The Prince's Pet (10 page)

"Mmm," he grunted. "I
wish I could stay." He put his hand under my chin, tilting my face up to
look at him. "Eveline." He said, in a low voice.

I thought he would kiss me
again, or say something, but he only sighed, and took me by the arms, and
disengaged. He took the towel from my hands and wrapped it around himself,
turning to go through to his bedroom.

He stopped in the hallway,
turning to cock his head and look at me for a long moment. "Come with
me."

I blinked several times,
uncomprehending. "My Lord?"

"I think my father would
enjoy seeing you. We were talking about you today."
Now
there was a
trace of amusement on his face, but I wasn't sure if I should be glad.
"And,” he said smugly, “Indari will be livid."

W
e made our way to the dining
hall. I walked two steps behind my master with my hands loosely clasped
demurely in front of me, the way Atshye had instructed me.

Issander had chosen a gown for
me from those that had been brought in - one of the more modest dresses with a
full long-line corset and skirt. It was reminiscent of Thessian fashion - which
I supposed was the reason he chose it - although the fabrics were distinctly
Cimbrai.

He'd grumbled at the lack of
choice, talking about getting a dress-maker in and buying more outfits. It made
me laugh. And then he had sent me off to dress myself. “Or I fear I'll get
distracted.” He'd said.

He was back in his princely role
now, holding his head high as he confidently strode through the hallways. I
couldn't help remembering how he'd looked damp and steamy as he held me,
breathing hard between kisses. I could still taste him on my lips. How would I
make it through a dry royal dinner with those thoughts running through my mind?

Issander threw the wide doors
open and strode into the room. It was a large room dominated by a massive
wooden dining table, set for five. The queen sat at one end, and near the head
of the table was the man I recognized as the captain I had momentarily mistaken
for the prince.

I waited for my master to take
his seat, following behind him. As we moved through the room Indari looked up,
noticing me. She was unveiled tonight, and even more lovely than I'd last seen
her. I saw her pretty mouth drop open at the sight of me, her expression one of
perfect indignation. I forced myself to look away, going to stand against the
wall behind my master and concentrate on being unobtrusive.

"Step-mother."
Issander gave the smallest of bows as he sat down opposite the captain. He
nodded at the man, who nodded to him in turn. They were all quiet, only the occasional
soft sound of a glass being set down interrupting the silence. I was conscious
of multiple pairs of eyes glancing at me, but concentrated on staring at the
floor.

Another set of doors opened at
the back of the room, and a well-dressed man pushed in a large a wheeled chair.
the king was seated in the chair, looking even more frail than I'd expected. He
was thin with hollow eyes and pale sagging skin. His hair had gone completely
white – yet his eyes were alert and he sat fairly straight in his chair and
held his head high, even if he quavered a little.

Everyone stood. I noticed Indari
took her time doing so, reluctantly rising. When the king was wheeled into
position, the queen was the first to sit, and everyone else followed.

Kitchen servants – they lacked
the collars of slaves and were dressed in identical white uniforms –
immediately burst into activity. One passed me a jug of wine, and I held it in
both hands, falling into my role. When Issander's plate was filled and the
servants had filed out, I stepped forward and leaned past his right shoulder to
fill his glass.

Indari made an audible sniff and
said something that amounted to: “If I'd known we were bringing our slaves I
would have brought Atshye.” I gave no indication I'd understood, modestly
retreating to my place.

The king looked over as if
seeing me for the first time. “Ah,” He said, in a surprisingly strong voice. He
peered at me, squinting. “A beauty. And Thessian!” He chuckled, with some more
words I didn't understand.

Then he shocked me by addressing
me in my own tongue. His accent was thick and some of his words slightly
incorrect, but I understood. “What's your name, girl?”

I looked up at him. My hands
shook and I tried to steady them so the king wouldn't see the wine sloshing.
“Eveline, your Majesty.” I bowed, dipping as low as I could manage while still
holding the jug.

“Come here and pour for me, if
you can manage both of us.” A smile lit his lined face, making him appear
younger. He would have been just as handsome as Issander in his younger days, I
thought.

