Te mention but nothing occurs

  The healer in the castle had some really fancy salves that increase the speed of healing expoially. I’ve heard of stuff like that before, but never actually seen it. I asked the healer about it, and she said they’re rather hard to make, and be dangerous if the wound isn’t bound correctly, so they’re usually only reserved for either life-or-death situations or very tiny wounds and must be applied by someone who knows what they’re doing. When I express , she firms that even though my wound is far from tiny, it's not in fact life-or-death; Khysmet just insisted I get the best treatment possible. It only takes a couple hours for my injury to be reduced from open cw wounds to a fresh scar, though the speedy recovery es at the cost of tiri excessively.

  Predictably, I am told to take time off and stay in bed while I recover. Since my injury heals so quickly, though, and I'm not actually feeling the emotional distress and shock that people seem to think I should be feeling, when I wake up after my extra long nap without pain and with hardly any trace of injury, I figure I’m good to go back tain.

  What I didn’t figure on is that when I get ready the m ao breakfast to meet Khysmet, he’s not there.

  I ask around. Apparently, he’s been locked in his private study sining back from the arena. Almost no one has seen or heard from him, and absolutely no one knows when he’s going to e out.

  I’m not sure what to do. I don’t see any point in going to the great hall in the m if he’s not present, so I just don’t go. I just sort of wahe castle, talking to the staff and addressing the rumors that have been spread about me ever since I came back from the arena covered in blood.

  There are two different versions of the story of my enter at the arena floating around the castle.

  Among the court he story boils down to me getting raped in an alleyway and needing to be rescued by the castle guards. It’s not particurly fttering, and makes me out to be a sort of helpless damsel in distress who ’t go anywhere without getting attacked. Also, I’m not sure why in this version, I get raped. I suppose that they all think that’s just what happens to women who are attacked in alleyways, so they assume that it happeo me. I don’t know.

  In the sed version, spread through the castle staff, I took on three men, eae twice my size, in a vicious knife fight in an alleyway, and mercilessly sughtered every one. Depending on who you ask, I may have allowed myself to be captured in order to sate my bloodlust. Whenever someone es up to ask me if this rumor is true, I always have to correct them that I didn’t kill the third man, plus I only mutited, not killed, one of the others. Other than that, though, it stays pretty accurate. Holy, I feel like it’s kind of difficult to exaggerate this story.

  Lots of people ask to see my scar. I think the i earns me a new level of respect with the castle staff. I am now somewhat feared.

  Rhys has not left my side since I returned. I think he bmes himself for not being there to prevent the whole situation, which I try in vain to reassure him is ridiculous.

  In all hoy, if he had been there, I would never have gotten separated from him. In the past, when he has followed me out into the city to apany me and some friends to go shopping or what have you, he’s always stucredibly close. Khysmet may have instructed him not to touch me – an order which he generally follows very carefully – but when I’m out of the castle, he’s on me like white on ribsp; I ever get more than a few feet away from him. Apparently keeping me safe supersedes the order not to touch me.

  But that doesn’t make it his fault that I got attacked. There’s no way he could have known what would happen. I hate how hard he is on himself about this. If I’m ever permitted to leave the castle again, I know he’ll be apanying me whether I like it or not.

  Day three after the i, and Khysmet is still o be found. I’m getting worried. It’s strahat he hasn’t even e to chee. I would have figured he would be h over me throughout my whole recovery process, given how ed he’s gotten before about even the possibility of my injury. I hope he’s okay.

  I wahrough the day again, closely followed by Rhys the whole time, feeling uain about what to do. Then, in the evening after dinner has finished, when the up for it is over and the kits are nearly empty, I hear something that spurs me into a.

  I’m i, sitting on a ter and kig my feet, hanging around and talking to the few remaining cooks, when one of Khysmet’s attending servants, Annika, es in with a pte of food. Finding it odd that she’s bringing food into the kit, I ask her what’s going on.

  “It’s King Khysmet,” she says in a nervous tone. “I’ve been bringing him something to eat for every meal, but I don’t thiouched anything. Not even onbsp; I just keep taking him food and switg out the ptes.” She looks like she’s about to cry. “I- I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help him.”

  I press my lips together in a thin line. He’s ing?

  Annika looks at me with wet, desperate eyes. “Cat… do you think you do something? Talk to him, maybe? He’s in his study right now.”

  I’m already getting down from the ter even before she asks. I pce a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m on it, Annika,” I say. “Deep breaths, okay? I’ll get him to eat something.”

  I'm holy not so sure that I'll be able to get him to eat if nobody else , but I at least am not afraid to get forceful with him if need be. Annika may not be willing to tell him to stop being such a baby a something, but I sure am.

