Erik's POV
As the run rose the following morning, I found myself once again jolting awake, drenched in a cold sweat with a frantically racing heart. But, while a dream had once again been the cause, it had not been Javert who had haunted me this time… instead my new, redheaded companion had once again taken center stage in my reverie.
Only this time…
I could feel her pulse racing as my hands travelled feverishly up her bare arms, coming to rest on her wrists. She gasped from beneath me, her head tipping back and allowing my eager mouth access to the soft, faultless skin of her pale neck…
Oh God… had I truly just fantasized about…
"E-Erik…" she breathed softly, her lovely little voice—laden with an aching, yearning necessity—driving me out of my head as I reached down and pulled her completely to me. I caressed and kissed and tasted her burning skin as she arched against me—
I gasped in near horror and practically leapt out of the bed, trying to keep my eyes from drifting to where Serena lay, but finding myself unable to keep from glancing her way. Oh, Christ in heaven…
If I had thought she had looked irresistibly charming last night in the dark, she now looked wholly exquisite while bathed in the light of the morning sun. All of the tension caused by the confusion and fear of the previous day had dissipated from her face, leaving it relaxed and oh-so-comely in her latent state. Her rosy lips were drawn up into the tiniest of peaceful smiles, and she was curled up under my black silk sheets in such a way that my meandering gaze down the impeccable curves of her form was practically inevitable. And I had lain with her the whole night… dreaming of her in the most intimate way…
Once again I found my head spinning, and I immediately forced myself to look away and leave the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I could not allow myself to be in her presence when such vulgar thoughts still lingered in my mind. Not when I was already struggling so laboriously to keep my composure while around her.
I could not believe I had actually fallen asleep while lying so remarkably close to her, let alone dared allow even the most unmanageable of my thoughts—my dreams—to attempt to take any more than I had already been so graciously given. I hardly knew her, for God's sake! And what I did know left me certain that she was innocent, benevolent, and so utterly perfect that I could never hope to be worthy of even her friendship. Yet I was already so wickedly imagining our bodies entangled in a passionate haze...
While, at the same time, the tiniest part of me was whispering reassuring bearings: 'Come now, Erik, you cannot be so hard on yourself. What man could have such an incontestable beauty lying alluringly in his bed and not be plagued with such delusions?' And while I knew that inner voice was right, I could not help but continue to chastise myself as I sat down at my desk, drumming my fingers fretfully on the sleek wood. Mon dieu, this was going to be a long…
Rest of my life? It was hitting me truly now that marrying this girl would only extend the torture she was putting me through. Could I really handle keeping my extremely trying pledge every day for the remainder of my existence? How long would my self-restraint last before coming crumbling down atop her, burying her in its ruins?
How glorious her soft lips felt as they clung desperately to mine, as I buried myself into her—
'Glorious indeed…' I thought uncomfortably, feeling my cheeks redden hotly. Did lovemaking truly feel as wonderful as it had in the vision? 'As I wouldn't know…' I continued bitterly. Every woman I had ever met in my lifetime had either been afraid of or disgusted with me. They would shy away from me, strike me, scream at the sight of me… I had long ago come to sullenly accept that I would never lie with a woman, never have a lover or a wife like any other man. And what a dreadful realization that is for a man in mid-twenties to be forced to grasp… a practically unheard of resolution, for anyone else but I! It simply was not fair... yet inequitableness was another phenomenon I knew all too well. I was resentful of it, but it had been so often beaten into me that I had come to dejectedly accept it. For I could not change the viewpoints of others, with a countenance as mine— average humans were far too fickle for such an implausible conversion.
'Unless they had no sight whatsoever…'
She had been so kind thus far… stroking my naked face with the prudence of one who might actually care what became of me… promising me compliant companionship…
So compliant that perhaps I would be able to fulfill my longings unprotested?
No, enough! Cast those dreams to the backmost part of your mind, Erik! You are a horrendous monster of a man; if you can even be called a man!
But don't such sultry thoughts make me even more of a man? Further prove my humanity, not reduce it?
