? And add jewels? And apply face paint?"

"…Face paint?"

"Yes."

Ba'an blinked slowly at the younger girl. "But I do not wear face paint." She never had. What did a witch need face paint for? Patients needed care, not a pretty face, and Ba'an had only ever worn ceremonial paint on special days. Nene's eyes widened in surprise, but Calloe remained unbothered.

"But…it is a formal dinner. And you are…" Dita looked her up and down. The girls behind her appeared to be stifling their giggles, though they grew serious and solemn when Ba'an glanced at them.

"Is there a problem?"

"Yes." Ba'an blinked at Dita's blunt tone.

"I am sorry, kyria, but Master Nikias has instructed me to serve you as if you are my mistress. It would damage the reputation of House Astros if you attended a dinner dressed the way you are now."

"But I am not a guest of House Astros."

"Yes, but I have been ordered to attend to you as if you are my—"

"But it does not matter. I am not a guest of House Astros. I am a guest of House Origos, and I am not here with Nikias." Dita opened her mouth to speak again, but Ba'an cut her off. "I do not have the patience for this. If you are here to serve, you will follow my instructions. If you are not, I will have you removed. Is this clear?"

Dita's mouth hung open. The girls behind her stared with wide eyes, clearly shocked.

Yes, Ba'an ought to have done this earlier. It would have saved her much aggravation on the trip to Merida's.

Ba'an had to give the girl credit: Dita had quite the spine. A much stronger one than Aika, that was for certain. She licked her lips and spoke again, very slowly, as if to a wild animal about to bite her nose off. "Yes. But this is a formal dinner and you must be attired properly." Her forehead crinkled, and Ba'an could see her switching strategies. "It will insult the hostess if you dress poorly, and it will take too long if you…bathe and perfume yourself alone." Dita added very quickly, "And being late or poorly dressed will embarrass kyrios Lukios, because he is your…your…"

"My?"

Dita floundered. "It is known that you and kyrios are…"

Ba'an stared her down.

Dita was brave, but she was not stupid.

She cleared her throat and dropped her gaze to the ground.

So much for discretion. Everyone already knew, so what was the point?

But the girl was correct. If Ba'an was dressed poorly or late, it would reflect on Lukios; everyone knew they were together. It had been obvious since their first meal here, so obvious that even sir Epitus had caught on by the end of dinner.

But Ba'an did not wish these agents—because that was what they were, Nikias agents, and he was not bothering to hide it anymore—to be forever beside her, watching and writing reports in their heads. The very thought of it aggravated her, but Nikias had clearly sent Aika away—either because she had been the one to rifle through Ba'an's things, likely on his orders, the little stit-tat, or for some other reason Ba'an had yet to unravel.

So Dita was correct. Ba'an would not be able to make herself presentable—not to the level a woman like Arete clearly expected—alone.

Maws take it. Ba'an ought to have bought the entire block, that insufferable, smug, arrogant, awful little dis-tat of a man.

"Dita. Have the men move the shopping when it arrives to my room."

The girl startled. "Of course, kyria. But—?"

"You and your friends will return in half an hour's mark. You will help me prepare for dinner, but I must have time to lie down. I am weary."

"As you wish, kyria."

The girls slunk away, and Ba'an was finally, blessedly, alone.

It did not last.

"Where should the crates go, kyria?"

Ah.

So much for a nap.

Ba'an stood glaring at the distillation kit.

She was not sleeping or lying down, though she could sense Dita and her friends loitering by the stairs, waiting for Ba'an to call for them so they could go to the small bath within the estate. No doubt they heard her moving around, but well—no matter. Ba'an had bigger concerns now than the opinion of Nikias' spies; if there was one small mercy, it was that they had not recognized the distillation kit for what it was. From what she had seen, they had believed Eikolus' claim that it was some kind of disassembled sculpture.

And so, here she was, puzzling over a mystery: how had such a thing been taken from a shi-vuti and sold at a Dolkoi'ri market?

Ba'an reached out and began assembling it. Yes, it was intact, and she could see the little divots and bumps where the shaper had released it from its place in the stone. Did that mean a witch had been involved?

But surely that was impossible. Why would a witch give a distillation kit to a trader to sell? Such things were not for sale. It was forbidden. No witch would do this.

And yet…

There was no way for a trader to detach it from the stone without a witch. A shaper would not heed the call of one without magic.

But it was impossible.

Impossible.

No, there was some mistake here. Something she was not seeing. Something—

Rapid footsteps came up the stairs and turned the corner, belonging to a very warm and familiar soul.

Ba'an glanced around. There were piles and piles of shopping in her room, to the point the floor had nearly disappeared. She stepped over a mound of rolled up rugs and throws, then around some delicate pottery that was not quite as big as she would have liked, but still made acceptable gifts.

Lukios was much bigger than her, and would need more space to move around. As she began pushing the crates and other hardy items against the walls, she sensed and heard a commotion; Dita had stepped in front of him.

What?

She stood, listening.

"—highly improper!"

"But you're right here. How's that not proper? Who are you, anyway? Do you even work here?"

"It is never proper to walk into a lady's room. If you wish for me to fetch her for you, I will, but it is highly irregular to—"

"Oh for—" He cut himself off and raised his voice. "Ba'an! Sweetheart, are you in there?"

"She is sleeping!"

"…Oh." And then their voices became too low to hear.

Ba'an carefully made her way to the door and poked her head out.

