but he’ll die before letting you have it.
Yula pulled the brush through her hair and quietly said two hundred. Naomi thought fifty strokes had been more than enough, but Yula had paid no attention to her opinion. She was more excited about the private dinner than her. Naomi tried to dampen her zeal, but Yula was having none of it. She kept muttering things like how nice holding a baby again would be. Needless to say, Yula’s excitement was freaking her out. When she saw her reach for the perfume bottle again, she jumped up from the vanity.
“I don’t need anymore perfume! The cooks can probably smell me from the kitchen while chopping onions!”
Yula wielded the perfume bottle expertly out of her reach and still managed to dab the pestle in Naomi’s cleavage before she could stop her. “We want you to smell nice everywhere,” she countered, but she put the perfume down. She picked up the hairbrush again. Naomi began backing away with her hand protecting the back of her head.
“Get away from me, Yula. You’ve gone bonkers.”
“Just a few more strokes, milady. We want you to look your best for Lord Tavik, don’t we?” She tried to dart behind her with the brush, but Naomi skipped back and stepped on the bed to get away from her.
“No, we do not! I looked perfectly fine for Tavik an hour ago!” She felt quite ridiculous delivering this protest standing on the bed, but she was not going near that woman until she put down the hairbrush.
“At least put on a little more jewelry. I think Lord Tavik especially liked that ruby pendent. He stared at it quite a bit at the banquet.”
“Are you sure it was the pendent he was staring at?” She knew the pendent had rested in her cleavage.
“Well, we should at least give him an excuse to look there,” Yula said coyly.
Naomi stomped her foot in frustration and toppled forward when the bed bounced. Her hair fell across her face, and she felt the combs that were holding it shift out of place.
“See, this is what you get for being obstinate,” Yula scolded. Naomi muttered curses to herself as she rolled off the bed and let her put her hair back to rights. Tavik better come get her soon because the evening would probably be ruined if she killed Yula.
She sat still as Yula rearranged her hair. The older woman had a serene look on her face. “You really care about him, don’t you?” she said.
Yula stopped brushing her hair and looked at her through the mirror. “No, I don’t. The fact is I often hate him.”
“You do? But you look after him. Take care of him.”
“It’s what I have to do to stay close to him.”
“Why?”
She began brushing her hair again. “Because I’m more likely to find my sons if I’m with him.”
Naomi felt a jolt. She hadn’t ever suspected that Yula had a family. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t asked. Maybe she was more a ‘lady’ than she thought, since she hadn't wondered about something so important to another person.
“What happened?”
“Lord Tavik’s men go to the towns and enlist the young men. It’s either enlistment or pay for exemption. We were too poor to pay the exemption fee. They were swept up into the army three years ago. I couldn’t follow them. The soldiers wouldn’t let me. I finally latched onto a camp and became one of the cooks. I asked everyone about my sons, but no one knew them. When I was offered the job of cooking for Tavik, I took it. He visits all of the camps. I’m sure to find my sons someday. I pray that they are alive and well.”
Naomi looked down at her hands. She remembered her request to keep Yula with her. She hadn’t known how selfish her request had been. “So you want to go back with Tavik when he leaves.”
“I don’t know, milady. I enjoy being with you, but I want to find my sons, and I can’t do that if I stay here. Don’t worry about this now. It’s time to go.”
She escorted her to Tavik’s room. When she raised her hand to knock, Naomi caught it and turned to face her. “I’m going to help you find your sons. You will see them again.”
She smiled at her, but it was a touch sad. “That’s kind of you, but don’t trouble yourself with my problems. Have a lovely dinner with your husband.”
“How can you say that? He took your family. Don’t you want him punished?”
“The gods will punish him for any crimes he has committed. Remember he is your husband. You can’t trouble yourself with these things.”
“So I shouldn’t care that I’m married to a war monger?”
“You’re his wife. You can’t look at him that way.”
“He is what he is, Yula.”
“Yes, he’s your husband. He is the man that controls your fate. Don’t go against him. Be his wife. He seems to care for you. Don’t give him a reason to stop.”