  I walk through the hallways to get to his study, Rhys following closely behind. When I get to Khysmet’s door, though, I send Rhys away, insisting that I’ll e a him if I need him. He hesitates, but eventually nods, leavio deal with the king alone.

  I kno the intricate door. Nothing. No response be heard ing from inside.

  Well, that’s not going to stop me. I open the door aer his room.

  It’s a mess. I thought it was cluttered before, but this is on a whole other level. Loose papers are everywhere, along with discarded clothes, random books, and kniacks that seem to have been deliberately thrown across the room. I’m guessing he’s instructed his attendants not to anything.

  Khysmet himself is sitting at his desk, head down, scribbling frantically on an official-looking piece of paper. He doesn’t aowledge my intrusion whatsoever, nor does he look up when I approach.

  It’s not until I set a hand on his shoulder that he jolts and turns to address me.

  I think he must have been expeg one of his attending servants, because he looks like he’s about to chew me out until he sees that it’s me. When he does, his whole demeanor ges.

  His eyes widen, his breath catches in his throat. He freezes in pce.

  “Cat…” he chokes out in a weak rasp, the desperation in his voice utterly heartrending.

  I open my mouth to respond, but before I say anything, he lunges out his hands and tears desperately at my dress, tugging me forward into him, his cws ripping through the thin cotton. He pulls me in and buries his face against my torso, ing his arms around my bad pulling me against himself as flush as possible.

  It catches me off guard pletely. I don’t know what I was expeg when I came here to talk to him, but it wasn’t this. I ’t help but yelp a little when I first feel his frantids on me. I stare down uselessly as he rubs his fato the spht at the bottom of my ribcage.

  “K- Khysmet? What are you–”

  I yelp again as I am interrupted by him pulling me down into his p, ripping me off my feet with ease.

  Once I’m in his p, he moves his face from my lower sternum up to the exposed area of skin at my upper chest and nebsp; Then, in another move that I am pletely unprepared for, he starts lig me, flig his to over and over and fluttering it against my bare skin.

  My whole body flushes, and even though at first I'm more ed and fused than anything, the sensation still has heat pooling low in my gut. The way he's holding me leaves me little room to do anything but wiggle fruitlessly on his p, whily results in me grinding against him uionally. I 't help but wiggle, though, the feel of his tongue on my skin so sensual it's making me writhe. It's thid wet, but not excessively so, the forked tips a little ticklish as they brush ay skin.

  He licks a path from the ter of my upper chest up all the way to the shell of my ear and back down again, wresting little sounds from me as he skims across incredibly sensitive spots on my body. I think maybe I should be embarrassed about the noises I'm making, but it feels so good that I’m finding it hard to care.

  Thearts moving down my body, towards the gap between my breasts. Eventually, he enters the hem of my nee, and I figure he'll stop there, but he moves his arm and with one cw rips a vertical slit a couple of inches down the ter of my dress, extending his access to my cleavage. He keeps going, lig dowween the swell of my breasts, burying his fa the gap–

  "Woah! Khysmet, hang on, please, just–" I start floundering, bringing my hands to his face to push him away. I was getting lost in the moment, but his ripping my dress and springing my tits free jolted me out of my haze of arousal.

  He pushes back against my hands, desperately trying to get his face back against my flesh.

  "Just wait a sed, please!" I beg. Then I notice a iion against my hands.

  As I push against his face, I realize that he's not just cool to the touch like usual – he's freezing. Not only that, but he's shaking like a leaf. I look into his eyes, ahat they're gssy and unfocused. He's not well. He really hasn’t beeing, has he?

  "Khysmet," I say, trying to force him to look at me. "How long has it been since you've eaten?"

  He's still struggling against my hands, still shaking. I cup his cheeks and bring my face forward until we're o nose.

  "Khysmet," I repeat, "how long?"

  He falters in his struggle, his eyes ing into focus somewhat and looking at me like he's just now seeing that I'm here. He takes a shaky breath in.

  "Three days," he rasps.

  "e with me," I say, "I'm taking you to the kit."

  He allows me to stand up off his p. I reach down and grab one of his hands, tuggily but insistently until he gets up onto his feet. Then I lead him out of his room and down the hallway.

  I don't let go of his hand the entire way. I feel him stumble occasionally, and he's stantly wandering to either side, seemingly uo keep a straight line. I keep looking back to che him, and I squeeze his hand reassuringly every on a while. Sometimes he squeezes back.

  I'm a little embarrassed to be seen with my dress ripped and my tits half hanging out, but they're still covered enough that I'm not fshing anyone, so I'll just have to suck it up. Taking care of Khysmet is more important than my modesty right now.