Not with you, you demon from hell! Other men are allowed such—but with you, they only prove you to be viler than your deathly face! The only way for Erik to prove his manhood is to be the finest gentleman in Persia—no, in the world! For he is the last remaining gentleman in Persia… ha! It is not a difficult feat to be the master of chivalry in a place where kidnapping young girls to satisfy the piggish urges of rich bastards is considered honorable, not appalling. He would have to be the strongest, most civil man in the world… that was the true trial! And Erik was never one to back down from a challenge, oh no. He would be the most principled fiancé the world had ever seen… caress young Serena with words, not touches, revere her with small acts of simple consideration, not one act of the most significant form of worship of women. Even once he was a groom, with her as his bride! Ha! Is that not even more than he had come to expect, with all he has gone through in his pitiful existence? He would have a wife! A marriage, albeit loveless, as if he were entirely human, and not a freak on display for all the world to see, but never dare to touch. A wife to take out on Sundays, who would willingly speak to him and smile at him like the good little obedient bride she had promised to be…
To take out on Sundays… that was and always had been one of his dreams, mind you. Ever since that wretched doctor had begun coming around to court his mother… it had always been Sundays. And ooh, how jealous he had been of the handsome, erudite man! Each Sunday he would come and whisk his giggling mother away, and there had been nothing poor, young Erik could do to stop him! That's when Erik had vowed that he would one day make them both pay… oh yes! That someday he would be wealthy and known throughout Europe as the most fantastical genius of the age. Then his mother, in her unhappy marriage with her bickering husband, would finally realize how wrong she had been! She would come knocking on his imported, mahogany door some beautiful Sunday morning… but oh, what a pity! One of his many servants would open the door and say, "Oh, we're very sorry, Madame. But Master Erik is not in; he has gone on an outing with his beautiful young wife…"
I sighed, the weight of reality descending upon my shoulders once more. For, even as a young boy, in the heat of the abuses and calamities I had suffered, I had held onto the irrepressible ability to hope, and to dream. Within my little home in Boscherville, I had been the master of my own fate, so long as I had the time and solitude to create it inside my head. But those days were long behind me, taking with them any hopes I had possessed of Sunday outings with a wife who did not simply tolerate me, but loved me in return. I could never again hope to expect that from any woman, much less Serena, as we both remained trapped in the snare of the Shah and his expectations, simply using one another for survival. Yes, I wanted her more than I had been willing to admit to myself, or to Nadir, as he had threatened me with keeping her safe.
"I know that look, my friend… you best not be planning to seduce her simply because she is blind, intelligent, and beautiful!" he had hissed at me the day prior as I watched her meander throughout the room soon after they had entered my quarters.
"She reads… she is blind, and yet she reads, knows of the sciences, speaks so eloquently…" I had replied stupidly, fascinated with the thought, "Nadir, it is astounding. Is she musical, as well? What sort of household did she come from? I know it is very common for young French girls to be taught in the ways of music, languages, literature, history, housekeeping—"
"She was orphaned very young, Erik. Apart from help from the people of her town, she learned all she knows on her own," he had replied, recalling what she had told him on their way to the palace, "but my friend, that is beside the point—"
"Completely self-taught, independent despite her disability…" I'd breathed, hardly hearing him while so lost in the new fascination across the room, "she is perfect. And she will never find revulsion in my unfortunate defect—"
"Erik, you cannot be serious!" he'd exclaimed with a look of horror, "What has happened to your self-possession? You will not touch her, so help me, unless—"
But just then, Serena had chimed in with her question about the last woman chosen to be my wife. Inquired so innocently, so naively, so unaware of the danger she was in just be being present in this empire—
"Erik? Are you awake?" a small yawn breached the silence of the wing, followed by a few stumbling footsteps. I bit back a groan; she could not enter now, not when my corrupt reveries still rung so freshly in my mind—
"By God; you're exactly where I left you," a darling little chuckle rang out through the air, and a dainty hand perched itself on my shoulder, making me jump, "Oh! Forgive me… I didn't mean to startle you. You must not have heard me call out."
'Oh, I heard alright. And I am only here, back where you left me, after lying with you all night. At your feet though, my dear! I would never dare degrade you in your excellence by placing myself beside you, at your level—'
"Well… can I get you, anything? Breakfast, perhaps?" Her hand remained planted on my shoulder, and I could palpably feel my pulse beating mercilessly beneath it. Bless her soul, trying to make such cordial conversation with me. She had no idea, no notion…
"No, my dear… please don't trouble yourself," I told her, sighing and looking up. A terrible idea if I'd ever had one; she was smiling impeccably down at me with her beautiful eyes gleaming. She looked so cherubic, so innocent; yet my mind jumped instantly back to that sullying dream, when she had been the one staring up at me, her eyes shining with some very different sentiments as she begged me to—
I cleared my throat and looked down again. It was going to be a long morning.
