The Prince's Pet Page 12

  “My handmaiden tells me you have taken ill.”

  It was the first time she had spoken to me directly, without a translator between us. The first time I had been able to understand her well enough.

  I blinked, my mouth dropping open. I searched for the Cimbrai words, taking my time over the syllables. “I... yes, Majesty. I don't know what came over me. If you want me to go back -”

  She cut me off, holding up an impatient hand. “That is not why I am here. I want to ask you something. Well... offer you something, really.”

  I kept my eyes politely down. Suspicion crept over me, and I realized I was trembling. I felt as though I'd been transported back to my first day here: a virginal peasant girl frightened of everything. She is being civil. I told myself. Do not think the worst of her.

  “Yes, my queen?” I managed to say.

  Indari moved, taking a few delicate steps toward the round table and laying a hand on the back of a chair, caressing its wood. “You were not born a slave.” She said. Her tone rose on the last word, as though it were half a question.

  I shook my head. “No, my queen. I was... a farmer's daughter.”

  “Would you like to go back to your home, Eveline?”

  It was so abrupt it felt like a slap in the face. For a moment I couldn't form words to answer. “My... what?” I finally said, forgetting my manners once again.

  “Well you must desire your freedom,” she said, cocking her head at me. “So recently taken from your home, your family and your old life.”

  “I have no family left -” I began.

  “Then... make a new life for yourself!” She said, exasperated. I couldn't help but flinch as she waved her arm, trailing red silk.

  “I can give you as much gold as you can carry. A fast ship and the best guards to escort you back to your home land.”

  She took a step closer to me, narrowing her eyes as she tried to determine my reaction. As she saw my doubt and confusion she tried a different approach. “Or I can set you up with a house in some far away city. Servants of your own, and an income. You will be set for life!”

  Queen Indari stood before me now, and I saw that she was only as tall as I was. Why had I always thought she was taller? There were faint lines around her beautiful dark eyes, peering over her veil. Looking into them now I thought I saw fear - or something like it.

  I had no doubt she was sincere in her offer, selfishly motivated though it surely was. A queen had her own wealth; her own influence. It would cost her practically nothing to be rid of me. I could be free.

  I bowed again, showing respect. “My queen,” I said slowly, trying to articulate my thoughts. “I thank you very much for the kind offer.”

  She lowered her head, her eyes closing briefly as she sensed her defeat.

  “But I love my prince very much and I would not leave him.”

  Indari drew herself up, recovering quickly. “Very well.” She said, turning with a swirl of her robes.

  “Your Majesty...” I said, as she was reaching for the handle of the door.

  She looked toward me without turning, giving me a moment to say my piece.

  “He intends to take care of you,” I said. “No matter what happens.” I did not need to elaborate.

  Indari was quiet for a moment, then gave a tiny nod. “Do not tell anyone I was here.” She said, then left, closing the door quietly behind her.

  My unsettled stomach was made no better by the queen's visit. I called for a bath and sat in the steaming water, breathing deeply and trying to regain my composure. But I didn't get the usual pleasure out of it. Naked, I settled into the prince's bed - for he allowed me to sleep there whenever I wanted - and closed my eyes.

  I dozed fitfully. As the hours wore on I woke up many times, hearing footsteps go by the door, or the entry of servants to light fires or take laundry. Some kind soul left me a plate of bread with leftovers from the feast in case I was hungry.

  Truthfully, I waited for my master. It was late. Where was he? My mind was filled with images of him - dallying with the girls in the feasting hall, perhaps drinking a little too much.

  I should have stayed to take care of him. But I could barely stand the thought of him looking at other women, let alone watching it. I need to get used to the idea, I told myself over and over.

  I prayed to Iele, getting out of bed to kneel, my forehead against the floor - to pour my heart out to the goddess. Give me strength, I prayed. I need to be strong to serve him, no matter what comes.

  As I knelt there I finally heard the door open and Issander's footsteps approach.

  “Are you well?” He asked. Then: “What are you doing?”

  I heard the amusement in his tone, and I blushed, thinking of the view he must have gotten of my naked backside. I got to my feet. “Praying.” I murmured, giving him a shy smile in spite of myself.

  He raised his eyebrows. "You have an interesting way of going about it. Is that a Thessian custom?”

  Just having him here made me feel better. He came toward me and I melted against him as he embraced me.

  “What are you praying for?” He asked, stroking my hair.

  I stiffened a little in his arms and hesitated for a moment before answering. “...Strength.”

  His hands roamed down and rested at the small of my back, and I rested my head against his chest.

  “What for?” He asked.

  “So that I can survive watching as you choose your bride, and get married, and live together in harmony forever.”

  He snorted a laugh. Then he put his hands on my shoulders and held me away from him. “Look at me.”

  Reluctantly, I raised my eyes to his. I knew I looked a mess. My kohl would be smudged all over my face and my hair was tangled from tossing and turning in my pursuit of sleep.

  The smile faded from his face. “Eveline, none of that is happening tonight.”

  “But it will happen.”

  “Don't you want me to marry?”

  “I...” I swallowed hard. “It's not for me to say, my Lord.”

