Attem grinned. ‘Listen, I have a proposition. My girl Affiah,’ she gestured to the woman beside her with the pretty braided knots on her head and wry eyes, ‘is looking for a husband. I am the closest thing she has to family. All her elders are dead. I think you pose a possibility as a suitor.’
Affiah’s eyes widened in well-practised flustered shock, before seeming to remember herself, and looked at the ground shyly, releasing a small smile, playing her role perfectly. Ituen opened his mouth to speak, but for once he was lost for words.
Attem gestured to the trader. ‘Baba, please bring me the leopard, and Affiah, please pay this gentleman.’
The trader’s testiness immediately fell away.
Attem finally turned to an intrigued Ituen. ‘My women will collect you from this spot at sundown and bring you to eat with the men at court.’
Ituen opened his mouth to speak, but Attem’s voice leapt in front of whatever clumsy words he was about to release.
‘Come and feast tonight, and we can discuss the possibility of a courtship.’ She took the bronze leopard from Affiah and handed it to Ituen.
‘A gift.’ She turned to her handmaiden. ‘Come, Affiah, we must inform the guards that we have invited a guest to court this evening.’
With that, Attem and her entourage withdrew and Ituen was left with the complete certainty that any illusion of control of the situation he thought he had was gone.
Though he tried to stay away, Ituen found himself always returning to Attem, as if by gravitational force. It was like a compulsion. On that first Fourth Day, it didn’t take him long to discover her ruse, the same way it didn’t take her long to know that he was a thief. When Ituen first entered her secret cave quarters, Attem was lying on a rug with an abundance of trinkets to give him for his service. ‘Since,’ she said with a smile, ‘I’ve interrupted your trade.’
She was sharp and direct. He had wondered if it was some sort of convoluted trap. He had assumed she was like the rest of the high-borns, vapid and imperious, but she had rolled her eyes at his shock and laughed. ‘Come, sit, relax. Don’t look so worried. This isn’t a trap. I was a thief myself for a time. Before being a king’s wife put food into my family’s mouth, stealing from the market did. It just didn’t turn out to be sustainable. I don’t judge you. We do what we have to do, like you said. It’s survival. But I feel like we need to do more than survive, don’t you? We deserve some pleasure. Of course, you have the choice to decline. You may take the treasures either way.’
This was a new experience for Ituen; the hunter turned into the hunted. He surprised himself by enjoying the sensation of being chosen, of being seen clearly as himself. She had seen through his mask with ease and embraced what was beneath. After they lay together, they found themselves speaking, their thoughts finding places to be held within each other, their philosophies finding companionship. He learnt of her abundance of wisdom, the steely softness and immensity of her heart and, above all, her strength. He discovered a new form of wealth; one he had never contemplated the existence of, one he never knew he was searching for.
She requested he stay for one more night. A part of himself he hadn’t known existed had leapt alive. When he left, the treasures she’d brought him were untouched.
‘I missed you,’ Ituen said, as he entered Attem’s cave-quarters, six months after they first met.
Attem awaited him in the hillside cavern that she had discovered during her first days of being married to the king. It was lit with torches that made the rocky walls glow gold, was decorated with plush mats, rugs and cushions that transformed the lair into a queen’s quarters. Palm wine and fruit were plentiful, and incense burnt. It was her haven. After dinners and festivities, she often retreated there, into the mountains with her handmaidens, telling the king she sought to meditate and commune with her spirits. ‘How could I not be devoted to the gods when they brought me to you?’ she would purr.
Attem lounged on her mat and sipped from her goblet. She smiled and gently shook her head. ‘You and I both know that’s against the rules, Ituen.’
Ituen grinned, and shrugged off his tan, hide-skin waistcoat. He laid it down in its usual spot, slipping off his sandals by the entrance.
‘And since when do we play by the rules, Leopardess?’
Attem rolled her eyes at Ituen’s nickname for her. ‘I need to talk to you about that. As fun as this is, we have to be careful. You can’t just appear like you do. We said the last time was the last time.’