“I see how your eyes dart from side to side, Estela. You are angry with me,” he says at last.“Angry you couldn’t escape?”
My heart races at his words, and I resist the urge to tremble in front of him. It is not my first time seeing his nude form—he always does this when he wants to dig his claws into me.
“Answer.”
I swallow. “I am not angry, my prince.” I bow my head, and it hurts my throat to spit out lies.The healing lashes on my lower back burn with the effort.
“I have something for you,” he says, dropping my chain, reaching into his pants, and pulling out a key. He tosses it to the ground. “Freedom.” He starts laughing when I don’t move. “Oh, come now. I’m extending an olive branch. I knew you would try to escape when you volunteered both you and Mikal.”
My eyes burn.Of course. “Then why let us come?” I say past the lump in my throat.
He shrugs. “I knew you would never make it far. To be honest, I expected it in the forest, not in the ice passage.” He laughs again. “You can be so stupid.”
My head hangs. I don’t dare tell him aboutEl Paseo de Nubes—that slave legend is for me alone.
He is very conversational today. Perhaps all the wine. It makes me want to keep him talking so that he doesn’t try anything else. “So why not give me to the king?” It would be an apt punishment for everything I’ve done.
“A prince doesn’t answer to a slave,” he says as he removes his pants. “Especially his own slave. Shouldn’t you sleep better knowing your master is close by?”
Disgusting prick,I think, while keeping my face blank. “Will I be here all night?”
Keksej finishes undressing, ignoring me, and I avert my eyes to anywhere else in the room so he doesn’t catch me grimacing at his large, bony body. giants are thicker on top, and they are covered in tattoos. Some are considered sacred, but most are memories of battles won. He is not solid and sturdy like the Enduar king.
I groan inwardly. The Enduar king who is using his magic to lure me.
Another melodic hum I hadn’t noticed before permeates the room. It’s softer, much softer than the song that lights my skin on fire. While it plays, I think of an insect in the forest, a flower mantis, that will draw in butterflies and bees for pollination, only to eat them alive once they get too close.
Humans are fragile. Most of us are magicless, good for nothing but labor and entertainment. It’s a mistake to forget that.
I take a silent breath and inspect the quarters. The room is circular, like a cave, and the interior is warm and lush with several fur-covered surfaces. Golden decorations with precious stone inlays are everywhere. Some gems are opaque, while others are translucent and polished, but they all twinkle under the floating lights bobbing in the air. My master touches one that glows brighter, illuminating the bed modified with a second cushion to make the mattress long enough for a giant’s frame.
Then, he produces a wine bottle from one of his satchels. I hold my breath. But he doesn’t move closer, so I unclench my hands and look away once more. There are delicate petals inlaid on the walls with golden leaves and stems to create the appearance of flowers. Their gems are as deeply green as the leaves in Zlosa, and as pink as the blush of a newborn babe. My focus lands on the crystals as tall as me that are placed around the round room. The music comes from them.
“Rest before the feast,” Prince Keksej grunts. “I’ve brought you something more comfortable to wear. It’s cleaner, too.”
Something to wear?
I look back and find the bottle half gone. Sweat blossoms on my forehead. He’s pointing sloppily to a bag that I hadn’t noticed before. After obediently crossing to the space, I bend over—holding back a small grunt of discomfort—and start rummaging.
It doesn’t take long for me to find an emerald green gown, little more than a mere scrap of cloth in the pile. I recognize it immediately, not only from the feel but the color. It was my mother’s. She wore it to see the king when she would service him in his chambers. I drop it as if it burned me, and my stomach tightens as horror washes through my veins.
“Put it on!” he bellows from his too-big bed. The wet sound of his lips on the bottle’s mouth makes me flinch.
Damn all the flowers in the field—hell, curse all the trees and the ugly giants that live between them. How did he get this?
My lungs refuse to work properly. Not when I walk behind one of the dressers, and certainly not when I start changing. When the gown is on, I stay hidden until he speaks again.
“Come out and pester me, tiny flea.”
When I step out of hiding, his red eyes gleam. The bottle of wine is completely gone now. I cross my arms, uncomfortable as it’s not hard to see where he looks. The neck of the gown scoops low between my breasts, showcasing two brands—one from each prince—interlocking on my sternum.
The fabric is too thin, the color is too vibrant, and I’ve already left smudges on the silk. The only bright side is that he is tired from the journey. I move again, selecting an area as far away from his bed as possible before kneeling down.
“No,” Keksej slurs. “You will sleep at the foot of my bed.”
I swallow hard as bile begins to come up my throat. Without looking at the naked giant lounging with his back against the wall, I reach my destination and ease down on the ground before his mattress.
“Did you not hear me? On the bed,” he hisses.