Chapter 4 

I WOKE up the next morning with my face buried in a Persian carpet. As I winced at my throbbing headache and body, I heard the sound of chattering maids. Someone had been kind enough to throw a blanket over my naked lower half, and the collar was gone. As I pulled myself up to a sitting position, I nearly tripped one of the maids who was busy changing the bed linens.

"Ah, I didn't see your legs there under the blanket," the portly one said to me with a wide grin. "We laid a pretty dress out for you."

I saw a pile of golden fabric lying on the blue velvet couch. Fortunately, it was within arm's reach, and I was able to pull it over my head and shoulders without exposing myself even more. Not that I was much to look at, my tiny breasts weren't much to salivate over even before I was thrown into the dungeon.

"It fits!" Another maid exclaimed. "You're a skinny little thing. That dress is one of Miss Amari's."

I made a face but decided that beggars couldn't be choosers. Amari! It was either wearing that hateful woman's clothes or walking around with my bottom on full display.

As I stood up and headed to the door, I winced at the pain across my shoulders. Prince Orion had done his work on my head before I blacked out. Then, a horrible thought appeared in my mind — I wondered what he did to me after I passed out. My hand drifted down to my abdomen. I wondered if he had already impregnated me, and that was why Amari had given me the dress.

At least now I knew for sure that Orion Balan was every bit a monster everyone said he was. It was oddly comforting to know that my enemy was a simple, comical, caricature of a man. The devil who had beat me into unconsciousness last night was so terrible; he was like a freedom fighter's wet dream.

Rafe met me at the door. It was a relief to see him again. I nearly cried tears of joy to see a friendly face even though we had just met yesterday. With dismay, I noticed that Rafe's shoulder was black and blue now. 

He wrapped his arms around me and led me down the hallway. I noticed he held me at arm's length as though our closeness bothered him. Was he afraid of what Prince Orion would do to him if he got close to me? The Prince did say he wanted to possess my body and soul.

"Let's get you something to eat before you pass out again," Rafe told me without meeting my eyes. He set me down at a dining room table and had the servants bring me some porridge and toast. Shakily, I spooned up a healthy serving of porridge and brought it to my lips. It was delicious - warm, gooey, with bits of crab roe and salted sausage. I took a bite of toast in between sips of porridge. The bread was flakey and chewy, like a French baguette.

Rafe sat across from me and watched me eat with a curious look on his face. He was probably unfamiliar with Nivarrin cuisine. Our small country was located in the Mediterranean, but we had done business with the Chinese for so many years that their cuisine had merged with ours. My own mother was a Chinese seamstress who had started out sewing scabbards for my father's higher-paying clients.

"I don't feel any different," I mused as I reached for another piece of buttered toast. "I guess the Prince will have to wait for another night to put a bastard in me."

Rafe made a disgusted face. "He said what? I'm sure His Grace was kidding. He barely knows you. I don't know much, but I do know his father will disown him if he returns home with a baby in his arms."

"You say that because your father isn't Satan himself," I replied in good humor. "And you're not a monster like Orion Balan."

"That is true," Rafe said as he glanced down at the gold band on his finger. He played with it by pushing it up and down his index finger but stopped short of actually removing it. It must have sentimental value to him. It was a little weird, even in Nivarrin, where the men were fashion-forward, for a bachelor to wear a gold wedding band. "My father is a good man," Rafe looked up and stared at me in the eye as though he was conveying something of utmost importance. "And I'm not just saying that because he's my father."

"What did your father do that landed you in slavery to these Sarastri fiends?"

"My father is sick," Rafe said, slowly, carefully, as though the words hurt him far more than the wound on his shoulder. "Ever since my mother left him, he hasn't been himself. I guess you can say he went mad with grief."

"Why did your mom leave?" I asked as I scrapped the bottom of my bowl of porridge. "Was there another man?"

"No, it was nothing like that," Rafe said with a chuckle. He glanced up at me, finally meeting my eyes. I heard kindness and sympathy in his voice. He had a gentle, lulling voice that made you want to trust every word that came out of his mouth. "You lost your parents in the war, didn't you? That's why you hate the Sarastri? I lost my mother as well. She too was an unintended casualty of that war."

"Was she fighting the Nivarrins?"

"No, she had nothing to do with the war. She was concerned with helping the sick and suffering," Rafe pinched the corner of his eyes with his fingers and looked away. This wasn't easy for him to talk about. "My father tried to save her. He was never the same after. And so, here I am today." Rafe laughed as he bitterly tugged at the corners of his threadbare vest.

"I'm sorry, I guess those Sarastri bastards are cruel even to their own citizens."

"I don't blame the Sarastri or the war," Rafe said. "War is hard, and bloodshed is inevitable. Truthfully — secretly — when I was younger, I blamed my father for choosing the memory of my mother over me. It's as though I wasn't enough for him even though I was alive and she is. . . well. . ." Rafe lowered his voice to a whisper as though the rest was too painful for him to put into words. "Dead."

"If the Sarastri King hadn't invaded Nivarrin, your mother would be alive," I pointed out bluntly. "Why beat yourself up over your father's tragic decision when you should be out for the blood of the man who did that to him?"

"Yeah," Rafe said with a nervous laugh. "You are right. Ahem, the Great Satan King must die."

"Have you ever met him — the King? They say no one has seen him in decades. Is he deformed?"

"I'm afraid I never had the pleasure," Rafe muttered as he drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. "Also, you do know in Manna City we have another ruler, don't you? This man that you refer to as the Great Satan holds very little power where I am from. So excuse me if I am not much of a gawker."

"What exactly do you do for Prince Balan?" I asked as my eyes drifted down to his hands again. They were aggressively manicured and well-formed, both silky smooth and seductively veiny. I recalled how gentle they were. Although Rafe's shoulders were broad and strong, his chest sculpted and muscular, I didn't think he ever did a day of physical labor in his entire life.

"I fill in for his valet when he is abroad," Rafe said with a laugh. "The Prince appreciates my eye for fashion and my attention to detail."

I nearly spewed a mouthful of bread across the table. I didn't have the heart to break it to Rafe that the messily dressed, unshaven man that had pinned me to his bed last night was far from the most well-put-together gentleman I had ever laid eyes on. Although I had never been among high society, I had seen my share of pirated Jane Austen movies in the back alley flea markets of the capital.

"You might not think much of me, but I do know something," Rafe said as he leaned closer. "What you did in the arena, when you absorbed the demonic energy into your body and channeled it into the soldier — how you burned his skin and flesh away with your touch — that is very special."

I felt the blood drain from my face. Yes, there it was, my darkest secret. I knew it would resurface sooner or later. I glanced down at my ashen fingertips. The mark of the Dark Waters was still on me even now. Some might call it channeling; others might accuse me of being a witch.

"Don't be ashamed," Rafe said as he offered me another bread roll. "I know a healer when I see one. My mother was a healer too."

"Then, you are wrong. What I do — it's not healing. Do you know anything about Black Waters or what they call Mud Gold? The tainted waters that breed demons? What does a sheltered slave boy like you know about anything?"

"Ssh," Rafe said as he leaned closer and motioned for me to lower my voice. "If you would calm down, I have something to show you."