A nurse came to check on Irulan the following morning. At least, Irulan guessed it was morning. With no windows, it may as well have been the middle of the night. She'd barely gotten a chance to wake up before the woman was sticking a needle in her arm and collecting blood.
"What do you need that for?" she asked.
"Just running some tests on your fertility, my lady."
After the wedding night, Irulan hadn't expected Feyd to want to try so soon, but maybe something had shifted after the arena. Neurovasodil, as it turned out, increased both adrenaline and blood flow to the body, all while aiding one's ability to clot. It had the side effect of mild hallucinations. The surgeon, a curt and practical man, had confirmed its common usage in combat – especially combat of a ritualistic nature – and Irulan felt somewhat disappointed. She'd been hoping the answer to her question would be more unusual – that it would lead her to a second one.
She'd needed the sedative after all: with the adrenaline still coursing through her combined with the unfamiliar surroundings, there was no chance she'd be able to sleep without it. She was grateful now that she'd taken it, considering the blood tests. It felt overly paranoid to assume her husband would check such a minute detail, but she didn't want to put anything past him. If he truly was just having the nurse assess her fertility, it was likely he didn't know about her ability to control it at will. That was one thing, at least, she could use to her advantage.
As the nurse packed up her equipment, Irulan looked at herself in the ceiling mirror. The sleep had done her well – she had a bit of color again under the artificial light. She felt lucid, energized. The surgeon hadn't been nearly as much help as she'd hoped for, but there were other things she could do.
What would Margot do?
Whatever she did, she'd look good doing it.
That was something.
"Soline," she said loudly, summoning the handmaiden she knew would be waiting just outside the door.
"Yes, my lady!" Soline ran into the room with an eagerness to please that made Irulan smile.
"How would I go about getting some new clothes made?"
"I can fetch the dressmaker. Would you like to eat breakfast first, my lady?"
"No, thank you. If she's available, I'd like to see her now. We can eat afterward."
Soline bowed and scurried back through the bedchamber door. Yes, Irulan thought to herself, it was time she started considering her appearance.
She didn't know why she'd expected a woman, but the dressmaker was charming and knowledgeable, and in no time, Irulan felt comfortable being candid with him. They sat in a small reception room at the entrance of her quarters, though it may as well have been her bedchamber: it looked exactly the same, with its cold metal walls and dim overhead lighting, except with differently functioning furniture.
"I would like to start immersing myself in Harkonnen culture," she said to the man seated across from her. "I have clothes from Kaitain, but I imagine they'd look out of place here."
"Do you have a specific vision of what you'd like to wear instead?" asked the dressmaker. He looked at her thoughtfully as she spoke.
"Not really. I've never done this before. I know that might seem surprising, considering my station, but my staff on Kaitain always took a lot of the guesswork out of dressing. I wore what they laid out for me, and I never put much thought into it."
"I see," he replied with a warmth in his dark eyes that reminded Irulan of Thalassa. He was a handsome man, though slight in build. Yet it wasn't his face that struck her: it was the rapt perceptiveness she immediately perceived in him. "Why don't we start here: how do you want to feel in the clothes?"
"That's a difficult question," admitted Irulan. "I usually try to avoid thinking about myself at all."
"Then let me ask you a different question, my lady, and I hope you'll forgive me if it's too bold."
"Go ahead."
"How do you want the Baron to feel when he sees you? You are doing this for him, aren't you?"
"Yes," said Irulan, before pausing to figure out how she'd articulate the next part. "I want… I want him to feel as though I'm making an effort to embrace his culture. But that I'm still very much of Kaitain. A blend of aesthetics that is both palatable and – "
The dressmaker was watching her with amusement.
"What?"
"Go on, my lady."
Irulan frowned. "No what."
"Palatable," he said.
"What?"
"I'm sure I can help you look more than just palatable. Unless palatable is what you're going for, in which case, let me know, and I'll do my best. Though I can't promise a wardrobe that's merely palatable will bode well for my future employment."
"Right. I'm sorry."
"I'm joking, my lady.
"Oh"
"I apologize," he said, sitting up straighter in his chair. "I was far too informal in my speech."