Yula reached past her and knocked on the door. Tavik called to enter. Yula opened the door and her hand on Naomi’s back propelled her in. Naomi had to clench her jaw to keep from protesting her forced entrance.
Dinner was already set. Tavik stood by the fireplace waiting. He was dressed in a long shirt and soft pants. She looked around the candlelit room. Effort had been made to make the room look softer and romantic. The draped cloth, the flower garlands, the scented candles were appealing, but she also found all the preparations somewhat sardonic, after all she wouldn’t be able to enjoy them behind a blindfold. “This looks lovely. What's the special occasion?”
He pushed off the mantle and walked over to the table. He held out a chair for her. “Can’t a husband think dining with his wife is special enough?”
She slipped into the seat and put her hands in her lap. With relief, she saw the glint of yellow eyes from under the bed. She smiled demurely and reached for her wine glass. Be polite, be cordial, maybe even flirt a little, she instructed herself. She didn’t know what the plan was, but those actions would surely help it go smoothly. She still clenched her jaw when the blindfold appeared. After he tied it, his fingers trailed over her hair. They swept forward and brushed her neck and under her jaw. She swallowed nervously.
He leaned down to whisper into her ear, “What were you looking for when you came to my room?” Shivers went down her spine, but they weren’t good shivers.
She leaned away from him to try to maintain her composure. “You,” she said.
“But I wasn’t here.”
“I know.” Her mouth was dry. She reached blindly out for her goblet and knocked it over. She felt the wine spill onto the lap of her dress.
“Let me,” he said. She stilled as his hand brushed over her lap. His breath tickled her neck. It was going to be like lunch all over again. There was a low growl, and Agatha knocked his hand away by jumping into her lap.
“I didn’t know she was in here,” he said in surprise. Naomi petted her shakily. The cat meowed petulantly. She could just imagine the scolding look she was receiving from the feline.
“She likes to follow me everywhere.”
“She's a fine looking cat.” Agatha hissed, and he jerked back.
“Who doesn't seem to like me at the moment.”
She grabbed her to hold her still. “Did she hurt you?” Agatha let out a low growl.
“It’s nothing.” She smirked and shook her head.
“What?”
“We certainly are a pair. Just can’t seem to keep our hands off each other.”
He leaned into the back of her chair and stroked her shoulders. Agatha growled louder. Her hold on the cat tightened. He chuckled. “She acts like your chaperone who is very displeased with me.”
“I wouldn’t say she’s my chaperone,” she said, thinking of whose purity they needed to keep intact.
“Maybe she is your familiar, and you cast a spell on me.”
“I’m not a witch.”
“How can I be sure?”
She rolled her eyes from behind the blindfold.
He warmed to the idea. “Yes, maybe you cast a spell that makes me want to do things that would be very bad for me.” His hands flexed on her shoulders.
“Yes, this is all part of my diabolical plan. While I was tied up that first night, I cast a spell, which I strengthened while being chased by Umbreks. Yula is my second-in-command. Mrs. Boon and Geoff are my allies as well.”
He chuckled. “And what is the goal of your diabolical plan?”
“To corner the market on lederhosen, of course.”
Tavik guffawed. She smiled thinly. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and turned her head toward him. She could feel his breath on her lips. Agatha began clawing her.
“What’s for dinner?” she asked. She winced at how breathy her voice was.
She felt him shift, and his arm extend from around her to lift off the tops of the platters. The smell of warm food hit her salivary glands, and her mouth watered.
“Lamb, potatoes, green beans, and stuffed mushrooms appear to be our menu. What would you like?” She tilted her head down. She really didn’t want to be fed like a baby, especially without ocular input to help with the judging of distance, mouth opening, and general expectation of what she was eating before she tasted it.
“What’s wrong?” he murmured, and if he were going to reach over her shoulder to feed her, she was going to get food all over her dress to go with the wine. She was sure of it.
“I would rather feed myself,” she said.
“You will have trouble.”
“Not if I’m not blindfolded.”
He sighed. “You don't want to do this.”
“The first time was fun and kind of kinky, but this is no way to eat day-to-day. It’s demeaning. I can feed myself just fine without blindfolds and ropes.”
