Chapter 6

Ari

A fter lunch with my parents that day, I ordered the grooms to get Revlis ready and went for a horseback ride alone. I wanted some peace and quiet before tonight. At the same time, I tried in vain to escape the thoughts about what tonight might bring.

Tonight.

It seemed too soon.

Since my talk with Gem earlier today, I’d almost searched her out twice to beg her to postpone the whole thing indefinitely. I didn’t feel ready.

But would I ever feel ready?

How long could I wait? Maybe it was best to do it quickly, like pulling out a tooth? Yank and done.

On my ride, I carefully avoided passing by the execution side, even as I knew it wasn’t used today. Punishments didn’t happen often. There hadn’t been one in days since Salas’s flogging.

Once again, my mind went to that man. I wondered what he thought about our arrangement with his owner. Did he have any ideas about who’d requested his company tonight? Would he be relieved or resentful to discover it was me?

In all of my twenty-six years, Salas happened to be the only man, other than my father the king, who I didn’t feel entirely scared of, repulsed by, or indifferent about. Regardless of how tonight went, it was already progress for me. Salas’s term of servitude was going to be cut shorter too. Gem was right. Our arrangement seemed like a win-win situation.

After the ride, I left Revlis with one of her regular grooms in the stables and returned to my rooms.

Dinner was waiting for me in the cozy sitting area in my bedroom. Dishes with cold cuts, cheeses, sliced fruits and vegetables sat on a low table in front of the couch, along with a pyramid display of desserts and a tea tray.

In my bathroom, the carved marble tub with brass claw feet had been filled with steaming hot water.

In Rorrim, magic was a part of life, alongside science and technology. Running water was available almost everywhere in the country. We built sewers in the cities and used electricity for lighting, along with candles and gas lanterns where needed. To generate electricity, wind and water mills were built. There weren’t many of those, but because the use of electricity remained low, it was enough.

Books and newspapers were printed. But quills and ink were still widely used for handwriting.

People of Rorrim abhorred war. As a result, the weapons here never developed past swords and crossbows.

But I knew of things not found in this world. Things like cars and guns...

Pearls of fragrant oils floated on the surface of the bath water, along with white rose petals. Several unlit candles were arranged around the bathtub with a silver box of matches laying open on the stand nearby.

Standing in the doorway to my bathroom, I stared at the delicate lily petals floating in a slow circle in the steaming water. Images appeared in my mind, floating in circles, too, faster and faster. The scenes were foreign to Rorrim yet painfully familiar to me.

Concrete and asphalt streets, filled with people. Women wearing short skirts or jeans, neither being in fashion in Rorrim. Men behaving in a way that would get them arrested and executed in this world.

A group of men emerging from the lit city streets and accosting me as I hid in a dark alley behind a dumpster. At least one of them had a gun...

The memory slammed into my brain like a punch to my head. I gripped the door frame for support and rubbed my chest against the tightness that wouldn’t let me breathe.

I didn’t want to remember that.

My past did not control my future.

But could I ever be truly free from it?

A knock on the sitting room door sounded through the bedroom door that I’d left open.

The last thing I wanted was for someone to find me here, covered in sweat and struggling to breathe in the romantic setting of candles and flower petals.

I drew in a long, slow breath, banishing the images from my head, then hurried out into the sitting room.

The door from the corridor opened, and Gem marched in.

“You’re back!” She beamed.

“I am. I—”

My words were cut short by her opening the door wider. An entire army of royal guards appeared to spill into the room, forcing me to retreat toward the bedroom to give them all space.

A tall, cloaked figure entered with the guards, and suddenly there seemed to be no more space and no more air left not just in the room but in the entire universe.

It really was happening.

Salas was here.

They had put a dark cloak on him and pulled the hood low over his face to draw the veil of propriety over a man’s visit to the princess’s quarters. Gem tried to avoid starting any malicious rumors while leading him through the palace to my chambers. Only no cloak would conceal his height or his broad shoulders. I knew who he was before Gem gestured at him like a magician who’d just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

“Well, here we are.”

Maybe it was too soon. Maybe I wasn’t ready for this. Maybe I should’ve canceled or at least postponed this.

