Naomi resurfaced unwillingly. She was lying on a bed on her stomach. She didn’t know how long she’d been out, but it didn’t feel like long enough. Her arm ached. The brand shot pain out in a steady throb.
From her right, she heard Tavik say, “Why hasn’t she awakened yet?”
Yula’s voice came from her other side. “She’ll be fine. She’s just had a few too many shocks is all. She just needs a little rest.”
Naomi couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped when she felt a cool balm spread across the branding mark. There was no hiding her consciousness now. She let out a low groan from under her curtain of hair. She tried to rise and hissed in pain.
“Lay still,” Yula ordered.
She let herself collapse. “My day can’t get any worse, can it?”
She turned her head, and through her hair, she looked at Tavik sitting by her bedside. “Oh, my mistake. The day isn’t even half over, and you have all sorts of wedding day festivities planned. What’s next—thumb screws or Chinese water torture?”
He leaned forward. “Remember the deal you proposed?”
She nodded.
“I accepted.”
Her eyes widened.
“Then why didn’t you say so?”
He rose and left without answer. He’d accepted her deal. What did that mean? He wouldn’t have sex with her, but what else might he do to her? She turned and looked at the cook. She was carefully dipping a cloth into a basin of water.
“What do you make of that?”
The cook shook her head. “The affairs of man and wife should remain between man and wife.”
“You really think we're man and wife? More like man and cattle. That's the only thing we brand where I'm from.”
Naomi stood at the window in a light trance. The two moons shone down on her in the night sky. Her arm was bandaged, and she'd changed into another dress. Yula had been her constant companion. They hadn't said much to each other, but if she hadn't been there, Naomi would've jumped out that window.
Yula could rouse her if she spoke to her, but if silent, her gaze would float back to the night sky without focus. Yula had expressed worry that her dazed behavior was due to her injuries and shock, but she had assured her that she was fine. She’d told her that she just had a lot on her mind but that had been a lie.
She did not have ‘a lot’ on her mind. All she could think about was how she would get home, and she had no idea. She didn't understand how she'd arrived there, so couldn't fathom how to reverse it. She wanted to go home. She wanted her one bedroom apartment back. She wanted to go to her bank teller job. She wanted her family. She quickly veered away from thoughts of her family in fear of tears. It wouldn’t do to break down. She didn’t want to distress the cook. She turned her mind back to thinking about how she would go home, and her mind went blank again.
Yula gathered her mending and stood. Naomi’s eyes barely flicked to her direction at the woman’s movement.
“I am retiring now. Lord Tavik should be with you shortly. Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?”
“I guess Lord Tavik has to stay here for appearance’s sake, huh?”
She nodded her head. She didn’t look comfortable.
“What is it, Yula?”
She averted her eyes, but straightened her shoulders. “You asked for my thoughts earlier, and I wasn't sure what to say, and I'm still not sure, but I have to say this, Lord Tavik is not exactly a cruel lord, but he’s a lord and used to getting whatever he wants, and this agreement of yours—I’m not sure how much weight it has. I mean what reason does he have to keep it? Not that I am questioning my lord’s word, but…”
“I think he'll keep his word. He didn't have to agree to get me on the altar.” She ran her fingers lightly over the bandage.
“But why would he agree to not bed you? It makes no sense.”
“Does he have a mistress or someone he sees regularly?”
She shook her head. “No one I know of. I've never seen him take up with any woman actually.”
Their speculation didn't seem to be getting them anywhere. “Well, we'll just have to wait and see.”
“I'll keep an ear out for you. Call me if you need anything.” The way she said that made Naomi think of screams and bandages.
After Yula let herself out and locked the door behind her, Naomi stayed out the window. She was obsessed with the sky. The moons above inspired revulsion, but she couldn’t stop staring at them. She'd decided that the red one looked like a giant, angry potato while the yellow one looked like a boiled egg. They must torment the hungry. She wasn’t hungry. She wasn’t cold. In fact, after the ‘wedding’, she couldn’t help curling her lip whenever she thought of it in that term, she’d had a quiet day. She’d taken a nap for most of the afternoon, and when she'd woken, she’d eaten a thick stew. It had been quite tasty, and the cook had seemed very pleased when she complimented it. No one else had been to the room, and the activity outside had quieted.
