“Yes,” Otaso breathed against the delicate skin behind her ear, groaning as he let Aida slide down the length of his body. Clutching her close, his hips rocking once, twice. “Yes, soon you will see exactly what I mean, my dear.”
Aida’s hands slapped against the icy stone at her back to stop from shoving him away when she felt the thickness pushing against her. Thankful for the first moment of the heavy silk encasing her ribs and stomach that she didn’t feel more than the pressure of it as Otaso ground against her with another slow sway.
It was a long moment before he came back to himself, stopping the nuzzling of her hair, quieting his wretched sounds. Drawing back, he gave Aida another one-sided smile, tucking her tight against his side and wrapping a massive arm around her, leaving her to scurry on tiptoe as he started them on their journey again.
To Aida’s surprise, the huge doors leading into the great hall were shut tight, the great racket of his men still loud through the iron bound planks as Otaso led her down a path towards a series of chambers, every room they passed showing a closed door. He left nothing to chance, not even a single guard making rounds through this section of the castle as he showed Aida into an expansive room with a long, glossy table and sturdy chairs.
Everything about it was utilitarian, austere in its simplicity. Even the thick drapes blocking the cloudy panes of the windows were nothing more than what was necessary. Seated in the uncomfortable chair to the right of the head of the table nearest the windows, Aida watched her guardian move with the firm, decisive actions of a man more accustomed to decreeing commands than arranging his bulky frame on the chair at her side in preparation for a meal.
“Sir? Will it just be us?” Hope sprang to life in her chest, a flickering candle in the darkest hour of night as Otaso took his time to respond. She even dared to smile when he took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles in an act that felt far more intimate than it should have.
“Molaro and Varazi will join us, my doe. A few others only.” Dark arches of his brows snapping together, he glanced down the line of the table, gripping her fingers to the point of pain. “You have nothing to fear from them. They will meet a slow end if they dare anything.”
Any thought of protesting fled her thoughts as the door opened and several others drifted in with a rustle of robes and the creak of leather. Keeping her wide eyes trained upon the smooth surface of the table, she clenched her free hand in her skirts to keep from jumping with each scraping rasp of a chair, the murmured obeisant greetings of the many males.
Their musky power filled the room to bursting, clogging the back of her throat so she wanted to sputter and cough. Wished she could rake her nails over the flat of her tongue to scrape away the taste of sooty darkness and dusty ash.
Counting the small, shallow breaths the corset afforded her, she slid her gaze to where Otaso still held her hand. No longer crushed, her fingers now rested placid across his large palm. She wondered if anyone else could see the fine tremble there, would note the stink of fear under the heavy perfume. Not just her own, either. She could scent their anxiety as clear as hers, but whether it was for this performance or Otaso himself remained to be seen.
Aida squeaked as a hand appeared at her left, the feminine turn of a wrist depositing a porcelain plate before her. Unthinking, her black gaze swung up to take in this new wonder. The young woman flushed a brilliant red, tears bursting into dark eyes as she avoided meeting Aida’s. Scurrying away, the female rushed to perform the same act for everyone at the table.
Noticing Otaso’s dark gaze following the woman’s progress, a surge of guilt and concern swam through Aida’s stomach. A flash of memory of the man he’d killed over a simple touch. Tightening her fingers over his hand, she offered a shy smile, hoping to distract him from any misstep, whether real or imagined.
It worked well enough. Again and again, as some new person coming in and out of the room with food and drink startled her. Arms full, the women laid out tray after tray. None of the foods Aida liked, many she despised, but Otaso kept glancing at her. Forcing her to eat one morsel after the next though she hid the fact she wasn’t eating much at all behind another false smile. The indistinct murmur of the other males that she didn’t dare even peek at a background to Otaso’s ringing commands, his voice cutting through it all to pierce into the person he spoke to. He wielded his words and tone with as much skill as his sword, sawing into one man and stabbing into the next, derided them in turns. Only Varazi received a grudging compliment, some business Aida couldn’t pretend to understand.
It was the theme of the evening. There was little sense she could make of the conversation, names and places she had never heard of. Otaso limited her books, seeing only that she could read and write. Dusty history books, tomes on his conquests and victories were the basis of her learning. Aida knew nothing of these lands and people with such strange sounding names.
It didn’t help that Otaso gave her wine. Something he allowed her only on the most special of days, he refilled her glass as soon as she sipped the rich red liquid. Aida had no idea how much she’d drunk. She’d lost count hours ago and now admired the sparkling twinkle of the cut crystal.
Lashes fluttering, Aida tried to blink away the fatigue making her feel languid. The
