At the Edge of Desire

I don’t see him for days. I stay in the carriage, and when my strength returns enough, I am allowed out, to walk, to eat, to feel the air on my skin, but I am guarded. Very carefully guarded.

I cannot take a step, make a move, breathe without six men following me.

I see the king in the distance. He is sat on a massive warhorse. Clearly, he has decided it is better for him to ride beside his men than be near me.

He doesn’t look at me. Even when I am close enough for him to notice. He makes a point of not looking and I wonder if he is offended. If what I did has insulted him in some way.

Part of me is relieved at his disinterest. I would rather it is this way. That he can’t stand me. That he hates me. That he is repulsed by me. It will be safer for me if that is the case.

We stop at a castle, but it is small. Tiny. King Helos’s men have to camp outside and they set up their tents all around like a giant moat of fabric.

My guards lead me into a room which is basic at best, but I don’t mind. After the horror of the dungeons, I am happy to just have some warmth. To have a bed and not be shackled.

A servant walks in, placing a tray of food on the table, and the guards leave me to it, but I don’t notice. I don’t notice any of them.

Beyond the room, past the door, I can see a bath. It is full to the brim. The water is steaming. My breath hitches and I feel suddenly alive.

I practically run into the room, yank my dress off without hesitation, toss it on a chair, and clamber in.

I don’t care if the food goes cold, if it disappears entirely because right now my body needs this water so much more than it does any sustenance.

I could feast for an entire week and it would not give me the same as what a minute in this bath would.

As I slide into the hot depths, I gasp. There is salt in this bath. Salt in the water. It doesn’t feel as good as the real sea would, but it is close. So very close.

I want to cry, to sob tears of joy, and my eyes feel wet as if I am about to.

I let out a moan as my limbs relax and my very soul feels sated. The creature in me stirs and she is practically purring with delight.

She stretches contented in the back of my mind, absorbing the heat and the water and the salt as if she were the one lying here and not me. We are combined, in unison, at peace for once.

I lean back, shutting my eyes, and for a moment, I can forget everything that has happened to me. Everything that has occurred since King Rufus died and I became little more than a thing to torment.

And then I think of Amera. I have no idea who the man who bought her is, but I know one thing: he cannot be as cruel as Issar is. No one can be as cruel as him.

I send out a silent prayer to the gods, pleading with them to make it okay, to make everything okay, and that she is safe, unharmed.

But deep down I know they do not listen. They have shut their ears long ago to the whims of man. To the whims of all of us.

A shadow moves in the room and my eyes snap open as I quickly cover my breasts with my arms and pull my legs right up. Though I don’t know why I bother.

This man has already seen me naked before. He probably made sure to get a good look when I was passed out back in the cell. He would almost certainly have been there in the audience when I was splayed for them all and then sold.

But I’m sick of it, sick of being exposed, leered at. Stripped to nothing for them all. Beneath me, the water is shifting as my body starts to tremble.

Helos watches me for a moment. Is he amused by my fear? It feels like it. And that annoys me. I am sick of them all reveling in what I am feeling, in how I am reacting to each awful situation they put me in.

“How is the bath?” he asks. His eyes are practically glowing; they’re hypnotic, and I try so hard not to lose myself in them again.

The creature in me braces, ready to lunge, ready to pounce, though even her movements feel odd, confused, as if she is unsure of herself.

“Better before you showed up,” I reply and then my eyes widen in shock at what I’ve just said.

He is a king. He can literally do what he likes to me. I need to watch my words more carefully or I risk goading him into hurting me.

I can’t tell what his reaction is as his eyes narrow, but the amber in them practically sparkles with amusement.

He steps nearer to me. He is looking at my legs through the water.

“Why are you here?” I whisper, half afraid of what his reply will be.

“I know what you are,” he says quietly back.

I do my best not to react, though my fear is palpable and I know he can sense it too. But how can he know? I’m not showing any signs yet. No truly distinguishable signs.

My hair is a mousy brown now; to any casual observer it looks normal enough.

“I expected more of a reaction, though,” he says, dipping his fingers into the water.

“A reaction to what?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“The water. The salt,” he says.

He does know, I realize with horror. He really does.

He grabs my leg, pulling it out from the bath, and examines it.

“What were you expecting?” I ask, wrenching it free from his fingers.

Where this new bravery is from, I don’t know, but I’m both impressed and surprised by myself. My skin tingles from where he has touched me and I can’t tell if it’s a good feeling or not.

“At least some sort of tail,” he replies.

I scoff. “I think you have me confused with the mermaids,” I say.

He smirks, staring at my chest, where my arms are pressing so tightly against it. “Do you not like mermaids? Your tone suggests not.”

“They are the opposite of me. Simple creatures, playful creatures,” I state.

“Are you not playful?” he says in a more than suggestive tone and I scowl at him, making him laugh.

He dips his hand into the water, cups it, and then lets the tiny reservoir that’s collected in his palm trickle down over my skin.

In any other situation, I would enjoy this. The feel of the water, the way he is playing with me, but right now, all I know is that this man scares me. His power, his presence alone overwhelms my senses.

“What do you want with me?” I ask before my bravery leaves me, before I become a coward once more.

He narrows his eyes again; only this time there is no amusement. “I am still deciding,” he says.

My stomach twists because there is no comfort in what he says. His words sound cold, callous.

He leans in again. I can smell him now. His strength, his power. It oozes from him and hangs in the air around me and my body can’t decide if it likes it or not.

“I have to admit I am surprised by King Rufus. He did not strike me as the kind of man who indulged in such desires of the flesh,” he muses, running his eyes back across me.

I grit my teeth, glaring at him. “He was a good man. A good king. He didn’t deserve what you all did to him.”

“Did he entrance you so much that you defend him even now?” he asks, teasing me as if the man’s death is a joke.

“He protected me. He kept me safe. Gave me home when I had none,” I retort.

“For a price I imagine,” he replies, running his fingers up along my thigh.

I let out an involuntary gasp at the feeling. It sends shockwaves through me. He is so dominating that my body doesn’t know what to do with it and the creature within me is just as confused as well.

“He didn’t touch me. He never touched me,” I spit.

“You’re saying he was what, a father to you?” Helos says almost mockingly. He doesn’t believe me. I can see it in those devastatingly amber eyes.

“Yes,” I state.

“And Lord Issar? What about him?”

My stomach clenches at his name. It feels like a whole block of ice has been dropped on top of me. “He is a monster,” I whisper because I have no other words to describe him.

Helos studies my face for a moment and then he stands back up.

“Eat your dinner,” he says, retreating. “Tomorrow we will arrive at my castle.”

I feel like there is a hidden threat in his words. Something unspoken. And I know whatever decision he comes to about me, it will be there, at his home. His capital.

He walks out, leaving me alone. Confused. Scared.