She turned away from the window and went to the hearth. How was she supposed to get home? Who could possibly help her? Her mind went blank at the questions and she slipped a little further into desolation. She forced herself away from the window and took herself to the fireplace. She picked up a fire poker and began jabbing the red embers, stirring up sparks. She didn't know what she was doing, but she needed something to do. When she heard the door unlock, she jabbed the poker harder into the embers.
“It's not good to stir a fire too much,” Tavik said from the chamber doorway.
She straightened from the fireplace and watched smoke waft off the poker. It suddenly reminded her of the branding iron. She wanted to drop it, but the thought of him picking up another piece of burning hot metal near her was terrifying. She turned to face him with it shaking minutely in her hand. The first thing she noticed, and would probably continue to notice for some time, was that he had the skull helm on. For some reason, she began to think about others who regularly wore masks: robbers, serial killers, rapists, monsters, vigilantes, opera singers. She really doubted he sang or protected innocent people in the night, but she wasn't sure of anything else.
“Is something wrong?”
The question jerked a laugh out of her. “Wrong? What could be wrong?”
Her grip tightened on the fire poker as he crossed the room, but he went past the bed to take a seat at the small table. He relaxed in the chair with his legs crossed and one arm resting on the table. Her hand was starting to ache from the fire poker.
“I think we have much to discuss,” he said.
She cocked her head to the side. “Discuss what?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders and slumped back in his chair. “We could begin with your claim that you are not Lady Naomi. Do you still hold to that?”
She nodded.
“But your name is Naomi.”
She nodded again. She understood fully now why Agatha had stopped in her tracks when she’d given her name. The plan had probably begun to form then.
“You say you were brought here by trickery.”
She nodded again.
“And the witch’s name was Agatha.”
Tired of glumly nodding, she ventured, “It seems like you know her.”
“Yes, and if I find out that you are in collusion with her, your punishment will be absolute.”
“Believe me, I only met her today.”
“Tell me your story.”
She raised her eyebrows at the request. Surprised he was willing to listen. “I’m not from here. I’m from a very far away place. I don’t know how I got here. I was attacked by a soldier, and Agatha helped me fight him off. She brought me here and put me in that gown. I trusted her because she helped me with Hammond and there was no one else. Then all of this happened.”
“How do you think you came here?”
For as ridiculous as it seemed to her, she was sure it was the unicorn horn, but she wasn't about to tell him that. “I don’t know.”
“But Agatha brought you to the castle.”
“Led me here like a stupid, sacrificial lamb.”
“Why do you think she did that?”
She shrugged. “She said she’d gotten all the women and children away safely already, but that all the ways were blocked. I guess she was lying. She sure didn’t get me away or safe.”
“My men think you are the Lady Naomi. You will let them continue to think that. If you try to escape, you will be punished. If Agatha tries to contact you, I want to know about it immediately. I don’t think she is done with you. And I have unfinished business with her.”
"Why do you want everyone to think I’m her?"
"Because this is over if I have Lady Naomi. I can return to my fortress victorious, and everything settles down for a while."
"What about the real Lady Naomi? What if she turns up?"
"If she has any sense about her, she’ll go very far away and change her name. She knows what will happen if I find her."
She didn't have any reply to that.
"Do you have any other questions?"
"Like what?"
"If you are new to this land, you must have questions."
Her brow knitted. “I don’t know if I want to know anything more about this place. Everything I’ve learned so far has been rather unpleasant.”
“That is probably true, but do you want to be taken by surprise again?”
She caught his drift. “All right, what exactly am I supposed to do as your wife, other than what we agreed to exempt me from?”
He chuckled at the not so subtle reminder of their agreement. “Other than that, you are supposed to follow any order that I give you and tend to me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Well, that is very vague and blanketing. How am I supposed to ‘tend’ to you?”
He raised a hand to rub one of his shoulders. He tilted his head and thought a moment. “You tend to me by looking after my home, being available to entertain guests, and a massage would not be out of the ordinary.”
“A massage?” she said flatly.
He nodded. “Yes, one now would be nice.”
Her mouth dropped open. She could not believe him. He motioned her over. Taking the fire poker with her, she hesitantly stepped across the room.
“Naomi,” he said. He held out his hand. She reluctantly placed the fire poker in his palm. He set it on the floor. She took position at his back. He dropped his head and waited. She nervously cracked her knuckles and rubbed her hands together to stall for a few seconds, but soon her hands were loose and ready, and if she took much longer, he was likely to say something. She put her hands on his shoulders and began to knead the muscles.
