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“Princess,” the deve clips, all business today. He says more, but it flows off of me like water from a duck’s back as I watch the plume of his breaths in the air. His lips are moving and I can hear him, but I only deduce that he’s angry. Of course he’s angry. He’s usually angry.
When he grips my arm and shakes me gently, it feels like it’s happening to someone else. I know I should snap out of it, but the will to gather my wits isn’t there. Vaguely, I watch the stairs slip by, then the Great Hall. Next, the whole of my vision is filled by the bluest of skies. I ponder its vast beauty until it disappears. Wanting to protest, I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
Reality makes an excruciating reappearance in the form of a thousand stinging nettles. Panic swamps me as I come back to myself, splashing in the water of the hot springs. I cry out and push against my bonds. “I know it hurts,” he rumbles at my ear, pulling me closer to his chest. “But it will pass.”
My breaths saw in and out of my chest as the prickling sensation in my limbs worsens. I shake violently, my teeth clatter. “It’ll pass, little raven. It’ll pass.” My eyes find his and I grab on to the tenderness I find there like it’s a lifeline. “There you go. You’ll feel better soon.”
And he’s right. Slowly, the pain ebbs, allowing my thundering heartbeat to settle and the heat of the water to provide comfort instead of agony. And all the while, I study him; the slope of his nose, the texture of his long beard, and the small scar that’s left an indent on his cheek. When I can, I snake my uncoordinated arms around his torso and hold on, never wanting to be alone again. He rests his cheek against the top of my head.
“This cannot continue,” I whisper minutes later.
“I know.”
He knows? He knows what?That the last threads of my sanity are worn so thin that they’re about to give way?
The arm under my knees lowers my feet to the pool’s floor, but I refuse to let him go. “Come now,” he coaxes. “Lean your head back. We’ll rinse your hair.”
But as if my life depends on keeping myself pressed to his chest, I refuse.
“Take a breath then,” he says and we start to sink down in the water. The muffled quiet eases some of the strain while he awkwardly works his fingers through my hair.
He’s here and I’m not alone.
When he stands, with water pouring down my face, my grip loosens, and he takes the opportunity to grasp my shoulders and set me away from him.
Convincing myself not to glom back onto him takes almost more effort than I can summon. But the small sliver of self-respect left to me makes itself known and I manage to turn away. He lets me bob and paddle about the pool for a time while I attempt to reassemble the tattered pieces of myself.
“We need to talk about the letter,” he finally says.
“No,” I whisper.
“What?”
“I said no. I cannot continue as I am.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning if you want to leave me to freeze to death, I cannot stop you, but –”
“I didn’t –”
“I don’t care. All I know is I’m not sure I wouldn’t welcome your holding me under the water until my life bleeds away.” A flicker of something appears in his expression, but I press on. “I want clothes.Properclothes for the cold. And boots.” The surprisingly unyielding tone of my voice helps to further bolster my will.
“Rina,” he says like I’m daft. “That would mean having to lock you in the holding cells. If I don’t, you’ll make your escape the first chance you get.”
“Escape?” I laugh, a sound verging on manic. “To go where? I have nothing. I have no one.”
“I’m not a fool,” he claims. “You’re resourceful. You’ll –”
“I’ll what? Live in a cave? Alone for the rest of my days until you or my cousin’s men find me.” I shake my head. “No. If you want my help, I want recompense.”
He’s going to refuse, I can tell, so I quickly continue before he can close the door on my fantasies. “I want water for washing.Warmwater. And I’m not eating with my hands anymore.”
His face contorts with what might be disgust, or confusion. “What?”
“You heard me. I want something to eat with and –”
“I’m not giving you a knife,” he interjects.