  Whe to the kit, there's only two cooks there, doing prep work for tomorrow. I pull Khysmet over to the first chair I see and push him down into it. I cup his cheeks in my hands to make him look at me again.

  "What are you hungry for?" I ask.

  He blinks up at me for a few seds, seeming to go in and out of focus.

  "Eggs," he eventually says.

  I sigh and turn towards the cooks watg curiously from their prep station.

  "Do you think you could whip his majesty up some eggs to eat?" I ask them.

  "There's a few trays of deviled eggs in the ice chest," one of them says. "Is that okay?"

  I turn to Khysmet, who is g at my waist to keep me from moving away from where I'm standiween his legs.

  "Is that okay?" I repeat to him.

  He nods.

  I turn back to the cook.

  "Do you think you could bring them over here?"

  "Of course," he says, theo fetch them.

  While we wait, Khysmet leans his head forward as it against my sternum, not insistently like before, just gently leaning against me. I sigh and start rubbing my hand along the top of his head in a soothiing motion. He practically melts against me, humming tentedly at my toubsp;

  The cos a couple trays over, and I thank him, silently willing him not to notice my torn nee. If he does, he doesn't show it, and goes back across the kit to the prep statiht after setting the trays down.

  Khysmet doesn't move, still staying leaned against me.

  "Hey," I say, nudging him a little. "e on, you have to eat."

  "Feed me," he instructs without moving his head from its resting spot.

  I scoff. "I'm not going to feed you. You're a grown-ass man. Feed yourself."

  He shifts so his is resting against my chest, looking up at me defiantly.

  "I'm not going to eat unless it's from your hand. Feed me, or watch me slowly starve to death. Your choice."

  I blush at the demand, gng at the cooks to see if they caught that, hoping maybe they're far away enough that they didn't hear. When I look at them, I see them immediately turn away and go back to what they were doing. Great. We have an audience for this.

  I don’t want to feed him. It feels way too intimate, which I realize sounds ridiculous given the fact that I just let him get to sed base with his tongue. At least no one was watg while that happehough.

  I know that by askio feed him in the first pce, he’s just doing what he always does – seeing how much he get away with demanding of me. Seeing how unfortable he make me. I want to do what I always do and push batil he drops his demands down to something I handle, but something is holding me babsp; I’m worried about him. He o eat, as soon as possible. I don’t want to find out how stubborn he’s willing to be on this one. I bite my lip. I suppose I hahis demand.

  I take a deep breath to steel myself, theantly pi egg half off the tray and hold it in front of him.

  "Open up," I say brusquely.

  Khysmet readily obliges, and I move my hand forward until he closes his mouth around my fingers, lig across them in the process and making my spiingle. I withdraw my haly, rubbing against his smooth, dry lips as I do. He stares me down as he swallows. I feel my heart pound against my ribcage. I pick up an.

  We go slowly. Sometimes he looks directly at me while he takes the food from my fingers, and sometimes he closes his eyes and runs his tongue along my hand. I'm not sure which is worse. Or better. I don't know. I'm trying not to think about how I feel about what I'm doing right now.

  I make sure not to rush him. Sometimes he has to take a break, leaning his head against my ribcage and groaning softly, probably a little sick from ing for so long. When that happens, I just my arms around him and stroke his head gently, sometimes making little soothing sounds, until he recovers.

  After I get about thirty of the little egg halves in him, he's looking much better and not nearly as shaky. If he were human I would have tried to get him to eat something else too, but as I uand it, for Sungians, eggs are a fairly plete meal. Wheells me he's had enough, I pop the st egg I'm holding into my mouth instead, not wanting to set one I've already touched back with the rest.

  Khysmet's hands are still settled around my waist, still holding me close between his legs. He rubs his thumb idly on my side. His deep red eyes have much more crity than they did before, and now as he looks up at me I clearly see a deep and poignant sorrow reflected in them.

  He takes a hesitant breath.

  “I’m not…” he starts. “I’m not mad at you for what happened.”

  I blink. He's not mad? Then why hasn't he talked to me in three days, apparently starving himself in the process? I keep quiet a him go on.

  “I’m not even mad at myself really," he says, "not after thinking about it for a while. I regret letting you go, but also I don’t think it was the wrong decision. I want you to enjoy your life here, and I tell it’s important for you to get to run around and experienew things.” He pauses and hangs his head a bit. “I did have to let Omagh go. He’s a good man, but I just ’t trust him again after that.”

  I nod, but don’t say anything. I uand the decision. I’m just gd Khysmet didn’t take some sort of rash a against him. Omagh is a good man, and he wouldn’t deserve that.