"No please," said Irulan, "it's such a relief to be talked to informally. I was just caught off guard. I didn't realize…" she trailed off.
"That we're not all bloodthirsty harpies?"
"Is that what you call them?"
The dressmaker was smirking at her again and she blushed. For the first time, she felt grateful for the darkness of her chambers, as it was unlikely he'd notice.
"Now it's my turn to apologize," she said, "I came here to ask for help embracing your culture, and all I've managed to do is insult it."
"You have nothing to apologize for, my lady," said the dressmaker. "After the welcome you received, how could you expect anything else?" He smiled at her again, and she began to feel uneasy. The Baron could have his head for suggesting her welcome was anything less than gracious. Why risk it all on a first meeting? "Besides," he continued, "It's not my culture you're insulting."
"Oh," said the Princess, "I assumed – "
"I've come to embrace it," said the dressmaker, gesturing to his bald head, "just as you seek to."
"Where do you call home?"
"Tleilax, my lady."
"You're Tleilaxu," said Irulan with surprise. She'd never met one before. It all made sense now – she'd known immediately there was something off about this man, though she'd suspected he was a spy for the Baron. "If you don't mind me asking – how did you end up here?"
"As I'm sure you're aware, Tleilax specializes in bioengineering. I've always had more of an interest in the arts."
"I see."
"There was only so far I could go as a dressmaker if I stayed on Tleilax, but there weren't a lot of offers for me elsewhere, given our reputation. Unlike the other Major Houses, House Harkonnen doesn't mind public associations with the Bene Tleilax and the Baron was willing to give me placement. I was very pleased at the opportunity. The aesthetic sensibilities of Giedi Prime are similar enough to what I grew up with but with more of an emphasis on maximalism. None of the Tleilaxu obsession with everything streamlined, so there's far more opportunities to play."
"Do you plan on staying here permanently?"
"I've no plans to return to Tleilax."
"When did you arrive?"
"Just under five years ago," he said. "Believe me when I say that you're the most exciting thing that's happened to me since my arrival."
"That can't be true."
"It is. My specialty has always been showcasing the female form, so there wasn't much for me to do until today. Perhaps that's why the former Baron felt comfortable experimenting with a Tleilaxu dressmaker. The stakes were dreadfully low until our current Baron took a wife."
"Right," said Irulan. "Well I'm glad you're finally getting the opportunity to demonstrate your skillset." There was something almost effeminate about him, but it wasn't unattractive. If she had been born as a commoner, this is the kind of man she would have found herself drawn to. He made her feel like he could see her potential.
"I'm excited for the challenge," he said smoothly. "Not that you'll be a challenge."
"Thank you," she said. "I think."
"I can assure you, my lady. It's a compliment."
She blushed again, looking down. She needed to get the conversation back on track before she forgot herself. He isn't Thalassa, she reminded herself. You just met him twenty minutes ago. You have no idea who he is or what he wants, and he could get you both killed. "What would you have me wear?" she asked.
"Black is standard," he said, "but… the Baron seems to like you in red."
"He does," said Irulan, knowing he was talking about the blood. She wondered if he had been in the audience during the fight and what he had thought of it all. What he had thought of her. There was something else she wanted to know, and the words left her mouth before she could stop herself. "Do you also dress… them? The harpies?"
"I do. Yesterday's fight being the exception. It's against my general policy to send my clients out sans clothing."
Irulan didn't laugh. She wanted to know what he knew about the Baron's tastes. "Do you think he expects me in… something like… like what they usually wear? The black vinyl?"
"As Baroness, you wouldn't wear something like that."
"That was probably a stupid question," she said.
"Not stupid at all, my lady," replied the dressmaker. "Like I said. You're more of a challenge than what I usually get to work with. Their clothing says loudly what it means to say. Yours needs to whisper."
"I see."
"I understand what you're asking for, and I think I can give it to you. You want something dignified but alluring. Appropriate but striking. And you want me to play to your strengths and to honor your history." He paused thoughtfully. "All while transforming you into someone new."
"You've stolen the words from my mouth," she said with a laugh that surprised herself. "What's your name?"
"Vesryn Xalikar, my lady, but you can call me Vesryn."
