3. Chapter

Eira

After the door closed behind Zade I was left alone in the steaming silence. The water was hot, almost burning my skin, but I welcomed the pain. I scrubbed myself with the rough sponge until my skin turned red. I wanted to wash everything off. The dust of the streets. The memory of the thugs touching me. And most of all the strange burning tingle Zade's fingers had left on my chin.

The water slowly turned gray with the dirt I had carried for weeks. As the layers of grime disappeared I felt more and more exposed. The dirt had been armor. The mud had hidden me. But now, in this clear fragrant water, every scar and every flaw on my body was visible.

I lifted my wet heavy hair from the water. It spread across my chest like a ghostly veil.

Who am I now?

I was no longer the street thief fighting for survival, but I was not yet the weapon that monster wanted to turn me into.

The servants returned quietly like shadows. They asked nothing and simply did their work. They wrapped me in soft white towels and led me into a dressing chamber. My clothes were already waiting.

I did not receive silk gowns like the noble ladies I had seen in the square. This was something else. Something darker and far more practical.

They dressed me in tight black leather trousers that felt like a second skin. With them came a dark green corset lined with silk that mercilessly emphasized my waist and lifted my breasts. Fine silver bound bracers were placed on my forearms and knee high leather boots were laced onto my legs.

"The prince ordered that her scar should not be hidden," one of the girls whispered while drying and brushing my hair. "He said it is a sign of pride."

"More like cruelty," I muttered while looking into the mirror.

My breath stopped.

The girl in the mirror looked nothing like the one who had fought for a moldy piece of bread that morning. My long white hair now fell smoothly over my shoulders, framing my face. The black and dark green clothes made the wild green of my eyes stand out.

I looked like a warrior goddess dragged out of hell itself.

I was beautiful.

But more importantly I looked dangerous.

"We are finished," the servant said, gesturing for me to follow.

My heart pounded in my throat as we returned to the prince's receiving room. Zade stood by the window with his back turned to me. The setting sun painted his broad shoulders red. The distant deep rumble of Noctis vibrated through the air as if the dragon itself could feel the tension.

"She is here, Your Highness," the servant announced before quickly leaving.

Zade slowly turned around. In his hand he held a glass of dark red wine that he had just lifted to his lips, but the motion froze halfway.

His icy blue eyes moved across me.

It was not just a glance. I felt his gaze travel along my legs, linger on the curve of my hips, and stop on the breasts pushed up by the corset. I saw his throat move as he swallowed.

For a single second the confident mocking mask cracked.

He was surprised.

No, more than surprised.

I had captivated him.

The air in the room seemed to vanish. The silence grew heavy and alive. Zade slowly placed the glass on the table but his eyes never left me. He began walking toward me with that slow predatory stride that made every instinct in me scream to run.

He stopped in front of me. So close that I could smell his skin. Pine, cold steel and something wild and smoky like dragon fire.

"It seems," he finally said, his voice deeper and rougher than before, "that beneath the dirt there really was a diamond. Though a diamond with very sharp edges."

"Do not get used to the sight," I shot back, though my voice trembled slightly. "These clothes do not change who I am. I still hate you."

Zade smiled. But this time there was no mockery in it. His gaze was dark and hungry. He raised his hand and let his fingers slide through my white hair down to my shoulder. The heat of his skin burned even through the silk.

"Hate is good," he whispered, stepping even closer until our bodies almost touched. "Hate keeps you awake. But be careful, little girl. Hate and desire are born from the same fire. And Noctis can feel how your blood stirs when I touch you."

"It is not desire," I lied to his face. "It is disgust."

But my body betrayed me. I felt my nipples harden beneath the corset and a warm pulse move between my thighs.

Zade leaned closer until his face was only centimeters from mine. His gaze dropped to my lips and then returned to my eyes. For a moment I thought he would kiss me. I thought he would take me right there on his expensive carpet.

Instead he laughed softly.

"You are lying," he said quietly. "But that is fine. I have time. Now come. Noctis is impatient. He wants to see why he chose the most beautiful and most dangerous thief in the empire."

He took my hand, more gently now but still impossible to resist, and led me out of the room. As we walked through the deep dark corridors toward the dragon caverns I realized something.

This palace was not just a golden cage.

It was an arena.

And my hardest battle would not be with the dragons but with the man beside me, the one who could strip my soul bare with a single look.

We stopped before a massive iron door. Heat and the heavy ancient smell of a beast seeped from the other side. Zade paused and looked at me.

"Whatever happens inside," he warned, "do not show fear. Noctis does not like weakness. If he senses your terror he will burn you to ash before I can stop him."

"Maybe that would be better for both of us," I said stubbornly, though an icy knot formed in my stomach.

The door creaked open.

Darkness waited beyond it, broken only by the glowing embers of a dragon's eyes.