But the girl was persistent, and I soon found her pulling me up out of my chair. I was so positively dumbfounded by the bold action that I could do nothing but follow her as she chatted and led me away. "I will not have that; you need to eat! Where did you say your kitchen was…"
"Really, Mademoiselle, you must not—" I began, only to have her stop in her tracks, scowl, and cross her arms at me.
"Ah, ah, ah…" she began, raising an eyebrow, "What have I said about titles?"
"That we are to be friends, and therefore I am not to use them," I reiterated back to her like a timorously repentant child.
"That's right. Try again, with my name, please…" she smirked.
"Really, Serena," I began again, still caught in astounded disbelief that she was acting so casually with me, "I have always been capable of caring for myself. You are my guest; I cannot have you waiting upon me."
"Well, they do not think I am your guest," she jabbed a thumb behind her, and though it of course did not point to anything relevant to her implication, I caught the suggestion nonetheless, "they brought me here to become your wife. So that is exactly how I should act, to the best of my ability."
"They cannot see what goes on behind closed doors, Serena," I replied, cursing my own careless wording and my grotesque mind for jumping straight to the thought of what normally went on behind the closed doors of a husband and a wife in the form of that despicably gratifying dream!
"Nevertheless." I waited for her to continue the thought, but found that she had simply voiced it, then turned to begin feeling her way around the kitchen. I watched, captivated, as she heated the stove to its correct temperature, located a few of the pans I had stowed away, and took several ingredients off various shelves, smelling each of them and holding them back in my direction to confirm their contents: "Is this rosemary? Salt? Cloves?" To which I could just barely answer, not knowing what else to say when I felt so internally guilty.
She came across some of the raw meat I had placed in my prototype of an improved icebox I was experimenting with, and threw it into the pan without even questioning what sort of meat it was. "I have never come across any sort of meat that does not taste well with a bit of salt and spices," she chirped, laughing, "especially to start off one's day in a rich, hearty breakfast!"
"It is chicken, my dear," I told her, trying to keep my voice from breaking as her laugh made a desirous lump rise up into my throat. Her hands were so delicate, yet deft and sure; her long, elegant fingers wrapped around each of the vessels of food confidently. Making me, for the first time ever, burningly envious of the small, inanimate objects. I remembered instantly how those same little fingers had felt wrapped instead around my arm, and, later in the night…
…curling and uncurling themselves in impassioned fists around the sheets of the bed as I made her my own—
"Chicken?" I could hear the smile in her voice, though I dared not look up at her again, "So there are chickens around here, for slaughter and eggs?"
"Yes. Hundreds of vendors sell them both live and slain in the marketplace daily." Dear Lord; if my voice sounded even half as hoarse to her as it did to my own ears, it was a wonder she hadn't fled from the room yet, guessing my intentions. Goddammit, she was going to realize something was amiss if I continued to act so stiffly! I had to rid myself of these thoughts, act more naturally…
So, I took a deep, silent breath so as not to alert her of my attempt at suppressing my want, and forced a smile—though I knew she couldn't see it. Perhaps if I was able to convince myself that I was wholly comfortable, she would be thoroughly satisfied as well.
She finished seasoning the chicken and set it to broil, then hurried to the chair right across from mine and sat down, grinning eagerly. "Oh, that's perfect! I shall have to go out to said market in the next few days, stock that strange icebox of yours with eggs—"
"No." I interjected sternly. For I knew the marketplace was filled with prying eyes and, even worse, bandits of every sense of the word who would no doubt steal everything they could from such a lovely young thing as Serena—from her coin purse to her innocence. She looked taken aback by my harsh rejoinder, but then crossed her arms once more.
"Whyever not?" she interrogated, "Are you going to deny me discovery of my new surroundings? Of the liberty of running errands like any other woman?"
I could not help but frown as the words passed her lips. Did she truly just voice such a bold, presumptuous statement? How dare she make such an accusation! I did not wish to deny her anything, I simply wanted to do my duty as her protector. "No, not at all," I replied tensely, "But you are naïve to the dangers of the atmosphere outside of royal grounds; the Tehran streets are quite… restless."
