In the Flesh

by Sylvia Day

“Right. Let’s go. I want to be alone with you. We have so little time.” He laced his fingers with hers and led her back to his rooms.

  As the doors to his bedchamber slid open, Sapphire’s eyes were immediately drawn to the mass of maps and notes that littered Wulf’s desk.

  “If you want to show respect for my opinions, tell me what’s troubling you,” she challenged.

  He settled into the sunken seating area and pulled her backward to recline against his chest. His hands stroked the length of her arms; his fingers teased the centers of her palms. “The four mercenaries we have in custody had little information of any importance. They could only say that I was captured for a different purpose, then traded for their leader when he was apprehended by a Sarian patrol. Interesting, but not really helpful.”

  She heaved out a frustrated breath. “I can’t stand this uncertainty. I worry about what will happen to you when I leave.”

  He nuzzled against her neck. “My personal guards are now the envy of the entire palace unit. You trained them well. You continue to protect me, just as you’ve done since we met.”

  “Why would the mercenaries go to so much trouble to capture you, then relinquish you so easily?” Sapphire turned in his lap to face him. “You would think they might sacrifice their leader in order to claim whatever reward there was for you.”

  Wulf retained his hold on her hand. “Unless he was the only one who knew what my value was, and who would pay it.”

  “Ransom from your father? Talgorite maybe?” D’Ashier held the distinction of having the largest deposit of the stone anywhere.

  “Yes. Anyone who uses talgorite as a power source would have motive.”

  “That opens endless possibilities.” She could feel the weight of weariness that descended upon him and knew she would do everything in her power to help him discover the truth. When she left the Sarian palace, she’d wanted a purpose. She had one now, something to occupy her after she returned home.

  “It does.” His voice rose. “Guardian. I’m starved.”

  “I will see to it, Your Highness.”

  A few moments later, several attendants arrived bearing platters of food and chilled wine. Wulf fed Sapphire her dinner by hand, his long fingers bringing tempting morsels of her favorite foods to her mouth. She memorized the sight of him, his gaze focused with singular attention on her lips, so intent on serving her and making her happy. The earlier incident with the concubine seemed to have worked in refocusing Wulf on how little time they had. Not enough time to waste even a moment on lack of communication, doubts, or juvenile tests of affection.

  Moments like these, fleeting though they were, gave her a tiny glimpse of the life they could have had, if only they were different people. Her warrior lover was her perfect counterpart, so like her, yet different enough to keep her enthralled. He continued to surprise her, yet he remained familiar and comfortable.

  She was madly in love with the impossible man. The food he fed her with such tender eroticism could have been tasteless for all the attention she paid to it, arrested as she was by the panicked beating of her heart.

  Later, Wulf tucked her into his bed, his body curling behind her, the heavy weight of his erection wedged in the valley of her buttocks. He held her close, with no space between them, burying his face in the curve of her neck and quickly falling asleep.

  She stayed awake for hours, afraid to sleep and miss a moment of it.

  Chapter 12

  Sapphire sat on the edge of the pool in the seraglio, her bare feet moving restlessly in the warm water. Her week with Wulfric ended tomorrow, which created a sense of urgency that drove her crazy. She was so distressed, her courses had ended early. A small blessing, but one she appreciated.

  “You’re unhappy,” Clarke said.

  She looked at him. It had taken her a great deal of wheedling and cajoling before the reserved Captain of the Guard had agreed to join her by the pool rather than stand at attention behind her. Once resigned to her wishes, he had rolled up the legs of his uniform trousers and sat, his thick calves plunged halfway into the water.

  “I am,” she agreed.

  “Are you homesick?”

  She laughed softly. “I haven’t been away long enough to be homesick, but then I don’t really have a home to return to. My father travels extensively and my mother is tenured at the Sensual Arts School, a position that takes up much of her time. The home I live in is more the king’s than mine, and I realize now that I can’t ever return there. I’m not sure it would be wise for me to live in Sari at all.”

