by Marie Dry
***
Melisende took off her dress and chemise and, pinning up her braids, sank down into the blissfully hot water. She’d never tire of this luxury. The simple fact that she didn’t have to carry buckets of water made this a daily miracle. All she had to do was talk to the water and it appeared. And she could tell it to be hot or cold.
It still felt vaguely ungodly, but she was a woman of reason. Eventually, she would figure out the logic behind all the wondrous things in this cave. She’d never admit it to the Star Warrior, but his acceptance of her reasoning, the way he approved of her taking a bath twice a day, put him above all the people she’d known in her life. But more than that was his willingness to talk to her about anything. Even subjects, women were not supposed to know about.
An angry roar bounced around the room and Melisende instinctively clutched her ears and ducked. Water splattered everywhere. Zain drew her out of the bath and at first, she thought he was there to protect her against the bear that had gotten in. She clamped her hands over her nakedness as best as she could with him holding her. Her second thought was that with such strength he could crush her. He’d lifted her out of the bath as if she weighed nothing, and she was not a small woman. He held her with her toes dangling in the air. She looked up into his face. Red eyes blazed evilly, and he pulled back his lips to reveal his wicked incisors growing to enormous lengths. In that moment he looked like true evil. Melisende shrieked and flinched back from him. Demon. He truly was a demon.
Chapter Five
“Who did this?” His voice was deep and so rough, she could barely make out the words.
“I . . . I don’t understand.” Was he showing his true colors at last? Betrayal settled low in her stomach until she felt ill. She’d thought him a being of reason.
He shook her slightly. “Who did this to you?” He enunciated each word clearly, but his voice was so rough and gravelly she had to strain to understand him.
“Did what?”
“Left marks on your back.” Again, those lips pulled back from those savage incisors, his gaze still that frightening red, like something out of her nightmares. “Someone whipped you.” It was not a question.
Melisende knew she paled, could feel the blood draining from her face, leaving her light-headed with humiliation. She wanted to run and hide somewhere he’d never see her again. She tried to shrug off his hold and when that didn’t work, she reached out with her hand and grabbed the drying cloth, mercifully within her reach, and held it in front of her. She couldn’t believe she hung in his arms naked as the day she was born. “Please, let me dress.”
He stared down at her. “Who whipped you?”
“Please, put me down.” He lowered her, slowly, his arms not even trembling from holding her weight.
She pulled her chemise awkwardly over her head, while she held the drying cloth in front of her. His eyes flickered over her, and more red sparks flared in his gaze. She couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t think these sparks were from anger. Which was even more frightening.
“Who dared whip my breeder?”
“It was long ago.” She grabbed her dress, fled to the bedroom, and quickly pulled it over her head. “Corbleu.” She couldn’t find the holes to fit her arms through. She wanted to be dressed and out of the bedroom while his eyes flashed red and his voice sounded like marble being cut out of a quarry with a blunt chisel.
Large hands guided hers through the material and the dress settled over her body. His heat seared her. It was a relief to have her naked body covered. “Tell me why this was done to you.” His eyes narrowed. “And the name of the person who did this to you.”
Melisende regarded that savage face that hid such a clever mind. She had come to respect him. She knew he desired her, and yet he had not forced himself on her. No matter how many questions she asked, he patiently answered them all. He had never, in these last weeks with him, called her ungodly or too full of knowledge for a female. Never in all her life, did she think to be fortunate enough to meet someone who would tell her ‘to do the calculations’.
“Let’s go to the great chamber.” She walked to the door and was thankful when it opened. She did not know how, but she suspected he could command the doors.
She loved the great room. Zain had asked her what she wanted to change in the living area. It was the most wondrous thing. She’d describe a piece of furniture or cloth and he would pick up a thin, silver square, and the object she described would be represented there. As if tiny artists painted it in between the short time she described the object and when he displayed it. The end result was a carpet of deep red tapestries depicting the Greek scholars on the wall—and she hadn’t needed to embroider it herself. She was hopeless at needlework and she absolutely despised doing it.
He entered the room on her heels and paced up and down. He swung around to face her. “Who whipped you?”
She didn’t dare not tell him, but she was afraid he’d go out and hunt them the way he had hunted that Eduki animal. “You have to understand, they feared for my soul and my sanity.”
“These woumbers would whip a female?”
Melisende decided not to ask what a woumber was. She drew in a deep breath. Sometimes her ability to remember everything was a curse, every lash she had received fresh in her mind as if it happened an hour ago. “When I was three years old, I read a scroll out loud.”
“You are a human of superior intelligence.” He said it as if it was something everyone should know and accept.
Her lips pulled up at the compliment. Sometimes she still wondered if he was a demon who’d escaped from hell. Whatever he was, he treated her like the most beautiful woman, and as if her cleverness was acceptable. Even admirable. “You see, no one had taught me to read or write. There were some who thought maybe I was visited by the devil or his minions. That they’d taught me in secret.” She’d been fascinated by the writing on the parchment. Had proudly shown her mother what she could do.
