The Barbarian’s Tribute (Not-So-Savage Barbarians #1)

Three

W hen the barbarian brought me back to his tent and started stripping me, I expected the worst. I had no hope of fighting him off. He towered over me and the muscles of his arms were probably larger than my head. I could only cry and beg for him to have mercy. And he did. He only stripped me long enough to get me clean before dressing me again. Then he traded the bowl of water for a bowl of food and fed it to me by hand when I was too scared to move until I felt safe enough to take it myself.

The food wasn’t bad, fire smoked meats and some kind of vegetable I didn't recognize. I wasn’t really worldly, having only ever experienced what was to offer in our town, so I couldn’t say what he was feeding me. Only that it was warm and filling and he let me eat as much as I wanted. After two and a half days without a meal, I was starving and finished everything he gave me. He seemed pleased, the corners of his mouth kicked up in a small smile. He offered me more from his own bowl, but I shook my head. I didn’t want him to go hungry just because the mayor had refused to feed me while we were waiting for the barbarians to fetch me. Besides, any more food and I would be sick.

For the first time in days, I was clean, fed, and warm. Fatigue dragged at my senses, but I fought against it, too scared to close my eyes for long. He must have noticed, though, because he frowned and wiped off his hands before scooping me up again and moving me over to the makeshift bed. He didn’t crawl in to join me, or make a move to take advantage of me. He just tucked me in and turned down the lantern, finishing his meal in the dark. I tried to keep my eyes open and on him, to make sure he didn’t come after me, but fatigue won out and I fell asleep before too long.