The daroga led Erik into his quaint apartments and sat him down at his desk.
"I'll find a shirt for you," the daroga promised. "Would you like to change out of your wet clothes?"
"I need to leave tonight," Erik stammered. His teeth chattered as he spoke.
"Rest first. You're looking quite sallow," the commissioner remarked. He walked through a doorway and doubled back. "Tea, my son?"
"No…yes. English tea, please, sir."
"English?"
"With milk."
The daroga nodded. He knew the architect wanted something to calm his stomach. "Call me Ari. Keep the towel over the wound, my son. I'll be back in a moment with a needle and thread."
Ari exited the room, rubbing his hand over his face. He knew whose apartment the young Parisian had come from. There were many nights when he patrolled the palace grounds and saw men padding from the Little Sultana's rooms.
Erik was the last person he would have expected to see coming out of her apartments. Ari had known the Little Sultana favored the architect. He saw it in her eyes when the young man walked into the dining hall. While her husband and the rest of the wives chatted throughout dinner, the favored wife settled her gaze on Erik. She watched him while he ate and spoke to the other dinner guests.
Once he started tea water and gathered supplies, Ari ventured back into the room where Erik was sitting with his elbows on the desktop. The architect looked even paler than he had when Ari left to retrieve clean towels.
"Are you feeling pain in your stomach?" he asked as he set an empty bowl on the desk.
"A little," Erik whispered.
"What did you eat tonight?" Ari questioned. If he dined with the Sultana there was nothing to be done. The poison would stop his heart within hours. "Perhaps supper did not agree with you.
"I didn't eat supper," the young man responded. His head lowered until his forehead touched the desk.
"How bad does your stomach hurt?"
"I won't be sick in your apartment if that's your concern."
"Your well-being is my concern, my son," Ari replied. There is a change of clothes in my bedchamber. Leave your wet clothes on the floor and my wife will see to them. If you aren't too chilled leave your shirt off so that it will be easier to see your wound."
Erik thanked him and wobbled to his feet. The bedroom door closed and Ari shook his head. It was a shame the Sultana had taken interest in such a boy.
Ari pulled up a wooden chair and sat. The Sultana usually preferred men a few years older. She usually took interest in men of age and experience who could please her and eventually be easily discarded. In Erik Levesque she had found something different to pique her interest. He was a genius, but he was quite reserved. It was his unassuming nature she sought. From the first day he had come to the palace, Ari had known by looking at Erik that he was a boy with bigger dreams than common sense.
All he wanted was to build a palace, Ari thought morosely. He never expected to become the Sultana's lover. By the looks of it, he hadn't quite fulfilled his duty to the Favored One.
The last time she had taken a younger lover something similar had happened. Ari remembered it well. The morning he had discovered the contorted face and twisted body still woke him at night. It had been five years, yet still Ari mourned the loss.
After Erik returned and sat again, Ari pulled his chair closer. "May I see the wound?"
The architect hesitated. He looked the daroga in the eye and slowly nodded. Without a word he pulled the bloodied towel from his neck and bowed his head.
Ari stood over Erik and pushed the young man's dark hair back to expose his neck. Dried blood had pasted stray hairs to the nape of his neck.
"As the head of the police I am required to ask what happened."
Erik was silent for a moment. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. "It was an accident."
Ari poured water into a basin. He pulled the stopper from a small carved wooden jar and poured its contents into the water. Once he wet and wrung out the washcloth he had brought to clean the wound, he spoke again.
"What sort of accident?" he questioned, keeping his tone light.
"I cut myself."
"How?"
"Foolishness," Erik answered quickly.
Ari grunted and pressed the damp rag against Erik's wound, causing him to flinch. "You're quite bruised. Were you prodding the injury?"
"Attempting to stop the blood."
"I see."
On closer inspection Ari sighed. "You stabbed yourself?"
"As I said, it was an accident."
"There is no need to be defensive, my son. It is my job to ask questions."
He saw the young man's shoulders drop. Erik nodded. "I apologize."
"What were you doing?"
"I don't recall."
"Accidents do happen, though I suspect most people remember them," Ari commented, noticing the young man's shoulders had tensed. "Do you really think I am so ignorant? My son, I saw you leaving the Sultana's apartments. Being a man of average intelligence I can make assumptions as to what happened."
Erik said nothing. His head lowered in humiliation.
"You are half-dressed and soaked to the bone. Would you like me to draw my own conclusion? Or would you rather explain what happened?"
Though his lip began to tremble, Erik spoke with as much dignity as he could muster. "I swear to you that I did nothing to dishonor the Sultana. I thought she had poisoned me, the serum was supposed to be at the bottom of the bath but I was deceived." His speech turned to a soft ramble as he spoke. "I didn't want to die. I don't want to die now, or tomorrow, or when she decides. I need to leave here tonight. Please, sir, please help me leave this place. I want to return to France."
The daroga waited until he was certain Erik was finished speaking. "Hold very still. You won't be able to feel much in a moment. The herbs will numb your flesh before I sew it up."
"Thank you," Erik sighed.
"I'll bring your tea once the wound is sealed."
"May I have it now?" the architect pleaded.
Ari nodded. "The water should be heated soon. English style, you said? Is goat's milk acceptable?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Make yourself comfortable. My wife made sweet bread earlier. I will bring you some, with honey if you wish. It may help settle your stomach."
Erik nodded "I don't want to trouble you."
"No trouble, my son, none at all."
"Please, daroga--Ari, if it is possible I need to leave here tonight."
"To France?"
Erik hesitated. His eyes searched the room for a moment before he nodded at last. "Yes, I want to return home. I want to see France."
"If it is possible I will help you leave tonight. It would be wise for you to leave a note for the Sultan. He will not be pleased to have you leave before the completion of his palace, but if you must leave…He will understand, especially if a family member has fallen ill."
Ari glanced back once and saw Erik nod. He wasn't certain, but he thought he heard a single sob leave the young man. It was disheartening. However, Ari couldn't help but think that Erik was fortunate to leave the Sultana with his life.
He only wished his own brother had been so fortunate when he met the Little Sultana five years ago.