His eyes narrowed. “I know of human mothers. They do not beat their children.”
“She only did what my uncle told her. She had no choice.” Melisende had to believe that. Had to believe her mother had never come to see her at the abbey, because her uncle stopped her. Melisende bit her lip. An unholy wrath rolled off him; she may have condemned her mother already. Somehow, she had to make him understand that it was not her mother’s fault.
“She whipped you when you were the size of a small warrior before his first change?” His voice was beyond gravelly now, and his eyes flashed red fire; he seemed to grow even taller, his muscles expanding.
She took a slow step back. “I told you, she had no choice.”
He pulled her close to his warm body. His hand stroked her back, traced the exact path of her scars, as if he wanted to ease the pain she’d endured. “Was she the only one who left these scars on your back?”
Melisende wasn’t fooled by his casual tone. He was out for blood. Over her. She bit her lip, tried to think of someone dead already to blame.
“Do not lie to me. I will find them.”
Melisende sighed. “I was sent to stay at the abbey when I was five. A priest was in charge of the abbey for the first six years I stayed there.” She’d pretend not to remember the name if Zain asked.
“He hurt you?”
She shrugged. “My family instructed him to ensure I did not become a vessel for evil. You can’t blame him for doing his job.”
“I can blame them, and I will punish them for daring to harm my breeder.”
She put her hands on his broad chest. Stood on tiptoe. “Please, I do not want my mother to be hurt, and the priest left the abbey, four years ago. I do not know where he is now.”
“And your uncle?”
“What about my uncle?” She’d hoped he’d missed that bit.
His eyes narrowed, and he flashed a fang at her. It took all her courage not to stumble back. “Do not think me stupid. I see the fear in your eyes whenever you talk of him. He h
urt you, too.”
“Please, I do not want any of them hurt.” Though a very small, vengeful part of her wanted Zain to find her uncle and do to him what he had done to her.
He held her even closer, his hard body taut against her. His hand burned like a warm brand, where it cupped the back of her neck. “I will deal with your uncle and the priest.”
“And you will not harm my maman?” She remembered her mother whipping her, but she also remembered her cleaning the wounds afterwards.
“I will not touch her.” He stroked a finger over her hair. It seemed to fascinate him, and every morning he insisted on braiding it into ever more intricate patterns. “When will you do the first knowing with me?” The fact that he changed the subject and didn’t mention her uncle and the priest didn’t reassure her.
Melisende sighed. To be truthful, she had come to the conclusion that she was a sinful woman. Because she desired this strange being with his beautiful body and clever mind. He asked her when she would do the first knowing with him every morning while he braided her hair, and during the day when he kissed her. Each morning, before he went out to do his patrols, he’d press his forehead against hers. Without that clever mind, she could have resisted him. But she could talk to him, tell him about her studies, show him that her prayer book contained equations instead of prayers, without fear of finding herself burned at the stake. “I told you, I cannot give my body to anyone outside of marriage. Even if I desire that person.” She gave him the same answer every day.
He was quick to pounce on her slip of the tongue. “You desire me?”
Melisende shrugged; a blush burned her cheeks, down her neck, and beneath her dress.
He stepped back and Melisende missed feeling him against her. She wanted to grab his hand and put it back on her skin. He might not be a demon, but she was sure to be visited by one soon, to be punished for her sinful thoughts.
Zain crossed to the wall and pointed at a faint square outline that appeared on the wall. “If you speak into this square, I will hear you, no matter where I am.”
She opened her mouth and he held up a hand. “Do not ask me how it works. If you have need of me, speak into the square. I will be back soon.”
Before she could ask him where he was going, he was gone. Melisende approached the door he’d gone through. “Open.” Nothing happened. “Door open.” Again nothing. She tried several commands, but nothing worked. “I will break that Star Warrior of his habit of locking me in.”
Chapter Six
Two days later, Melisende studied the information on the scrolls and compared it to the facts on the computer. The door opened and the scroll she’d been reading dropped to the floor with a soft clatter. Zain entered through the big doors, carrying a round priest in one fist. The priest looked truly miserable and Melisende could sympathise. He must think the devil’s minion had come to take him to hell.
“What have you done?” She rushed forward. “Please, put him down.”
The priest focused watery eyes on her and she could see the relief on his face to see another human. “Please help—”
“Quiet, you,” Zain said, and shook him like a dog.
She clapped her hands over her mouth. Never in all her life had she seen anyone treat a priest like that. Melisende thought she could hear the poor man’s bones rattle. “You cannot treat a man of God in this fashion. Please, put him down.” The priest had to be uncomfortable to be carried by the back of his robe, the way a dog is carried by the scruff of its neck.
Zain lifted the priest higher and gave him a considering look. The priest stared back with round, terrified eyes. “If you run, or insult my breeder, by the time I’m finished with you, you will beg to die.” He slowly lowered the poor man to the ground, the strength it took to do that immense.