But he was here now, and it was too late to fret over it. I was the crown princess, and I had to act accordingly.

“Greetings.” I addressed the room, silently congratulating myself on how calm and collected I sounded. I turned to the tall, cloaked figure next. “It’s very nice of you to join me this evening. Welcome.” I gestured at the open door to my bedroom.

With a nod, he walked past me inside. An odd metal rattling accompanied his steps. I squinted at Gem in silent question. She pressed something into my hand—a small golden key.

“Use it only when you absolutely have to. He’s fully functional as is.” She widened her stance, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ll be spending the night here, with the guards.”

I frowned at the key, then shoved it into the pocket of my riding dress.

“Good night.” I nodded to Gem, then followed the man whose hands were meant to end up on my naked body tonight. My composure wavered at that thought, and I almost tripped when entering the bedroom.

Salas stood in the middle of the room. His hood pushed back, he stared at the sword displayed on the wall over my bedroom’s fireplace.

Warning pulsed in me with alarm. I should’ve hidden the weapon earlier instead of leaving it in the open like that. But the sword had been hanging in the same spot for years. In my mind, it had become simply a part of the room's décor by now.

“The creation has outlived its creator,” Salas said softly.

I didn’t think he intended for me to hear that because he looked a little startled to find me standing next to him when I asked, “Do you know who made it?”

“Don’t you? Since it’s yours?”

That deep voice of his instantly made me feel lightheaded. I had to focus to muster a reply.

“My father gave it to me years ago. It came from the arsenal of the royal gladiators. Father thought it was appropriately small and light for me to practice with if I happened to have any aptitude for swordsmanship.”

“ Do you have the aptitude?”

I exhaled a laugh, adjusting my glasses. “No. No aptitude, no interest in any kind of weapons. I never used it. It’s been hanging here as a decoration ever since. It’s pretty.”

“The hilt is.” He nodded. “But it doesn’t match the blade.”

Father had found the sword’s simple hilt with the worn leather on the grip too plain for a princess. He had the leather replaced and the pommel gilded and inlaid with gemstones before gifting it to me.

“How do you know this isn’t the original hilt?” I asked, watching him carefully.

Under my attention, his expression shifted to a masterfully crafted indifference.

“I never said I knew for sure. I just pointed out that they don’t match. The blade is strong, well-made, and functional. The hilt is... well, pretty.”

“You know a lot about swords?”

“Just the most common things.” He turned away from the wall.

His behavior didn’t seem threatening. Removing the sword from the wall now would be weird and, likely, unnecessary. But I couldn’t neglect my own safety either.

Walking past Salas, I unlocked the patio doors and swung them wide open. The warm evening air rushed in. The wild colors of sunset streaked the sky. But most importantly, the patio provided me with another place to escape the bedroom if things with my visitor ran astray at any point of the night. My rooms were on the second floor, but palace guards usually patrolled the gardens below regularly. They’d hear my screams for help if it really came down to that.

“I’m in control here,” I repeated in my head.

Fabric rustled behind me, along with the soft clinking sound from earlier. I turned around and... found my control slipping from me.

Salas took off his dark cloak and casually tossed it over the back of the couch. Underneath, he wore a floor-length sarong tied around his hips and an equally long robe. Both were made from white material so thin, it was nearly transparent.

The robe was open in the front, revealing his bare chest. His skin was completely smooth there with a ruddy glow. The bare chest surprised me. By how scruffy and unruly his hair and beard were, I’d expected all that hair wouldn’t be just on his head and face.

Realizing I’d focused on his chest for far too long, I blinked and jerked my head up. His hair had been cut and tamed into a neat style with a slight wave to it. His beard was also trimmed and smoothed. I was glad it hadn’t been shaved off. It suited him somehow, though it also made him look slightly untamed no matter how much care went into his grooming.

I met his eyes and realized that the awkwardness was all mine. Salas seemed relatively relaxed and comfortable in this rather unusual situation. Not a single ripple of reflection ran through his large frame. Which meant he didn’t feel scared or ashamed to be here. He simply appeared to hold back, waiting to see what I would do next.