My mind leapt instantly to the last time tensions had seriously risen among the people of the Shah's kingdom… how long had it been, three years now? There had been a nationalistic minister to the Shah who had stirred in the people a longing for an abolition of the dynasty, and his king, in response, had not even given him a chance for repentance before throwing him into the ring with me for a painful execution. I had been especially disgusted with myself afterwards as I replayed the zealous man's martyring death over in my head: his vehemence in fighting—delighting the Khanum as she watched him hopelessly attempt to evade me. The spiteful words he shouted at me as I watched him, calmly as a lion waiting for the right moment to attack. But the worst and most impactful reminiscence was the despising look he got in his eyes as I robbed him of his life, simply for believing in a better future for Persia. They say that the fiery desire for the dynasty's end had died with him, but every once in a while I would come across a rally in the streets that often succeeded in making me sick to my stomach. I could not help but imagine each one of the cheering faces I passed trapped in the airless hold of the Punjab lasso, dying by my own hands for straying from tradition.
But Serena, I had to start remembering, was nearly as stubborn as I was.
"All the more reason I should be allowed out onto them. I must know what I'm up against, what I have to be afraid of!" she retorted swiftly, "Lest one day I find myself in need of ingredients and 'naively' wander out onto said streets without a single regard for the dangers which apparently lie in wait there!"
My frown turned into a pure, glaring scowl as she tried to rationalize with me. Who did she think she was? She had not even been here a full day; what did she know? "You do not think you have anything to fear, you foolish girl?" I snapped, "I suppose you think the Shah harmless as well! Believe his mother to be a caring, benevolent woman who gives to the poor and treats all with kindness!"
"Not at all! I have felt for myself their fraudulent intentions and hidden malice. But how can anything out there be more hazardous than they?" she countered, brazenly raising a lovely little eyebrow.
Before I could stop myself, I stood with a snarl, slamming my fist on the table. "You guileless child!" I growled, advancing toward her so that I towered over her seated figure, "You think you would return unharmed if you left here alone? At least here you are protected by the menacing force of my reputation… out there you would be knocked unconscious, if not killed, and robbed of all you hold most preciously within the hour!"
A small gasp escaped her lips, and she shrank away from where I now stood not inches from her. But, though she would not glance up and was trembling slightly, she tautly continued, "I am no child, Erik. I'd say a few months in a cage on a strange boat far from my home, which I was brusquely torn away from, made certain of that."
I cried out in fury at her defiant words, and my hand was twitching forebodingly when one word echoed against my ears…
Cage…
My anger left me so quickly that it nearly knocked me into absolute breathlessness. "They… they kept you… they kept you in a cage?" I questioned in a tone just over a whisper, taking a few steps away from her as I realized in horror that I had almost lost control of myself yet again. Nearly hurt her when she had only been curious about a marketplace: something I'm sure had struck her as a somewhat familiar concept. Allah, I truly was the spawn of the devil.
Serena bit her lip, wringing her hands in her lap as she struggled to regain her poise after her poor, flawless cheeks had paled at my rage. "Forgive me, it is of no matter. Forget I ever said anything; I promise I will never go off to the marketplace, or anywhere else for that matter, without your permission."
I wanted to kick myself, as I had obviously just kicked her with my words. I had promised her freedom, and yet not minutes into the very first day of our time together, I had whipped her into subservience with a single moment of destructive ire. I groaned in self-loathing. "Christ, just look at me! I have already made you feel as if you are answerable to me… Serena, can you ever forgive me? Please excuse poor, unhappy Erik… he has such a damnable temper, you see, he did not mean to frighten you…" She is never going to be your consort, Erik, so you best not be treating her as such in any way, shape, or form! You are answerable to her… not she to you!
Serena's head gradually rose, and, to my awed surprise, she reached out to me, taking my hand when I stepped toward her again. "It's alright, Erik. You did frighten me, but now that I've had a moment to think… I've realized that it was only out of concern for my wellbeing that you, well… got angry, to say the least—whatever's out there must be truly precarious if you reacted so strongly against it."
I wanted to die. I did not deserve such unprecedented mercy from such an amiable, practical creature. 'Oh Serena…'
"You… you forgive Erik? How could you, when he nearly hurt you again?" I whimpered, sinking back into my chair once more.
