Against the small of her back, his manhood pulsed to life, and she burned with desire for what seemed like hours, thinking of him, longing to feel him inside of her. Until at last, her eyes must have fallen shut, and she slept.
They arrived after a long journey that made her legs ache at the top of a hill to see below them a valley, out of which smoke arose and a camp not unlike the one they had left in the forest was scattered about on the floor of the valley like the wooden toys of children.
Almost as soon as they had crested the hill, men seemed to rise from beneath the ground not far from them, shouting and holding weapons.
“It is your king!” Sedrak shouted. “Put down your weapons and send a messenger ahead of me. I require a hot bath, and a feast! And a tent for my companion!”
Leola tried to look back at him, but he kissed the edge of her right ear and held her tight. “Patience, my Leola,” he murmured.
When they reached the camp, Sedrak ordered Dorva to take her to be bathed, and then dressed in her own tent. Dorva agreed, bowing her head, but Leola could see the same displeasure in her eyes as previously at the camp before they had departed.
They were silent as Dorva prepared a bath for Leola. Torches had been placed by the river, and the moon that had evaded the sky behind clouds the night before was bright tonight. Leola already felt that she had arrived at her home.
“Dorva?” she asked finally, as the woman began to comb her hair, still without speaking. Leola reached her hand up to touch Dorva’s. “You are angry with me?”
Dorva sighed and pulled a tangle gently from Leola’s hair. “Not you,” she said simply.
Leola turned to face her. “Then why are you silent and cold?”
Dorva set the comb down. “It is not right,” she said quietly. Then she pressed her lips together. “It is not my place,” she said.
Leola sank into the water deeper. “Please speak your mind, Dorva,” she said.
“It is not right. The king must form an alliance with the Eastern lands. That is best for our kingdom. And you… distract him. He allows you to believe that you distract him.”
Leola sat up in the water. She dared not speak what she believed to be true to Dorva. For at times like these, she sometimes did not dare to believe that it was true; after all, Sedrak had not yet said the words to her himself. Was he only pretending, only dragging her disappointment out further?
She shivered. “I am cold, Dorva,” she said. “Please take me to…”
“Your tent,” Dorva finished.
Leola did not know what to make of her tone. “Yes,” she said simply, feeling the cold sensation deep inside her growing.
“It is not a great feast,” Sedrak said, settling himself upon a pile of furs and patting a place next to him before a table heaped with great platters of food. “But it is all they could manage.” He looked at Leola. “You are beautiful,” he said quietly.
Leola’s heart warmed, but the cool feeling overtook it as soon as she felt it. She sat next to Sedrak and gazed at the table of food. Numerous places were set around the table. She had been famished only moments before, but her appetite flew from her. “Who is joining us?” she asked.
Sedrak poured himself some wine from a cask, and also into a wooden goblet next to her place setting. “Tonight my warriors will gather with us. We shall eat, and then you shall retire as I speak to them.”
Leola looked at him, fear in her eyes.
“You must place your trust in me, Leola,” he said quietly. “My own men must be handled like children at times. They shall not respond as Grudin did to the wagging of a woman’s tongue, so I beg of you, hold yours.”
At that moment, a boisterous group of men entered the tent, laughing and speaking loudly. Their Northern dialect was gibberish to Leola, but she was able to understand what it meant when they fell quiet and cold upon seeing her seated at the table.
“Come. Sit,” Sedrak said with forced joviality. “Feast with me.”
The men grumbled and sat down, and Leola looked at her food through blurry eyes, but she could not miss the glares they cast in her direction when Sedrak was not looking. Or perhaps even as he was.
“We shall reach the Eastern borderlands in two days’ time,” an aged warrior with gray hair said, after a few minutes of silence, while the men tore hungrily into their food. “We have awaited your arrival, or we would be there already. My lord.”
Sedrak was quiet, and poured some wine into the man’s goblet. “Let us allow the woman to finish her meal,” he said quietly, after looking at the man with piercing eyes for several moments. “This is the talk of men.”
Another man grumbled something Leola could not understand, but fell to silently eating when Sedrak turned his fierce glare upon him.
“I am… quite satisfied,” Leola said quietly. “I shall retire.” She rose, and the men looked at her strangely. Then they looked at Sedrak. Quickly she added, “If you so desire, my lo—Master,” she said.
Sedrak waved at her to leave. “Go,” he said. “Rest well. We journey at length tomorrow.”
Leola nodded, fighting back tears. She did not know what made her feel like crying: the coldness of Sedrak’s tone? The fear that Dorva spoke the truth?
“Take her, Barval,” Sedrak commanded, when she reached the flap of the tent. “See that she remains in her tent for the night.” To this command he added something sinister-sounding in Northern dialect.
Barval escorted her silently, and Leola sensed a great revulsion radiating from him. He said nothing when they reached a tent, only meters away from Sedrak’s own. It was large, well