“Thank you for coming over,” I muttered.

The evening light darkened his honey eyes to the color of black coffee, and they gazed at me with amusement. The corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile that his trimmed beard couldn’t hide.

“Thank you for the invitation, Princess.” He attempted a bow, the clinking sound finally drawing my eyes to his hands.

Wide fur-lined metal cuffs circled his wrists. The pretty designs embossed in the metal almost made them look like jewelry if it weren’t for the black chain connecting them. The chain ran from one cuff to the other, then down to the similar manacles around his ankles.

Anger heated my chest and face.

“What the fuck is this?” I gasped. “I’m so sorry. I did not order these.”

With my eyes on the chain, I pawed at the side of my skirt in search of the pocket, then rummaged inside it for the key that Gem had given me. Its purpose became very clear to me now.

Salas lifted his hands, as if to stop me. “It’s for your protection, Princess.”

That made me pause.

“Do I need to keep you chained in order to be safe with you, Salas? Because if that’s the case, then you should leave. You’ve already earned your money just by coming here. I promise no one will take it away from you now. You’re free to go.” I motioned at the door behind him.

He turned, following my gesture.

“I swear I could punch Gem right now,” I cursed under my breath.

He pivoted back to face me again. “Don’t blame Lady Gem for taking measures to protect you. She doesn’t know me.”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” I agreed. “But you should know. Tell me, do I need to keep you in chains for my safety?”

His stare didn’t flicker. He didn’t flinch when he replied, “No, Princess. You don’t need the chains.”

“Give me your word,” I insisted.

“Will you trust the word of a slave?”

“I’ll trust your word.” For once, I didn’t feel awkward, holding his gaze firmly.

“Then you have it,” he said. “With me, you don’t ever need to be afraid. As long as I’m around, I’ll protect you from any danger, including myself.”

That was more than what I’d asked for. His words reached deeper than he would ever know. Without saying another word, I opened the lock that held the two ends of the chain together. The chain rattled to the ground, setting free both his hands and his feet. The cuffs remained, but they no longer restrained him since they weren’t connected anymore.

He stepped over the chain on the floor. “Thank you.”

“I meant what I said, Salas. You’re free to leave if you want. It will not affect your compensation.”

He watched me closely, a spark of a new interest twinkling in his eyes.

“I think I’d rather stay,” he said.

“Really?” I felt both unnerved and thrilled by his decision as well as by his attention. “Did you know you were coming here to see me? ”

“No. No one told me who requested my presence at the palace. But I wondered if it was you.”

“You did? Why?”

“You were the only person from the royal court who’s ever spoken to me or even looked at me.”

“So...” I laced my fingers in front of me, choosing my words carefully. “No one talked to you about the purpose of your visit then?”

“No.” He arched an eyebrow, with a new spark of amusement in his eyes. “But I’ve been bathed, fed, and groomed. My hair was trimmed, my nails filed and buffed, and every part of my body has been scented, and oiled. I’d be a clueless fool not to figure out the purpose of my coming here at this hour.”

“Right.” I squeezed my fingers tighter. “And how do you feel about it?”

“How do I feel?” He jerked his head. A frown momentarily crossed his features, but it smoothed out quickly. “It’d take too long to list all the emotions I’ve gone through today, but that’s not what you’re paying me for, is it?”

I winced at his bringing up the money. However, his silence about it wouldn’t have changed the fact that he was being paid for tonight and it was my mother who was paying him.

“Let’s just get one thing straight, Princess,” Salas continued, “our arrangement is about sex, which gives you access to my skills and my body but nothing else. There is no need to talk about feelings .”

“Of course.” I nodded. “As long as you’re here willingly.”

“I am.” He rolled back his shoulders, tossing a look around the room. “So, where do you want me?”

“Where? Oh...” I tripped over my next breath.

Already?

Just like that?

He sounded so businesslike. But then again, what was it if not a business transaction?

I brought a hand to my mouth and surveyed the room uncertainly.

“I’m not sure... Where would be a good place?”

With a tilt of his head, he studied my face. “You’re twenty-six years old, Princess, aren’t you? I remember your last birthday celebration. Fireworks were shot all over the country. Newspapers said the queen released twenty-six pigeons during the parade in your honor.”

