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“I will have to think about this,” he tells me.
“Okay,” I reply. “But please understand, I don’t want to fight you anymore. I realize now that you are not the monster I first thought you were. I can help you. Maybe look after the house, cook for you, that kind of thing.” I try to make myself as demure as I can as I tell him this. I need him to trust me.
Again, he leaves without touching me, and my body protests. I run my hand down myself to try to relieve the ache between my thighs. Damn you, Zephiro, You’ve got me so damn hot!
As the days pass, I take every opportunity I can to engage Zephiro in talk. But the closer I get to him, the more I crave his company when he leaves the room. Every time he touches me, it is more difficult to resist.
I do what I can myself to relieve the agony of yearning in my body, but it is never enough. This game I am playing with him is a double-edged sword.
Every day, I have to fight myself to not let him have his way with me. Every day, I enjoy his company more and more. And every day, the silver links of the chain remind me that I am still a slave.
I wake early to the sound of birdsong outside my window, as I do every day. It is a small solace in this strange life that has become mine. As usual, Zephiro brings me breakfast. It is delicately spiced hot porridge and honey, one of my favorites.
“Could you open the window?” I ask him. “I like to hear the birds singing in the trees.”
“Let’s do something better than that,” he says.
My body gives an involuntary jolt thinking he means to take me. Could I really resist if he pushed the matter?
But instead, he goes to the hated chain around my ankle and runs his fingers over the links. He mumbles a word beneath his breath, and the chain falls away with a silvery clink.
I swear my heart stops beating as I stare in wonder at my naked ankle. I look at him. He has a question all over his face. Will I try to run?
No, I am not that stupid. If I run now, you will never release me again.
Instead, I whoop for joy. I throw my arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.
“Thank you, Zephiro, thank you!” I dance around the room, my legs free for the first time in weeks, to the accompaniment of Zephiro’s deep, rumbling laughter.
“Come on,” he says. “I have something to show you.”
He leads me from his room and into a neat little living room. There is a large hearth at one end for cooking and a bare wooden table in the center surrounded by stools. The room looks cozy and clean, exactly how I have always imagined my own kitchen to look.
“You are going to let me cook and clean for you?” I ask, trying not to look at the door that leads outside and to freedom.
“Better than that,” he replies. He produces a pair of comfortable-looking shoes.
I squeal for joy. “You’re going to allow me outside?” I ask incredulously.
He nods, evidently pleased with my reaction.
The fur-lined boots fit perfectly. All my life I have been dressed to please the eyes of elves. I relish in comfort as I wiggle my toes.
Zephiro moves across the room and opens the door, letting in a blast of fresh air. I smile as it washes over me.
“After you,” he says, standing back to let me pass.
For a moment, I am frozen to the spot, my stomach churning. Then I get over my reluctance, forcing my feet to move.
The world outside is exquisite. His cottage is situated in a clearing in the woods. All the colors around me look alive and vibrant as I step across the threshold.
I know I could bolt for freedom right now, but how far could I get? Two paces, maybe three? And if I did escape, how long would I last? Zephiro is right. I am not equipped for flight. Yet.
I follow him down a winding path. The world around me is alive with noise. Birds are singing in the trees and there are insects chirping in the woods around me. Occasionally, I hear the howl of some hunting animal in the distance. The noise chills me.
Zephiro leads me to a clean, wide river. “I thought you may like to bathe here,” he says.
I look at him, questioning if he really means it. He nods his assent. “Go ahead,” he tells me.
