I started singing my university hymns, songs I had heard at school, songs from my childhood and some that I had learnt at the school for girls where I lived. I was hoping to earn a vicious snarl, a good scolding or even a threat to my life, but instead, Dahr seemed to like my singing —if such a thing was possible— and I even spotted him out of the corner of my eye swaying his shoulders to the rhythm of one of the songs, as though he was deeply enjoying it. Due to the lack of a better plan and the need to recompose myself, I kept my mouth shut and closed my eyes as well.
“Are you planning to end this torture anytime soon?”
I unwillingly jumped into alertness at the buzzing of his voice and the underlying irritation that surfaced from his very essence. My eyes opened to see the roof of the tent, now gleaming under the rays of the sun, the stunning adorning paintings and victory displays shining brighter than ever under the natural light that dried the fabric from the other side. The side that held freedom.
I found myself still tied up with the heavy leather strap to the corner of the massive wooden bed and took a while to realise that it was carved with intricate designs. Every part of the wooden frame had been shaped to mimic the same imagery that was painted on the walls and ceiling, the same battle scenes reflected onto the wooden structure, all of them encapsulating this man in what seemed like a predetermined destiny. I came to the realisation that they were all an ode to him. They must have been. The painting, redone over and over, layer after layer, designed to shine into this man’s tent, the carvings on the bed and all around.
Some sort of offering to his power that I had yet to understand.
Or maybe all camp commanders enjoyed this type of bestowment upon their might, as a form of incentive for a job well done.
Nevertheless, I had to unwillingly return my focus to the man on the mattress, who sat at the edge of his bed and looked down to where I was lying on the carpet made of furs and nestled into the blanket he had thrown over me. His features were harsh, jaw tensed and brows so furrowed that his annoyance crept stronger than the rays of sunshine.
“What?” I looked at him and moved into a sitting position myself to mimic him, unwilling for this conversation to be anything but on equal ground. If his superior occupancy over the bed even allowed for such a thing.
“Your stomach…” he rasped at me. Well, not at me. I quickly understood that he was viciously gazing at my stomach for whatever unknown reason.
“My stomach… what?” I involuntarily used my free hand and covered my belly, checking that everything was alright. I found nothing but skin under the blouse I had been wearing for a few days. No wounds, no bleeding, no sharp objects poking at my belly. It was just a normal stomach.
I wanted to protest and chastise him for making a fuss out of nothing, when my belly took its cue and started grumbling. Not with the sound of a normal stomach asking for nourishment, but with that of a beast howling for food.
When the noise started, my eyes averted from where I was looking down and lifted to find the sharp gaze of the man, who looked at me pleased, proud that his point had been proven.
The noise did not stop for a few long seconds, and I had to endure through it, unwilling to unpeg my gaze from his while my tummy continued releasing feral noises. On his part, he maintained
eye contact and even held off blinking until the very echo of my stomach grumbling disappeared from the tent.
“When was the last time you ate?” he harshened his frown and finally lowered his attention from mine and back to my stomach.
“That’s not your problem,” I took the opportunity to push the blanket away and move my body into a stand, forgetting that my right hand, even though comfortably, was still tied to the bed frame. The leather wrap pulled me back and the gracious and powerful stance I had in mind turned into a cruel image of me falling on my ass when the string pulled me back, just like a rabbit in a snare. To his credit, he didn’t comment on my lack of planning and focused on repeating the question.
“When was the last time you ate?” This time his voice came out harsher, that commanding tone he was probably used to spilling throughout the camp coming out to play. It chilled my veins, and the blood flowed a bit slower through them. I forced myself to keep strong however, tightened my shoulders and pulled my head back up high.
“As I mentioned yesterday during your return, I am not interested in anything that comes from you, Dahr,” I forced as much venom into pronouncing his name as I imagined Medusa’s snakes produced on a daily basis.
His eyelids moved slowly, like a set of curtains that wanted to pull down and shut everything away over his eyes as he released a low, deep breath.
Was this the sound of Dahr’s nerves getting stepped on?
I hadn’t considered that such a minor inconvenience as my belly growling would set off the man, but I was in full support of taking credit for this small victory. I took a moment and let the seconds float between us as his calm-inducing breaths resurfaced into the tent. He needed a few of those, it seemed.
Part of me wanted to push him, to say something else that would annoy him, anything that would get on his nerves, but the other part feared the proximity I was forced to share with him and did not want to receive any backlash.
I stretched the tip of my toes to reach for the blanket I had thrown just slightly too far and once I got it back, I nestled myself fully into it. Partly for the subconscious level of protection being covered offered me, and partly because I wanted to avoid another grumble that I felt coming.
Without a word, Dahr left the bed and moved towards the exit with heavy and extremely annoyed steps. I didn’t know him very well. After all, we’d probably exchanged a three-minute conversation during the time we were acquainted, but it was enough for me to start reading his gestures. He didn’t seem like one would expect a commander of a war camp to be. The man was set on basic necessities and doing his job.
As far as I could gather from within my confined space, he and the other men in the camp travelled to a training station I assumed they had set up and sparred all day long. Further proof of this were Dahr’s bloodied knuckles and specks of blood he sported every evening.
He did not seem to need flattery, golden objects or riches and if I were to assume, I would allow myself to say that the artistic opulence of this tent was a traditional setting more than a request. Dahr seemed like a simple man, who enjoyed simple things. Like sleeping. And quiet.
I didn’t allow myself to dwell too much on how he’d treated me the night before. Even if ruthlessly, he took me out of the rain, eased my ties and even gave me a larger and more comfortable space of movement and brought me next to his bed, where the rain wouldn’t be a problem. Even though I had negated his very presence and wanted nothing to do with him,even if I’d done my best to annoy him all night long, he still showed me kindness and respect.
If tying a woman to his bed could even be called such a thing.
A knot in my stomach came along with the thought of the possibilities and other more pleasant reasons Dahr would have to tie a woman to his bed. To tiemeto his bed…
I attributed it all to my unsettled stomach crying for food and pulled the fur-lined blanket over my face to keep my mind from producing such atrocious thoughts. I remainedhidden under the covers in a vegetative state, sometimes falling into the world of dreams and sometimes thinking through my action plan and my situation. There wasn’t much I could do to aid my situation, especially since I was still unsure of the reason why I had been kidnapped and my purpose in this camp and in this tent.
