Embracing His Empire, page 2
My weight shifted atop the furs and my eyelids flew open. I stared up at him with an angry expression and pushed myself up to stand. Giving a slight nod, I smoothed my dress and proceeded to walk past him. "Am I to be watched like a hawk, this entire time, or do I not get some semblance of privacy, sir?" I peered back over my shoulder at him. Standing in the regal manner I had been taught since childhood, I held my position as one of equality and breeding.
This brought a laugh from Xenocrates, immediately. "You will be watched every second of your life. You are not the first lady I've abducted. Do not think me a fool, girl. I know well that you will not obediently do as I instruct. I am much smarter than that. Move outside, and there, you will find Maros and Thaniel, who will escort you to the dining tent for you to sup. You are welcome to eat whatever you like, but you have only thirty minutes to do so. I would hurry, because the time begins now." He turned away and began removing his armour. I strode out of the tent, to find the two soldiers waiting—the two I had identified by shadow and tone of voice, Maros and Thaniel. Each of the two were as equally handsome as His Majesty, tall men with golden colored flesh and sandy brown hair. Each had strong and piercing eyes that made me feel as if I was being measured and weighed or, perhaps, even lusted.
"March straight ahead, girl," Maros instructed.
I did as he bid and continued in my stride towards the dining tent. My thoughts were filled with wonder and anticipation. How would I work this to my advantage in such a well-guarded encampment? Thaniel stood on my left, but remained silent. I pondered on whether he was one of the more compassionate soldiers, and that being the reason, he remained quiet. After about two yards, we made it to the tent and Maros moved the flap to the side to usher me inside. I stepped within and mused to see several women in silken robes that scarcely covered their bodies, though I was no newcomer to scantily clad women being paraded about for the entertainment of men. I was Daejian, after all, and such things were the staple of our people's lives. There were all sorts of fine foods and wines. Fruits of all sorts, along with cheeses and breads, lined the table. The scent of succulent roasted meat filled my nostrils like a savoury delight meant to be enjoyed by the deities themselves. I inhaled the aroma delightfully and sauntered towards the table, where I began plating all my wants atop a platter. It was uncommon for me to serve myself, but I was famished.
Maros pointed to a corner and commanded me to sit there. "Go sit there and eat your meal. Enjoy it, for you will not eat again until we arrive at the ship on the morrow." His voice was deep and domineering. I felt a sudden fear of him, almost equal to that which Xenocrates caused me. Taking the platter, I sat atop the pillows and began to eat. The thought occurred to me that I needed to have something to eat when I ran away, and while the men were watching the women gallivanting with the other soldiers, I slipped some of the cheese and bread into a napkin and hid it between the valley of my breasts. As soon as the men turned away, I lifted the back flap of the tent and crawled outside. My eyes shifted all around me, and in the darkness of the night, I began to run as fast as my feet could carry me, towards the tree line. With the moon hanging above my head, I felt my heart beating wildly within my chest, and still, I ran. The silvery ribbons of moonlight gave me just enough light to see the sharp branches and shrubs that veered into my path. Running this quickly wasn't something I was used to, and in my haste, I failed to notice the root systems on the ground. My foot caught a crooked root and I found myself falling into a heaping leaf pile with an oomph. My palms hit the ground hard, and as I attempted to regain my composure, I pushed myself up onto my knees and winced in pain. I was deep within the forest by now, and I could no longer hear the soft murmuring and laughter of the men in the camp. Much to my relief, I found my body without much damage and pulled myself up to stand again. My brief peace quickly came to a shattering end, when I heard the deep growling sound of an animal, directly to my left. My eyes flashed to the side, only to be met with the yellowing irises of a monstrous bear. Fear seized me instantly and I fell back to the ground, lifting my hands to cover my face as I screamed in terror. What a grave error I had made, and now, I would suffer the consequence.
