The Prince's Pet Page 8

  Perhaps all gods were a construct of men, and people simply chose the one they found most reassuring. But if it helped them and made them happy, I supposed there was nothing wrong with it.

  More relaxed and in better spirits than I had been since leaving my home, I floated in a state somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.

  I heard the door open and close, and listened carefully. Servants often came and went, but this time it was Issander's heavy footsteps. In a few moments I saw him in the bathroom doorway. I sank deeper into the water in an attempt to shield myself from view.

  It was the first time I'd seen him dressed in finery rather than rough leathers with the day's sweat and dirt on him. He wore a long, fine blue tunic over white trousers and leather slippers.

  His sword, as always, was in its sheath on his belt. His hair was neat for once, restrained with a black leather tie. Even looking tired as he did, he was handsome. He slipped off his shoes and his belt, setting them down on a bench.

  “Hello, my Lord.” I said. When I realized he was undressing, I groped over the edge for a cloth to cover myself. “do you want me to get out? I can send for clean water.”

  He gave a weary smile and waved his hand. “No. Stay. How was your outing?”

  I sat back, sinking into the water, and smiled. “Good thank you my Lord, I enjoyed it very much.”

  Then as I watched, he quickly peeled off his tunic. Without any modesty he bent and stepped out of his loose trousers. I looked away, shy enough for the both of us.

  Sure enough, a moment later the water level in the bath rose as he stepped in and sat opposite me. I wrapped my arms around my legs, both trying to give him room and trying to shield myself.

  He closed his eyes and let out a huge sigh of relief, much like I had done.

  I searched for something to say, finally settling on small-talk. "And how was your day, my Prince?"

  He shrugged. "Same old thing. Tactical meetings. Luncheon with my father in his rooms. He is feeling better today, at least."

  "That is good." I smiled.

  He cupped water in his hands and scrubbed at his face.

  I combed my fingers through my hair. It was still wet, sticking to my shoulders. After a moment I became aware of Issander watching me. There was a trace of that hungry look in his eyes, and to my surprise, it made my heart beat faster. I stopped, and found myself smiling shyly at him.

  "You know," he said, smirking as he leaned one arm on the edge of the bath. "You can't stay in here forever. If I stay right here, sooner or later you have to get out of the tub and reveal yourself."

  "Aye," I agreed. "But your Highness could order me out right now, if it pleased you." I said.

  "Then you have no hope of holding onto your modesty."

  My face burned hot - perhaps from the warm water, perhaps from the blush I seemed to perpetually wear in his presence. "Then I may as well get out now," I said, moving as if to step out.

  "But you haven't helped me bathe."

  "Is that an order, my Lord?" There was a queer feeling in my stomach, as though it were full of butterflies. Why had I suddenly grown so forward?

  He raised his chin imperiously, but there was a glint of humor in his eye. "Yes, it is."

  "Very well." I reached out to take the soap pot. On my knees, I moved closer to him, rising up out of the water so that my breasts were exposed. The air felt cold and my nipples immediately began to harden, my skin prickling into little bumps.

  Issander shifted to make room for me, and I didn't miss the way his eyes were locked on my chest. But I pushed aside my modesty. I squeezed to kneel next to him and began to soap his shoulders in a businesslike manner.

  I hadn't bothered to get a wash cloth, instead scooping the soap out with my fingers and putting it directly on his skin. I allowed myself to enjoy touching him, feeling his arms flex and slide under my slippery hands.

  He was still looking at me, but I concentrated on my job. I could almost feel his eyes on me, watching my breasts dipping above and below the waterline as I worked. I lightly pressed up against him a time or two, and the contact sent a hot shiver of pleasure through me.

  "Give me that," he said, his voice husky. He took some soap on his own fingers, and reached around me. I felt his hand on my back, and slowly he began rubbing my skin.

  It felt... good.

