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think I've lost the
touch in the space of an hour.”
    I hung my head, resigned.
Perhaps he took pity on me, because as he divested himself of the heavy leather
he looked up. “You can hang my armor. Then sit and eat.”
    Grateful to have something to
occupy myself, I gathered up the leather pieces and hung them carefully on
their stand. The prince was down to his linen shirt, the collar hastily pulled
loose, and dark gray trousers. I wanted to look anywhere but at him.
    He sat once more and started on
the food. Holding meat in his fingers he tore chunks from it with his teeth.
    I slowly sat in the chair
opposite him. For a moment I stared down at my plate, not knowing what to do
when faced with such bounty.
    "How long since you've had
a decent meal?” He said, exasperated. “Eat."
    I picked up a slice of meat,
holding it delicately between index finger and thumb, and staring as the juice
dripped off it. Then, I brought it to my mouth and took a small bite. It was
tender and delicious. I stuffed the rest of the piece in my mouth and chewed. A
great tide of relief washed over me. For a moment I closed my eyes in bliss.
When I looked back at Prince Issander, I saw a look of satisfaction cross his
face, and what might have been an almost-smile.
    I mimicked him as we ate in
silence, watching him pick up food in his fingers and use his bread to mop up
the juices.
    “That's right - you do not eat
with your hands in Thessia, do you?” Issander asked around a mouthful of food.
    I swallowed before shaking my
head. “No my Lord. We use a knife and fork.”
    “Then you must think us
barbaric.” He gave a short, wry laugh.
    “I am too hungry to make
judgments, my Lord.” I said truthfully. “If I had a fork I think I would have
ignored it.” I wondered how he knew that small fact about my homeland. And for
that matter, how he spoke my language so well.
    As I ate I began to relax, my
stomach ceasing its cramping. The ale helped, too, its effects spreading warmth
through me.
    "So," said the prince,
after a time. "What am I going to do with you?"
    I looked up at him. What did he
mean?
    "Was it the king or the
queen who bought you?" He asked.
    I covered my mouth with my
fingers as I swallowed before speaking. I heard the note of surprise in my own
voice. "I... this slave does not know. The chief eunuch, Ellys, was the
one who paid her price."
    He sat back, scratching his
chin. “Ellys. It was father, then. Why then, was the queen the one to hand you
over? Was it simply a way to poison the gift?”
    I didn't answer, as the question
didn't seem directed at me.
    He thought for a minute.
"Eh, no matter." He decided aloud. He looked at me, and I held his
gaze determinedly even though I trembled.
    "What are you so afraid
of?" He asked.
    I tried to think of the best way
to answer. "N... nothing, Master." I stammered, unconvincingly.
    Suddenly, he slapped a hand
palm-down on the edge of the table, making me jump and let out a little yelp.
"You are not a good liar,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “So
stop trying. I will not punish you for honestly answering a question. The next
time you lie to me though, you will be forcing my hand."
    “Yes, my prince.”
    He relaxed his arms, leaning
back in the chair. "Are you sent to spy on me? Are you under Indari's
thumb? Or someone elses?"
    I held his gaze, even though my
eyes were beginning to prickle with tears. “No." I said, squeaking out the
answer.
    “Then I ask again. What is it
that you are afraid of?”
    “You!” I exclaimed. Then I
swallowed hard, fearing I'd gone too far.
    He barked a laugh. “After all
you must have been through, you fear me ?” His face twisted in a grimace
and he cursed in Cimbrai. "A while ago you were begging me not to sell
you." He reminded me, reaching out for the jug and refilling both our
tankards. He pushed mine back toward me. "Why, if you are so afraid of
me?"
    "Aye..." I said.
"I..." furrowing my brow in frustration, I corrected myself, "