Don’t Teach an Eagle to Fly – 5. chapter

First time here? Start with Chapter 1.

Kaelan leaned over her and without a word began cutting through the clothing clinging to her body. Neatly. Methodically. From her neck down to her hips. Every movement was calm. He didn’t rush. When the fabric parted and revealed her breasts, he hesitated for a moment. It seemed to him that her body stiffened slightly, but it didn’t move. He continued, his expression unchanged. He tore away the last remnants of clothing until she lay completely naked before him, bound only by ropes tight around her ankles and her wrists behind her back.

She went rigid. She had goosebumps all over her body and her eyes were open, though she was still exhausted. He didn’t miss the faint twitch in her abdomen, nor the way she held her breath. She said nothing. She half-closed her eyes and pressed her lips together.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never had a man!” he shouted with contempt.

She didn’t answer. She only turned her head farther away and began to blush. He gasped and his head spun. So an innocent girl barely of age was his key captive, condemned to cruel torture until she put an end to the slaughter of her people in this unequal war?! He struggled to keep everything that had broken inside him contained. And there was plenty of it.

This is not right.

He swallowed hard and without a word gathered her into his arms. Naked. Fragile. Weak. Completely bound. Slowly he carried her to the steam rising from the tub and carefully lowered her into it. The water enveloped her in heat. She shut her eyes and her cheeks flushed even deeper. Her shoulders tensed for a moment and her whole body drew in, as if trying to hide in even the smallest wisp of steam. Shame burned her more fiercely than the hot water.

Kaelan knelt by the tub and without a word took the prepared sponge. He began moving it gently over her shoulder, then her neck, her shoulders. Slowly. Thoroughly. Without unnecessary tenderness. She remained motionless, yielding like a dead body, but he knew she was awake. He felt the tension beneath his fingertips, sensed how her skin reacted to his touch. After a while, he set the sponge on the rim of the tub. Without a word, he bent to her wrists and reached for the rope. His fingers touched her damp skin, just for a moment. The knot came loose with a few pulls. Then he stood, stepped back a few paces, leaned against the wall, and fixed his gaze on her.

She sat without moving for a while. Naked. Submerged to the waist. Exposed to the gaze of the man she hated and feared at the same time. At last she lifted her hand and pressed the sponge to her shoulder. She drew a ragged breath. She moved slowly, with the clumsy caution of someone who longed to disappear. With every touch, shame flooded her cheeks. She washed herself because she had to. Because she didn’t want him to do it.

And Kaelan hoped again that this small friendly gesture would help him win her over. And that afterward it would be enough to threaten her a little and he wouldn’t have to start truly hurting her. He left her for a few minutes. Then he reached for the rope he had set aside on the rim earlier and spoke in a low, steady voice.

“Stretch your hands out in front of you.”

She pierced him with her gaze and didn’t move. Reluctantly, Kaelan went to her ankles protruding from the water. He grabbed the rope binding them and jerked them upward sharply. He didn’t pull them so far that her bottom slipped and the upper half of her body went under the water. But it would have taken very little.

“You know all I have to do, don’t you?” he asked in a firm, hard voice.

Nirella froze. She held her breath, but didn’t take her eyes off his face. She knew. If he pulled the rope even a little more, her head would vanish beneath the surface. He could torment her. He could hold her under. He could even drown her, and no one would stop him.

Reluctantly, with a defiant expression, she thrust her hands out in front of her. Kaelan bent again and began tying her wrists. Slowly. Firmly. With the practiced ease of someone who knew every knot that could not be undone without help. The one that trapped her now was the kind that yielded neither to strength nor to skill. One she could not defeat.

“We teach boys,” he began, speaking slowly as he tied, “to assess the situation and their options before they defend themselves or attack. And if the older ones want to fight, we teach them more. Simply put, you don’t have military training. You misjudge your options.”

With a sharp tug he finished the knot, fixed his gaze on her gray eyes, and added with emphasis,

“Princess Nirella.”

She stiffened. Kaelan smiled faintly and stood her up in the tub. He wrapped her in a sheet, dried her, then lifted her into his arms. Without a word he carried her back to the bed and carefully set her down on the blanket. The fabric clung to her damp body, but she didn’t protest. She sat quietly, her gaze turned aside.

Kaelan stepped away only for a moment. From the bench by the door he took a cup of water and a bowl of food. Bread. Slices of meat. Fruit. Without a word, he placed them beside her on the bed.

“Eat something,” he said simply.

She turned up her nose in contempt and looked away. He watched her and understood.

“I won’t force you,” he began. “But if you eat nothing, two things will happen. First, forget about me letting you starve to death to avoid interrogation. Next time I’ll get that food into you by force. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen it, but like any form of torture, it isn’t pleasant. And second, for a very long time you’ll lose the right to eat on your own, even if you decide you want to later. I’ll feed you myself.”

He immediately saw that the first threat didn’t move her at all. The second, however, made her blood boil. Even so, she only drew a breath and remained silent. He nodded and reached for the plate. But before he could lift it, the princess snatched a piece of something from it. He had no idea what it was. Neither did she. He only tried to rein in his triumphant smirk. He straightened and waited until she ate that piece of something. And as he watched her, he admitted reluctantly that torturing her would likely be pointless. At least not the kind of torture practiced by executioners in underground dungeons.