"Hush, Bab! Your tongue runs away with your good sense."

Bab chuckled, and continued with her unpacking, shaking out Zenobia's garments. "I am not sure your clothing is elegant enough for the palace. We should have come later, and taken the time to make you new things."

"You fuss too much, old woman," the girl teased. "Either the prince likes me, or he does not, and if he does not then no amount of fine feathers will help me."

"It is not the prince who concerns me, but his mother." Bab lowered her voice. "I have heard that she is very unhappy that he wishes to marry. The gossip is that she hoped he would be content with the concubine, Deliciae. They say that the Princess Al-Zena is a very headstrong and possessive woman."

"Is it me she objects to, Bab, or simply any girl?"

"It is both, my baby," Bab replied. She and Zenobia had always been honest with each other.

Zenobia was thoughtful for a moment, then she spoke again. "The best way to handle the lady, I believe, is for me to be sweetness itself. How can she find fault with good manners and a pleasing attitude?" She chuckled.

"How will you handle the concubine, my child? You cannot live in the same palace, and not meet."

"I have no doubt that we shall meet, but when we do I shall make her my friend."

"Zenobia!” Bab was shocked.

"I have no choice, Bab. If I marry Odenathus I must be a help to him, not a hindrance. How can he govern Palmyra successfully if there is strife within his household? If there is, he will first worry, and then resent me. No, I must win over both his mother and Deliciae." She smiled at Bab. "Do not worry. I am not unmindful of what is involved, but now I should like a bath. Surely such a simple thing is available to me in this marvelous place."

"Of course, child! All is in readiness for you. Come, come!" Bab took her mistress by the hand and led her into a tiled bath where Zenobia's hyacinth scent already filled the air. Half a dozen black slave girls waited to attend the honored guest, who, looking at the lovely deep bathing pool, delightedly shed her dusty garments and then stepped into the tepid water. Her round, full breasts and long legs were noted by two spies placed in her apartment by Al-Zena and Deliciae.

When Zenobia had bathed, Bab wrapped her in a soft cotton robe. Then the girl lay down upon her couch to rest until the evening meal. She was tired from the tension of preparing for the visit, and not a little apprehensive. Tonight she would meet with Al-Zena, and she would probably be faced with the beautiful concubine, Deliciae. Yet despite her fears, Zenobia slept the sleep of the young and the innocent.

When she awoke she found herself alone. Rising, she walked across the room onto the open portico. Below her was a large walled garden, and beyond, the city of Palmyra was spread like a rich meal upon the table of the desert. Already the lamps were being lit as the blue dusk quickly turned to black night. A faint breeze carried the scent of something so elusive that even Zenobia's sharp nose could not identify it. She felt relaxed, and knew that whatever happened this evening, she would be in total control.

"You are awake?"

Zenobia turned and walked back into the room. "I am awake, Bab."

"You should have called," the older woman grumbled.

"I wanted a moment alone."

"Humph," came the reply, but Bab understood.

Zenobia's sleeveless white tunica with its draped low neckline was a simple garment. She smiled a secret smile. By the very innocence of her dress she would point up the difference between herself and Odenathus's mother. "Leave my hair loose," she said, and Bab nodded, brushing the long thick tresses, containing them only with a simple white ribbon band embroidered with tiny seed pearls.

Zenobia reached for her jewel case. From it she removed a single large cream-gold teardrop-shaped pearl on a thin golden chain. Fastened about her neck, it nestled between her young breasts, a temptation between twin temptations. Matching clusters of pearls on gold wires dangled from her ears; arm bangles of carved pink coral and thin gold wires with pearl bangles braceleted her arms. A single round pearl set in gold adorned one hand, drawing attention to her long, tapering fingers with their polished nails.

Bab nodded her approval as Zenobia daubed on her perfume. "It is perfect, my baby. You will outshine the old witch and the Greek concubine!"

The words were scarce out of Bab's mouth when one of the black slave girls hurried in to announce, "A eunuch is here to escort the lady to the banquet hall."

With a faint nod to Bab, Zenobia followed the girl and then the eunuch, hurrying through the vast palace so quickly that she scarce had time to note a thing along her way. The slave girl had been wrong, however, for it was not the banquet hall to which they went, but rather a small family dining room. Dressed in greens and golds, Al-Zena was already there, reclining on a dining sofa. Next to her was an exquisite fair-skinned blonde, dressed also in Parthian fashion; but her colors were sky blue embroidered in silver.

"Zenobia, my child," Al-Zena purred, "this is the lady Deliciae."

"Good evening to you," Zenobia replied sweetly.

Al-Zena was somewhat disconcerted, for the girl showed neither distress nor anger at Deliciae's presence. She was either totally unfeeling, very stupid, or very clever, and the fact that Al-Zena couldn't determine which gave her pause. She eyed Zenobia suspiciously as the girl settled herself upon the dining couch marked for her, then turned to Deliciae, saying, "I understand that you have two sons. How fortunate you are! I hope I shall one day be the mother of sons."

Al-Zena choked on her wine, spilling some of it on her gown, and sending a servant scuttling for water and a cloth. Zenobia cooed solicitously, "Oh, you have spilled your wine. I do hope it will not stain your tunic."

Deliciae eyed Odenathus's prospective wife from beneath her heavily mascaraed lashes, and forced back a chuckle. The little Bedawi girl was wise to Al-Zena, and ready to do battle with her, although Deliciae could see that Al-Zena was not quite sure yet as to the girl's character and intelligence. She took the opportunity to gauge her rival, and sighed. The girl was positively beautiful. She makes me look insipid, thought Deliciae.