"Because he is proceeding with such remorse now that I know he didn't mean it. And while he needs to learn to control his temper… it was nothing but a small lapse in behavior that is actually quite easily forgiven… if he should only let me offer a compromise in return," she answered with regained tranquility, squeezing my hand firmly as she emphasized the phrase about my temper.
I didn't know what to do with myself, then, as I listened to her tolerant words. She had to be mad. I had lost dominion over my frustrations not once, but twice, in her presence and then proceeded to take them out on her, and yet she had still forgiven me. How does one such as I react to such unwarranted kindness?
"What might that compromise be, my dear?" I choked out, renewing my internal vow that I would try tirelessly to do as she bid me and learn to control my temper.
"Perhaps you will escort me to the market every now and again," she told me with a slight smile, "Then, you can still protect me should any thieves be lurking, but I still get a taste of this new culture, as well as the opportunity to stock your cupboards with the things I need to make substantial meals."
"Oh yes, of course. Of course… I'd be happy to… of course," I stammered self-consciously, feeling even more exposed and helpless than I had when she had made me take off my mask. She was being the bigger person with her discernment and sympathy; seeming so big, in fact, that it was her towering over me as I flinched now, not the converse.
"Good. Now… I'm going to get up and finish your breakfast, and make some for myself as well as some tea for both of us," she continued with another smile, standing up with one hand on my shoulder almost as if she were patronizingly patting it like she would a small boy. It was an action that would have irritated me immensely, had it been anyone else. But no, it was the beautiful Miss Serena Ryen who was talking down to me, and I found myself almost contented with being babied. Then again, I could not be entirely satisfied with it; I must admit that it still did irk me and my unconquerable pride the slightest bit.
She set back to work, and while I waited, I got up to retrieve my mask from its resting place on the hook. I could not put it back on just yet, if I was to eat without making a mess of myself. But I best have it close for when I did finish the meal she was preparing, so I could be almost entirely ready to leave for the day at its culmination. Oh damn, that was another issue at hand. What was I to do with her while I was gone? I would never dare leave her with the Shah's guards, who had a dreadful reputation preceding them of their treatment towards the women of the harem. Damn, damn, damn; I would have to ask for the day off, or perhaps even a few days' leave… I had to have a solid plan in place before I left her alone anywhere. As if I wasn't behind enough on schedule as it was…
I returned to the kitchen and sat back down just as Serena placed a plate of seasoned chicken in front of me. It looked and smelled delicious, yet I hesitated, shamefully… for not only had my concern made me lose some of my appetite, but how good could a meal made by a blind girl truly taste?
"Is something the matter?" she asked, wiping her hands on her skirt and making me quite suddenly and intensely aware that she had not yet changed out of her thin, skimpy nightclothes…
"N-nothing at all. I only… my appetite is… this looks absolutely delectable, but…" I faltered, unable to find a credible excuse in the sudden wave of slow-wittedness brought on by the sight of her in the light once again in that seductively tight clothing…
She was quiet for a moment, but then her face twitched with amusement, and her jaw dropped in feigned offense. "You think it's going to be positively dreadful, because I made it sightlessly," she reproached, though she was obviously biting back laughter.
I colored, shaking my head, "No, that is not it at all!"
"You don't believe that a blind woman could possibly be able to cook," persisted, putting her hands on her hips. Oh God, girl, not now, don't stand in such a way…
I began to protest once again, but she simply stared at me and drummed her fingers until I hung my head and said, "Alright, I'll admit I have my doubts. I just… I suppose I don't see how it is possible to be able to tell if, shall we say, meat is undercooked or thoroughly prepared if you cannot check its coloring to tell."
Serena chuckled, then, and turned around to put the kettle she had prepared on the stove. For a moment I was afraid I had offended her, as she wasn't even attempting to defend herself, but then she stated, "My dear Monsieur Erik… you forget that I was not blinded yesterday. This is something I have dealt with my entire life. Since birth I have been raised to deem things good or not using my other, working senses, as opposed to what everyone else bases their judgments on—their surfaces. So while I cannot see whether or not the chicken is still pink, have indeed learned a few tricks to checking its doneness in my years…" she glanced back at me, her eyes twinkling with mirth, and took my hand, suddenly, guiding my middle finger and my thumb together, "Now press," she ordered, and I obeyed her instantly, though it was not my long, skeletal fingers my now wide, awed eyes were staring at.