The only person that she could recall ever giving shoulder massages to was her father. The thought of him made her hands still for a moment. She hadn't spoken to him for a week, and now she was stuck here. She wondered if he and the rest of her family knew she was gone yet and what they thought. The worry they were experiencing was probably awful. She hated the thought that they were searching for her right now and fearing her dead.
“My shoulders are still knotted.”
She jumped slightly at the sudden interruption of her thoughts which made the tears that had gathered spill. She began working the muscles again and cried silently. It was all right. No one could see her.
She kneaded Tavik’s shoulders as instructed. There was a large scar on one of them. She worked her thumb into it and heard him sigh at the action. Her father had encouraged her to become a masseuse. He said her hands were magic on his shoulders. She’d always laughed it off. She couldn’t imagine giving strangers massages. It’d seemed too personal. She wondered if she’d ever see her dad again.
A tear hit Tavik’s neck. Before she could wipe it away, he reached back and brushed his hand over the spot. He brought his hand to his face and looked at the moisture smeared across his fingers. A sniffle escaped her. He twisted round to look at her. Another tear slipped down her cheek. She lifted her hand and wiped it off.
“What’s wrong?”
A sardonic smile twisted her lips. “You keep asking that, and the answer is everything.”
He waved for her to sit. When she took a seat, she hunched over and let her hair fall forward. She had to keep it together. It wouldn’t do to completely loose it. Blubbering was not going to endear her to him, but she really wanted to cry. She scrubbed her face and pushed back her hair to reface him. He still sat in his chair with his mask pointed at her. It was like sitting with the grim reaper. He was humanoid but devoid of humanity.
“Do you really have to wear that thing?”
His back stiffened slightly, but he merely nodded. She slumped at his response. She folded her arms across her stomach.
“I wish I were home,” she said. She smirked to herself and clicked her heels together three times while whispering for each click, “There’s no place like home.”
When she looked back over at him, she couldn’t help the shudder that ran through her. He just sat there! No fidgeting. No shrugging. Nothing. With the helm on, he was faceless. Emotionless. She was miserable, and he just sat across from her. No comfort. No consolation. No connection. She’d feel better if she were alone.
“It has been a long day. You should get some sleep.”
She nodded and sighed. “Maybe I’ll dream of something nice.”
He didn't respond. She cast her eyes to the bed and then back to him. The question was obvious.
“I am the lord,” he replied. She snorted. Yeah, he was the lord, but he wasn’t a gentleman. She curled herself into the chair. She knew that she wouldn’t be very comfortable, but other than the floor, there was no where else for her.
He did retrieve a heavy blanket from the chest for her, but as she reached to take it, he drew the blanket back before she could grasp it. “I am going to douse the fire and blow out all the candles. You are not to spark any light within this chamber. I sleep lightly, so do not think you will be able to accomplish anything without my knowing. If you attempt anything, I will kill you. Are we understood?”
She blinked up at him. He was serious. He would kill her. She nodded jerkily. He gave her the blanket. She wrapped it around herself tightly, but the shivers that went through her were not caused by a physical chill. He went around the room extinguishing the lights. She'd closed her eyes before he was done. Exhaustion was tugging at her, and her creeping sense of hopelessness leached away any wariness she might still harbor.
Naomi’s sleep was muddled with half formed dreams and nightmares. She struggled up to consciousness, but it took her a few blinks before she realized she was awake. She couldn’t see anything. She flailed out a hand to turn on a light but met only emptiness. She scrunched her brow in frustration. She was still half asleep when she lurched up out of the chair. The blanket made her stumble and grumble. She kicked the blanket loose and cast it aside. She raised both hands before her as she tried to find her way. She wanted to turn on a light. She knew there was a light switch on the other side of the living room. She went toward it only to bump into a mysterious bed, and the hand that wrapped around her arm made her yelp.
“I did not figure you for such a fool, Naomi. I thought you'd wait a full week before attempting this.”
“Let go of me!” She blindly swung at her assailant. She hit his shoulder.
He released her arm, and she fell back onto her backside with a jolt. “Help! Police!” she screamed. A spark of light blinded her as Tavik lit a bedside candle. His mask was in place. The grisly metal face snapped Naomi into the present. She wasn’t in her apartment, and she had just struck the true owner of the room, the one who had vowed to kill her if she tried anything, and he’d been serious. He'd gone to bed with his sword, and it was pointed at her now.
“Oh God,” she breathed. This wasn’t a dream or a nightmare. It was very, very real.