  It was getting harder to hold onto the sense of shame - the idea that I was somehow betraying my former self if I stopped resisting my new life of slavery, or felt anything but hatred for my master.

  Giving up my own life, surrendering my dignity, should be something I railed against. But this didn't feel cruel, or wrong, or shameful. I only felt his big, warm hands on me, rubbing hot water and soap into my tired muscles.

  "That feels good." I told him. "I am aching in places I didn't know could ache." I looked at him as he raised an eyebrow at me, and couldn't help a little laugh. "I was practicing dance." I explained.

  He didn't answer, but using both hands he began to massage my shoulders in earnest. I sighed in pleasure. He was good at it.

  I made lazy circles on his chest, watching the soap lather on his skin. At some point, I'd shifted so that my thigh was pressing up against his. But I didn't move away.

  It was warm and steamy, and I could feel myself unwinding under his hands. And he was so close. If I opened my eyes, I could see his face mere inches from mine. His brown-green eyes no longer laughing, but serious. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking - but he was watching me, just as I was watching him.

  Not really thinking about what I was doing, I moved my soapy hands up over his collarbone, over his shoulders and up, until they were at either side of his jaw. My fingers curled around the back of his neck.

  I felt him do the same - his dextrous fingers working up my neck, mirroring my movements. His fingers caressed the back of my neck, and the golden collar that rested there under my limp wet hair.

  We looked at each other. My heart was hammering, and I breathed quick, shallow breaths. I wanted... what did I want?

  Before I could figure it out, he pulled me toward him and pressed his lips to mine.

  I was surprised for only the briefest of moments, before my traitorous body melted, my lips parting softly in a breath of pleasure.

  He kissed me fiercely, holding me as though I might fall - one hand around the back of my head and the other now wrapping around my back. He crushed me to him, my breasts pressing against his chest, our wet skin sliding.

  I had never been kissed before, but this felt natural. I didn't have to think about what I was doing, instead surrendering to my desire in the moment.

  His tongue invaded my mouth and hungrily sought mine, and I responded with a quiet moan. I tangled my fingers in his hair as hot thrills of bliss ran through my body, making me shiver.

  We stayed like that for a long while, enjoying each other, lost in bliss and losing all sense of time. I shifted my thighs together under the water, where my sex was hot, wet and aching. And found myself wishing that he would take me right there.

  There was a loud banging, I broke away at the sound, and Issander bent his head to kiss and suck on my neck. His tongue was hot on my damp skin.

  The knocking came again, louder and more insistent this time. The prince growled in frustration, pressing his his face against me as though blocking out the outside world.

  I clutched him, pulling away reluctantly, and he looked at me ruefully. When the knocking came again and someone shouted from the hallway, he growled again and lurched to his feet, sliding through my grip and sloshing water over the sides of the bath as he climbed out.

  He stormed out of the room without covering himself, and I shielded my face with one hand, wanting to laugh as I pictured him answering the door naked and dripping.

  I heard him wrench the door open, and he roared at the poor messenger without. "Did it not enter your head that I may be BUSY?"

  I stepped out of the tub, wrapping a large white cloth
around myself. It was soft and dry, and the cool air felt good. Now that I was out of the water, I saw how pink and hot-looking my skin was, and felt slightly dizzy. How long had we been in there?

  I took another towel and waited in the hallway out of sight. When Issander finished berating the intruder and closed the door, I peeked hesitantly out.

  He turned, standing naked without modesty. All sign of arousal had fled and he wore a look of frustration.

  I approached, smiling at him, and he looked at me and grimaced, running a hand ruefully over his wet hair.

  "What's wrong, Highness?" I asked, as I took the towel and began to dry him, starting with his shoulders.

  "I am summoned to dine with the king and queen." He said, holding his arms away from his sides to give me access.

  "You do not sound pleased."

  He sighed and shrugged. "I can't get away with taking meals in here every day. Besides, my father rarely makes it out of his room anymore. It will make him happy, so I will go."