  “When he came to tell me he had lost you,” Khysmet tinues, “I told myself not to panibsp; I immediately went to track you down, since I know your st better than most and pick it out more easily in a crowd.”

  I knit my brow quizzically.

  “Do Sungians have good senses of smell?” I ask. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Yes, we do. The thing we do with our tongues?” He flicks his out to demonstrate. “It signifitly augments our sense of smell. If you had decided to leave the arena pletely and wahe streets for hours, I could still have tracked you down.”

  “Huh,” I say. “I always thought it was just an expressive reflex. Like a person biting their lip, you know. It means something, but doesn’t actually serve any purpose.”

  “Nope. It is a reflex, but it definitely serves a purpose.”

  I think ba the time I’ve spent with Khysmet, all the times I’ve ever seen him do that, looking at them in a new light.

  “...So,” I say, “you sniff me a lot, then.”

  He smirks up at me from between my breasts and flicks his tongue again.

  “You happen to smell incredibly entig.”

  One of the cooks coughs when he says that. I flush an even darker red than I already am and gn their dire, but they both have their heads down, hard at work.

  Khysmet goes on as though nothing happened.

  “So I was leading the guards, following the trail of your st,” he tinues. His breath hitches in his chest. “And suddenly I smelled blood. Lots of blood. Right from the dire that you had been heading.”

  He tightens his grip on my waist and looks up at me as though in agony.

  “Cat…” he says, “I’ve never been so terrified in my entire life.”

  My heart skips a beat. He really cares that much about me?

  Before I process that further, he goes on.

  “When we first met,” he says, “you told me that you had never been ‘effectively mugged’. I remember distinctly, because I thought to myself, ‘Effectively mugged? What the hell does that mean?’” He chuckles weakly. “After seeing the age you caused with otle knife, I think I uand. The look on your face when Omagh killed the st one wasn’t relief, it was disappoi.”

  I press my lips into a line and look away sheepishly, feeling oddly exposed.

  “I know yoing to want to leave the castle again,” he says. “I want you to know – I’m not going to keep you caged in here, even after what happened.”

  “I think that being human is what made me a target,” I admit with a sigh. “I don’t think otle cealed knife is going to be enough if something simir happens again. I was lucky that they were all drunk.”

  “I ’t believe you ged into an alley by three men, all twice your size, and you’re still saying you got lucky.” He ughs wryly and shakes his head. “But yes, ime you go out, I would like you to be more visibly and accessibly armed. Also, I’m ing with you.”

  I knit my brow. “You ’t e with me every siime I leave the castle.”

  He looks up at me with a challenge in his eyes.

  “Wan? I’ll put you on a leash if necessary.”

  I physically recoil from him. “Dear gods, please no."

  He chuckles and pulls me back close.

  “Oh,” I say before he fire something back, “speaking of people who will never let me leave the castle unapanied again… Whatever led you to not bme yourself for my little i, you try sharing your wisdom with Rhys? I don’t think he’s going to arrive at that clusion himself.”

  Khysmet shrugs. “I’ll do what I , but I don’t think it will have any effebsp; Admittedly, some of my self-fiveness only came after seeing you covered in buckets of blood that weren’t your own, looking hungry for more. It made me realize you’re not as helpless as I thought you were. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to do everything I to protect you – but you’re clearly a force of nature that I couldn’t possibly even hope to trol. Maybe kill someone in front of Rhys, and he’ll uand.”

  I hum thoughtfully. The logistics of that might prove difficult, since I really don’t kill that many people on a regur basis. I’ll keep that in my back pocket, though.

  “It’s te,” Khysmet remarks. “Why don’t I walk you to your room?”

  “Why don’t I walk you to your room?” I ter. “You were pretty shaky on the way here, you know. I’m not vihat you even find your way back.”

  “I’m feeling much better now that you’ve nursed me back to health.”

  I purse my lips and shoot him a doubtful look. He ges tack.

  “I don’t want you wandering around with your dress like that for anyone else to see.”

  Before I react, he reaches up with one d with a sharp movement, rips my dress open slightly further down my chest.

  I gasp loudly, then smack him on the side of his head for that one. The only thing my assault does is make him ugh, though. Asshole.

  “Fine!” I shout. “Just don’t bme me if you ’t find your room and end up passed out in the hallway somewhere!”

  I walk away without waiting for him to get up. I would hang around cheg to make sure he’s okay and not too shaky upon standing, but he just lost the privilege of my sympathy. From behind me I hear him stand, stumble slightly, then follow me out of the kit like a lost puppy, running a little to catch up.