She smirked, then pressed softly down at the area of flesh at the base of my thumb, "Feel how that tenses, becomes firmer with the pressure? That is about the firmness of a piece of meat when it is nearly finished cooking."
I was trying to listen as carefully as I could, but I found that rather difficult as her fingers grazed and entwined with my own. Her hand was so much smaller than mine, yet, I could not help noting, all the better for perfectly fitting right inside my long, gangly grasp.
"You may test it with your breakfast if you still do not believe me," she finished, pulling her hands away and returning to the stove, "But I thought you of all people would understand other methods judging things enough to give a poor, blind girl's chicken a chance."
She had hardly even finished the last word before I had picked up the knife and fork she had laid out for me and began cutting up the meat.
I heard her giggle softly as the knife scraped audibly against the plate, and I could feel my face growing hotter and hotter with each word she uttered. She had succeeded in thoroughly humbling me with her monologue, and I quickly found as I raised the fork to my lips that she had had perfectly good reason. The chicken was flavorful and juicy, cooked all the way to its center. The seasonings danced across my tongue in impeccably balanced bursts, and it was warm, but not scalding hot. I found myself shivering in pleasure as I swallowed and prepared myself for the next bite. "This… this really is delicious, Serena."
"I'm glad you like it. Eat up, I'm certain you have a busy day ahead of you," she winked, taking the kettle off the stove and adding tea leaves before placing a warm cup of the infusion in front of me as well.
"As you wish, Mademoiselle," I replied with a smile. I surprised myself, with such a jovial expression… here I sat, eating and drinking with my mask off, talking to a woman who neither screamed nor cried as we conversed. It was a little piece of heaven, this moment, and I found that while it had startled me, I was not at all averse to it… I was searching not for faults, as I did in many other moments in my life—I was simply enjoying it, for once. So I continued to smile, munching on the chicken and sipping at the tea my new companion had so generously made for me as she hummed softly from across the room.
Could this be what having a wife felt like?
It was such a foolish little thought… but once it had crossed my mind, it wouldn't leave me in peace. Casual, drowsy morning talk passes between us as she prepares me a hot breakfast… I say something foolish, causing her to laugh merrily at my expense—but how could I be grumblingly goaded? She was too beautiful, too contagiously cheery, to be cross with for long. She finished her platter and comes to sit across from me—no, perhaps she parades over and sits on my lap, her bare leg cascading lazily out of the slit in her skirt as her lips part in a brilliant smile…
A very foolish thought indeed… but unfortunately not as inconsequential as I would have preferred.
There was a knock at the door as we sat there, but before I could get up, Serena had put her hand back on my shoulder and said, "You sit and finish. I'll get it; I know where the door is now."
"You haven't even eaten yet; let me handle it," I responded, attempting to stand anyway. But by God… for such a petite woman, she had quite a strong grip!
"I insist. If you are to get out the door on time this morning, you have to finish your breakfast promptly!" she terminated, stroking my cheek and settling the argument right there as I practically choked on my mouthful of chicken. I was so unused to such relaxed, gentle gestures… they had not ceased to stun me with their sweetness and I doubted they ever would.
Her elegant hands running up my gaunt chest… making my skin boil with the hot, lingering trails they left behind—
Well merde! She was not going to make this easy on me, was she?
I had to bite back something that could be described in no way other than the lovechild of an amused chuckle and a tormented groan as I watched her exit the kitchen, her hips swinging with unconscious allure as she went. Was she doing all of this on purpose? Acting as a wife would with soft touches, playful nagging, and generous warm-heartedness… to please me and stay alive? Or perhaps she was genuinely trying to impress me… perhaps somehow, she wanted to marry me, for me to—
Oh, as if. Erik, you are an utterly hopeless romantic if that's the best excuse you can come up with for taking her. She is merely a sympathetic woman who is not allowing herself to be dispirited by her current, perilous situation. 'Accept it as that much, forget that wretched dream, and eat your breakfast like a good little corpse—'
"Oh! Hello, Nadir; it is so nice to see you again!" Serena chirped from the foyer, "Erik, Nadir has come to visit us! Oh, and he brought a friend!"
Greeting our guests at the door with that lovely smile of hers, just as all good married hostesses do…
"Same to you, Mademoiselle Serena. I only wish this visit were as blithe as you think it to be—oh, Darius, compose yourself! I know she is very beautiful, but you must hide your admiration better than that," Nadir answered courteously, switching from French to Persian halfway through as he addressed his man.