Back at the camp, Xenocrates began to grow suspicious of the time, knowing he had given the strict command that Caecelia not be allowed to eat for more than thirty minutes. He paced back and forth across the tent, pondering his war plans and the delightful young spoil he had made his own captive, just hours before. There was so much he wanted to tell her, but how to do so was his challenge. Caecelia was vicious and wild, but he found her spirit rather enjoyable, even beneath the stern appearance he held so fondly. He had been robbed of the opportunity to know her. If Caecelia had known the truth—she was meant to be his bride from the beginning—she may have responded less angrily towards him, but his reason for stealing the girl was simple and yet complicated, all the while. His plan to capture her was not ill thought out, but he felt it easier to maintain control over himself and wait until the right moment to tell her. There was no way she would believe him, even if he chose to thoroughly explain it to her. He sighed in pondering.
Caecelia had been adopted by House Servili as a baby. It had only happened because Melina could bear no children of her own, and the baby had been so innocent when Justinius had torn through the small Pretan village. She was never meant to be raised by the senator. She was honestly a Pretan child, born to become the future wife of himself, as fate had demanded. And yet, Xenocrates had never know she had lived, until recently, when her nursemaid revealed she had been stolen from her real family. Alassea of House Thessaly of Pretus had been her name at birth, but the wicked Hortis and his wife, Melina, had raised her Daejian. Renamed and given a title that was beneath her station and breeding. Still, Xenocrates was grateful for her life having been maintained, as opposed to leaving the infant to starve to death in the burnt ashes of his biological father's estate. Time was growing close for her return to the tent, and he had so much to tell yet no way to appropriately explain it. It was too early for him to claim love for the girl, and he knew he had yet to feel that tying bind between them. Somehow, however, Xenocrates knew he had to restore her to her original title ship, and that had set about the pillaging of her adopted father's manor. Xenocrates' thoughts were interrupted, immediately, when his two guards sped into the tent.
"Your Highness, the girl is gone!" Maros announced. Thaniel gave a nod, but remained silent as he bowed his head at the king. Xenocrates' expression flat lined and he immediately growled, "What do you mean, she is gone? You incompetent fools! How hard is it to keep up with one girl?" Without giving them the chance to respond, Xenocrates grabbed his sword and stormed out of the tent.
"Which way did she go, or do you even know?" he roared at the men who exited behind him, as his eyes scanned the forest line for any sign of Caecelia. Tousled sandy brown locks fell in curls down to his shoulders as his hazel eyes bore into the trees. It was then, he heard the bloodcurdling sound of Caecelia's screaming, coming from the center of the woods. Xenocrates took off in a sprint towards the sound, leaving his guards to chase after him as he made way into the forest.
"Watch the camp! I can handle my own!" Xenocrates commanded as he ran. In moments, he found himself in a clearing, where Caecelia was huddled on the ground with a large bear lording over her. He ran towards the beast to tackle it to the ground and plunged his sword deep into the animal's spine, as soon as he made it atop the bear's back. Blood splatter sprayed out across Xenocrates' face, lining his handsome features with droplets of crimson. The blood seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, and the sound of metal sinking into sinew brought Caecelia out of her petrified state. She peered up at Xenocrates to see the man doused in scarlet, with a sneer on his face that was even more alarming than the bear's snarl had been.
"Why did you run, girl? Didn't I tell you that you would be watched night and day?" he murmured as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Did you think I would let you get far? Did you not know there are worse animals in this forest than the men I have guarding you?" Each question was spoken with an air of dominance and superiority that stung like a parent's reprimanding.
He never gave me the moment to answer any of the questions before issuing his next order, "Get up and start marching back to camp. Now." He pointed in the direction of the camp with his blade and waited for me to move past him. I brushed myself off and immediately began to walk forward. I decided that would be the best time to reply to the questions.
"Why do you intend on making me a slave? Wouldn't I be of much more worth as a captive prisoner? I am certain I would make for a fine ransom." I could only hope a ransom would be of any interest to a man like Xenocrates, but deep down inside. I found myself wondering if it was not a foolish aim. I wondered if he didn't have more uses for me.