"I am not sleeping." And then she...stared.

What was that on Lukios' head? It looked like a dead rat. Surely this was not some Dolkoi'ri fashion? It was hideous.

"Ba'an!" He caught the look on her face and burst out laughing. "It's just a wig, sweetheart." He pulled it off and she was relieved to see he had all his hair still. "It can't be helped with the ready-made ones, but it smells better than the dye, right?"

Calloe clapped her hands. "Do not worry, kyrios! Your face makes everything handsome! I thought the wig quite fetching!" Nene put her hand over her mouth and giggled. Lukios glanced at them and smiled, but said nothing to encourage them, to their great disappointment.

Dita was not interested in wigs that resembled rats. "Kyria, shall I send him away?"

Lukios tossed the young girl a look of exasperation. "No, you're not sending me away."

"I was asking kyria, kyrios. You have interrupted her nap." Dita's mild expression did not change, but suddenly, Ba'an got the impression that she was thinking of stepping on a bug.

"Fuck, you're one of Astros', aren't you?" Lukios snorted. "Explains the attitude."

Dita looked scandalized by his language. Her friends were too busy watching the spectacle with expressions that would not have been out of place at a puppet show, and Ba'an thought they only regretted not bringing snacks.

"There is no need. Dita, I told you to wait downstairs. Surely you have other tasks?"

Dita raised her head stiffly. "I do not have other tasks."

"But I am sure the other serving girls can use your help." And now Dita's expression grew indignant.

"I am not a serving girl, kyria." Her voice had gone very stiff, indeed. The one called Nene giggled, ignoring the sharp look Dita sent her way.

"Dita is a storehouse assistant, kyria." Ah. This explained Dita's glare, which Ba'an guessed had been used to kill the rodents that plagued such places. "But she was a handmaiden before that."

Hm. That was a longer history than Ba'an had expected. Perhaps she was not as young as she appeared?

"Wait. You're a storehouse assistant. Why are you lurking here?" Lukios sounded incredulous. "Don't tell me Niki pulled you out of a storehouse to follow Ba'an around?"

Dita did not respond, but it was clear by her expression that he had, and she found it deeply insulting.

Ha.

Ba'an turned her face to Lukios. "They are here to help me."

"Uh…"

"Because I do not have handmaidens." Ba'an paused, letting the little crease in her forehead form so they could all see it. "It is considered proper for a woman to have handmaidens."

Lukios ran his fingers though his hair. "Oh. Shit. I didn't think of that."

And then he cursed under his breath. Ba'an felt her eyebrows move up.

Surely he was not agreeing?

"Yes." Dita looked at Lukios with an expression of clear disapproval. "An honoured lady such as kyria Ba'an must have handmaidens. Master Nikias thought this oversight ought to be corrected, particularly since kyria Arete is here to manage the household."

Ba'an was not seeing the connection. Lukios glanced at her and mouthed, later.

"Okay, I guess that was nice of him and all," said Lukios, though by his very cynical expression, he was thinking the same thing Ba'an was: it was a clever way for Nikias to keep his people with her. Ba'an had no doubt Uchos, who had made his excuses and left as soon as they'd returned, had already given Nikias a full account of the day.

And now she really wanted to slap the man, at least once.

More than once.

Until her arms grew tired.

"But he really should have discussed that with me." Lukios gave Dita such a hard, serious look that she blinked and took a step back before regaining herself. "Where's Nikias now?"

"At the Archon's offices, kyrios."

"And is he attending dinner here?"

"As far as I know, kyrios."

Lukios gave a decisive little nod. "Good." He eyed the girls. "I need to have a word or two with Ba'an. The three of you can follow along at a distance. I expect you to be close enough to see us, but far enough for privacy. Is that clear?"

Dita dipped her head, and so did the other girls.

Ba'an got the impression that Nene and Calloe were perfectly happy to follow Ba'an around while doing very little: they had more calluses than Dita. By her estimation, Nikias had not come to Kyros with his wife, which meant…he had not brought any handmaidens. So if Dita had been taken from her work at a storehouse, then the other girls had been taken from elsewhere, too; unlike Dita, they were glad for it, for their daily labour was harder than whatever it was Dita did at a storehouse.

But Dita outranked them. This much was very clear.

When Lukios turned his face to her, he was all smiles. "You busy? Or can we take a stroll before dinner?"

"I am not busy. A moment. I do not have my shawl." Ba'an let the door swing all the way open as she went hunting for a clean one; it was astounding to her, now, that she had more than one, and could pick and choose among many if one got dirty.

It was simply incredible. Ba'an had not imagined owning so many lovely things all at once, but here she was, delayed because she wished to choose one that was just right, even though Lukios was not likely to notice.

But she did want him to notice. Not her shawl, but that she looked lovely in it—or that he would say so even if she didn't.

Ba'an felt a momentary stab of shame at the thought. It was silly, but there was no denying it: she liked hearing him say she was pretty. It made her happy. Even the memory of it made her smile, as she was doing now.

Lukios hadn't moved from his spot, but with the door open he had a good look at the chaos that had taken over her room. She heard him give a long, low whistle.

"Hermes' teeth. Were we invaded by merchants while I was out? Wow. Oh, that looks nice. Is that a pot? Hey, what's in the crate? Anything good? Damn, sweetheart, did you buy a whole shop?"

Ba'an only smiled as she wrapped the shawl around her shoulders. "No. Nikias did."

"Wait. What?"