The Persian Camp
Zoe yawned, waking from dreamless sleep. She felt blessedly relaxed, heavy quilts lying on top of her. She wiggled her toes, finding a cool spot under the covers. Her eyes opened, seeing the light of morning shining through the canvas of the tent above her. Distant, muted noise reached her ears, speaking of men moving about the camp. The bitter taste of burning pine and juniper logs was in the air. Satisfied that all was well, she turned over, reaching across the bed.
There was no one beside her, the space cold and empty.
"Ah, how late have I slept?" she wondered aloud, sitting up, stretching. The black mane of her hair fell in front of her eyes and she brushed it back behind her ears.
"Not too late," said a familiar voice. "There is still some breakfast left."
Zoe turned, smiling, and climbed out of bed. Her sleeping tunic was mussed, but she smoothed it down. "Auntie! I didn't know you were here."
Zenobia smiled back, her glorious blue-black hair sweeping over a pale shoulder. She was dressed as befitted a queen, in glowing white silk, with a collar of emerald and pearl around her elegant neck. The jewels nestled between the curves of her bosom, half hidden in shadow. Silver bracelets girdled her arms and there were rings of gold on her fingers.
"I'm always here for you, daughter. Where else would I be?"
Zoe laughed, perfectly happy, and reached down, taking her aunt's hand. It was warm and strong, exactly as she remembered.