Page 9 of Maneater

The days in Hyrall slipped past in a blur.

For the first time since arriving, I found myself wishing time would slow, if only a little.

Just yesterday, I’d hidden away two more servings of dried rations in the drawer of my armoire.

But despite every small step I took, my plan still felt like a distant illusion. It was too fragile, too far from reach.

Restless, I twirled the latest scroll between my fingers, the crimson tassel fluttering. My brows drew together as I stared through the window of my bedchamber, lost in thought.

It was still midday.

For the first time in months, Gadriel had summoned me before nightfall. And though I had no reason to be, I was nervous. I had spent the past week asking him, again and again, to take me with him to Torhiel. Every time, the answer was the same: No.

Still, I asked. Even last night, curled beside him after an intimate service, I tried again, quietly, carefully. But even then, wrapped in his arms, the answer hadn’t changed.

“Gadriel,” I said. “Please… take me with you.”

He exhaled. “You already know my answer, Odessa. ”

“Then help me understand,” I insisted. “Why do you keep refusing me?”

His jaw tensed, a muscle feathering in his cheek. “You press harder than is wise, even for you.”

I swallowed. “As your consort, my safety shouldn’t be your concern. My duty to you should be the only thing that matters.”

He didn’t answer. Silence hung between us.

“Six months without me beside you at night,” I continued. “I imagine that will be… difficult.”

Gadriel shook his head. “You’re repeating yourself, Odessa.”

“No other woman can fulfill you the way I do.”

Gadriel sighed. “Even if that were true, my answer wouldn’t change.”

I sat up slowly, leaning on one hand. My raven hair slipped over my bare shoulders and spilled down my back.

“Have I not served you well this past year, Gadriel?” My fingers traced lightly across his chest. “Have I ever failed my duties, night after night?”

His expression remained blank.

“I understand that what we have is not love?—”

“It’s not,” Gadriel interrupted.

“—but it is something of value.”

He looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

Still, I pressed on. “I won’t stop trying. Take me with you, Gadriel. Six months without you…” My words faltered. “I wouldn’t know what to do. As it stands, my days are nothing but waiting for your call.”

I lowered my gaze.

“If you bring me, I’ll do whatever you ask. Please, Gadriel. If you return and I’m no longer needed,” I paused, “I don’t know what I’d do.”

It was a dangerous edge to walk, treading the line between desperation and devotion. It could play out one of two ways: Gadriel could take offense by my brazenness, or my desire could flatter his ego.

But for once, his expression revealed nothing. Normally, I could read his moods with ease. Now, I was left uncertain.

After a long pause, Gadriel spoke.

“Enough, Odessa. You’ll know my decision when I leave, and you’ll accept it. I won’t hear anything else on the matter. You’re dismissed.”

I nodded, keeping my composure as I dressed.

As I turned to go, his voice cut through the quiet.

“Odessa?”

I stopped.

“Don’t test my patience again.”

As the memory of last night started to fade, my expression was frustrated, and I didn’t realize I was crushing the scroll and tassel in my hand until it crumpled under my grip. I ground my teeth, remembering his command: Do not test my patience again.

I straightened my consort robe and checked that the gold chain around my waist was fastened neatly. I looped the crimson tassel through one of the rungs, just before stepping out of my chambers and signaling Sir Karst to begin escorting me.

If Gadriel refused to take me with him, my chance at freedom would disappear with him through Hyrall’s gates. I forced the thought aside before it could unravel me.

A moment later, Sir Karst appeared to guide me to the prince’s chambers. I walked through the castle halls with my head held high, unbothered by the sheer fabric clinging to my frame. While one might have felt self-conscious in my situation, dignity was no longer something I wore outwardly.

Daylight still filtered through the high windows, and the castle halls were busy with courtiers and noblefolk. Stewards and cupbearers moved about, while advisors rushed past. Through it all, I walked through the corridors nearly naked.

The sheer silk of my robe clung to me as I moved, the crimson tassel at my hip swaying with each step.

Men turned their eyes to the stone floor, whether from shame or reproach, I couldn’t say.

A few looked. Some lingered. Though, their gazes were full of judgment.

They didn’t need to speak, the glances were enough to know what they thought of me.

It was rare for a courtesan to be seen in the daylight, rarer still to walk the castle halls like this. We were meant to stay tucked away in our quarters, hidden, seen only when summoned. Now, in full view, I became a silent spectacle.