“Doves,” I corrected, rubbing my sweaty palms on my thighs. “They were white doves, not pigeons. And yes, twenty-six of them. I am twenty-six.”

“Which is old enough to know where and how you like being pleasured, isn’t it?” he said matter-of-factly.

For some unfathomable reason, the word “pleasured” sent my attention straight to his crotch. The thin material of his sarong clung to the bulge between his thighs closely enough for me to study its outline. Which I consciously chose not to do, jerking my gaze up to his face again.

He wasn’t smiling. The amusement slowly cooled in his eyes as he took in my blushing cheeks and fidgeting hands.

“You haven’t been with a man before, have you?” His voice softened. “Is this supposed to be your first time?”

I scratched my forearm, though it didn’t itch, and adjusted my glasses that didn’t need to be adjusted.

“I guess Gem never communicated that, either.”

“Lady Gem never spoke to me,” he said. “This arrangement was done through my owner who vouched for my character. There was no need for Lady Gem to speak with me directly.”

A woman’s word was worth more than a man’s, especially since the woman was a well-respected business owner and the man was just a slave.

“Well, yeah... I mean yes, the purpose of this encounter is for me to gain experience in... um, sex. I’m sorry you had not been informed of that in advance,” I rambled on. “If it’s something that you have a problem with, my suggestion to leave—”

At a shake of his head, I shut my mouth.

“I already promised I’d stay,” he said, then added under his breath, “and frankly, you did get the best man for the job.”

What was that supposed to mean?

But I didn’t ponder his words for long, still racking my brain for the best way to go about this.

Should I take him straight to bed? Or would it be easier to do it right here on the couch? Or in the bathroom maybe, for a quick clean-up? How messy could these things get, anyway?

“Have you had dinner yet?” he asked unexpectedly.

“Dinner? No.” I hadn’t even thought about food.

“Good. Come here then.” He gestured at the sitting area by the fireplace, placing his other hand just behind my elbow as if to guide me but not quite touching. “Take a seat, so I can help you get rid of your boots and make you some tea.”

“My boots?” I repeated like a dummy but plopped on the couch in the spot he’d pointed at.

“Boots aren’t comfortable to wear indoors.” He took a box of matches from the tea tray and lit a tea light in the stand under the pot to keep it warm. Then, he got down on one knee in front of me and lifted his hand, palm up. “May I?”

“Are you really going to take my boots off for me? You know that’s not what you’re here for.”

“I know, but I don’t mind, and it’s easier for me to do it than calling in a maid.” He snapped his fingers, urging me to surrender my foot to him, but I shuffled both my feet closer to the couch.

“I can do it myself.”

“Princesses aren’t supposed to do things for themselves.”

“I haven’t always been a princess,” I blurted out before I could think better of it.

He studied me from behind his dark locks hanging over his forehead. “Maybe you’ll tell me more about it over dinner?”

Oh no, that was not going to happen. Talking about my past with someone I’d just met, when I hadn’t even mentioned it to anyone other than Mother, was not on tonight’s agenda.

I couldn’t think of a better way to divert him from that topic than shoving my foot into his hand.

“Here. Go ahead if you insist.”

He pulled the boot off and placed it by the fireplace behind him, then removed my other one just as easily. After that, he hovered his both hands over my calf covered by the pant leg of my riding pants.

“May I?” he asked again.

My riding outfit consisted of a sleeveless dress from a light cotton to help me bear the heat. The long skirt of the dress was largely decorative. With the high slit in the front all the way up to my waist, its only function was to drape majestically over the croup of the horse as I rode it with my legs on either side of the saddle. The pants I wore underneath protected my thighs from chafing during the ride.

As Salas waited for my permission to touch my calf, I stiffened, wondering how far he wanted to go and whether I should allow it. My muscles strained, ready to jerk my leg away or even kick him.

Yet he’d somehow taken control over the situation without overpowering me. He’d taken the lead, leaving me the choice to follow. Even with him in charge, I still had a choice.

“Alright.” I nodded tentatively.

