There was also a large table and chairs on the side of the tent, parallel to me, massive enough to accommodate a large family. No food in sight however, much to the disappointment of my stomach.
The floor was peppered with soft furs, creating a makeshift carpet that generated enough heat to easily become a bed, which was probably why I had fallen asleep the night before.
Nothing else of much importance that I could spot, or at least not when I had my back towards the entrance and turning to have a three-sixty view was not an option.
There was, however, a side of the wall, if I could even call it that inside of a tent, that was covered with more furs, as one would a hidden panel, but I had absolutely zero chance to reach that far and investigate.
And then there was the bar that had become acquainted with my wrist, lining itself perfectly with the metallic structure that held the tent upright, offering it the arched shape holdingit in place. For the past few hours, I had become a part of that structure, involuntarily holding this tent through the unwilling connection my right hand had been trapped in.
To say that I was cramping was an understatement. I had tried shifting myself into better positions, clenching my fists to pull more blood into my joints and even tried to move up and down with the hope that I would somehow de-tension my arm, at least a little bit.
Nothing proved as efficient as I’d hoped and even if I’d found temporary solace, the spasms always came back with a vengeance. I had no other choice but to remain in that vegetative state and hang in there, awaiting my fate. And falling in and out of consciousness as the camp life swivelled around me.
My eyes were droopy and my body ready to give out, sending me into yet another black out, when my ears alerted me of the arrival of footsteps heading towards my general direction.
I forced myself upright, doing my absolute best to place my body into a dignified position. Not that, being tied up to a rail, wearing yesterday’s clothes did anything to aid my situation but still, attitude was what mattered, and I made sure I had plenty of that.
Forcing my shackle towards my wrist and pushing my hand up, I managed to somehow raise my body into a stand, while ensuring I didn’t damage my hand too much. It wasn’t the most comfortable position but damn it if I was going to present myself to this mysterious man as a prisoner.
No, he had to see me as the authority that I was, an arts teacher with a university degree, an intelligent and independent woman who was going to negotiate her own release.
I prepared myself for a broody posture, for scars, for a villain with self-importance flair that believed himself a saviour. What I did not prepare for was sunshine.
Because that’s what she was.
As soon as the tent flaps opened to let a second of light in, a blonde, tall and stunning woman walked in, her feet bare and walking as though floating over the furs lining the floor of the tent.
She proceeded with a quick scan to her surroundings, as though looking for something, and when her eyes shifted to me, they twinkled, the blue in their shimmer competing with the azure-induced ocean waves.
She was flawless, possibly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. The kind that the entire Renaissance movement bloomed to discover. She was so out of place with her surroundings, her porcelain skin untouched by the earthy tonalities enclosing her.
“Hello,” she smiled at me and walked slowly in my direction, as one does towards a snare, unwilling to scare the trapped animal inside it.
“Hello,” I replied, unwilling to let her in just yet. Not until I became familiar with her intentions.
“My name is Karisha,” she continued, still smiling at me, her long lashes fanning lazily on her cheeks, keeping up that smile with lips too rosy to be believed.
“My name is Nora,” I replied and, even though my senses did not agree with my choice, I awkwardly reached towards her stretched-out hand. Not because I was feeling particularly polite at that moment, but because I needed to feel her skin and ensure her realness by doing so. Even for a dream, she was too beautiful to be created by my imagination only. I did not think myself capable of imagining such a masterpiece.
Her hands were soft as they shook mine, her touch lingering a second longer than necessary. I must admit, I enjoyed her touch, the smoothness of the skin, the hands that were so obviously soft, they seemed to have never touched anythingrough in their entire existence. So at odds with what I assumed our surroundings to be.
“My apologies,” she finally retreated and displayed another polite smile. “You must think me odd to say this, but you are not… what was expected,” she blinked her blue eyes at me, as if double-checking it was truly me that was in front of her.
“Do I not meet the criteria?” I raised my brows, determined to find out why I was deserving of her reaction. This might be another unexplored alleyway with a possible lead to my release, another unknown factor I needed to determine.
“Oh, no,” she produced an embarrassed giggle, which gave her soft voice a sweeter clink. “Please do not misunderstand me, I meant it as a compliment. I only meant that I didn’t expect you to be so… forgive me if I am too forward… beautiful.”
A goddess talking to a flower about beauty, that was a first. Still, I allowed myself to receive the compliment. I had heard it multiple times throughout my life, so it didn’t come as a surprise and, coming from another woman, especially one with looks that made mine fade into nothingness, was a true compliment.
“Thank you, I would like to return the compliment,” I did not shy away from responding. “Though I was told I meet the exact criteria I have apparently been selected for. I am a young woman, and I was taken from Enderflagg,” I pushed the information I had towards her, hoping for a better solution to the unknown.
Indeed, her blue eyes widened just slightly before she moulded herself back into her composure. “Who said that?” she asked sweetly, as though my observation was merely that, an inconsequential fact.
“We managed to have a conversation last night,” I confirmed, setting my eyes on her reaction. I didn’t have to struggle too much to observe, because her brows shot up to her hairline in surprise.
“You already met Dahr???” she shrieked more than spoke, but my focus converged into the information she released.
Dahr.
