The room in the tower where she was locked up was small and sparsely furnished; there was a small bed, a table and a chair, all made of rough wood. There was a mattress on the bed, but it looked so decrepit and filthy that even the cave she had slept in the night before was a much better accommodation. They had taken her backpack, so there was no chance of at least getting some rest in her own sleeping bag; not that she could sleep after everything that had happened. Because it was right under the roof of the tower, the room had a high ceiling with girders made of large tree trunks; there was a small window about two metres above the floor and she could see the sky as sunset was beginning to take over.
She sat on the chair, the events of the day replaying in her head; she couldn't make sense of how she had got here, or what this place was. The fortress and the settlement around it seemed... medieval, for lack of a better term, although she couldn't identify either the time or geographical area. And the people, well, the people were a complete shock, with their barbaric and violent manners; not to mention their leader who seemed to be regarded as something of a god around here. And the weirdest part was that she could understand their language.
"I'm having a nightmare, this is the only explanation"; she pinched her arm hoping that it would wake her up. It didn't. She pinched harder, leaving an angry red mark on her pale skin, but she was still in the cold room under the wooden roof. At least they had untied her before locking the iron door behind them.
She pulled the chair under the window, trying to see beyond it; it was still too short, so she dragged the table, placed the chair on top of it and climbed on this improvised platform. The window was about half a metre wide and she could see that the width of the wall was over one metre, which didn't surprise her, considering the general aspect of the fortress. Outside, the night had already seized control; from her window she could see the drawbridge on which they had entered the citadel, now closed. Beyond it, the village seemed peacefully asleep, with only a few camp fires still burning here and there; the houses were made of wood, with thatched roofs and most of them were surrounded by gardens. In the distance, there was the dark forest where it had all begun. She climbed inside the window frame and looked down on the wall beneath her, hoping for irregular masonry which would allow her to climb down the wall and out of the fortress. This was not an option, however, as the wall was to smooth to try anything without a rope, and one look at the meagre sheet lying on the bed, it was clear that tearing it apart would not produce a rope that was long or safe enough for such an endeavour.
She then turned her attention to the wooden beams which held the roof; if she could climb inside the attic, maybe she could get out of this room and find a way out of the castle without being spotted. She stepped back on the chair and reached for the closest girder, but she was still about half a meter short. She bent her knees and made a desperate jump; she managed to attach her hands to the girder while the improvised scaffolding went tumbling to the floor in a deafening noise.
He walked in just in time to see the chair and the table crashing and the woman dangling from the ceiling, trying to get her legs on the next girder. A roar of laughter swept over him while she gave him a murderous stare.
"It's always interesting to see a woman with initiative, but you should know this attic only reaches over this room and the adjoining staircase, which happens to be well guarded" he said, still shaking with laughter.
"Well, then, would you mind getting a ladder before I break something?" she replied, trying to remain calm although the sight of him was again warming her lower abdomen. He was wearing a white shirt, probably linen and black wool pants; his hair was damp and tousled, and he looked clean and fresh. The fact that the bastard had a chance to clean up from the day's journey, while she'd been locked up in this dirty tower only served to irritate Aelia even further.
"Yes, I suppose you'll be less entertaining with some broken bones, although you might be a bit more tame..." he pretended to ponder on it. Meanwhile, she managed to climb completely inside the attic, only to see that he had told the truth; this was not the way to freedom. When a soldier arrived with a ladder, for a brief moment she considered refusing to come down and trying to negotiate her way out, but it was clear that they would simply come after her and she didn't really feel like being thrown on the hard stone floors.
The prince was sitting on the chair very close to the ladder, admiring her natural grace as she climbed down the ladder. She was wearing pants, most unusual for women, but the way they wrapped around her cute little ass was one of the most arousing images he'd seen in a while. Her clothes were nothing if not unusual, beginning with the fabrics, the likes of which he had never seen before, and continuing with the strange cuts and craftsmanship. But the boots were probably the oddest piece of her outfit; they seemed to be made of some kind of leather, but it looked harder than normal leather footwear, ankle-high, with a thick sole and twisted laces.
She finished her descent and turned to face him; his icy blue gaze was intense, almost burning into her skin, and she could feel warmth pooling between her thighs. She shook her head and walked a few steps away from him, to regain control of her hormones; she had to be crazy to be attracted to this barbarian; could she be experiencing the Stockholm syndrome, this soon into her captivity? She sat on the table, holding his eyes defiantly; this was a power play, he was trying to intimidate her and she wasn't going to allow him. If there was one thing she had learned about these people in the hours since she had been taken, it was that they seemed to respect power.
He smiled, as if he'd understood what she was doing. This was going to be a particularly interesting evening, as this woman was unlike any he had met so far. He knew he would take her eventually, but he wanted to know more about her first; between the serving girls who rushed to tend to his every whim and the court ladies who were throwing themselves at him in hope of becoming the future queen or at least the official mistress of the prince, it had been a while since a woman had said no to him; it was becoming boring, and this strange redhead was a welcome entertainment.