A sharp rapping on the door made both of their heads snap to it. Tavik cursed vehemently as he went to answer it. He swung the door open and filled the door frame with his body. Naomi could just make out Yula on the other side.
The woman cowered on the other side in a long gown and lace sleeping cap. “Is everything all right, my lord? I thought I heard a scream.”
“Everything is fine. Naomi received a fright.”
“A fright from what?” Yula persisted as she caught sight of her still sprawled on the floor.
“A fright from me. Will that be all, Yula?”
The older woman’s eyes shot to her again. Lord knows what she thought. She wanted the cook to stay but knew it was pointless. She was as powerless as her.
"Does my lord need anything?"
"No, you may return to your quarters. Please do not trouble yourself with any further noises you hear from this room."
The color drained from Yula’s face. "Noises, my lord?"
"Good night." He closed the door on her horrified face. He turned back to her. Feeling very vulnerable on the floor, she got to her feet. If she was going to die, she wanted to be standing.
“Tell me, what did you think you were doing?” he demanded.
She swallowed nervously as her eyes darted around. This was bad, and she didn't see a way out. Tavik leaned back against the door, the only exit in the room, other than the chimney.
She considered the chimney for a moment but discarded the idea when she imagined herself getting stuck. He would probably light a match rather than pull her out.
“What does Agatha want you to do?”
Her eyes flew to him at the question. What was the deal between him and Agatha? She was just some old woman. Sure, she was pretty damned feisty, but he was this big bad warrior. “I told you. She tricked me.”
He straightened from the door and took a step toward her. “I will spare you if you simply tell me.”
Her eyes fell to the sword, and she began to shake at the reverse threat. She had no answer to his question, not even a possible lie. He was going to kill her. She crumbled to the floor and wrapped herself into a tight ball.
“Naomi,” he said.
She lifted her head from her tightly wound arms. Her face was wet with tears. “I don’t know anything. When I woke up, I thought I was home. I swear, I wasn’t trying to get the drop on you. I was confused.”
He knelt down in front of her. “How am I supposed to believe you?” he asked.
Her face twisted in frustration and fear. “I don’t know,” she choked and buried her face again against her arms. He rose back to his feet and sat down on the bed.
She shivered as the cold stone floor leeched away all her warmth, but she was not going to move. Her nails dug into her arms where she clasped them. She was as good as dead. She wanted to laugh. She never stood a chance. She would have happily left him alone, but she had forgotten everything in her sleep. She had been practically sleepwalking when he’d caught her.
“Naomi.” She didn’t raise her head. Her thoughts were spiraling down a dark mental drain.
“Naomi,” he repeated a little louder.
She finally heard him and looked up at him cautiously. She was sniffling with tears dribbling out of her eyes.
“I must be sure you will not try something like that again.”
She didn't respond but continued to stare at him.
“I need assurance you will not do that again.”
“I promise I won’t. I swear,” she said, but her voice was small. It held no conviction. She had promised before but look where that had gotten her. It seemed pointless.
“I need more assurance than that.” He rose from the bed and went the chest on the far wall. He flipped it opened and reached inside. She watched him as he drew out sheets and began ripping them into long strips. She knew where this was headed, and she knew protesting would be useless. He came and stood over her.
“Get in the bed."
She cowered at the request. She had assumed he would tie her to the chair or just tie her up and leave her on the floor.
“What?”
He indicated the strips of cloth. “It will be easiest to tie you to the bed.”
“Can’t we do something else?”
“Get in the bed.”
She sat on the bed with a sad rueful laugh. She looked up and shook her head. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours, and you’ve already broken the deal. I knew it was too good to be true.”
“Lie down."
She did as she was told and stretched out on her back. He stood at the foot of the bed and took her ankles in his hands. He coiled the torn strips around them and lashed them to the bed post.
She knew she should fight, but she was done. There was no more fight left in her. Why not get tied to a bed against her will? It was the perfect honeymoon to go with her wedding. She shook her head to herself and closed her eyes as her ‘husband’ trussed her up. He did not tie her cuttingly tight. She could still flex her arms and legs a little. She could twist some but not enough to free herself.
When she was completely tied, he once again doused all the light in the room. She waited tensely for him to come back to the bed. Instead of feeling his weight disrupt the other side, she heard him sit in the chair that she had been sleeping in earlier. Her eyebrows rose at that, but she didn’t comment. She was tied to a bed. The situation was seriously screwed up. Just because he wasn’t going to force himself on her or anything didn’t mean she should be grateful to him.
