Labyrinth

Negotiations

The baths were probably the thing Sinbad hated most about Attica, other than the wine. The bathhouses offered no privacy, and he was often crammed inside a giant pool with dozens of sweaty men. Not in the palace, though. Despite having no walls, the dense brush growth in the surrounding gardens offered all the privacy he needed. There was no covering, but a dozen thick pillars held a marble ring up high above his head. The soft moonlight reflecting off the water cast a silver, dancing reflection on every surface.

Sinbad sank deeper into the marble bath and hummed. Earlier, he'd passed by the princess' quarters and heard the haunting melody of a lyre drifting from within. Each plucked note had seemed lonely, as though the song was meant to be a part of a larger arrangement. It was still stuck in his head, tugging at his heartstrings.

That poor girl, locked away like some sort of prisoner. He imagined her as shy and delicate but not as a wallflower. Her beauty would make her impossible to miss no matter how hard she tried to blend in. Her voice, though—her voice was probably soft and melodic, much like her temperament. In passing, the thought came that he might visit her as Valefor and ease the pain he'd sensed through her music.

One night was all he needed. One night in his arms, and she would never be lonely again.

The Attican princess was a novelty, a rarity, a delicacy—all things Sinbad loved. Thinking about it stirred in the pit of his stomach a longing of his own. He'd known many women, true, but none as unattainable as a princess locked in a tower.

He was so lost in his imagination that he almost missed the soft padding of footsteps on the marble floor. His eyes snapped open.

There, in a blue maid's uniform, was a woman. She treaded barefoot, her dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders. On her delicate face rested a tight-lipped smile—one that vanished as he met her gaze.

He straightened, a dozen fantasies playing out in his mind at once. Attican women were repressed, but once he got them alone, they unraveled at a touch.

The woman cleared her throat. "Great Hero, I've been sent to..." Her eyes trailed down his exposed chest, lingering where he disappeared beneath the water. Had she ever touched a man before? By the way her shoulders crept toward her ears, he doubted it. She swallowed before regaining her composure. This time, her smile was broad and lovely. "I've been sent to help you wash."

"By whom?" Sinbad raised an eyebrow as she glided behind him. There were plenty of countries where he would expect this, but Attica was not one of them.

Her soft hands on his shoulders kneaded away his concerns as she answered, "The princess wishes to offer you hospitality on par with other kingdoms." Her palms wandered lower to his chest, and he bit back a guttural sound.

The princess seemed to have quite the interest in him, and somewhere in the back of his mind, David had much to say, but Sinbad had a habit of ignoring the voice during moments like this. Besides, why waste his time thinking about the princess when there was a perfectly good woman right here?

She lowered her lips to his ear. "I am to serve you in any way you wish, my lord."

"Any way?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's quite an order." He turned to face her and rested his elbows on the bath's ledge. "What about what you wish? How do you want to serve me?"

"I—" She froze, and when their eyes met, dozens of emotions flitted across her face—confliction, guilt, anxiety, excitement—before, finally, her eyes glazed over; her lips parted. He'd seen the look hundreds of times on dozens of women. There was no mistaking it. She took his hand and placed it over her heart. "I wish to serve you," she whispered, "if it is what you desire."