Melisende and the priest gasped in unison when he called her a breeder. She clasped her hands over her burning cheeks. How dare he humiliate her like this? And in front of a man of God.
“Why did you bring him here? This is not the priest who whipped me.”
“I know he is not the one. I will find that one and punish him,” he said in such a sinister voice, both she and the priest took a step back. Zain continued: “I brought the fat one to marry us.”
Melisende didn’t know if she should try to get the doors open again and grab the priest and run, or apologise to the poor man who now muttered a prayer and crossed himself.
“If he marries us, I won’t kill him,” Zain added, pointedly. He did not show expression, but she had a feeling he was enjoying himself.
The priest looked ready to faint. The poor man probably never imagined that when he woke that morning, he’d end up in a silver room, and be asked to marry a green-and gold-demon, to a human woman. “You cannot threaten to kill a priest. Your soul will be condemned for eternity.” Zain did not look in the least concerned over that.
The priest pulled himself straight, and shook out his black wool robe. “Before I consider performing this marriage, I insist on talking to this woman alone.” He tried to sound brave, but his voice trembled as much as his body.
Melisende touched Zain’s arm, feeling the muscles flex under her hand. “I would like to talk to him, please, Star Warrior,” she said, afraid Zain might shake the priest like a dog again.
He crossed his arms over his chest, but nodded.
Melisende looked around, not sure where to go for privacy. Zain pointed to the far corner. “Over there, I will stand at the door.” His eyes never left the priest while he spoke to her.
Melisende hurried to the corner and turned to the priest. “I am sorry, Father. He may look fierce, but his heart is . . . good.” She had been about to say pure, but she doubted she could convince the priest of that.
He tried to smile at her. Obviously, he was the kindly sort. “I do not understand what manner of creature he is. But he asked me about a brother Felipe on the way here. I gather this priest used to whip you?” He crossed himself again. “I do not hold with such practices against children.”
How had Zain found out the name of the priest who’d whipped her? “He will not forget about that. I am afraid brother Felipe is living on borrowed time.”
The priest tried to look brave. “If it is your wish to be married to this creature, I will marry you, my child.” He crossed himself.
Not keen to take on Zain, Melisende thought. She couldn’t blame him. And it was time to admit that she didn’t want to be anywhere else. In the short time with Zain, she had learned more, laughed more, and felt happier than she ever had. He looked at her as if she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, didn’t find her too tall, and he didn’t think her thoughts dangerous or threaten to punish her for them. Instead, he talked to her and corrected her equations. He’d given her scrolls and showed her how to use a com-pu-ter.
Melisende stared down at the priest, trying to convey with her whole demeanor the danger. “Father, do not think to marry us and then go for help. He is a good . . . person, but also a warrior with magic no one can defeat.” She didn’t know how else to describe Zain’s machines. His sword appeared out of thin air, and he had a light that could cut through stone—that was magic.
“Surely the church—”
She shook her head. “No. Believe me, you have not seen the wondrous things he has. His strength is that of a hundred human men. He will kill you, and any others you bring.”
“You are happy with him?” Again she had the feeling he was concerned for her, but also determined to leave alive.
“Yes, I am.” She wouldn’t apologise for that. With Zain she would never again be whipped for her cleverness, or be told she was not a real woman because she was a head taller than most men. “Please, Father. Marry us, and then forget our existence.”
He sighed and took her hands in his. “Then I will marry you to this creature, my child.”
Zain walked up to them so fast he was only a blur. He took her hands from the priest’s. “She is my breeder.”
/> The priest paled, but Zain ignored him, and picked Melisende up as if she weighed nothing. She had never thought herself the kind of woman a man would compose poems for. Zain made her feel like that kind of woman. He stalked to her bedroom, still holding her in his arms. “I have a dress for you. According to the human database, it is important to women to have a good dress for their weddings.”
He pointed to the bed. “You will wear that for our wedding.”
Melisende turned and her breath caught in her throat. A dress fit for a queen lay on the bed. Purple silk with gold trimmings. Tears filled her eyes. She would have her summer wedding after all, only this time she would be wed to the groom of her choice. He touched the tear on her cheek with a fingertip, his claw retracted.
“You bought me a wedding dress.” It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for her.
“You do not like it? That is why you make tears?”
“No, I love it.” She touched the beautiful glimmering silk. “When did you put it in here? And where did you get it?”
“I took it from a camel animal.”
Melisende closed her eyes. He must have found a caravan coming to trade. She didn’t want to know if he’d paid for the dress. “Did you kill them?” The question slipped out without her volition.
“No, the fat priest insisted you would not want that.”
“Stop calling him that. He is a man of God. Show some respect.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Dress. I wish to braid your hair.”
She grabbed the dress and went into the bathroom to dress. To her relief, the door closed behind her. When she emerged, his eyes flared red and he appeared right in front of her. He wore a different uniform, with red bands around his arms. His skin was the copper color it sometimes turned. He was so handsome, he took her breath away.
His gaze blazed red passion at her. “You are beautiful. More beautiful than a Zyrgin sunrise.”