"What makes you think a ransom will afford your freedom, Caecelia? Is it the possibility that you think I kidnapped you for money? I assure you, I own more than enough of my own share of wealth. I am King of Pretus." He said it so matter-of-factly that I found myself smiling, even in my ill fortune.
He gave a soft hiss and cursed beneath his breath just after he spoke, and I turned around to look over him, only to have him bark in my face. "I said move, girl! We need to get to camp now. There is no time to waste! Don't challenge me more than you already have."
As my eyes scanned over his body, I noticed a deep laceration in his right bicep, and the thought of him having been injured caught a gasp in my throat.
"I-I am sorry," was all I could manage to say to him before hastening my pace until, finally, we broke back into camp. Maros and Thaniel stood watching in silence, as Xenocrates marched me straight back into his tent and nodded to the two guards. He released me to fall in a heap atop the furs, only, this time, he brought out manacles, which were latched onto my ankles as he pushed me back to rest against the furs.
"You'll stay put, this time, Caecelia. I shall ensure that. I had hoped I could be kinder about your imprisonment, but it seems you are a running type and that gives me no other choice." He sat down on a stool and pulled a goblet from the table. I knew he had to be in pain because the evidence of his wound seeping blood spoke of the depth of the laceration. Though Xenocrates did not seem to be bothered at all by the injury, the sight of his blood was making me queasy.
"Might I tend to that wound, Xenocrates?" I asked softly. I felt a sudden pang of guilt as I knew it was my fault he had gotten injured and I felt, if nothing else, I could tend the wound in hopes of correcting that mistake. A mistake that, if not for this man, would have cost me my life.
Unlikely Friendship
Xenocrates furrowed his eyebrows, giving me a sideways glance. It was obvious from his body language, he was having a hard time trusting me. With consideration to what had just transpired, I understood his position. A sigh emitted my lips as I looked down at the manacles latched to my ankles.
"Why should I trust that you would tend my wounds any better than I can myself?" As he spoke, he lifted his feet to place atop the table. The expression on his face was difficult to discern, but he held a curious glint in his eyes. I shuddered. Something about his penetrating gaze seemed to pierce straight into my soul. How did he do that?
"I suppose, in truth, you have no reason to believe I would, but I would like the opportunity to correct the grave mistake I made. Please allow me this chance. In lieu of my gratitude for saving my life?" My eyes never lifted from the ground until the last syllable fled my lips. Instantly, they met with his and I steadied my gaze in silence. The curve of his lower lip quirked in slightly, only to begin to twist upward in claim of his mouth. The transformation from steady flat lips to a half smile was instantaneous. He had the sort of mouth a woman desired to press her lips against, and I was no different. I shook my head quickly, peering down at the ground again, ashamed of the shift of my thoughts. This man had just stolen me from my home country, murdered my parents, and placed me in the situation that had caused that injury on his arm. Yet, like a foolish and gullible young girl, I was fantasizing about how his lips would taste when I pressed them to mine.
"Caecelia of House Servili, latched to manacles in my tent and begging for the chance to tend me? Oh, this is most certainly a delightful confession to reach mine ears." His laughter filled the area, and I found myself fuming in anger, promptly. He truly enjoyed making a mockery of me, even as I wished to be civil. I balled my fists at my side and gazed back up at him with a glaring expression, the anger raging to a boil in my blood at his audacity to laugh at me.
"I have begged for nothing, Xenocrates. I merely wished to help you with your injury, but it seems you find more joy in making a mockery of me. A simple yea or nay would suffice, sir!" The words came out my mouth like a fire dart, meant to hit him directly in the face. His cocky demeanour infuriated me, and what made him think he held some air of superiority over me? As far as I could see it, we were equals in titular aptitude.
