Manservant

9

"Why do you keep coming here?"

I shifted where I sat on Theo's lap. It was late one night that week, and we were in the shed, me trying to write poetry at his desk while his hands roved lazily over my body – no easy task.

"Well, sometimes, we find inspiration in the strangest places," I pointed out. I thought for a moment, thinking about the words tattooed on his bare chest. "Sing me a song."

"The mistress orders her slave?"

"Sing me a song, please?"

He chuckled, holding me close. "Very well," he said, drawing a breath. Over the next few moments, words drifted past his lips in a language that eluded me, yet I sensed the feeling behind them. Love, loss, redemption.

"That was beautiful," I said when he was finished. "Was that a Theo original?"

He chuckled again. "Yes. I'm still working on it, to be honest."

"I wish I could understand the nuances behind the words."

"I could translate it for you."

"You could?"

He reached over, taking the quill from my hand. "It won't be the same in English, but the essence will be there."

I watched him write, mesmerized. His movements with the quill were quick and confident, to my surprise. "What was your life like back in Laria?" I asked.

I felt him stiffen against my back. "Why?"

"I'm just curious. Do you have a family?"

"Hardly any."

"Do you miss it? Your home?"

He paused, his silence seeming sad. "I left."

"Left?"

"I ran away."

"You did? Why?"

"Let's just say I've never been good at 'fitting in'."

I did a humorless smile. "I know what you mean."

"I've never been Larian enough for the Larians, and I've never been white enough for the Carsans."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I don't need to belong anywhere, if I belong to myself."

"But you must have some people you care about."

"I have at least one," he said meaningfully, resting the side of his head against mine.

"So you say," I murmured, half-expecting he wouldn't hear. But I underestimated him.

"You doubt me, Miss Alicia?" He put the quill down, and I ran my words over the verses. I could see parts where the translation was clumsy, but some of the lines were beautiful.

"Drifting just past the reaches of my heart'." I echoed.

"Too much?"

"No. I like it. It conjures an image, for sure."

"A sad one," he said quietly, leaning back against the chair and stretching out his arms like a cat.

I eased off his lap, brushing off my dress and shaking out my hair.

"Must you go now?" he asked as he looked up at me, his voice sleepy.

I met his gaze, wishing I could just stay here in the shed with him all night. That would be unleashing every Circle of Hell once they found me in the morning.