She felt him leave her back. She listened to him move and sit on the other side of the table. “You can remove the blindfold.” With Tavik out of her immediate vicinity, Agatha jumped down from her lap.
She reached up behind her head and untied the blindfold. When she lowered it from her face, she saw him sitting across from her with the mask firmly in place. If she were to eat, he would not. A piece of lamb and some vegetables were already on her plate. She picked up her utensils self consciously. He was likely going to watch her the entire time. Having someone watch her and not eat, always made her feel self conscious like her table manners were being scrutinized, and she felt guilty that she was eating and the other person wasn't, but this was what she'd asked for. If she didn't eat, he would likely replace her blindfold so he could partake, and her stomach would grumble, and she would be grumpy. She preferred self-conscious and guilty to grumpy. She cut into the lamb and ate a bite. He sat silently across from her, inscrutable in his mask. He had one hand resting on its side on the table in a loose fist while the other rested on his hip, bent in a relaxed position. She hoped he didn't start toying with his wineglass or utensils because the guilt would really kick-in then. She slanted her eyes to the bed to seek out Agatha or Mr. Squibbles as she chewed. She wondered what their plan was and if she were to play a part.
He noticed the direction of her eyes. “Dear Calax, I should have chosen a different room.” She stopped chewing in surprise.
“No, this is fine,” she protested around her food. She dabbed her lips to make sure she didn't have any sauce on her mouth. “I thought I saw something moving under your bed earlier. I was just checking to see if it was still there.”
Now he turned to look underneath his bed. She wished she'd come up with a better story, but talking about his bed made her extremely nervous. “Was it the cat?” He got up and crept over to the bed. He crouched down and looked underneath.
“No, I’m sure it was my imagination,” she lied.
“We have had a problem with mice lately. Mrs. Boon was telling me that they had been causing havoc in the kitchen. She has never seen rodents with such ingenuity. It’s like they've grown smarter.”
She inwardly groaned. Mr. Squibbles had been getting industrious while foraging and maybe had even unionized his brethren. The idea of mice going on strike with little placards gave her a moment of amusement, which was shattered when Tavik lunged beneath the bed and grabbed something.
Agatha let out a yowl and lunged at his crouched form. She planted all four claws in his back. He shouted and shot up. In his closed hand, a pair of whiskers peeked out. His hand reflexively clenched. She heard the crunch of many small bones. He dropped the mouse from his hand. It landed with a lifeless thump. She felt sick.
“Oh my God, you killed him.”
He wasn’t paying attention to her. He was trying to reach around and pull Agatha off his back but couldn’t reach her. He was going around in circles with the cat just out of his grasp.
“Get your damn cat off of me!”
She approached him, but she didn’t grab her. She began slapping him on his arms and shoulders. “You killed him!”
“Naomi, what are you doing? Stop it!” He grabbed her by the arms and shook her. “What is the matter with you? Get the cat!” She could just make out Agatha’s eyes from over his shoulder. They were filled with rage. He hissed as feline claws ripped into his back.
“Don’t you get it? You killed him!”
“So? It was just a mouse!”
So? Just a mouse? Was? She didn’t know which part angered her more, but each certainly did anger her. She struggled to free her arms and kicked at his legs. He didn’t seem so much hurt by the attack as extremely aggravated by it. Agatha was hurting him. Drops of blood had appeared on the floor.
“Naomi, get this damn cat off of me, or I will kill it.”
“You would, just like him. Why not kill Yula too? She’s my friend. She cares about me. And if that isn’t enough, kill Stomper as well! I like him, and he seems okay with me.”
“What are you babbling about?”
“I’m talking about my friends! Did you notice your name didn’t come up?”
He shook his head. “I want you to sit down and calm yourself. I’ll have someone fetch Yula to help you back to your room.”
“Room? You mean cell. And I won’t sit down.”
She struggled to free her arms. She was going to claw his eyes out. He just didn’t get it. He’d killed him. It didn’t matter to him. Of course, it didn’t matter. He was a murderer. He slaughtered people everyday. He liked it. He was a monster. And he was pushing her toward his bed.
“No, I’m not getting near your bed. Let me go!”
“You need to sit down.”