So I approached, keeping the
table at my right side as I'd been taught, and poured wine for the king, trying
desperately not to let the glass clink as I attempted to still my trembling
fingers. The old man looked up at me nodding and smiling, and I couldn't help a
quick smile back at him before I moved away.

The captain concentrated
intensely on his meal. Issander watched me, cutting meat from his plate and
chewing it leisurely, and the queen, well – she could have melted ice with her
hot glare. She said something in Cimbrai. I caught the word “barbaric” as I
went back to stand behind my master.

The topic of conversation
changed and I lost the thread of it as they talked in their own tongue. It was
well and good, I supposed. A slave wasn't supposed to listen anyway. Issander
and the men talked animatedly across the table, laughing and joking, while the
queen was silent, picking at her food. I concentrated on watching the cups of
my master and the king, who didn't drink much.

Indari excused herself after the
main meal, going to her husband and lifting his hand to kiss it briefly before
departing. She spared Issander one sour look as she left the hall.

The captain – the queen's
brother – was soon engaged in a loud tale which the men seemed to find amusing.
They all loosened up after her Majesty's exit, and I found myself relaxing a
bit as I listened to their friendly chatter.

They talked about fighting and
tactics for a while – something about border skirmishes and tribal battles. The
king only listened, slowly spoons of some creamy dessert from his bowl.

Finally, the captain stood,
bowed and left, and it was only the king and his son. I sensed whatever they
were talking about was of great import, but they looked like any close-knit
father and son clasping hands at the dinner table. With a pang, I remembered
sitting with my own father in much the same way. I looked back at the floor,
feeling as though I'd intruded on their privacy.

After a long while, the king
said my name. I looked up, snapping out of my trance. He beckoned me over.

Issander pulled me close to him,
holding onto my wrist, and the old man switched to Thessian so I could better
understand.

"You take care of
her," he told Issander, his eyes sparkling. He looked at me. "And you
take care of him, too."

I made a sound of surprise and
hurriedly set down my jug as Issander pulled me into his lap.

"Have a drink," he
said, offering me his glass. Obligingly I took a sip. The wine was sweet and
rich and warm.

"Thank you my Lord," I
said. "It's very good."

Issander smiled faintly, and
picked up a halved date from his dessert dish, offering it to me. As if on cue,
my stomach growled. I took the morsel gratefully. It filled my mouth with rich
sweetness.

The king had turned his attention
back to his son. "I want you to take care of Indari, too." He said.
"When I am gone. Don't send her to the Old Harem with the
concubines."

Issander grimaced.
"Father..."

The king held up a hand, hushing
him. "Cold she may be," he said, "but she has given her fertile
years to me. It is not her fault we never produced brothers for you. Find her a
husband if she will take one. But if not, please find a place for her."

The prince lowered his head,
resigned. "Of course, father."

The old man sat up a bit straighter,
looking solemn. "You must marry, and soon," he said. "I don't
understand your reluctance. I should have three grandchildren by now."

Issander barked a bitter laugh.
"I'm sorry father, I truly am. But the right opportunity hasn't presented
itself."

"You've had plenty of
opportunity." The king rolled his eyes. "But you'd rather be off
fighting."

Sitting on my master's lap, I
could feel him tense. I took a drink of wine, trying to avoid looking at either
of them.

"I have made no secret of
the fact that I belong on the battlefield, not the throne room."

"...And I have allowed you
to test your skills -"

"
Test
, yes -"
Issander broke in. "I should be in command."

The king raised his voice, with
a note of frustration. "You may have the skills, but you are too important
to risk further. Your most important duty now is to produce an heir."

The Prince's voice was strained.
"I know, father."

Sighing, the king leaned forward
to pat Issander's hand. "Love is well and good," he said, "but
there are more important things. Besides, love doesn't always fall in your lap
- as you well know. It can be built over many years, no matter who you choose
as a bride. And don't think I don't know your inclinations. You're unlikely to
find a noble lady who will consent to being bound or disciplined in the
bedchamber. Why do you think I found you a pleasure slave? The arrangement
worked well enough for me in my young days."

Issander was silent. I felt his
fingers tighten on my upper arm where he held me steady. The two of them stared
at each other.

I felt distinctly uncomfortable
caught between them during this topic of conversation. So it was true about my
master. Was it a source of embarrassment for him?