"Vesryn," she repeated, "it's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine, my lady," said Vesryn with a warmth that reminded her once again of Thalassa. "We're going to have fun."
"Good," she said with a cautious smile. "I'm in need of some good fun."
"I'm going to make some pieces based on what we've talked about – some that are more in your comfort zone and some that are more of a risk. I'm going to have you try everything on, and we'll decide together what's most flattering. More importantly, we'll learn what you feel most comfortable in. Style is less about the clothing itself and more about how one wears it."
"I see."
"We'll develop your particular style together over time. It's a working relationship: the more I get to know you, the better I'll be able to design for you."
Irulan nodded.
"But with your memorable debut, I think it's safe to say we're going to put you in lots of red."
"You don't think it'll wash me out?"
"This is Ghiedi Prime. That's the look."
"I suppose you're right."
"But I want you to feel beautiful when you wear it, so we'll make sure to pick a red you feel good in. I've brought some fabric with me today. We'll drape you in several shades and figure out what works best."
"I trust you," said Irulan, and she did.
"Good," said Vesryn. "Now let's get your measurements."
By the end of their meeting, Irulan decided that Vesryn was going to be a positive force in her life. It wasn't wise to get too close to the man, but he was clearly intelligent and unafraid of speaking his mind. She would have to wait until she saw the actual clothes to decide on his artistry, but if he'd managed to survive this long under the former Baron, she doubted he'd disappoint her. If nothing else, it was comforting to have the company of an otherworlder like her, even if he was a Tleilaxu. Still… she knew she would need to be careful around him. There was something so disarming about his frankness: it was tempting to match his level of candor. Something about him made her hyperaware of the loneliness she felt on Giedi Prime – perhaps because his company offered a remedy. She felt both energized and uneasy. Perhaps it was wiser to forge a friendship with her new handmaidens. They felt safer to Irulan, even if they'd been selected by Feyd-Rautha. There was never a moment in their company when she worried she might reveal too much of herself.
The girls left to fetch lunch, and when they returned to her quarters, they ate together in the small dining room of her apartment: another intricate metal prison. Irulan had yet to leave her chambers. They were all she knew of the Harkonnen palace aside from the arena and its auxiliary rooms. She wished to have a tour, but she still only had the surgical gown and the simple black chemise and robe that Vesryn had sent ahead of their appointment for when he took her measurements. What had happened to her things? Irulan was beginning to wonder if they'd been destroyed.
What time was it? With no windows, she couldn't tell. It seemed like a long while had passed since her meeting ended, but Feyd-Rautha still hadn't called on her. He'd said he would the previous night, but there was still mention of him from her handmaidens. She was starting to get bored and anxious. With no books to read, no one close to her to engage with beyond ordinary small talk, and without the ability to leave her chambers, Irulan was feeling increasingly agitated. She wished for her transcriber. She felt unlike herself without it.
And then the girls were leaving to fetch dinner. Where had the day gone? After the excitement in the arena, it hadn't occurred to Irulan that her days might be filled with utter boredom. As soon as she got new clothes from Vesryn, she would be able to leave her quarters, she reminded herself. And there must be a garden or a library for her to pass the time in. There must be something to do. Even if she never got her transcriber, surely there was parchment. She needed to write. Maybe the girls could write for her. Irulan wondered if they knew how.
Had her husband forgotten about her so quickly? Did he plan to leave her there indefinitely? When they'd been on Kaitain, she never saw the harpies wandering the halls except for their arrival. He couldn't do that to her, his wife, could he? She was the Baroness after all. And the daughter of the Emperor.
If nothing else, she could keep summoning employees. That was something she could do. She'd already met the surgeon, though she'd forgotten to ask his name, and she now knew Vesryn as well. Perhaps there was a shoemaker or an armorer she could find a reason to meet with. An armorer was a thought. That would certainly catch Feyd's interest if he ever learned about it, and she had no doubt he would.
