Fiddlesticks."Yawning loudly, I sit up and stretch my arms above my head. The movementloosens the thread holding the last remaining button on my pyjam... top; itfalls into my lap, allowing my breasts to shove the material aside liketwo divas pushing their way through a crowd to pose for the paparazzi."Fu...fancy that."I sweep away the covers, then launch my feet into the air. They land onthe carpet in such a fashion as to send my watch hurtling across the room.It smacks into the skirting board. As an orphan, she had no prospect of a marriage, because there was no dowry. Women were of no value at this time, and couldn’t enter into contracts, so there was no chance of employment. If she had a father or brother, they might find her a place as a servant, more like a slave, but at least she would eat, although she would be used up only slightly less quickly than as a houri.She grimaced at the irony of her name, Alia, blessed of Allah. Lia didn’t feel very blessed presently, only just. More

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