Wild Jasmine Read Free Page A

inquire of the child’s well-being, Aunt?”
    “It was agreed that she would not,” Rugaiya said quietly. “It would be far too painful for her.”
    Again Salim shrugged. “My father was right to retain custody of Yasaman. Here she is safe and beloved of all who know her. It would not have been so in that foreign land.”
    “You cannot know that for certain,” Rugaiya Begum said, some instinct deep within her wanting to defend the other half of her daughter’s heritage. Though separated by many years, Candra had been her friend.
    Before the prince might reply, a servant arrived to tell Rugaiya Begum, “The queen mother’s procession approaches, gracious lady.”
    “Send for the princess Yasaman,” she told the servant. “She must be here to greet Mariam Makani.”
    “It has already been done, gracious lady,” the servant replied a trifle smugly.
    “Your diligence and foresight are to be commended, Ali,” Rugaiya Begum said dryly, dismissing the servant.
    “Mama Begum! Mama Begum!” Yasaman danced out onto the portico. Her scarlet skirt had been changed for one of turquoise-blue silk gauze with large gold coin-shaped dots. The hem of the skirt was edged in a two-inch band of gold. Her short-sleeved half blouse was made of cloth-of-gold and had a modest little round neckline that seemed to be at war with the wide area of bare skin between the bottom of the blouse and the waistband of her skirt. On the child’s narrow and elegant little feet were slippers that matched her skirt. Her ebony hair was pulled back from her face and fashioned into a single long braid that had been woven with pearls and hung down her back. Yasaman wore a small necklace of pink diamonds, and there were pink diamond studs in her tiny earlobes. Her unique blue eyes had been outlined in kohl, rendering them even more brilliant.
    “Mama Begum!” Yasaman said insistently a third time, and having gained Rugaiya Begum’s attention, she smiled winningly. Placing the palms of her hands together, she bowed her head prettily, then looking up, asked, “Do you think the old queen, my grandmother, will be pleased with me?”
    “Yes, I do,” Rugaiya Begum assured the child, “but you must not call Mariam Makani the ‘old queen,’ my little one. Your grandmother is a great lady in this land.”
    “Should her eyes be outlined so with kohl, Aunt?” Salim suddenly demanded. The effect, he thought, seemed to make Yasaman appear older than her six years. For the first time he saw a small glimpse of a woman within his youngest sister. It was a startling revelation.
    “It is a special occasion, Salim,” Rugaiya Begum said with a smile.
    “I do not know if I like it,” he replied. “It makes her look like a Nautch girl.”
    “Salim!” Rugaiya Begum was shocked.
    “What is a Nautch girl?” demanded Yasaman.
    “A pretty dancing girl,” her mother quickly replied, “but you are a princess, not a dancing girl. Salim! Apologize to your sister at once!” Rugaiya Begum’s dark eyes flashed angrily at her husband’s eldest son and heir. A Nautch girl was indeed a dancing girl, but she was also more often than not aprostitute as well. That Salim would use such language around his sister distressed Rugaiya Begum.
    “I do apologize, Aunt, for I did not mean to offend. I sought for a word to describe my displeasure with Yasaman’s appearance. I should have said I thought the kohl about her eyes too sophisticated for a little girl of six.” The prince took Rugaiya Begum’s hands in his and touched his head to them in a gesture of obeisance.
    “I am six and a half!” Yasaman said sharply to her brother, and the look on her face was so like Akbar’s that both Salim and Rugaiya Begum could not restrain their laughter.
    “It is good to enter a happy house so filled with laughter,” came a strong, sweet voice, and the queen mother swept into the garden smiling.
    “Grandmother!” Yasaman launched herself at the old lady and, wrapping her