Two and a half weeks, she reminded herself, two and a half weeks until the Reverend Mother pays a visit. She didn't know how she'd manage to kill the time until then. How long until Vesryn finished something for her to try on? All she needed was one gown so she could leave her quarters. Even if she needed to wait several days after for a second, just knowing there was in fact a palace that existed beyond her chambers would do an unbelievable amount to calm her nerves. She needed out. Her quarters were starting to scare her – something about them felt like a tomb. With the lack of windows, they may as well have been underground, and each time her handmaidens left on an errand she had a gnawing fear they wouldn't come back. Which was utterly ridiculous – it's not as though she'd starve to death in their absence. All she had to do was open the door and walk outside. That's when she realized she'd been too nervous to approach the door leading out of the reception room, even for a peek into to what lay beyond: she was afraid she would find it locked.
The food was delicious array of imported meats and cheeses, but Irulan barely touched it. Perhaps she would take another sedative. Any lingering effects on her sharpness would be less than the effects of sleep deprivation.
But when she'd asked her handmaidens, Soline apologized. "You're not to have them, my lady."
"Says who?" asked the Princess.
"Says the Baron"
"I see. It's just… I'm having difficulty sleeping without them," admitted Irulan. She was starting to trace the grooves in the metal walls with her eyes, trying to figure out where the pattern repeated.
"Perhaps we can bring you some tea before bed," said one of the smaller ones. Irulan was still having a difficult time telling them apart.
"That would be something at least," said Irulan. "I might try to turn in early. There's not much to do tonight."
"But the Baron wishes to see you, my lady," said Soline
"He's coming here?"
"Yes"
"When?"
"In a little over two hours. You'll need a bath."
"Right"
"I'll get it started," said the smallest one, leaving the table.
"Wouldn't it be more convenient for the Baron for me to be the one to go to him?" asked Irulan.
"He seemed concerned with your comfort," said Soline, "seeing as you just had surgery."
"I see," said Irulan, eyeing Soline's own bandage, which seemed to have finally stopped bleeding. "How are you tending to your wound, Soline?"
"My lady?"
"You'll be of no use to me if it gets infected," said the Princess.
"The surgeon's apprentice gave me an ointment," said the girl. "I've been using it as instructed."
"You'll let me know if it's bothering you?"
"Yes, my lady. Thank you for your concern, but I assure you I'm healing as expected."
Irulan nodded. "Will he come here every time?" she asked, instead of, Am I ever to leave this place?
"I'm not certain, my lady," said Soline, "I apologize. The former Baron never married, so there's no standard I'm used to."
"I see."
"I'm sure he would take your preferences into consideration."
"I've no preferences," said Irulan. "I'm just making conversation."
"Oh," said Soline with a shy grin.
"I've had no chance to explore the rest of the palace," continued the Princess. "Perhaps you can tell me what it looks like."
"Quite similar to your quarters, my lady. Although each room has a function of its own, the overall design is pleasingly uniform."
"I see," she said, her curiosity deflating. "How thoughtful – to give all who enter the same experience as the Baron's wife."
"Indeed," said Soline, smiling.
"There is, however, some variation in scale and shape of the rooms," added one of the girls across the table, "It would be impractical otherwise."
"The palace on Kaitain was built over several centuries," explained Irulan, "You can tell from the architecture when each wing was built. It sounds as if this palace was built by one artist."
"Oh no, my lady. We've had several additions over the years, but standardization is the goal. Is that not true on Kaitain?"
"I suppose not," said Irulan. "Perhaps it's our way of honoring the history of the Imperium. One of the ways at least."
The girls nodded. Irulan couldn't even discern the differences in their eye color under the cold, dim light.
"How do you pay tribute to the past here on Giedi Prime?"
None of the girls volunteered to speak, and Irulan wondered if they'd understood the question. Finally, the quiet girl sitting furthest from her mumbled loudly enough for Irulan to hear her, "I've never thought of it, my lady."
"That's quite alright," said the Princess. "I was just curious."
The smallest girl emerged in the archway. "The bath is ready, my lady."
The bathchamber was only slightly smaller than the room she slept in, featuring at its center a stone stone basin nearly five meters in length. Irulan had only passed through it on her way to the commode, but now she looked at the space around her with curiosity. There was a cavity along the back wall, framing a black marble bench, and there appeared to be a drain that surrounded it.
