Black sheets, which wrapped her in a cocoon were as soft as water. When she lay there half-awake she believed her dreams had melded together. Another person lay beside her. But the aura was a serene quiet one, so she didn't feel alarmed in the slightest when the figure stroked her hair with long fingers as cool as a statue's. "What are you dreaming, angel?" She couldn't answer the question because she'd already sunk back into sleep. Even then, she couldn't have thought of a good answer. All she knew was that, wrapped in this mystery person's arms she was safe forever.
A while later Chava was lying there, blank. The abundance of black veils around her made her wonder if she were dead. There was no one here. But she saw little bits of light escaping through the curtains so she reached out to discover the source. An ivory lamp sat on the bedside table. The flame was green, then magenta, and then a little orange. What kind of magic... Immediately she jackknifed into a sitting position. This was not her room. Perseus could never afford decor this lavish, even if he beat a mountain of tears out of her. These sheets were pure silk and the duvet a kind of velvet. There were so many rugs on the floor that they overlapped. Underneath that, the floor was black stone that was even shinier than a mirror. The walls were also stone, she saw, expensive mosaic. Designs etched deep into the surfaces so that they made lovely pictures of birds and lions and fish and giraffes. It must've been made of jewels, as the little scales of the fish glittered. All the furniture, from the dresser to the washstand were all polished wood, only a shade darker than the rest of the decor. More pressingly, there was food on the table. The sight of colorful delicacies made her recall how she hadn't been in the mood to finish her meal before. Now her stomach growled ravenously. With slow movements, she crawled out of bed to see even closer. It was a good spread, a whole glazed duck that smelled salty, cheese and nuts and a mug of something. And then fruit, lots of it, from figs to fragrant oranges. Blood-red pomegranates and grapes so plump they looked as if they might burst. And then, there was a platter of melon. A green one, the thin rind pale and the flesh glistening.
The sight of it made her mouth water. She poked it tentatively. Chilly. She drew back. Perhaps she shouldn't. A woman wasn't smart to take food from strangers, but at the same time... just a little nibble wouldn't do any harm, would it? She couldn't remember the last time she ate a melon. With two hands, she picked up a slice and bit into it.
As soon as she sunk her teeth in, juice exploded in her mouth. The sensation of the cool flesh practically melting in her mouth made her shake her shoulders with delight. It was without a doubt the best melon she'd ever eaten. And yet she felt a nausea in her stomach as soon as she swallowed. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and when she turned around her spine turned to jelly. There was another person sitting in the chair by the fireplace. A tremor overtook her as she slowly put the melon down. She hadn't even heard them walk in, but they seemed in such comfort that it looked like they'd been sitting there for days.
And then, when the person—with their ethereal face and ancient eyes—smiled at her with a pained kind of satisfaction. And then they stood up, strode over, and held her by her shoulders with cold hands. As they leaned closer and licked the juice from her lips, she realized the mistake she had made.