  Clarke’s gaze was sympathetic. “Maybe you could find a way to make this your home.”

  “I couldn’t be happy here. The king suspects me of malicious intent and Wulfric’s solution is to lock me away to keep me safe.” Kicking the water, Sapphire watched the fluid beads arc into one of the three fountains. “I can’t spend my days waiting on his pleasure. I just left that life. Gratefully. I don’t want it back.”

  The captain was silent.

  “And what would happen to me when he marries?” she continued. “I couldn’t bear to share him with another woman.” She remembered the icy demeanor and deep bitterness that encapsulated the beautiful Queen Brenna in an aloof shell. Sapphire would never allow that to happen to herself. She refused.

  “His Highness is a fool,” Clarke growled.

  “Clarke!” She glanced around, making sure his treasonous statement hadn’t been overheard.

  “He’s burying his head in the sand. One day he’ll look up and realize what he’s lost. By then, it will be too late.”

  “There’s no help for it. I knew from the moment I discovered his identity that we were doomed. He knew it as well. The end was as assured as the beginning.”

  Clarke shook his head. “I don’t believe that. I think things can be changed to suit a purpose.”

  “You are just as obstinate as Prince Wulfric.” Sapphire placed her hand over his. “In case I don’t have the chance again, I want to tell you how much I’ve come to like you, Clarke. You’re a good man, one anyone would be lucky to call a friend.”

  He grunted and a flush spread across his dark skin. “Consider yourself lucky then.”

  The doors to the seraglio slid open, and they both turned their heads to see who entered. Prince Duncan swaggered in. Sapphire eyed him cautiously. The young prince came to Wulf’s concubines’ quarters daily, luring those who were interested to move to his wing of the palace.

  Through him, Sapphire glimpsed a younger Wulfric. Duncan had similar dark hair and green eyes, and was just as tall as his brother. But at nineteen years old, he was still boyishly built. He lacked Wulfric’s broad shoulders and muscular physique, and his chest was almost hairless.

  Her mouth curved wryly. According to the women who’d moved to his seraglio, what he lacked in experience he made up for in youthful vigor. And apparently, he was kind to them and charming, something hard for Sapphire to understand because he always stared at her with malice. As he was doing now.

  Duncan approached her. Both she and the captain tensed.

  “Come with me,” the young prince ordered her.

  She looked at Clarke.

  Duncan hauled her up, catching her close when her wet feet slipped on the tile. “Don’t look at him. He can’t stop me.”

  He started to drag her along with him.

  The captain leaped to his feet with surprising grace for a man of his size. “His Highness, Prince Wulfric, has ordered me to accompany her everywhere.”

  “Come along then. You can watch.”

  She tried to tug away from his bruising grip. “I’m menstruating,” she lied.

  “Not according to the Guardian. Why do you think I waited until now?”

  Clarke stepped in the way. “I have been ordered to protect her as well.”

  Duncan laughed harshly. “You misunderstood his purpose, Captain. You are not protecting her, you are protecting everyone else from her.”

  “You lie.�
�� Sapphire’s tone was cold. For a moment, she thought he would hit her for her insolence. She stood ready to deflect the blow. He would not catch her unawares again.

  “You forget your place, prisoner,” he sneered. “You will address me as ‘Your Highness,’ and you will afford me the respect I’m entitled to.”

  “I am not a prisoner.”

  He laughed again, the sound even more grating than before. “Why do you think you’re here in D’Ashier?”

  She didn’t deign to answer that.

  “Let me tell you,” he offered with malicious glee. “You’re the daughter of Grave Erikson, the man who defeated us in the Confrontations. You are the favorite concubine of the Sarian king, our enemy. You’re a great prize to us. We’ll ransom you back for information and POWs. In the meantime, Wulfric’s been enjoying the spoils of war and learning all about your father’s lauded military strategies. Thank you, by the way, for being so willing to share his military expertise.”

  She recoiled as if he’d struck her.