The girls stripped off Irulan's robe and set it aside before ridding her of the chemise. She moved toward the basin before Soline gently stopped her, guiding her back toward the bench. The cool marble felt good against Irulan's bare skin, and Soline stood behind her massaging her scalp while the others went to the tray that sat on the outer rim of the tub to fetch their tools. Two girls came back with brushes and kneeled at her feet to exfoliate her feet and legs, and two others started with her hands and worked their way up to her shoulders. It was abrasive but pleasant. A new sensation to break up the monotony of the unending night. One more still crouched by the tray, mixing what appeared to be soap.
"How do you wash this?" murmured Soline.
"Wash what? Oh." The handmaiden was talking about her hair.
"With soap. But a special kind that's less drying."
"The oils from the bath should replace any moisture that's lost."
Irulan leaned into Soline's expert hands and closed her eyes, enjoying the fingers on her scalp and the brushes on her skin. When they got to her face, she noticed that the bristles smelled like antiseptic.
"This next part will be cold, my lady," said a girl by her left shoulder, and Irulan opened her eyes. "Now that you're exfoliated, we're going to rinse you with cold water. It helps with circulation."
"Thank you for the warning," said Irulan as the girls stepped away from her, and one of them pulled on a lever, releasing an icy torrent of rain, which after hitting her body, ran into the drain surrounding the bench. Irulan shivered under the faucet, waiting for the warmth to return.
Once the water stopped, the girls had her stand and lathered her body with soap. She wasn't used to being touched so intimately, but there was something so choreographed about the process that it hardly bothered her. Irulan felt stunned these were the same handmaidens that had groped her so roughly only one day before. They were careful with their fingers, and every movement seemed practiced – even when they got to the places on her body and head that had hair.
"One more wash and you'll be ready for the bath," murmured Soline.
"I'm ready," said the Princess, and the girls stepped back once again.
This next rinse felt warmer, though perhaps she'd adjusted to the cold. Like the bristles of the brushes they'd used on her face, the liquid that poured down on her smelled of disinfectant. Irulan wondered what chemicals they'd laced the water with.
"Let's dry her off before the tub," whispered Soline to the others, and Irulan waited with her eyes closed, expecting to be folded in a towel and found herself jumping at the sudden blast of wind from overhead.
"Didn't mean to startle you, my lady!" shouted a handmaiden over the dryer.
Irulan just nodded, keeping her eyes squeezed shut. She felt beads of water trailing off her, and her skin tickled under the heat.
When it was finally over, the Princess felt clean and refreshed. She'd have skipped the bath if they'd let her. She felt somewhat hot from the warm blast of air and had no desire to soak.
"We need to replenish you after the cleanse," murmured Soline, gently steering her back toward the basin.
Irulan stepped into it and felt immediate relief at the cool temperature. It was absolutely perfect, maybe one degree warmer than the heat of her own body. The water had been scented with oil, and Irulan wondered why she hadn't thought to try it sooner. The Harkonnens, clearly, took bathing very seriously, and the Princess sunk fully under the surface with a rush of pleasure. This was one thing she could do to pass the time, even if her handmaidens ended up scrubbing her raw. When she came back up for air, she sat on the inner rim of the basin, which formed an underwater bench around the perimeter of the tub, and one of the girls came behind her with a comb and started work detangling her hair. Irulan closed her eyes.
She heard a noise across the bathchamber and looked to see a door slide open. Feyd-Rautha strolled into the room, and four of her handmaidens rushed to his side. He stood by the entrance, watching Irulan, as two of her girls worked to undress him and two more knelt by his feet, removing his boots one by one. Irulan had never gotten a good look at his body before and couldn't help but glance at the smooth white muscle of his torso as Soline and another handmaiden slid the shirt off his shoulders. She returned her eyes to his – would not look down when they undid his belt – when his trousers fell to his feet and he stepped out of them. In her peripheral vision, she could see the handmaidens slink to the wall, trying, it seemed, to make themselves invisible. They feared him, she understood, far more than they feared her.
