24
The next day, the sudden bleat of a little lamb jarred me awake.
The room’s sliding doors were still closed, but the sunlight was already filtering through the numerous rectangular openings on top of the walls, where doves were sleeping between crusted birds dropping with their heads nestled down into their feathers.
I sat with my shoulders against the wall, my legs stretched out in front of me. A gnawing pain radiated from the back of my head, and I felt as if my bladder was about to explode, as if something heavy was pressing down on it.
And it was so.
Amlach’s strong arm rested on my lap, his fingers digging into my side with the same intensity he had used when he covered my hands with his around the hilts of our daggers during the sea storm. He was lying on his side, facing me, with his forehead pressed against the outside of my thigh.
Completely unaware of the intimacy of that position.
Completely unaware that my heart felt like it was going to break my chest.
I needed to get him off me. Right away. I couldn’t let the overwhelming sensation that was gradually forming within me take over. I refused to entertain the thought of lying down on the straw beside him and surrendering myself to his embrace.
I couldn’t feel so good.
So, I grabbed his wrist, pulled his fingers off my side, and angrily threw away his arm, producing a rattling sound that upset the animals in the stables.
Amlach’s eyelids squinted open, and he gave me a very annoyed look. “What on earth . . .” he grumbled, sitting up. “You could have been a little nicer . . .”
“You were clutched to me,” I retorted.
“By the gods, Elf, it’s not like I was raping you,” he bit back with a sharp gaze.
Furious, I stared at him for a few seconds, only to realize that perhaps I was overreacting. With a guilty sigh, I dragged my eyes away from him and said, “You’re right. I’m sorry for how I reacted. You must have wrapped your arm around me while we were sleeping, without even realizing it.”
But the worst thing was that I did not notice it at once. That my body had accepted his possessive grip.
“ You were sleeping,” Amlach replied, a sly smile touching his lips. “I was more than awake.”
I exuded burning anger from every pore. “Don’t ever do that again,” I ground out.
His gaze fell on my mouth. “Do what?”
“Touching me on purpose,” I snarled. “Touching me as if I were—”
“Mine?”
My breathing caught. My heart skipped a beat.
We were too close. Shoulder to shoulder. My eyes drowning in his, and his eyes devouring mine. There was something dirty about the way he was looking at me. And feral. And dark.
Something that drew me to it.
Something that clawed my soul.
Something that awakened . . .
The room’s doors swung open suddenly, and the squeak of the wheels on the track caused a donkey to burst into loud braying.
Five guards, with white robes reaching the middle of their thighs and armors half-covered by red cloaks, marched toward us. Short swords hung belted at their waists, and four of them held a crossbow with the dart already nocked.
Amlach and I stood up when the fifth soldier, with a crooked nose and a big iron ring in his hand with the key to the cell and another smaller key, came forward to open the bars.
“Master Roxior wants to see you,” he announced flatly. “But not until you clean yourself up.” He stepped aside to let us pass. “We have orders to escort you to the bathrooms.”
I tried to keep a calm expression, but inside, I was bursting with joy. Peeing in a corner of the cell the night before, while chained to Amlach, had been so humiliating—even though he had turned his back, just as I did when it was his turn.
The bathrooms were located between the guards’ and servants’ dormitories.
They consisted of a large hall divided into two separate rooms. On one side were the showers, while on the other side were the latrines, which faced a long stone slab.
On it, there were wooden bowls filled with clean water and soap.
The guard who had spoken earlier approached us, holding the shortest key between his thumb and forefinger. “Try to do something incredibly stupid, and you’ll end up with an arrow in each leg. Do I make myself clear?”
“We have already given our word to your Master that we would not cause trouble,” I said, scowling.
Bewitched by my voice, the other four men lowered their crossbows slightly and then immediately pulled themselves together.
“Crystal clear, my friend,” Amlach replied with a wolfish smile, holding out his wrists to him.
I reluctantly mirrored him, rubbing my reddened skin after finally being released from the shackles. I was eager to relieve myself, so I shot the soldiers a fierce look to urge them out.
“Would you leave us a little privacy, please?” Amlach asked, sensing my discomfort.
“Sorry,” spoke the fifth guard. “We have orders to never let you out of our sight.” He sneaked a grin. “Especially the elf.”
“How noble of you,” Amlach remarked in a biting tone.
Huffing angrily, I strode for the latrine at the back of the room. Afterward, I washed my hands as I felt redness rushing up the tips of my ears.
We moved to the showers, and a little girl entered the bathroom with her head down. She laid two large white towels on the chairs lined up along the dividing wall and quickly ran away.
“Undress and wash up,” the soldier commanded, pointing at the showers with his chin. “You smell worse than the beasts you slept with,” he added, causing his companions to chortle.
Although we were no longer shackled to each other, I instinctively found myself approaching Amlach until my arm brushed against his.
“Then get out,” I ordered the guards. Amlach lightly poked me with his elbow. “Please,” I added in an annoyed hiss.
“You have a short memory, woman?” the man burst out. “Our job is to watch you.”
“Show some respect, soldier,” Amlach snapped in a more than harsh tone, the one I supposed he used with his army. “She’s a princess.”
“She’s a slave,” the other said back contemptuously.
“And if she doesn’t take off her clothes right now .
. .” His mud-colored little eyes glided lasciviously along my figure, making my fists tingle with the urge to beat him.
“Well,” he sighed, trading a conspiratorial glance with his companions. “We’ll do it for her.”