The wizard kings stolen wife

Dinner and a show

When she finally came out of the bathroom which had become her new oasis a footman was in the room waiting for her. Wordlessly he nodded his head and like a wind-up toy solider opened the door to the corridor, bowing her though.  

She followed him down the corridor. It was fully dark now and the cold air raised goosebumps on her skin, and the crossed her arms to cover the chest where her n*****s stood in stark relief. Her bare feet were silent on the cold tiles as he opened another door for her though to an open fire warmed hall.  

Lounging in a chair by the fire was Tristen, who beckoned her with one hand while the door shut behind him.  

“You took your time,” His loud voice boomed in the room, quiet other than the crackle of the flames. 

“As instructed?” She said timidly, but with a note of challenge. He could see the white traces of scars on her shoulders and arms, the cheek in her voice she couldn’t seem to get rid of had earned her many of them.  

As she walked closer and he came into sight his eyes caught hers, then his face went blank as his eyes dropped down her body, tightly wrapped in her wet dress. They lingered over her thighs and she tightened her arms closer about her wet chest, her cold skin suddenly feeling hot and sticky.  

“Why are you still wearing those old rags?” He growled out, frowning at the slight of her shivering.  

“I- There was- There was nothing else there to wear.” She stammered out. Tristen’s face darkened, and he beckoned her closer to the fire. His outstretched hand held a goblet which she hesitantly took. She felt exposed standing before him in front of the warm flames as his face stretched into a slow smile as he looked her up and down.  

She took a deep drink to distract herself and was surprised by the rich hot honey flavored drink, then again by the burn of alcohol as it went down her throat. His gaze was as hot on her and the fire at her back and she couldn’t help but flush. She wanted to say something but years of serving and not speaking until spoken to were too engrained to break.  

“We will have to find you new clothes tomorrow. For tonight, well I’ll just enjoy the view.” He said kicking his feet back. His smile grew wider as she flushed a deep red. She took another sip so she could look away from his teasing eyes. “So tell me about yourself. Where were you before the salve line today?” 

She was hesitant in her reply but felt oddly comfortable talking to him, “I was an indoor girl, at one of the houses in Mayors row. My master was a minister to the king, I think he used to be a general. Before that most of my household belonged to Judge Enright”  

“Enright? I knew him from my time at university I remember him as a mean nasty old bugger.” She startled a laugh out of her and she clapped a hand over her mouth trying to pull it back. “Would you agree?” Asked Tristan his voice like silk. She surprised him by sitting down on the rug by the fire. The drink in her hand was making her feel warm and her muscles loose and relaxed, she took another sip as the stretched her legs to the side of her, propping up on one arm. 

“He was very cheap. Anything that broke, we would fix over and over so he wouldn’t find out, when things finally did wear through, he would pick one of us to beat while he howled about us wasting his money.” She swirled the drink in her cup looking down into the memory. Tristen made a noise of disgust. 

“That man was paid like a king, had some of the most fertile farmland in the country within his title. And yet...” He shook his head sharply as if flicking away a memory.  

“True,” Melia said softly, “But he gambled often, and with high stakes. Things would go missing from his home and we would be beaten for it but I feel it was him pawning off his own items. The bills would go up and down but the money to pay it with kept changing, he was in absolute denial” She took another long drink.  

“Can you do sums? Write?” He asked with interest. She screwed up her nose. 

“I read well, the cook taught me, though my penmanship is very poor as there was no paper for practice in the kitchens. I was trusted with money but that’s all the skill with numbers I have.” He watched as she took another drink. Without asking Tristen reached his long arm over and topped up her goblet with the olden liquid. She flushed. 

“You should not be serving me my lord.” she said feeling uncomfortable at the blurring of the lines between them.  

“I don’t have a great many servants,” He said, seemingly ignoring her as he filled his own glass. "I find it hard to trust people, some at court call me paranoid. But I am still alive and in possession of all my senses so others call it smart." She looked at him and realized his eyes were glued to her, she quickly looked away.  

"Did you previous masters ask you to keep secrets for them?" He asked smoothly. She smiled and unbidden words bubbled into her throat, she looked up at him again wide eyed and tried to pull them down with another drink but they came to the surface anyway.

"To think of ever being spoken to by a master, let alone told a secret by them - I would be dead if they had told me anything." She looked over her eyelids finally meeting his eye "but there are always secrets you keep, not for their sake but for your if they knew what you knew." He sat back with interest.

I would like you to work for me.” She smiled as she looked into her glass, she had never been asked for her work before, it had always been assumed and demanded of her.  

“It would not be an easy job, I need as assistant. Someone I trust to be close to me.” He put down his glass and leaned down towards her. He reached a hand under her chin and her copper eyes stared up into his smoky ones. “I’ll pay you well for this trust, but if you betray me...” Her hazy warm mind could only focus on his warm hands, one finger trailed down the side of her face and she leaned into his grasp, then she snapped back to her senses, straightening her spine as she knelt before him. Her eyes dropped from his and she nodded nervously.  

His warm touch was gone as she sat back, suddenly irritable. “You can go back to your rooms now.” He said waving her off in a clear dismissal. She felt embarrassment flow down her, and something unknown, like disappointment? She chided herself for being so ungrateful as she flew to the door and down the corridor.