A slave was rubbing frantically at Al-Zena's tunic as the Prince of Palmyra walked into the room. His glance swept over the three women, and then he said sharply, "Deliciae, what do you do here?"

"Did you not invite me, my lord? Your mother said that I was to come to supper tonight."

"You were not invited," came the icy reply. "Please return to your quarters."

Deliciae rose, stricken, and Zenobia instantly realized that Odenathus's mother was using the woman as a pawn. "Please, my lord Prince," she said, "do not send the lady Deliciae away. I was so enjoying her company."

"It does not distress you, my flower? I would not have you unhappy."

"Deliciae and I are of an age. We will quickly become friends, I know." Zenobia put a hand on his arm. "Please, my lord Prince." Her glance was melting, and Odenathus felt his heartbeat quicken.

"If it pleases you, my flower, Deliciae may remain," he said gruffly, wishing to the gods as he said it that neither Deliciae nor his mother were in the room so he might kiss that adorable mouth that pleaded so prettily with him. Instead he signaled impatiently to a slave to fill his goblet with wine.

"Thank you, my lord Prince," Zenobia said softly.

Al-Zena almost gnashed her teeth with frustration. He was in love! The gods be cursed! Her son was in love, and there would be no reasoning with him. Still, if she could show up the chit for the unsuitable creature she was, then perhaps Odenathus would see reason. A Bedawi girl Princess of Palmyra? Never!

The meal was fairly plain, beginning with artichokes in olive oil and tarragon vinegar; followed by baby lamb, broiled thrush on asparagus, green beans, and cabbage sprouts; and finished with a silver bowl of peaches and green grapes. The prince could hardly take his eyes from Zenobia, much to his mother's consternation and Deliciae's resignation. Zenobia ate heartily of the beautifully cooked meal, while the others could only eat sparingly.

After the last of the dishes had been cleared away and the wine goblets refilled, a troupe of dancing girls and a jongleur entertained. Deliciae saw how desperately Odenathus longed to be with the beautiful girl he desired for a wife, and so as the dancing girls ran from the dining room she rose, saying, "Would you permit me to withdraw, my lord? I find I am quite fatigued."

The prince smiled gratefully at her, and nodded as Deliciae bowed to Al-Zena and Zenobia and departed the room. For a few more minutes they reclined in silence, Odenathus waiting for his mother to withdraw. When it finally became apparent that she was not going to do so, he stood and, holding his hand out to Zenobia, said "Come! My gardens are justly famous. You will excuse us, Mother? I expect you will want to retire now, for it is quite late."

Zenobia put her hand in the prince's and rose. "I should very much like to see your gardens, my lord Prince."

Without a backward glance at Al-Zena, Odenathus swept Zenobia outdoors into a vast and darkened garden. Here and there torches blazed along the paths, but it was virtually impossible to see. Zenobia could not resist a chuckle. "I hope you know where you are going," she teased him. "I should hate to end up in a fish pond."

He stopped and, swinging her around, looked into her face. "I want to kiss you," he said fiercely. How beautiful she looked with the torchlight flickering molten gold across her features.

"What?" Her heart began to hammer wildly, and she felt almost afraid. Looking into his handsome face, her gray eyes widened slightly with surprise.

"I want to kiss you," he repeated. "If you were any other girl I should not even ask."

"Oh!” Her voice was suddenly very small, and as he looked at her a slow smile crossed Odenathus's face.

"You are like the fresh breeze that blows across the city at sunset, my flower." One hand moved from her shoulders to encircle her slender waist; to draw her hard against him. The other scalded up her neck and face to tangle in the jet silk of her hair. His dark head dipped, his mouth brushing lightly and swiftly across hers, sending small shock waves racing through her body as she desperately struggled with herself to regain control over her emotions. "Zenobia." His voice caressed her name, and she shivered. What was he doing to her? How could the sound of his voice saying her name render her breathless. "Zenobia!" Her legs felt weak, and she fell back slightly against the encircling brace of his arm. His head was poised above hers for a brief moment, and then it came swiftly down and his lips closed over hers.

His mouth was warm, and smooth and hard, but Zenobia, innocent as she was to kisses, felt his restraint. He kissed her gently with great tenderness, his lips drawing the very essence of her from her untutored body. Deep within her core she felt the ache begin. She longed for something, but she knew not what, and when, after what seemed an eternity, he finally lifted his lips from hers she murmured, "More!"

He looked upon her, his brown eyes almost liquid with his passion. "Oh, Zenobia, you have intoxicated me!" he said softly, and then he kissed her again. This time his kiss was less gentle, but she felt no fear, only a desperate longing to know more. He parted her lips, his tongue seeking, learning the velvet softness of her mouth. She wanted-she wanted she knew not what; only that she didn't want him to stop. She shivered deliciously as he sucked for a moment on her little tongue; and then she nestled closer against him, her young breasts taut.

With a groan of impatience he thrust her away from him. "You are so young, my flower," he said softly. It was almost a reproach.

"Have I displeased you?"

She was distressed, he could see. "Come!" He took her hand, and they began to walk again through the darkened garden. "You do not displease me, Zenobia. In fact you please me mightily. At this moment I very much want to make love to you."

"Then let us make love," she said simply. "I have never been with a man before, but both Tamar and Bab say it is a natural and good thing between a man and woman. I am not afraid, my lord Prince."

He smiled in the darkness. "No woman, I believe, should make love to a man for whom she doesn't care, for whom she has no feelings. That, my flower, is immoral. I have never made love to a woman who did not love me a little. Tonight you have barely been awakened to the sensual side of your nature, and you long to know more. You do not yet know me, Zenobia. There is time for us, I promise you."