Dahr chuckled at that, nodding slowly to me. His sweaty hair was splayed out on the satin pillowcase, drawing waves of darkness. His bedding felt weird, so at odds with the fur lined covers he had before. It made him look inadequate, his stature too rough against the delicate setting. “Death and I are old friends at this point,” he confirmed, as if understanding exactly what I meant.
I doubted he did, but I did not push. This wasn’t the right time to share my story, nor did I think he would want to hear it.
We shared a comfortable silence for a long while, the both of us content with the other’s statement and the wordless understanding we had come to reach.
Dahr however, broke the string of peace we had created. “Why didn’t you run? Why didn’t you just leave me here and go?” he pressed
“I didn't think about it,” I replied, partly ashamed of my statement. Could I have escaped? Could I have taken the opportunity to disappear into the night? Would I have had a chance?
He shook his head then, a vindictive tone dominating his speech. “I don’t deserve your compassion.” The man looked at me as though he was judging me, as if I had disappointed him for not doing what I had threatened to accomplish so many times.
I shrugged. “Maybe not, but you have it anyways.”
I wanted to tell him more. So, so much more, but Markos’ threat stopped me. Whatever had happened, he considered me guilty. And he had the power to make my life a living hell.
Out of cowardice or simple idleness, I did not want to test him. I couldn’t truly say that I enjoyed my prisoner’s life, but in the grand scheme of things, I had been treated fairly and did not plan on worsening my situation. The warning to keep my mouth shut returned to memory and, unsure how to break the connection I was so easily forging with Dahr, I faked a yawn, even though it was barely dinner time.
“I think I would like to go to bed now and let you rest as well. Last night took a heavy toll on the both of us,” I said and stood, twisting my bound wrist to prepare it for another round of binding.
“Your bed is freshly made. There is also dinner and drinks, should you require anything throughout the night,” Dahr pointed to the smaller bed he had brought in for me.
“Thank you,” I said and, making a split-second decision, I offered him my left hand this time, choosing to keep my injured one free and hoping it would heal soon.
I was expecting the leather strap to catch my wrist, but instead, Dahr moved from the bed into a more upright position and grabbed my hand in his.
Shock spilled through my veins at the feeling of his skin against mine and I remained petrified when I saw him lifting my hand to his mouth to place a gentle kiss on my knuckles.
“There is no need for that any longer,” he offered. “You are free to enjoy this camp as you prefer.”
Before I had a chance to react or to try to control the desperate beating of my heart, Dahr settled back into bed and wished me a good night.
This would be the second night in a row when I couldn’t find rest. Not because I wasn’t grateful to be unbound for the first time since I was taken here, or because I wasn’t grateful for the comfort of my new bed.
It seemed that Dahr hadn’t been the only one to receive preferential treatment, and my bed had also been made with silk sheets and a comfortable pillow. Not that the fur lined covers hadn’t been comfortable, but this took sleeping to an elevated level.
If I could catch any…
Every time Dahr’s bed moved or there was the slightest noise in the tent, I jumped awake and went to check on him. To the point where I must have travelled from my bed to his mattress on the hour.
It must have been past midnight when I heard another ruffle of sound and jumped into alertness once more. I slowly slid from the bed and placed my toes on the furry carpet, then felt my way around the tent and stepped with care towards where I knewDahr’s bed was situated. When my fingers touched his silk bed sheet, I moved slowly, careful not to wake him in my movement. I gasped when he reached to grab my wrist, the abrupt motion stilling my body with shock.
“I’m alright, March,” he said slowly. I expected his hold to be rough, especially since I had startled him from sleep, but his touch felt like a warm caress against my skin. “Go to sleep,” he murmured softly.
Yet, he did not let go.
And I did not attempt to move away.
“I don’t deserve your pity…” the warrior reiterated the same message he’d conveyed to me in the evening.
But I wanted to see him. I wanted to spot his features and stare into those inky eyes. I needed to see him to truly understand that he was unharmed. To tell my heart — which, for whatever reason, cared about his wellbeing— that he was safe.
“I wish there was some light in this tent,” I mumbled to myself. I didn’t understand how some nights could be so heavy and not allow me to see an inch in front of me, when in the first few nights I could lay awake and observe all the details of this tent. Had someone kidnapped the stars?
“You wish to see?” Dahr asked, probably wanting to make sure he understood my mumbling, but, before I had a chance to repeat myself, his long lashes fanned curiosity back at me.
Because I could see them.
I could see Dahr’s bare chest, the line of his jaw and his port-coloured lips, the way his hair drew rivers of blackness against the white silk sheets.