He moved toward her, and Irulan heard the comb behind her clatter to the tile. She turned to see the remaining two handmaidens scrambling to their feet and rushing to the wall. When she turned back around to face him, he was in the water, about four meters in front of her. Without saying anything, he gestured for her with two fingers, and she felt herself rise, wading toward him as she tried to gauge his face. His eyes were hooded, his expression indiscernible. He looked at her how she imagined he would at his opponents in the arena. She had never been more unsettled in his presence. Still, she reasoned as she moved toward him, she'd been wanting his attention all day, and here he was. When she finally stood before him, he brought his hand to her shoulder, running his fingers over pink incision line. "Not even a scar," he breathed, and Irulan flushed.
Then he grabbed her, spinning her around so her back was pressed against him, and he guided both down into the water, settling in against the outer rim of the basin with her seated between his legs.
"You lied to me," he rasped, as his hand trailed around her torso to touch her ribs. "Why?"
"I didn't want you to trouble yourself on my behalf," she said. She could feel his heavy arousal against the small of her back.
"You lie again," he said, tweaking her nipple between his fingers. "I know you summoned the surgeon to your chamber last night."
"I wanted to know the effects of the drugs you gave me," she said evenly. "And I wanted a sedative."
He didn't say anything to that, and his silence made her nervous.
"I was worried you'd hurt him if you found out about the scar," she said, deciding her honesty would likely be less dangerous for the surgeon than letting his imagination invent a more elaborate conspiracy. "You said something to him about it before my surgery. He did an adequate job, and I didn't want to cause him trouble." She made sure not to mention the handmaidens.
He ran a finger softly over her nipple and moved his other hand to her upper leg. "You won't scar," he rasped. "The redness takes several weeks to fade, even if cared for properly."
"You knew," she said with surprise, "last night when you came to my chambers."
"Yes"
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"Curiosity." His thumb began to stroke circles on the tender flesh of her inner thigh. She felt the blood rush between her legs, as it had in the arena. She squirmed against him, unsure if she wanted him to touch her or release her.
"Neurovasodil," she said. "Why did you give it to me?"
"For the fight," he replied, just has he had in the operating room.
She was about to ask why but decided against it. The question felt too intimate.
"We'll need to do something about this," he breathed, running his fingers over the curls between her legs.
"I wish to keep my hair," she said stiffly. "I may be a Harkonnen through marriage, but I'm still of House Corrino. It would send the wrong message."
"You may keep the hair on your head, but the rest of it goes. In my bed, you're a Harkonnen."
"If it pleases you, my lord," she said flatly. He would be the only one aside from her handmaidens to see her undressed, so there was no reason she needed to keep her body hair, even if its absence would made her feel like a prepubescent girl. She knew that if she argued, he might change his mind about the rest of it.
His hand went back to her thigh, resuming its lazy circling. "I hear you've met the dressmaker."
"Yes" His fingers slowly crept upward, and she felt an ache within her. She wondered how long it would be before he filled her and found herself clenching involuntarily at the thought.
"What did you think of him?"
"I wouldn't know yet, would I?" she breathed. "He has yet to show me the clothes."
"I guess not," he replied and placed his hand between her legs, touching her intimately.
She let out quiet sigh, highly aware of the fact that the handmaidens still stood on the perimeter of the room. Was it all a test with him? It seemed to be. His hand lay still against her, and she stifled the urge to move against it – to push it off or make it move? She wasn't sure.
"Do you like being touched?" he asked. His voice was a caress.
"If it pleases my lord."
The hand on her breast moved up to close around her throat. "Not the thing I asked."
"I don't think so," she said. And then she added: "I'm not sure."
The hand between her legs began to gently circle her flesh. She squirmed against him, not knowing what to do with the unfamiliar sensation. She watched her handmaidens against the wall in front of her. They both stared at the floor. "I wasn't sure either," he breathed against her neck, "until I knew where it led."
Irulan shivered against him.
"You're cold," he murmured.
"Yes"
"Turn up the heat," he ordered to the handmaidens and one of them darted forward, keeping her head down, to adjust the control panel on the side of the basin. The water swirled around them, and immediately, Irulan felt the temperature of the tub begin to rise. The Princess didn't move until the handmaiden was safe once again against the wall, as if any change in her might cause him to attack the girl.