“No!” But he forced her back. She had to take a step or else loose her balance. She stepped back, and her foot came down on a lump, and with sickening horror, she realized she had stepped on the small corpse of Mr. Squibbles. With a sense of déjà vu, she slipped and went down, taking Tavik with her. This situation, though, was nothing like the last time. She landed on her back. He caught one arm on the bed and kept himself from landing flat on her. Seeing him above her like that, she reached up and grabbed the mask and wrenched it off. The mask went flying across the room. For a moment, everyone froze.
She stared up at his face. He was shaved bald. She'd known that already. His eyebrows were black, wide, and sharply arched. His mouth wasn't too much of a surprise either having felt it before. It was large with firm lips. If he smiled, he would be handsome. His head was pale due to constantly being covered by his helm. It made the tattoo centered on his forehead starkly visible. It was dark blue and was a demon’s face with evil slanted eyes and long fangs. And now she was as dead as Mr. Squibbles.
Tavik’s mouth thinned to a narrow line. “I wish you hadn’t done that.” He let her go to reach behind his back and grab Agatha by the scruff of her neck. He tossed her across the room. She landed near the mask and scrambled away to hide. Her eyes weren’t narrowed in rage anymore. They were wide with fear, but they couldn’t be wider than Naomi’s. She stared up at him. She couldn’t move. It felt like rigor mortis was already setting in. He pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand to her.
She took the offered hand limply. He pulled her up without a word and set her on the bed. All the protest had left her. She couldn't stop staring at his face; after all it was the reason she was going to die. He grimaced and went to the table. He sank into a chair and stared at her.
“Well, what now?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. She was trying to compose her last words.
“Naomi, what's going on? What did you hope to achieve by this? And what is this with the mouse?” The body lay crushed in the middle of the floor. It was the saddest thing she had ever seen. The small crumpled corpse didn't compute at all with the strong-willed, often foul-mouthed rodent she had come to like and trust.
She dropped her head. “He was my friend,”
“That mouse? Naomi,” he sighed. He sounded very sad for her, not in the way that he was sorry for her loss, but that the loss meant anything to her, like she was pathetic.
“He was helping me! He was one of the few beings in this castle who really cared about me and what I wanted. He didn’t think it was all right to tie me up like some Christmas goose. He was going to help me get back to my family. You might not believe this, but I had a life before I was forced to marry you. A life that meant something to me! I have two loving parents, a brother, a job, a home, and a future that I would really like to get reacquainted with!”
“You were conspiring with a mouse.” He shook his head. He reached over and picked up his wine glass. He drank it like he really needed it. She crossed her arms and slouched. She didn’t need to explain herself further to him. He was going to kill her in the near future for the simple offense of seeing his face. If he thought she was crazy, what the hell was he?
“I don’t even know what your stupid tattoo means. That’s why you wear the mask, right? Because you don’t want people to see it. Well, now I’ve seen it, but I don’t have a freaking clue what it is. So just remember that when you’re killing me. I’m dead because I saw your stupid tattoo, and I have no idea why it's a big deal, and I don’t care. I don’t care about you or your stupid, ugly tattoo.”
He rubbed his head while shaking it. “I’m not going to kill you. My tattoo is important. I wish you hadn’t seen it, but I can’t erase the memory from your mind.”
“I’m sure you would if you could. It’s not like I’m really your wife or anything. What’s wrong with erasing one memory anyway? Why not just give me a lobotomy? Then I’ll sit here nice and quiet like a good little enslaved wife, though I may drool a little, but that’s okay, you can just put a bib on me.”
He rubbed his head more like he had a headache. “Naomi, we agreed at the very beginning that you wouldn't see my face in return for not sharing my bed, obviously that deal has been broken. We need to make a new deal.”
She arched her eyebrows. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to uphold any deals, seeing as how I’ll be dead.”
He jumped up and sent the chair toppling over. “I am not going to kill you!” She shrank back on the bed. The shout seemed to unsettle him too. He blinked a moment and shook his head. He grabbed the wine cup and took another hearty drink. When he lowered it, he frowned, rubbed his eyes, and looked at the cup still in his hand. He sniffed the rim.
“How did you--” And then he keeled over onto the floor.
Continue to Chapter 11.
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