Sitting back on his haunches, he placed my foot on his knee, then hiked my wide pant leg up past my knee. With deft fingers, he untied my garter, then rolled down my thin cotton stocking before taking it off.

He did it all slowly, giving me plenty of time to pull away if I so wished. Somehow, he also managed to get it done without touching my skin even once.

“It’s not just my boots you’re taking off then?” I cleared my throat, holding still as a mouse.

“Stockings are a part of it. You wouldn’t be wearing them if it wasn’t for the boots.”

In summer, women in Rorrim normally wore just short underwear under their light dresses and sandals on their feet. Working women often switched to flowy pants made from breathable material, for practical reasons. Men usually stuck with long pants and boots or closed-toe shoes throughout the year. It wasn’t customary for any self-respecting gentleman to show bare legs or feet in public.

“Do you ride horses too?” I asked, since he’d demonstrated a skill in dealing with riding boots.

“No,” he replied briefly.

“But have you ever? I mean before ?”

“Before I sold my debt to a slave owner, you mean? No. I’ve never ridden a horse other than in a wagon.” He reached back to drape my stockings over my boots by the fireplace.

His back seemed to be healing well. There were no blood stains on the pristine white material of his robe, but the raised scars from the whip with dry blood still crusted in their crests were visible through the thin fabric.

“How did you get into debt?” I asked somberly.

Turning to face me again, he shook his head.

“Talking about me won’t get us in the right mood, Princess.” He took my bare foot into his hands, not bothering to ask for permission this time.

If distraction was his goal, it worked. My breath hitched as his warm palm connected with the sole of my foot. I forgot all about the question I’d just asked.

His huge hand wrapped around my foot, nearly swallowing it whole. Gently as if handling a puppy, he rubbed the top with his thumb. He traced each bone to my toes, massaging them in circles, then moved to the bottom of my sole.

“Your horse is white like snow and so is your dog,” he said, his deep voice soothingly flowing through the room. “Is it intentional?”

I remembered he’d seen Revlis on the day of his flogging.

“No,” I said. “A pure coincidence.”

“How old is your horse?”

“She’s eleven. I got her about seven years ago. I wasn’t that great of a rider back then, so Father advised me to go with the most mild-tempered mare. And she was it. I still prefer her over any other.”

He raised my foot a little. Cupping the heel in one hand, he applied firm, even pressure to my sole with his thumb. It felt wonderful. The tension from being trapped in a stiff boot drained from my foot with the relaxation spreading through the rest of my body.

“And your dog?” Salas asked. “Ria, the puppy.”

I noted he remembered her name.

“Ria is a daughter of Father’s lap dogs. He has a pack of hunting hounds like most men do. But he also has a pair of lap dogs—two little furry creatures he’s quite fond of.”

“I thought those were Queen Anna’s dogs. She has a portrait painted of her with the two of them, hasn’t she? I saw a copy of it in a store window once.”

He set my right foot back onto his lap and started working on the left one.

“Right,” I agreed. “They’re hers.” Owning lapdogs was not considered manly. Officially, Ria’s parents belonged to the queen, though the king was the one who doted on them. “Father is just... um, in charge of their training since he knows so much about dogs because of his hounds.”

“It looks like that little one needs some more training.” Salas smiled into his beard.

“She does.” I liked how fondly he spoke of Ria, even as she’d mostly been a pest the day he met her. “Did you ever have a dog?”

“Yes, a very long time ago,” he said quickly, then set both my feet down. “Time for your tea, Princess. Where can I wash my hands?”

“The bathroom is right there, behind the pillars to the left.” I gestured in that direction.

I appreciated how he’d used small talk about my pets to put me at ease. But it didn’t escape me how persistently he avoided any conversation about himself.

As Salas headed to the bathroom, I remembered the tub with the freaking rose petals. I scrambled to my freshly massaged feet and dashed after him.

“Wait.”

But he had already entered my bathroom that was finished in pale pink marble with antique bronze fixtures and stained-glass mosaics on the walls.

“Nice,” he drawled appreciatively, sweeping the room with a wide glance before pausing it on the tub. “And what is this for?”