"That's better," she breathed, once the handmaiden was out of reach. The sound of the water drowned out the silence of the room, and Irulan felt herself begin to relax. She leaned back against her husband's chest. Margot would kiss his neck – positive reinforcement for ignoring the maid, she thought to herself and turned in his arms to press her lips against his skin. When she pulled back to look at him, his lips were parted, and he was staring at her with a look she hadn't seen yet: awe.
"Clear the room," she said matter-of-factly without taking her eyes off his. "I wish to be alone with my husband." The girls bolted from the bathchamber. Once the door shut behind them, she leaned forward and softly pressed her lips to his.
His hand flew to her hair, using it as leverage to hold her against him as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid into her mouth, and she found herself clutching at his shoulders. He brought his teeth to her neck, and she groaned against him, feeling an unexpected eagerness to touch the thing she knew would soon be inside her. She moved a hand down his abdomen, letting her fingers close around the velvet steel. And then his hands were on the top of her head, shoving her roughly beneath the surface of the water.
At first, all she felt was the shock.
Then came the lack of air.
She tried to push back up, but he held her down.
Air.
She needed air.
She began struggling in earnest, fighting his grip. She screamed into the water in the off chance her handmaidens waited outside the door, but it just came out in bubbles. Her body convulsed from the lack of oxygen, crying out against the submersion.
Her eyes flew open under the water. The ceiling light rippled above her, and she wondered frantically if she'd ever see it clearly again.
And then her foot came up to kick between his legs.
He let go of her then, and she pushed off the floor of the tub, launching herself backward and up into the light, coughing and gasping for breath as she watched him double over in pain.
"You would have killed me," she sputtered as she sucked in air again and again. He raised his head to look at her, and his eyes were darker than she'd ever seen them. She started to back away, for what she saw there spelled her death. "Please don't kill me," she said, keeping her voice as even as she could. He continued to stalk toward her as she moved herself away.
Then she felt her back against the edge of the basin.
"You'll never sit on the throne if you kill me," she said, but still he came for her. She turned to lift herself out of the tub, but his hands seized her hips, dragging her back into the water. "Please, Feyd!" she cried out, "I'm afraid!"
He clamped her to him as she trembled. She could hear her own pulse in her ears. With each breath, she took in as much air as she could, knowing it might be the last chance she ever got. She tried to memorize the room and its features. How ungrateful she'd been to think ill of her quarters – if she could have just one more night in them – she would – she kept waiting for the push on the top of her head, and when it didn't come, she started to cry. At first it came as silent tears, but she couldn't hold herself back for long. The sobs wracked through her body, and he moved to turn her toward him. Her hands flew up to shield her face from his gaze, but he caught her wrists – gently but firmly bringing them down to her sides. There was a softness in his expression – if he'd wanted to kill her, the urge had passed. It was safe then – to breathe normally and to slow down her pulse. She conjured an imaginary wall between them recited the Litany Against Fear in her mind:
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.
By the time she finished, the tears had stopped flowing, and her heartrate was within normal range. She fought the urge to wipe her cheeks and kept her closed fists by her side. She saw him looking at her hands, and Irulan took one more breath – releasing her fingers, which trembled under the rippling surface of the bath.
He kissed her again and she let him. The Princess felt detached from her body as though she had retreated deep inside herself. He couldn't touch her where she was, no matter how deeply he probed her body. He hoisted her out of the tub and laid her on the tiles, and she closed her eyes. She may have even brought her arms around him, but when he pushed inside of her, she barely felt it. She wasn't with him, was somewhere else, somewhere deep, deep below the surface of the water.
"I want my transcriber," she said when he rolled finally off of her. He'd finished inside her this time. "And if you've tossed it, I want a new one."
She turned to look at him. He was ordinary again, lying on the bathchamber floor. A naked man, panting on his back like an animal.
"And I wish to switch quarters. I'm not satisfied here. I want new ones, and I want artificial windows put in."
He nodded without looking at her. An unspoken agreement seemed to have formed between them: whatever he took from her he'd do his best to give back.
"Thank you," she said, and then she stood, meaning to leave him there, but he spoke from the ground.
"You'll sleep in my bedchamber tonight."
"I'll need something to wear. You have all my clothes."
"Yes"
