41
I wiped away the tears rolling down my cheeks, stroking the skin forcefully to dry it as I hurried through the house’s corridors, my long nightgown swaying behind my legs like a flag in the wind. I didn’t care that the servants would see me in such inconvenient conditions.
I was furious.
I was mad at Amlach because, for his kind, intimacy held no value; it was not sacred as it was for us elves.
I was mad at myself for stooping to crying for him, who, throughout his young life, had jumped many times from one woman to another without remorse, without feeling anything.
Instead, I was feeling a whirlwind of emotions that I had never felt before. That I couldn’t handle.
That I refused to accept.
That’s why I walked to Master Roxior’s study, my bare feet padding on the floor. Just as I was about to knock, the door swung open unexpectedly.
Roxior’s treasurer—a man in black approaching sixty, with sun-darkened, oily skin, bags under his narrow brown eyes, a black mustache, and a vertical goatee on his chin marked by deep, horizontal wrinkles—leapt back in shock, one hand clutching his red turban, to which a very long veil falling behind him like a cape was sewn, just before it slipped from his head.
“Oh, gods!” he gasped when he noticed I wasn’t chained to Amlach. “She’s . . . she’s f-free,” he stammered, terrified, leaning against the door as if he hoped that it would absorb him and save him from me. “M-Master, the e-elf is f-free!”
Standing before the large arched window that filled the room with light, Roxior displayed no signs of concern about my presence. Or perhaps he didn’t let it show.
“Let him pass, Highness, before he has a heart attack,” he said tiredly. He blew out the smoke he had inhaled from the pipe and grumbled, “I wouldn’t want to lose my treasurer, too.”
I observed the leather-bound register the man clutched tightly to his chest, then cast a glower at the crimson velvet bag resting on the elegant, dark wooden desk. It must belong to Mistress Yrrek and contain her money.
The payment for the night of copulation with Amlach.
A bitter taste rose in my throat as I moved aside for the treasurer to flee as if he had a demon on his tail. After that, I crossed the threshold without waiting for an invitation.
“I want another room,” I said imperatively. “Or at least two separate beds.” He lifted an eyebrow, so I forced myself to moderate my rude tone and, nearly grinding my teeth, added, “Please.”
“Good morning to you, too, Highness,” Roxior greeted me in an equally biting tone. He sat down at the desk; he looked ten years older than last night, and his expression was gloomier than usual.
He beckoned me to take a seat in one of the two chairs positioned before the table, but I refused and started pacing the room in angry strides, taking note of every volume on the shelves of the marble bookcases lining the walls.
“I take it the commander has returned,” Roxior said.
“And he bears the marks that that viper left on him like an animal,” I hissed.
For me to see them. For me to imagine all the things they had done, the way they had done it.
Roxior exhaled a cloud of light smoke. “I see.”
His impassivity rallied my anger, and I stopped before the desk to pierce him with a grave look.
“That was not our agreement. We agreed to fight for you and restore your glory while diminishing your enemies’ fame, not to sleep with them so that you could see their heads roll in the forum of Rubra.
” I put my hands on the desk, leaning slightly toward him with an intimidating expression. “Release Amlach from this obligation.”
He frowned, puzzled. “Obligation?” He exhaled the smoke with a subtle grin. “No, my dear.”
He invited me to sit for a second time, but I remained still, my stomach twisting with the unsettling feeling crawling up within me.
Roxior gave up with an unhappy sigh and resumed speaking with his rough voice.
“I observed Yrrek closely during your battle in the arena. When I noticed she nearly leaped from her seat to lean over the balcony, as the commander lay on the ground and was in mortal peril, I realized I had gained an unforeseen edge. An edge I had not even considered.” For a moment, his gaze grew distant as he smiled to himself—a devious smile that evoked the image of a wolf baring its fangs.
After a few seconds, he shrugged and took a puff from his pipe.
“All I did was ask the commander to use his undeniable charm to seduce her.” He shot me a knowing glance.
“You would be surprised to learn how many things a person is inclined to reveal in a luxurious alcove with aphrodisiac food and fine liqueurs, if persuaded in the right way.” He paused, the smoke billowing between us and permeating the steamy air.