  “I asked you a question.”

  I sighed. “Of course I don't want you to get married, my prince. But I understand you must. I do.”

  “Because you know I could never marry you. You are a slave, and foreign -”

  I could feel my face crumble, and the tears immediately started spilling from my eyes. “Of course I know that!” I said, raising my voice in frustration. Did he think I was so stupid? But it still hurt.

  He didn't say anything else, but picked me up and carried me to the bed, where he sat me in his lap and held me tightly. I cried silently against his neck for a while, feeling small and fragile in his arms.

  “Oh my Eveline,” he said softly. “You know that I love you.”

  I sobbed a laugh, the tears coming all over again even as warm happiness bloomed in my chest. It mixed with the misery, adding to the sickness I felt. I clutched at him, and we were silent for a long time.

  Afterwards, he did punish me – both for leaving the banquet and for my dissembling.

  He made me bend over a couch and count out lashes of the soft leather whip he had had made for me. I spilled my heart as I'd known I would; then I begged him to take me. We made urgent love right there on the soft rug in his bed chamber, not even making it as far as the bed.

  I felt purged of my misery for the moment, and managed to keep myself occupied during the next few days. I read and practiced writing, spent time in the harem where the slaves would bathe me and massage me into relaxation.

  A time or two, I slipped them something valuable – giving one of my hair ornaments to a young girl I'd taken a liking to; a book to another when I found out she was learning to read.

  I gave the younger slaves treats whenever I encountered them. Inexpensive candies, sweet cakes. I thought my master must have known, but he said nothing.

  Issander did not ask me to serve him at the feasts again. I felt guilty that he had to do without me because of my own
jealous reaction, but it was kind of him to try to spare my feelings. He always returned home after and we slept as ever, entwined in each others arms.

  One such night we were awakened by a servant – not a slave but one of the physician's assistants - banging on the door. Issander left, rushing out, and I hurriedly dressed and paced nervously around the room. There was only one reason for such a rude interruption from the physician. The king.

  As I picked at my breakfast tray, worrying, the assistant thumped on the door again.

  When I opened it, he didn't wait for me to speak. “The prince has called for you to attend him in the king's chambers.”

  I hurried after the young man, picking up my skirts as I tried to match his pace. When we arrived he opened the door for me, bowing, and I entered.

  Issander sat in the chair by his father's bedside. The king lay in bed, his frail body all but swallowed by the pillows surrounding him. As the assistant bowed out and gave us privacy, I moved to their side.

  “They said it will not be long now,” Issander murmured. I put my hand on his shoulder.

  He looked at me, and held out an object. It was a wooden box, ornately carved. “He wanted to give it to you. But he's... fallen asleep.”

  I took the box. It was heavy in my hands. I stared down at the poor king. His breathing was shallow and rapid. After a moment, he took a deep breath and seemed to awaken from his sleep. He opened his eyes, and looked at his son, then at me.

  His mouth crinkled in a small smile. “Ysobel.” He said, happiness lighting his face.

  I blinked. It took me a moment to place the name. Open-mouthed, I looked over at my master, who appeared as stunned as I.

  Looking back down at the king, I smiled at him, then stepped forward and bent to make a low curtsey in the Thessian style. Then I took his hand from the sheet where it lay and held it gently in mine, clutching the wooden box to my chest.

  “I missed you.” The old man said.

  I only smiled, fighting off sudden tears. I did not want to speak and ruin his illusion.

  Soon, his attention turned from me again and he haltingly moved his head to look at Issander. “Son,” he said, and the prince leaned forward to put a hand on his father's brow. His face was full of concern. I loved him for it.

  The king's expression turned urgent. “I have something to tell you.” He said, pulling his hand from my grip and reaching for his son.

  “It's alright father. Save your strength.” Issander said. When the old man didn't stop reaching, he stood and took his hand, holding it between his own.

  I moved aside, giving them space, and turning away to give myself time to master my own emotions.

  “I have to tell you something.” The king repeated. He took a deeper breath. “Marry who you damn well want.”

  Issander smiled, furrowing his brow in a puzzled expression. “But -”

  “Or don't marry at all!” The old man interjected. “You're the king.” He paused, to take several breaths before speaking again. “The realm will get by. It always does.”

  I turned around, holding my hand against my mouth to disguise my trembling lips. Issander was bending over his father to kiss his brow.

  When the old king had fallen asleep, his quick breaths too loud in the quiet chamber, I kissed my master on the top of his head. “I will come back if you call for me.” I said, and left, giving them privacy.

  It was well into the day when he arrived back at his rooms, and with one look at his face I knew it was over.

  Chapter 10

  The old king was laid to rest among much ceremony. I stayed by my master's side through it all, despite whispers and stares. I was quite popular as a novelty among the nobles but that didn't stop them gossiping when I took more than an ornamental role.

  When the heir to the throne appeared briefly in public on the way to the Great Temple where the king laid in state, the common folk lined the streets to get a glimpse of him. They noticed me accompanying him, and soon I was being approached by all sorts of people on my trips into the city. Wealthy and poor alike, I stopped to talk to them, to the dismay of my guards.