At that, my head snapped up. Hide his admiration? I tied my mask back on with the swiftness of a hummingbird's heartbeat and had stormed out to where the three stood within seconds. Darius was a fine man, albeit very quiet and reserved: a loyal servant to Nadir who had never given me much trouble despite his obvious fear of me. Well, until now, that is! Serena was not his to admire; I would not stand for his gawking at her like some child at a fireworks display!
"Ah, here's Erik," Serena said with a smile as I approached, reaching out in my general direction though her eyes gazed past me. I eagerly held out my arm and let hers slither into place around it, shooting a glare towards Darius, who immediately dropped his head in apprehending submission.
Nadir raised an eyebrow, but then shot a small nod my way. "Good day, my friend. I hope you both have had a restful night," he gave me a look filled with implications I more than understood; I knew Serena would be unable to catch the hidden question there but I certainly had and scowled in response.
"Actually, I was up through much of the night working on drafts, designs, and blueprints. But you are more than welcome to ask Serena if she had a more successful night's rest," I answered curtly.
Nadir rolled his eyes. "You never have been a morning person, Erik. Indeed, Serena… how did you sleep?"
"Better than I have in months, thank you for asking," Serena responded with another smile, making my mind flash to what she had mentioned before about being caged on her journey here. I would have to give the Shah a firm talking to about that… perhaps get the names of the loathsome men who had retrieved her and introduce them to my hall of mirrors…
"I'm very glad to hear it," Nadir smiled back at her, but then he turned to me, his face darkened almost instantly, "Erik, I come with bad news."
I also chose to reply in Persian, since he obviously had something to say he did not want Serena to hear, "Isn't it a bit early for bad news, Daroga? I had not even finished my breakfast before you came barging in with your man." I sent another blazing glance Darius's way, though in truth I did not understand why I was reacting so harshly towards him. Could I blame him for ogling such a strangely beauteous, glowing creature as my new European companion? Even if she was just that, my companion… my responsibility, my intended…
"Oh, quit terrifying Darius. He meant no harm. Besides, you have more important things to worry about," the urgency in Nadir's voice was evident, now, and I snapped into my more impersonal persona, looking at him seriously.
"What is it that is so wrong?"
"Well, first off, I did not come here on my own accord. The Khanum sent me, and waits for my return as we speak."
My eyes narrowed. The Khanum? What could that blasted woman want so early in the morning? Surely—
But then my eyes fell upon the very perplexed woman on my arm—the perplexed woman who had been sent here to become my consort, and later my wife. "Merde," I hissed.
A/N: And there you are, the first true cliffhanger of this fic. But it will not be the last, my dear friends—I am notorious for writing them!
But instead of focusing on what is to come, why don't we discuss what you have just read? Such as…
What did you think of Erik's point of view this time? (To clear up any confusion… that brief switch from first to third person was intentional, to emphasize Erik's insecurity and attempt at distancing himself from… well… himself, as well as his past.)
His naughty dream, his struggle with trying to forget it?
The dilemma of the blind girl's chicken? You all can thank Miss FantomPhan33 for getting them to hold hands at that point… we were discussing how a blind girl would cook a man breakfast, and she sent me a lovely video explaining that thumb trick!
And what about poor ol' Darius? I didn't introduce him as much as I probably should have, but it will not be the last time he makes a cameo in the plot. :) And speaking of cameos, a real historical figure made a brief, blink-and-you'll-miss-it appearance in this chapter! The rebel minister Erik recalls executing is named Amir Kabir—he was Chief Minister during the reign of Naser al-Din Shah Qajar (the man who would have been Shah of Persia in the time period that Kay writes Erik dropping in) and wished to modernize and democratize Persia using his astute knowledge of politics. The king opposed him, however, and had him exiled and later put to death. Peculiar how it was never recorded how he was put to death… too peculiar for a young author to pass up.
Song of the week: "Pale" by Within Temptation. Beautiful, beautiful, BEAUTIFUL song, and has Erik's name written all over it.
The question of the week is: What is one of your biggest pet peeves? Since Erik's—being told he is wrong when he knows in fact he is right—is briefly displayed in this chapter. ;D Please drop me some reviews, my lovelies… feedback is so greatly appreciated that I don't even know if I can properly put my gratitude into words! Have a wonderful week! ~DonJuana