One older noble let his gaze rest too long on my bare navel. I didn’t flinch, instead, I met his eyes and held the stare.

He looked away first.

As he walked by, he muttered ‘filthy temptress’, barely loud enough for me to hear.

The words brushed past my ear and slid off my shoulders.

Once, they would’ve cut. In the beginning, I’d feel my anger slipping away, spiraling into something far darker. But now, my focus had to be on what truly mattered: leaving.

If I confided in Gadriel, perhaps he would punish this man. If he were a lord, Gadriel could strip him and his family of their titles and land, leaving their coffers to run dry. But that would be a waste of a favor, and favors from the prince were rarely given twice.

No, I needed to save what influence I had. I needed him to take me to Torhiel.

The grim truth of Hyrall was this, whatever scraps of my humanity I once clung to had withered long ago. Each passing day here carved away at what remained.

Truth be told, whatever little of it was left died long ago.

Gadriel lounged in the bath, steam coiling around him in thick tendrils. The scent of heated oils clung to the air, mingling with the sharper trace of sweat that still lingered on his skin from sparring.

I stood quietly nearby, awaiting his orders.

He seemed indifferent to my presence as he sunk further into the water, which lapped at his collarbones. His eyes were closed, appearing almost as if he were sleeping.

“Wash my hair,” he said lazily.

My lips pressed into a thin line. “Of course, Your Highness.”

I moved without delay, gathering the bottles of soap and oil, balancing them carefully in my arms. I placed a stool beside the tub and sat, lifting the sheer sleeves of my robe to keep them dry.

The silk pooled at my elbows as I reached for the wooden bowl and poured warm water slowly over his head.

It streamed through his auburn hair in soothing streams, soaking the nape of his neck.

A quiet, contented sound rumbled from his throat.

The moment felt oddly still. Intimate, but transactional, like so much of what passed between us.

Once his auburn hair was thoroughly damp, I poured a ribbon of golden soap into my palm and rubbed it into a rich lather.

I worked the foam into his scalp with slow, steady circles.

Gadriel exhaled, a quiet sound of contentment.

We remained silent while I scrubbed away the remnants of his exertion, the scent of heated musk and crushed herbs lingering in the steam.

When I finished, I cupped warm water over his head to rinse it clean, careful not to splash. I began drying my hands on the edge of a cloth when his hand suddenly reached for my arm.

“Get in,” he murmured, voice low. “Next, wash my body.”

I nodded once. “As you wish, Your Highness. ”

I hesitated for only a breath before stepping to the edge of the tub, fingers moving to untie the strings at my waist. Gadriel’s gaze never left me, his amber eyes fixed on each movement as I loosened the cream-colored robe. It slipped down my shoulders and pooled at my feet.

The heat of the bath enveloped me as I stepped in. I knelt beside him, quiet and composed, reaching for a clean washcloth. I lathered it slowly as the water lapped softly around us.

I glided toward Gadriel through the steaming water, each movement careful, leaving a trail of gentle ripples in my wake.

His eyes remained fixed on me as I settled into his lap, wrapping my legs around him.

I caught the faint hitch in his breath but paid it no mind, directing my focus to the washcloth in my hand.

Steadily, I began to cleanse him. Starting at his chest, moving up to his shoulders, along the curve of his neck, and down his arms. His hold tightened around my waist as I worked, but I continued as if I didn’t notice, each pass of the cloth drawn out.

His eyes never left me.

Eventually, he broke the silence. “You’re rather quiet today, Odessa.”

I met his words with a composed tone. “Does Your Highness prefer me to act differently?”

He stilled my arm, fingers closing around my wrist. The damp cloth was suspended between us, water trailing down my forearm.

“Is there a reason for this behavior?” he asked, watching me more closely now, the edge of curiosity sharpening in his voice.

“I’m simply following your instructions. Is my performance not to your liking?”

Gadriel’s jaw tensed. I could see the flicker of irritation tightening his features. I was aware I was pressing the boundary, but I didn’t care.

“Explain why you’re being so distant.”

“I’m not sure why you see me that way.”

“Odessa,” he warned. His wet hair clung to his temples, his mouth a firm line. He pulled me closer until our faces nearly touched. The warmth of his breath grazed my cheek. “I’m giving you one final chance to speak the truth.”

I lowered my eyes, letting a pause settle between us before answering. “You know why, Gadriel.”

He didn’t move, but his presence felt heavier.