  I wanted to see him smile again, to make his eyes sparkle with mirth, instead of seeing him with this weight on his shoulders. I wrapped the towel around him, and pressed myself lightly against him as I did my best to dry his back.

  He looked down at me, and after a moment, reached his arms around me and pulled me hard against him. I could feel his instant response – he began to stiffen against me, his arousal pressing against my stomach.

  "Mmm," he grunted. "I wish I could stay." He put his hand under my chin, tilting my face up to look at him. "Eveline." He said, in a low voice.

  I thought he would kiss me again, or say something, but he only sighed, and took me by the arms, and disengaged. He took the towel from my hands and wrapped it around himself, turning to go through to his bedroom.

  He stopped in the hallway, turning to cock his head and look at me for a long moment. "Come with me."

  I blinked several times, uncomprehending. "My Lord?"

  "I think my father would enjoy seeing you. We were talking about you today." Now there was a trace of amusement on his face, but I wasn't sure if I should be glad. "And,” he said smugly, “Indari will be livid."

  Chapter 7

  We made our way to the dining hall. I walked two steps behind my master with my hands loosely clasped demurely in front of me, the way Atshye had instructed me.

  Issander had chosen a gown for me from those that had been brought in - one of the more modest dresses with a full long-line corset and skirt. It was reminiscent of Thessian fashion - which I supposed was the reason he chose it - although the fabrics were distinctly Cimbrai.

  He'd grumbled at the lack of choice, talking about getting a dress-maker in and buying more outfits. It made me laugh. And then he had sent me off to dress myself. “Or I fear I'll get distracted.” He'd said.

  He was back in his princely role now, holding his head high as he confidently strode through the hallways. I couldn't help remembering how he'd looked damp and steamy as he held me, breathing hard between kisses. I could still taste him on my lips. How would I make it through a dry royal dinner with those thoughts running through my mind?

  Issander threw the wide doors open and strode into the room. It was a large room dominated by a massive wooden dining table, set for five. The queen sat at one end, and near the head of the table was the man I recognized as the captain I had momentarily mistaken for the prince.

  I waited for my master to take his seat, following behind him. As we moved through the room Indari looked up, noticing me. She was unveiled tonight, and even more lovely than I'd last seen her. I saw her pretty mouth drop open at the sight of me, her expression one of perfect indignation. I forced myself to look away, going to stand against the wall behind my master and concentrate on being unobtrusive.

  "Step-mother." Issander gave the smallest of bows as he sat down opposite the captain. He nodded at the man, who nodded to him in turn. They were all quiet, only the occasional soft sound of a glass being set down interrupting the silence. I was conscious of multiple pairs of eyes glancing at me, but concentrated on staring at the floor.

  Another set of doors opened at the back of the room, and a well-dressed man pushed in a large a wheeled chair. the king was seated in the chair, looking even more frail than I'd expected. He was thin with hollow eyes and pale sagging skin. His hair had gone completely white – yet his eyes were alert and he sat fairly straight in his chair and held his head high, even if he quavered a little.

  Everyone stood. I noticed Indari took her time doing so, reluctantly rising. When the king was wheeled into position, the queen was the first to sit, and everyone else followed.

  Kitchen servants – they lacked the collars of slaves and were dressed in identical white uniforms – immediately burst into activity. One passed me a jug of wine, and I held it in both hands, falling into my role. When Issander's plate was filled and the servants had filed out, I stepped forward and leaned past his right shoulder to fill his glass.

  Indari made an audible sniff and said something that amounted to: “If I'd known we were bringing our slaves I would have brought Atshye.” I gave no indication I'd understood, modestly retreating to my place.

  The king looked over as if seeing me for the first time. “Ah,” He said, in a surprisingly strong voice. He peered at me, squinting. “A beauty. And Thessian!” He chuckled, with some more words I didn't understand.

  Then he shocked me by addressing me in my own tongue. His accent was thick and some of his words slightly incorrect, but I understood. “What's your name, girl?”