  The prince grinned smugly. “Wulfric keeps you locked away all day. Why do you think he does that? You’re obviously capable of protecting yourself, so that can’t be his purpose. Where do you think he’s been the last few days? He’s been arranging the ransom agreements. Soon, you’ll be sent home and I intend to enjoy you before you leave.”

  He began to haul her toward the doorway again. This time she didn’t resist, her mind skittering around what he’d said but unwilling to grasp it. Looking at the situation in that light made horrifying sense. Wulf’s distance and distractions, the constant guards around her, the long hours he spent away from the palace, and the way he picked her brain for stratagems.

  Could the proof of Duncan’s words have been in front of her the entire time, with her too lovesick to see it?

  Her hand went to her stomach as it roiled.

  When Clarke tried to intercede, she threw him a warning look. He could not stand up to the prince. He didn’t have the right or the authority. She would not see him punished because of her.

  The captain followed with clenched jaw and fists.

  Sabine intercepted them when they reached the doors. “Your Royal Highness.” She prostrated on the floor. “Please, many of the other concubines are willing. Choose another, I beg you.”

  “Rise, Sabine,” the prince ordered. “Prince Wulfric told me I could have the use of his concubines.”

  “If they are willing.”

  Duncan’s smile was predatory. “We all know this wildcat likes to fight at first, but she’s willing in the end.”

  Sapphire gasped. “I will never be willing for you.”

  Not conceding to argue his point further, Duncan pulled her out to the corridor, where two guards wearing his personal red and white colors waited. “Bring her to my rooms.”

  He started down the hallway, leaving her to the care of the guardsmen.

  Sapphire moved quickly, having no other choice. She wasn’t familiar with any other wing of the palace; therefore, if she hoped to escape, she would have to make her move here and now.

  Fisting her hand, she whipped her forearm up and to the side, breaking the nose of the guard on her right. As he howled in pained surprise, she grabbed his arm and pivoted to the left, using his stumbling body to knock the other guard down.

  Then she took off at a run, struggling to gain traction on the marble with her damp feet.

  Remembering the day she’d arrived, Sapphire knew the transfer room was a few meters down the hallway from Wulf’s rooms. It was a straight shot down the long corridor. If she could outrun her pursuers and gain some ground, she might be able to lock herself inside and transfer to safety.

  Wulf’s guards lined the hallway at regular intervals, protecting his wing of the palace, yet not one of them made a move to stop her. She flew by them, surprised at their abetting of her escape, but having no time to consider their motives.

  A tackle from behind knocked the wind out of her. The heavy weight of a masculine body slammed her into the hard floor. Stunned, she struggled for air. As her assailant rolled her over, she was unable to breathe.

  Duncan straddled her, his eyes alight with vicious lust.

  “I’m going to enjoy this,” he snarled, tearing at her filmy gown.

  Sapphire swung hard and clipped him in the temple with her fist.

  He roared, falling to the side. Twisting, she kneed him, aiming for his balls. He moved, causing her to hit his thigh instead.

  “Bitch!” he hissed, bruising her upper arm in a viselike grip.

  She ducked an incoming blow, but his greater weight pushed her to her back. He climbed over her. She clawed at his face, drawing blood with her nails. Pinning one of her hands beneath her hip, Duncan trapped the other over her head. Then he licked the side of her face from jaw to temple.

  “Ready to scream?” he growled.

  “Ready to die?” She lifted her knee again, this time grazing his scrotum and stealing his breath.

  Duncan reared back, fist raised. She freed the hand beneath her hip and slammed the heel of her palm into his eye. His head snapped back and he screamed.

  Abruptly he quieted, eyes widening before rolling back in his head. He slumped over her, a crushing weight. Clarke loomed above them, wielding his glaive-hilt.

  Relief filled her. “Get him off me.”

  Grabbing him by the scruff, the captain threw the unconscious prince aside and held out his hand to her. He pulled her to her feet. She glanced around, noting how the hallway guardsmen kept their gazes carefully averted. Seeing nothing.

  “I have to leave.” She limped toward the transfer room.