"So, do you have a name?" he asked, resting his right foot on his left knee and leaning backwards in his chair.
"Yes, I do, and it's none of your business; you have no right to keep me here and I demand to be released immediately, and my things returned to me." Aelia was trying to remain calm, but his casually mocking smile was almost as irritating as the fact that she found him so attractive.
"I have the right to do anything I want in my kingdom, my dear; for your well-being I'd advise you to remember that." He never stopped smiling, but his eyes were conveying a clear warning. Strangely, that only served to arouse her even more.
Aelia stood and began pacing the room; she had noticed that when the soldier who had brought the ladder left the room, he hadn't locked the door; she had also heard his footsteps as he descended the stairs. If she could get close to the door without raising her captor's suspicions, she could try to make a run for it. It was clear that this man was dangerous and also that she couldn't be trusted near him too long without ripping her clothes off, and she wanted to put as much distance between them as she could.
"My name is Aelia", she said, in a more conciliatory tone, hoping to thwart his attention from her movements by continuing the conversation.
"There we go, that wasn't so difficult, was it?" he smiled. "I'm Rowald, heir to the kingdom of Farran. Since you will be my guest for a while, I think we should get to know each other a little better, don't you agree?"
"Well, Your Highness, is this how you treat all your guests?" she couldn't help the sarcastic bit.
"Only the ones I like." He seemed amused by her anger and was flashing a charming smile. He didn't seem to notice that she was moving closer to the door, and his legs were still crossed casually. "So, where did you come from? I'm guessing you're not from around here, but you don't look Syrtari either."
"Don't look what?" She seemed genuinely ignorant, and for a moment Rowald wondered whether she was a spy sent to seduce him. Her clothes and things were so strange, even for the enemy kingdom of Syrta, but he wouldn't put anything past them. He would have to be careful until he figured out what she was about, but that shouldn't stop him from having his fun.
She had now got close to the door and seeing as he seemed somewhat preoccupied with a thought, she decided it was now or never; she quickly pulled the handle on the door, only to find that it was heavier than she had estimated. She had managed to open it and was halfway out when she was roughly pulled back inside the room and the door slammed with a thunder.
He had been observing her walking around the room ever since they'd started the conversation; he felt like a cat, watching a mouse make its escape. He pretended not to notice that she was getting closer to the door and even allowed her to open it before bolting from his chair and pulling her back. He pinned her against the wall next to the door, bringing both her wrists above her head and securing them with one hand. She was gasping for breath, loose strands of hair floating over her face. Slowly raising her head, she looked into his eyes; there was still defiance in her eyes, but he could also see the fear, just like earlier in the forest, when she'd tried to escape him the first time.
"When will you learn that you can't run away from me?" he whispered, gently caressing the back of her ear and her neck with his lips. She whimpered and struggled against him, but they both knew it was useless; she had felt his power during their fight in the forest and, like then, he had parted her thighs with his knees, so it was impossible to try the classic knee-in-the-groin self-defence move.
Rowald used his free hand to push the hair out of her eyes and touched her slightly parted lips with his thumb; he was half expecting her to try to bite him, but she just kept looking at him with those wide emerald eyes that seemed to touch something inside him. He leaned over her and kissed her deeply, possessively, but without the violence he had used so far; to his surprise, she responded. Her body was still moving against his, no longer struggling but undulating around him; his hand continued to explore lower and lower, caressing the side of her breast, then her delicate waist, moving further to her hip, her thigh, and slightly raising her leg to curl around his hip. She moaned softly in his mouth and he could feel the warmth between her thighs while his breeches were becoming too tight. He let go of her wrists and began to explore her body with both hands.
As soon as they were free, Aelia put her hands in his hair and pulled him closer; their lips never parted, and one of her hands began to make its way lower, touching his chest through the soft fabric, parting the folds of his shirt to feel the hot skin beneath. She slid it slowly towards his waist and she could feel him tense in anticipation.
"Hands off and move away from me or I'll slit your throat." Her voice was husky and slightly hesitant, but he could feel the coldness of the blade against his skin. He couldn't believe how fast she had been in removing the dagger from his belt and placing it at his throat; she had caught him by surprise and he felt a wave of anger sweep over him, but he also couldn't help but feel some sort of admiration for her ability. He took one step back and she quickly made her way to the other side of the room. He could tell from the way she was holding it that she had no experience in using a dagger in a fight and he took one step towards her, determined to tear it from her hand and teach her a lesson, when the door was slammed open and one of his guards rushed in, gasping for air.
Rowald turned from the girl with a mind to kick him out and send him to kitchen duty as punishment for his interruption, when the man spoke, nearly choking on his own breath:
"Your Highness, lord Maelwyn is here. The Syrtars have occupied Caersten."