  I looked up at him. My hands shook and I tried to steady them so the king wouldn't see the wine sloshing. “Eveline, your Majesty.” I bowed, dipping as low as I could manage while still holding the jug.

  “Come here and pour for me, if you can manage both of us.” A smile lit his lined face, making him appear younger. He would have been just as handsome as Issander in his younger days, I thought.

  So I approached, keeping the table at my right side as I'd been taught, and poured wine for the king, trying desperately not to let the glass clink as I attempted to still my trembling fingers. The old man looked up at me nodding and smiling, and I couldn't help a quick smile back at him before I moved away.

  The captain concentrated intensely on his meal. Issander watched me, cutting meat from his plate and chewing it leisurely, and the queen, well – she could have melted ice with her hot glare. She said something in Cimbrai. I caught the word “barbaric” as I went back to stand behind my master.

  The topic of conversation changed and I lost the thread of it as they talked in their own tongue. It was well and good, I supposed. A slave wasn't supposed to listen anyway. Issander and the men talked animatedly across the table, laughing and joking, while the queen was silent, picking at her food. I concentrated on watching the cups of my master and the king, who didn't drink much.

  Indari excused herself after the main meal, going to her husband and lifting his hand to kiss it briefly before departing. She spared Issander one sour look as she left the hall.

  The captain – the queen's brother – was soon engaged in a loud tale which the men seemed to find amusing. They all loosened up after her Majesty's exit, and I found myself relaxing a bit as I listened to their friendly chatter.

  They talked about fighting and tactics for a while – something about border skirmishes and tribal battles. The king only listened, slowly spoons of some creamy dessert from his bowl.

  Finally, the captain stood, bowed and left, and it was only the king and his son. I sensed whatever they were talking about was of great import, but they looked like any close-knit father and son clasping hands at the dinner table. With a pang, I remembered sitting with my own father in much the same way. I looked back at the floor, feeling as though I'd intruded on their privacy.

  After a long while, the king said my name. I looked up, snapping out of my trance. He beckoned me over.

  Issander pulled me close to him, holding onto my wrist, and
the old man switched to Thessian so I could better understand.

  "You take care of her," he told Issander, his eyes sparkling. He looked at me. "And you take care of him, too."

  I made a sound of surprise and hurriedly set down my jug as Issander pulled me into his lap.

  "Have a drink," he said, offering me his glass. Obligingly I took a sip. The wine was sweet and rich and warm.

  "Thank you my Lord," I said. "It's very good."

  Issander smiled faintly, and picked up a halved date from his dessert dish, offering it to me. As if on cue, my stomach growled. I took the morsel gratefully. It filled my mouth with rich sweetness.

  The king had turned his attention back to his son. "I want you to take care of Indari, too." He said. "When I am gone. Don't send her to the Old Harem with the concubines."

  Issander grimaced. "Father..."

  The king held up a hand, hushing him. "Cold she may be," he said, "but she has given her fertile years to me. It is not her fault we never produced brothers for you. Find her a husband if she will take one. But if not, please find a place for her."

  The prince lowered his head, resigned. "Of course, father."

  The old man sat up a bit straighter, looking solemn. "You must marry, and soon," he said. "I don't understand your reluctance. I should have three grandchildren by now."

  Issander barked a bitter laugh. "I'm sorry father, I truly am. But the right opportunity hasn't presented itself."

  "You've had plenty of opportunity." The king rolled his eyes. "But you'd rather be off fighting."

  Sitting on my master's lap, I could feel him tense. I took a drink of wine, trying to avoid looking at either of them.

  "I have made no secret of the fact that I belong on the battlefield, not the throne room."

  "...And I have allowed you to test your skills -"

  "Test, yes -" Issander broke in. "I should be in command."

  The king raised his voice, with a note of frustration. "You may have the skills, but you are too important to risk further. Your most important duty now is to produce an heir."