I wondered what it would be like
when he inevitably did take a wife - then immediately I pushed the thought
away. It left a sour taste in my mouth, and I didn't want to consider the
implications of that.
I am his property
, I reminded myself,
not his
lover
.

After the king had tired and his
nurse came to collect him, we retired to the prince's rooms. Without being
asked I knelt to take off his shoes and went to pour a drink for us both. He
sat heavily in a chair by the hearth, in which a fire had already been lit.

Not wishing to intrude on his
thoughts, I knelt on the thick carpet by his feet and handed him his glass. I
imagined he still thought of his father. Clearly, the old man was not long for
the world. Aside from the obvious grief, this had many implications for a
prince and heir of a kingdom. I didn't know much about the duties of royalty,
but his impending reign must have been a heavy weight.

The warmth of the fire and the
effects of the wine soothed me, and eventually I found my eyes growing heavy. I
shifted so I was closer to Issander and leaned against him, resting my head
against his knee. I didn't know if it was a proper thing to do - but he'd said
to feel free to touch him, and for the first time, I wanted to.

After a moment, I felt his hand
on my head. I closed my eyes while he stroked my hair. I was almost asleep when
he finally spoke. His voice was husky and low.

"Go to the bedroom."
He said. "Wait for me there."

––––––––

J
ust like that, I was nervous
again. I stood by the bed for a moment, unsure what to do. Did he want me to
warm his bed again? Finally, I settled on kneeling next to the bed, in the
position I had been taught.

He came in a short while later,
and I bowed forward, fingers spread on the floor, forehead almost touching the
carpet. I stayed there, and sensed him stop and look at me for a long moment.

"Gods help me," he
said, "if that isn't the loveliest sight I've ever seen." A little
thrill went through me even though I still trembled with nerves. He walked
over, until I could see his bare feet in front of me. I wanted to look at him
and see the hunger in his eyes, but I held back. It was a long moment before he
spoke.

"Come here."

When I raised my head I saw his
offered hand, and took it. He easily pulled me to my feet, and I stood looking
up at him.

Issander cupped my face slowly
and gently between his hands and I felt the warm bloom of pleasure deep in my
belly. When he leaned down and brushed his lips against mine, I let out a
breath of something like relief.

His kiss was slower and less
urgent than before, but no less intense. Our breath mingled, faintly tasting of
wine and fruit. His tongue caressed mine and I mimicked its movements, taking
delight in the pursuit and teasing withdrawal.

He let his hands drop to my
shoulders, caressing them, and when we broke from our kiss he bent to nibble my
neck. His mouth and tongue felt hot on my sensitive skin.

His hands roamed down over my
back and I felt him try the laces of my bodice. It had taken another slave girl
to help lace me into it, and I wasn't sure it would be easy to unfasten, but
after a few moments I felt it abruptly loosen. Issander pulled away, taking the
bodice from me and tossing it to the floor.

I felt the weight of my breasts
as they were freed, my nipples already hardening. Now I stood in only my skirt.
My master looked down at me, holding me gently by the arms, his thumbs
caressing. As I looked at him the question at the back of my mind pushed its
way forth. I held my tongue, but he saw it in my eyes. Did he know me so well
already?

"What is it?"

I bowed my head. "Is it
true? What your father spoke about... is that what you enjoy?"

His hands didn't cease their
gentle movement on my arms. "Yes. Among other things. Does that scare
you?"

I looked up at him, considering.
"Yes," I said honestly. At the same time, I could feel the fluttering
of my heart, and the warmth and strength of his hands steadied me.
"But..."

"But?"

I stood on the tips of my toes
and wound my arms around his neck, and he bent his head and met my lips lightly
as they sought his. "But I am yours." I breathed against him.

He made a rumble of pleasure and
crushed me to him, his mouth possessing mine. Then in a sudden movement he
scooped me up in his arms. I let out a yelp of surprise, and held on tightly as
he easily carried me and deposited me on the bed.

I leaned back on my elbows,
drawing my knees up slightly. He was fully clothed and I was half-naked, and he
loomed over me, dark and serious with his hungry look. My chest heaved in and
out, my lips open as I stared at him in nervous anticipation.