“The maids did it,” I fired off, like a five-year old blaming her siblings for a mischief.

“How thoughtful of them.” He approached the sink, turned on the faucet and scooped the silky soap paste from the open jar to wash his hands.

He was clearly impressed by the opulence of my rooms but didn’t seem overwhelmed as could’ve been expected from someone who’d never been to a fine home before.

“A bath is a great idea,” he said, rinsing the soap from his hands. He then dipped a hand into the tub. “It’s nice and warm still, just what you need after the ride on a hot day.” He wiped his hand on the end of his robe. “Come, Princess, I’ll help you bathe.”

“Me?”

He tilted his head. “You are the only princess here, aren’t you?”

His smile was kind, letting me know he wasn’t mocking, just trying to lighten the mood. While I searched for an answer, he struck a match, then walked around the tub, lighting the candles around it.

“I don’t need help,” I said.

He completed the circle around the tub, with all candles now lit, then stopped in front of me.

“Not even with washing your hair?” He lifted a hand to a loose strand on the side of my face, then gently placed it behind my ear.

The tickling of the hair against my cheek and the slight brushing of his fingers just below my temple sent a ripple of excitement through my chest.

Or was it an alarm?

I couldn’t tell when it came to my feelings with him being this close, but I didn’t shrink away.

I realized what Salas was doing. First, he’d gotten me to accept his touch by massaging my feet. Now, he was getting me accustomed to his close proximity.

He treated me like a skittish animal in the wild, with care and patience. But maybe that was what I needed all along? Patience and care. I certainly had never found even a drop of that in any man who’d touched me before.

“I already washed my hair this morning,” I exhaled slowly, pulled into an odd trance when this close to him.

He smelled nice, after all the grooming they had put him through today. But it was the warm scent of his skin under all the musky perfumes that made me swoon a little.

“How about scrubbing your back then?” He smiled, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. “And maybe some other difficult-to-reach places?”

I should let him. After all, that was what he’d come here for—to take my clothes off, to put his hands on my body, to show me what happened between a man and a woman during sex.

I’d had no problem dealing with Salas in a businesslike manner. I’d found it easy to be friendly with him too. I enjoyed talking to him. But these tiny sexy sparks that he’d now brought into our interaction proved to be the roadblocks for me.

He shifted a tiny bit closer, speaking just above my ear.

“Let me take this dress off you, Princess.”

His fresh breath fanned over the side of my face. My skin prickled with tiny ripples of ice and fire. His warm, potent male scent made my head spin and my knees buckle. It also made me wish to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in for eternity.

“Oh, gods...”

I staggered back, grabbing the edge of the stand behind me. The candles on it shook. I found one by touch, blew the flame out, and thrust it toward him.

“Here. Take it. Light it in the sitting room, for mood and such. Have some dinner, you’re probably hungry. It must take a lot of food to maintain all of this .” I waved my hand in front of his broad-as-a-wall chest. “I need a bath. I smell like a horse.”

“Not the worst smell, believe me.”

I ventured a glance up at his face again. His smile somehow had the ability to loosen the tight knot of anxiety in my chest.

“Please, let me take a quick bath on my own. I promise, it won’t take long.”

“As you wish, Princess.” He accepted the candle from me, then left, closing the door behind him.

I dropped my shoulders, propping my butt against the edge of the tub.

What was happening with me?

Maybe I was coming down with something? The flushes of heat and cold. My racing heart. My heightened scent sensitivity. Were they symptoms of a sickness? It would be such a nice and easy explanation if I’d just caught a cold and Salas had nothing to do with it.

I took my clothes off and got into the tub. The water was just a degree above lukewarm, which proved perfectly fine for a quick refreshing bath after a hot day.

Only after I finished bathing, I realized I hadn’t brought any clothes to change into. All I had was my silk robe, printed with cherry blossoms and nightingales, that hung on a hook in a corner. I dried myself with a towel then put the robe on, making sure it overlapped tightly in the front before tying the belt around my waist.

With my hand on the door handle, I paused to collect myself.