  They somehow knew I counted myself among the servants of Iele. Women would ask me to pray for them, spilling the most intimate of marital issues. I would blush furiously, but Atshye took delight in this, openly dispensing her advice to peasants and noblewomen in the streets.

  My master was occupied with matters of state, so I spent a lot of time in the temple. When he did have time, we would ride out together just to get away from the busy palace and its never-ending duties.

  Relatives, vassals and various courtiers were still in residence, more coming and going all the time. The palace was abuzz with preparation: In two weeks, Issander Elias Nabih an Esstair would be crowned as king.

  It was something of a holy day for worshipers of the Lady of Desire. I begged leave to go early to the temple. I wanted to make an offering.

  Iele was said to love all things beautiful. With this in mind I had purchased two snow white doves at the market the day before. I went just after dawn in order to find the temple quiet.

  Kneeling before the statue of the goddess, I set the small cage on the ground. I said my prayer under my breath, for my goddess' ears only.

  I let the doves free. They flew up to the big window and perched there. The wind ruffled their feathers, and in a moment the first one flew out – then the other.

  Ellys came to the temple for his offering soon after. I waited for him in the garden, and when he finished he came to talk to me.

  “What do you mean,” I asked him, “when you say that the goddess sent you to me?”

  The eunuch smiled his enigmatic smile. “Just that.” He said.

  “But why?” I had never had much tolerance for cryptic answers.

  He shrugged. “It remains to be seen.”

  “How can you be so certain?”

  “Because,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I heard her voice, and I answered.”

  I sighed, sinking down to rest on the edge of the fountain pool.

  Ellys sat next to me. “Perhaps it was your fate, to serve the prince – to bring him happiness.” He said, “Or maybe it has something to do with the child you have growing within you.”

  “What?” I spluttered, unwittingly moving a hand over my abdomen as though shielding myself. My face burned hot, and I looked away. “I am not -”

  He patted my shoulder and gave me a knowing look. “Do not worry. My discretion is legendary.”

  An hour later, I stood at the dresser in the bedchamber, removing bracelets from my wrists one by one.

  “What are you doing?” My master asked, coming up behind me and putting his hands on my hips.

  I looked up to see him in the mirror, and smiled ruefully. “I don't feel right wearing them.”

  “My father gave them to you.”

  “He didn't know me. He thought I was his Ysobel.” I murmured, spreading my left hand and looking at the rings that adorned each finger. The bracelets and rings had come from the wooden box bequeathed to me by his father. I knew Issander liked to see me wearing them, but I was hesitant.

  “He liked you.”

  “Mmm.” I murmured noncommittally. I turned and stood on the tips of my toes to kiss him.

  It was to be one of our last evenings in this room; soon he would move to his father's old quarters and take over many new duties. It was strange to think of it.

  “I have been thinking on the other things he spoke of.” Issander said, twirling my hair around his hand as he often liked to do.

  “Yes?” I took him by the hand, leading him to the bed as he spoke, and he followed absent-mindedly.

  He nodded, sitting down, and I sat next to him. “Yes.” He said solemnly.

  Suddenly I sensed the serious direction the conversation was about to take. A sense of foreboding took hold of me and I held my breath, my hand absently fidgeting with my golden collar.

  Issander's eyes followed my movem
ent. “I want to free you.” He said.

  I hadn't expected it. My lips fell open, but I forgot what I was about to say. “D... do you not want me anymore?” I finally squeezed out, as my heart thrummed in my chest.

  My prince laughed. I furrowed my brow in frustration. This was no laughing matter, as far as I was concerned.

  But he bent forward to cup my face between his hands, tilting it up towards his. “Of course I want you.” He said, his eyes shining with affection. “But I want you free, so that you can be my concubine.”

  I stared at him, uncomprehending. “What?” Finally, I shook my head, managing to free myself from his grasp.

  He let me go, putting his hands down. “Do you not know what that means?”

  “No, not really. What... what does it mean?”

  “It means you will no longer be a slave. You can have property and wealth. Your children will be acknowledged as my children. You can live with me and accompany me to royal affairs.”

  I felt the tell-tale sting of tears in my eyes and blinked hurriedly. My children. “And... when you marry?”

  Taking my hands in his, he held them tightly together as he looked into my eyes. He must have seen the tears forming there. He always seemed to know what I was thinking. “Eveline,” he said tenderly. “If I could take you as my wife, I would.”

  I smiled. It was nice of him to say. “I don't need to be your wife.” I said. “I am happy just to be yours – concubine or slave. I will try... I will try to accept your marriage with grace, my Lord.”

  “You misunderstand me.”

  “I do?”

  He nodded. “You and I can not be wed, but you can be mine in the eyes of the gods. You will be my wife in all but title. That is all I care about. I want no other. I will take no other.”

  Happiness filled me, even as I tried to suppress it. Surely, this was not possible. I stared down between us; at my pale hands held between his darker fingers. “Your vassals will not be happy.”

  He shrugged, uttering a short laugh. “Let them keep believing I will eventually marry. The realm will endure.”

  I had more objections, questions and arguments, but he stalled them with a kiss.

  Free. I would be free.