"Oh, there is that sass again. Come now, tend the wound, then. Let us see your skills. The manacles leave you enough slack to move about the tent. You simply have no room to move outside of it." He gave a wink as he waved me near and leaned back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling. I now knew I had no choice. I had made the offer, and he had made a jest. Now, he made a command, and I would have to do as he bid. I drew my lip into my mouth and bit harshly into the flesh thereof. It was a nervous tic that I had turned to since childhood, and arising from my station, I moved towards the table. Upon the table was a cloth and bowl of water that I lifted to begin my work straightaway. Xenocrates lifted his bicep and moved it towards me, watching my every movement as I dipped the rag into the bowl and placed it against the laceration. He held an icy expression, not even daring to flinch, as I cleaned the wound. Dried blood stained the fabric, and as I wiped away the remaining scarlet, I noted the wound required stitching.
"Do you have thread for stitching the wound?" I asked him softly. He gave a nod and pointed to a small leather satchel hanging from the back of his chair.
"There is some in there. Do you know how to stitch a wound, Caecelia?" he asked in a calm and gentle manner, though I wondered if he had asked me more out of fear of infection or if he was again making a jest, at my expense.
"I know how to do a great many things, Xenocrates. Just because I came from a wealthy and prestigious family does not mean I am completely useless as a woman." I made the statement without considering what a man would have thought, and it brought a loud chuckle erupting from Xenocrates' mouth at once.
"Ah, I wager you are most assuredly not useless as a woman, Caecelia." Making a joke of me seemed to be something that brought him a great deal of pleasure. "Especially with those enticing lips of yours."
"Does laughing at me make you feel powerful, Xenocrates? Does it satisfy your sense of humor to make a jest of everything I say?" I was becoming more sensitive to his commentary than I needed to be.
"Oh, now, do not tell me you have no sense of humor, girl. What is life without a laugh shared between friends? I wager it would be a rather dull world without the art of the jest." Once again, the arrogant wink he gave me appeared.
"Let me get that thread now," I uttered. I reached to grab the satchel and pulled the thread and needle free of their casing, only to turn and wipe the wound again. A glance back to the table and I grabbed the goblet to douse the laceration with wine before I patted it clean for a second time. This finally brought a flinch from Xenocrates, who muttered a curse beneath his breath. It appeared the tables were turning, and now, I had the upper hand for the jesting game he had instigated. "Oh, don't whine like a baby now. It is not fitting of a king to be so weak. Surely, you can withstand such menial pain." I chuckled as I began threading the needle and steadied his arm against the rest.
"Oh, she does have a sense of humour!" he announced through clenched teeth.
I smiled to myself and pushed the laceration to close before slipping the needle into his flesh. "We shall see how much humour I can bring myself by continuing to stitch you closed, Xenocrates." I perked my right brow and proceeded to cross-stitch his flesh until I closed the wound entirely. Much to my surprise, Xenocrates did not flinch another time. I presumed it was to spite me from being able to laugh at him again, "There all done, milord," I muttered before replacing my tools atop the table. I receded from my stance to kneel back below him and cast my eyes back to the ground. He peered over the wound and gave a nod of approval.
"It would appear you are very useful, after all, Caecelia. I am very impressed with your skills. I may have a position for you, aside from slavery. Perhaps I will enlist you to be a battalion surgeon, or is your stomach to weak for such a task?" He chuckled lightly, and I knew this was another joke at my expense. I almost felt as if he was trying to continue offending, just to keep me engaged in conversation.
"I suppose if I say no, you will do so anyway, just to spite me, and if I say yes, I will be given a job I will not enjoy in the least. It seems we have reached a paradox, Xenocrates. I, in having no answer, and, you, in having no reply." This was my attempt to even the battlefield of wits, and much to my astonishment, he gave a nod of agreement.
"I wager you are correct and rather intelligent for answering thusly, Caecelia." He arose from the chair and sauntered over to his own mattress while giving me a wave. "Go lie in your furs now, Caecelia. I give my solemn vow that not a soul in this camp will touch you, not even myself, for now." Before I was able to answer, he dropped onto the mattress and pulled the blanket over his body, leaving me to either follow the command or remain knelt on the ground. Reluctant and yet exhausted, I gave a sigh and crawled over the furs, where I too fell into their warmth. Silence and slumber soon engulfed me until I drifted away into a dreamland, where I was as free as I had been the previous morning.
