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“How do you take your tea?” He turned to me, then slid his gaze down my body.

I adjusted my robe over my chest, feeling an odd urge to explain. “I didn’t want to put the same clothes on, and I didn’t bring any clean ones to the bathroom with me.”

“You look lovely, Princess.” He tore his stare from me and directed it back to the table. “Tea is ready. Cream? Sugar?”

“Just cream, please.”

I sat on the couch and pulled the ends of my robe closed over my knees. Salas remained on the floor, the way the royal gladiators often did when in the company of the ladies from the palace.

“I took the liberty of making you a plate.” He placed a dish with different mini sandwiches in front of me. “I hope you like these.”

I took a rye wafer he’d topped with pâté and a cucumber slice. He joined me by taking one too. I noted the quality and the variety of the fancy sandwiches he’d constructed.

“What do you normally eat?” I asked after we’d finished a few sandwiches and Salas had refilled our teacups.

“Whatever the owner feeds us. Usually, it’s something that fills us up the most with the least impact to her wallet.” He set down his cup and leaned against the couch seat sideways to face me better. “But I’m not here to talk about the far-from-fine cuisine of the slaves’ barracks. Tell me, Princess, how far have you gone with a man before. Kissing? Touching? What have you enjoyed?”

I would rather stick my bare hand into an open flame than talk about my past sexual experiences.

“Nothing,” I said quickly. “I’ve done nothing at all.”

He seemed surprised by my answer, and I didn’t think he believed me.

“Not even a kiss?”

“No.”

“Have you ever wondered what a kiss would feel like?”

“Um, I don’t really think much about things like that.” Though I certainly was wondering about them now, studying his lips framed by his beard. “How does kissing work with a beard? Does it get in the way?”

He laughed. It was a rich, deep sound—hearty and genuine. As if on their own, my lips stretched into a smile in response. Propping an elbow on the seat of the couch, he beckoned me with his finger to lean closer.

“There is but one way to find out,” he murmured in invitation.

I kept staring at his mouth. It was a pleasant thing to look at, especially when it was curved into a cheeky grin like that. But a kiss would bring him closer. Way too close...

“No. Please—” My hand holding the teacup jerked involuntarily, spilling the tea. I put it onto the saucer on the table a little too hard with a loud clunk.

His smile slipped away. He moved the cup with the saucer away from the edge while his focus remained on me.

“What’s wrong, Princess?”

I clasped my hands in my lap, dropping my gaze to them. I should’ve known this would happen, that my memories would resurface and get in the way. The past few days had been intense, and I struggled to keep the darkness at bay even during the day. Now, I felt worn down and vulnerable.

“Did something happen?” he sounded somber, grave even. “Tell me. I believe I will understand.”

What could I say?

How would I put all those dark, tangled memories into words?

How could I bring them out into the open like this?

As I kept silent, his large hand descended over both of mine on my lap in a warm, reassuring touch.

“Whatever happened, you proved stronger than it,” he said. “You survived.”

He spoke as if I’d already told him, as if he needed no words to know, and it was a relief to have someone understand it like this, without words.