“It was the commander who volunteered to become Yrrek’s new whore. ”
I felt as if my heart had just plunged into an endless void.
Slowly, I took my hands off the desk and straightened, rigid as a block of stone, my eyes flashing. “You’re lying.”
“That man wants to bring you back to your family, Highness,” he replied quick-wittedly.
I rolled my eyes and began walking around the room once more.
“And it is now clear to me,” he went on, “that he is willing to do anything for you. Even offering himself to a woman he doesn’t love.”
I glared at him from over my shoulder. “Amlach is not in love with me.” I resumed looking at the titles on the bookcase I stood before, pretending my heart wasn’t pounding wildly. “He just desires me.”
“As you desire him.”
I froze, holding my breath for a moment. I suppressed the urgent need to confirm Roxior’s words, my soul’s roar exploding in my mind, and then I turned to the Master with a steely expression.
He kept smoking peacefully. “It is totally understandable. He is quite attractive, and you are”—he looked at me from head to toe, showing no hint of lewdness—“celestial.” He frowned, thoughtful. “My question is . . . Why are you working so hard to resist him?”
I could just walk away. Put an end to the dull direction this conversation had taken.
Instead, I headed for the window, letting the sun’s rays strike me with all their heat. I hugged myself, gazing at the red roofs visible beyond the ring of walls surrounding the house, without truly seeing them.
“A union between our races is forbidden,” I said solemnly.
“In the Lands of the East,” Roxior pointed out.
I knitted my brows, half turning to him.
“These are the Lands of the West, Highness.” The ghost of a smile twisted his lips. “And nothing is forbidden in Rubra.”
“We elves don’t mess around with each other while waiting to meet our soulmate, as you humans do,” I replied in an accusatory tone, thinking about Amlach’s attitude toward the young woman who had offered herself to him in the baths and then toward Mistress Yrrek.
I was quite convinced that, if he hadn’t been tied to me all this time, he would have been with every woman working in the house.
“We wait,” I continued scathingly. “And when we find them, it’s for eternity.”
Roxior gave an obliging face. “Well, the commander can’t offer you eternity, that’s for sure.” He stared at me intensely. “But he can give you a home, once I have set you free.”
I turned fully toward him, my heart pounding against my ribs so hard that it hurt. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer right away, taking long draws from his pipe. “What are fifty years for an elf?” he eventually asked me.
Nothing. A blink of an eye.
Roxior gave me a meaningful look. “You might choose to stay in Rubra. With the commander. You might have a family and be happy for the time that the gods will give you. And when his time comes, you will return to the Kingdom of the Elves with your children.”
Family. Happiness. Children.
My thoughts danced around these three words until they conjured images of daily life so vivid that they felt painfully real.
I had abandoned the thought of starting a family two thousand years ago. I accepted that I would never experience true happiness, the kind I always saw shining on my parents’ faces, or in Araton and Serie’s eyes.
I had abandoned the dream of becoming a mother.
And now . . . now the flame of hope was kindled within me. A hope that meant going against the laws of my people. A hope that meant disappointing my father, my subjects.
A hope that I couldn’t nip in the bud.
A hope that began to obsess me.
Roxior’s smile grew more pronounced; he was aware of the inner turmoil he had stirred within me. “Think about it,” he said, dismissing me.
As if I were in a trance, I started toward the door.
“By the way . . .” The man waited for me to stop and turn back to him.
“You should know that after deciding to become Yrrek’s lover or go with anyone else who requests his services for the night, the commander has threatened to cut my throat in my sleep if I allow any of the other Masters to buy your company.
” His eyes narrowed, and I sensed a barely noticeable fear in his voice when he added, “And he was very convincing.”
A dark anxiety wormed its way into me, crawling within my body like a disease.
“So,” Roxior sighed coldly, “you can enjoy the future evenings without any anguish.” He blew out the smoke. “He will be the one to sacrifice himself for you.”
I could no longer remain in this room. I needed to return to Amlach. Immediately. I would bring him to his senses by any means necessary.
So, I turned around. I already had one foot in the corridor when the Master spoke again.
“Do you still want two separate beds?”
I held back a menacing look, and his throaty giggle trailed behind me as I left.