She wondered if her situation could get anymore surreal. As she drifted off to sleep, she heard a soft snore come from the other side of the room. A small smirk crept onto her face. Of course, he would snore. She went to sleep with the hope that the next day would be more sensible and possibly nicer.
“Naomi, wake up.”
She groaned and tried to turn away, but her hands were above her head, and she couldn’t seem to move them. She had a similar dilemma with her feet. She cracked open one eye to discover what her predicament was and found a demon staring down at her.
“Oh shit!” she gasped and tried to jerk away, but with her limbs still secured, she couldn’t go anywhere.
“Wake up,” the demon ordered again. She blinked and realized that it was Tavik. She scowled at the masked man and jerked her arms and legs in annoyance.
“I’m awake. Untie me.”
He straightened and crossed his arms.
“What?” she demanded.
"Do you work for Agatha?"
"No, I don’t! Please untie me."
"Are you in collusion with anyone else against me?"
"Who? I just got here! Please untie me."
"And you're not Lady Naomi?"
"How come you don’t know what this lady looks like? I mean if she was potentially going to be your wife, wouldn’t you check her out beforehand? While you answer, you can untie me."
He made no move to her bonds. "It wasn’t necessary to see her beforehand. If I saw her and found her unsuitable, I would have disposed of her." Well, that was a cheerful thought to start the day. If he hadn’t thought she was cute enough, he would've just gutted her instead of forcing her to the altar.
Her voice cracked when she made her request again. "Please, untie me."
For a second, she thought he would still refuse, but he finally reached and undid the knots. She lowered her arms and rubbed her wrists. Her hands were numb from poor circulation. Tavik moved down to her ankles and undid those knots as well, but he held her ankles lightly after untying them.
"I promised I would not harm you."
"Why not? I’m not really your Lady Naomi. What does my welfare matter?"
"Because I keep my promises."
He said that seriously. She didn't understand why he'd keep promises to her since she was powerless in this whole mess, and he seemed to not trust her an inch, but she nodded her head to show she accepted his statement. He removed his hands from her feet. She swung her legs over the side to the bed and sat up. She watched him warily. She had no idea what was expected of her now. Tavik, on the other hand, seemed content to ignore her for the moment. He turned away and stretched. He had on a loose shirt and a pair of baggy pants. When he was finished with his stretch, his arms flopped down, and he scratched his butt. She couldn't help snorting. So much for decorum, she thought dryly.
There was a tap at the door. Tavik opened it to let in Yula with a tray of food. She shot Naomi a worried look. She smiled to reassure her. Yula set the tray on the small table and put out one plate and one set of utensils. Naomi got up but hung back at the side of the bed. Was the plate for her or him? Tavik sat down in the chair without the plate. She came over and sat across from him.
She ate a small spoonful of what tasted like oatmeal. Tavik lounged across from her. Eating breakfast with a devil masked man was certainly strange. Doing anything with a devil masked man was strange.
“Yula, please keep Naomi company today while we travel.”
“Yes, sir.”
They were leaving? “Where are we going?”
“Home.”
She was annoyed by the vague answer. Before she could ask for more details, he rose. “Make sure you are ready when the caravan leaves.”
Yula nodded. Naomi held her tongue. Once he was out of the room, she turned to Yula. She needed information. Any information.
“Humor me?”
Yula tilted her head in confusion.
“I’m going to ask you questions and just answer them, please. Don’t try to tell me I know the answers because I’m Lady Naomi, okay?”
She nodded her head.
“Where are we going?”
“Lord Tavik told you.”
“Lord Tavik didn't tell me anything. You know where we’re going. Please tell me.”
“We’re returning to the heart of Lord Tavik’s domain.”
“Why aren’t we staying here?”
She shrugged. “He never spends time in his conquered lands. He sets up a man to oversee the area and collect his taxes and then leaves.”
“So this is all about money? That’s why he does this?”
She didn’t immediately respond. She looked down at her hands. “Lord Tavik’s reasons are his own. Money is one reason, but there are others.”
“What are they?”
Yula shook her head. “That is our lord’s business, not ours. All I know is that there were villages that would have sworn allegiance to him without bloodshed, yet he still sent his men in with swords drawn.”
“That’s awful. He kills people who don’t stand against him?”
She shrugged. “I think it is more accurate to say he wants people to stand against him. He enjoys the bloodshed.”
She absorbed this with a shudder. Who the hell had she married?
Continue to Chapter 4
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