  “You don’t know that Prince Duncan was telling the truth.”

  “I don’t know that he wasn’t. I’ve put my father and country at risk. For what?”

  “For love.”

  She paused and gripped Clarke’s massive hand. “Let me go. Don’t you see? I can’t stay. I could never stay, even before this happened.”

  He hesitated, then nodded. “You’ll need a change of clothes.”

  “There’s no time. Duncan’s guards will come with reinforcements soon.”

  Clarke looked back toward the seraglio. She followed his gaze. Wulf’s guards blocked the hallway farther down, pretending to have some trouble with a door. Despite her anxiety, she had the presence of mind to appreciate the help these men were giving her. She’d made some friends that day of training in the courtyard.

  “Come on,” Clarke urged, breaking into a lope.

  Despite the aches and pains she felt, she followed and kept pace. The doors to the transfer room opened as they approached and locked behind them with a curtly voiced command. When they stood inside, he ordered her to the transfer pad and leaned over the control panel.

  “Damn,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “The controls are locked to allow transfers only within the borders of D’Ashier, and only from pad to pad.”

  “Why?” Her gaze stayed trained on the doors.

  “Prince Wulfric was concerned that your father would track your transfer and locate you here.”

  Sapphire thought quickly. “Transfer me to Akton. I’ll make my way over to Sari from there.”

  “Akton is like all border towns. It’s not safe for you there, especially in your present state of undress.” His shoulders straightened. “I’ll go with you.”

  “No. You must stay here. Blame today’s events on me. Tell them I wounded Prince Duncan and escaped on my own. Tell them you tried to stop me.”

  “Mistress—”

  “You have to stay and tell Prince Wulfric I said he must release my mästares. I know he will.” She glanced nervously at the doors. “Now enter the coordinates! We’re running out of time.”

  Clarke looked prepared to argue.

  “I can take care of myself,” she assured him. “You know that.”

  When he reached for the controls, Sapphire managed a shaky smile. “Thank you, my f
riend. I hope one day we meet again.”

  Taking a deep breath, the captain entered a series of keystrokes on the console.

  Sapphire blinked and found herself standing outdoors on the public transfer pad in Akton. The pad was packed with women, all in various states of undress like herself. Like a flock of colorful birds, females of every size and shape mingled in a dazzling array of diaphanous gowns. The natural breeze blew, carrying with it the scents of the desert and the savory offerings of the multitude of food vendors.

  Startled by the proliferation of pedestrians, she searched her surroundings. A bright red banner stretched over the street fluttered in the wind and caught her eye:

  CONCUBINE CONTRACT AUCTION EVERY TRINADAY

  As apprehension welled, she mentally calculated the date. She winced. Oh, hell.

  Chapter 13

  “I warned you.”

  Wulf held Duncan pinned to his sitting room wall by the neck, his brother’s feet dangling several inches above the floor.

  “Wulfric, p-please,” Duncan mumbled through his cut and swollen lips. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t realize—”

  “Liar. I told you the cost would be grave if you touched her again.” Wulf threw his brother into the corner in disgust, then turned to the captain of the palace guard. “Contact General Petersen. Tell him His Highness, Prince Duncan, will be joining the infantry. He is not to receive special treatment or consideration. He’s to go through Basic Training with all the other new recruits. Once he’s graduated, I want him to be given the most undesirable assignments for the next three years. I expect weekly reports on his progress directly from the general.”

  “God, Wulfric. No,” Duncan moaned, curling into the fetal position.

  The king stepped forward. “The thrashing you gave him is enough. He’s your blood!”

  “Don’t remind me, Father. It’s not something I’m proud of at the moment.”

  Wulf bent over Duncan, struggling to restrain his fury and helpless frustration. “You have no idea how lucky you are that you didn’t succeed in your plans for Katie.” He straightened and rolled his shoulders back in a vain effort to relieve the tension there. “I want His Highness dispatched immediately. He is not to use a healing chamber until he reaches his destination. Send him by transport, not by transfer.”