It felt like armies of butterflies led an incessant battle in my stomach. But I had no reason to feel this way. I’d been holding my own in front of foreign dignitaries, seasoned politicians, and army generals since my first council meeting that I attended at eighteen. All of them had been smart, experienced women who’d mastered poker faces and were ready to use my every weakness to their advantage. Yet I survived and even thrived among them.

I could certainly stand to spend a night with a handsome man.

Turning the handle, I shoved the door open and entered the bedroom.

Salas sat on the floor by the table with food. At the sound of the door opening, he took the teapot from its stand and filled two cups.

“How do you take your tea?” He turned to me, then slid his gaze down my body.

I adjusted my robe over my chest, feeling an odd urge to explain. “I didn’t want to put the same clothes on, and I didn’t bring any clean ones to the bathroom with me.”

“You look lovely, Princess.” He tore his stare from me and directed it back to the table. “Tea is ready. Cream? Sugar?”

“Just cream, please.”

I sat on the couch and pulled the ends of my robe closed over my knees. Salas remained on the floor, the way the royal gladiators often did when in the company of the ladies from the palace.

“I took the liberty of making you a plate.” He placed a dish with different mini sandwiches in front of me. “I hope you like these.”

I took a rye wafer he’d topped with paté and a cucumber slice. He joined me by taking one too. I noted the quality and the variety of the fancy sandwiches he’d constructed.

“What do you normally eat?” I asked after we’d finished a few sandwiches and Salas had refilled our teacups.

“Whatever the owner feeds us. Usually, it’s something that fills us up the most with the least impact to her wallet.” He set down his cup and leaned against the couch seat sideways to face me better. “But I’m not here to talk about the far-from-fine cuisine of the slaves’ barracks. Tell me, Princess, how far have you gone with a man before. Kissing? Touching? What have you enjoyed?”

I would rather stick my bare hand into an open flame than talk about my past sexual experiences.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I’ve done nothing at all.”

He seemed surprised by my answer, and I didn’t think he believed me.

“Not even a kiss?”

“No.”

“Have you ever wondered what a kiss would feel like?”

“Um, I don’t really think much about things like that.” Though I certainly was wondering about them now, studying his lips framed by his beard. “How does kissing work with a beard? Does it get in the way?”

He laughed. It was a rich, deep sound—hearty and genuine. As if on their own, my lips stretched into a smile in response. Propping an elbow on the seat of the couch, he beckoned me with his finger to lean closer.

“There is but one way to find out,” he murmured in invitation.

I kept staring at his mouth. It was a pleasant thing to look at, especially when it was curved into a cheeky grin like that. But a kiss would bring him closer. Way too close...

“No. Please—” My hand holding the teacup jerked involuntarily, spilling the tea. I put it onto the saucer on the table a little too hard with a loud clunk.

His smile slipped away. He moved the cup with the saucer away from the edge while his focus remained on me.

“What’s wrong, Princess?”

I clasped my hands in my lap, dropping my gaze to them. I should’ve known this would happen, that my memories would resurface and get in the way. The past few days had been intense, and I struggled to keep the darkness at bay even during the day. Now, I felt worn down and vulnerable.

“Did something happen?” he sounded somber, grave even. “Tell me. I believe I will understand.”

What could I say?

How would I put all those dark, tangled memories into words?

How could I bring them out into the open like this?

As I kept silent, his large hand descended over both of mine on my lap in a warm, reassuring touch.

“Whatever happened, you proved stronger than it,” he said. “You survived.”

He spoke as if I’d already told him, as if he needed no words to know, and it was a relief to have someone understand it like this, without words.

“Nothing has to happen tonight,” he assured me. “Sex can’t be forced. Intimacy takes time to develop, even if it’s just the most basic physical kind. You have to be in the right state of mind to enjoy it. Because without joy, what’s the point in any of it?”

I realized the turn our situation had taken—the man who had nothing was comforting the woman who had it all. But I had no willpower to refuse his comfort, shamelessly soaking his attention and the warm sensation of his touch.

“It takes time? So sex isn’t really like pulling a tooth out, is it?” I managed a smile. “Yank and done?”

“A tooth? I sure hope not.” He chuckled. “I’d love to think I can make it far more enjoyable for you than that. But only when you’re ready for me.”