Responsibility Ch. 05

The cycle continued. Place to place. Tents then inns and then tents again.

When Rahela's bandages were removed for the last time, there was a little scar between her neck and throat. It was at that point the the Emperor approached and claimed, with the medic and assistants and everyone else nearby to hear, that he'd see to it that she'd have the best soaps and creams. If the scar continued to bother her, then he'd, as he put it, "find the widest necklaces and softest wimples to wear."

Rahela only looked away and said she was honored by such promises, but they weren't necessary. "You need not fret over your Betrothed. I'll loose no sleep over this tiny thing."

She disliked the playful lines that formed around his eyelids as he smiled down at her.

They were at a campsite when it happened again.

Another private discussion, an important discussion. Not even the maids-in-waiting. Not even the squires nor pages. No. None of them should be around.

Night. Wooden dividers. Little oil lamps allowing only the bare minimum of light.

The Emperor took one of her plaits in his hand. She'd had them held in place by long leather cases that covered most of the hair. She hadn't needed to braid the strands. The laces holding the cases in place were sufficient. So, the man wasn't technically touching her hair, but Rahela still felt aggrieved.

A tug. A command. "Come." Hoarse and dense.

Her head pointed down, she moved forward, just close enough to smell the fabric of his clothing. That annoying scent was there too, that sweet one she didn't understand.

He put a hand on her back and gave a little nudge.

Rahela was knocked into him.

Both of his hands went to her cheeks. So much heat. Could she suffocate from it? He could hide all of her features if he wanted to.

His thumbs were close to her lips. Even in the darkness, he could find them.

Her head was forced backwards. That's how Rahela thought of it. Force. However, she didn't resist. She knew better. He had too much power. It was a gamble she couldn't justify.

Her tight fingers were pressed against his ribs, but soon they moved away.

Because the space behind Rahela's knees had been taken by one of the man's arms. The other arm went around her torso from behind. He was holding her up to him. Her leather cases creaked as her hair was randomly twisted and pressed. This wasn't comfortable.

There was a daring kiss, a hot kiss. Her stomach jolted. Rahela didn't want it. Her desires weren't important, but his was.

Her legs were only a little bent. She was held with an ease she should've expected. Perhaps, if she moved with enough intent, she could escape with nothing more than a few bruises from falling. Once again, she knew better than to try. She even took some of his clothes in her hands, mostly near the rib-cage. She felt like a nervous cat.

Dinner with wine was in his breath. Of course. She had enough logic behind her suppressed consternation to understand it was still fresh enough not to be sour.

The Emperor moved his lips away. A hum and a smacking noise came with that movement. The dark shape of his head had a vague appearance. Rahela couldn't study him well. Her head swung away.

His voice was flossy on her cheek and temple.

"You must become accustomed to my skin and breath. That will have your heart resting well."

She didn't believe that, but she didn't give an objection. She didn't give much of anything.

"I won't allow any difficulty," he murmured. "You have an endearing face and soft flesh. You're the only one that needs convincing."

She wished that was a lie. If that sentiment became well known, it might anger any lovers he might have, which could lead to more assassination attempts. She'd already imagined that several jealous nobles were upset to know that their daughters hadn't been chosen to marry the Emperor. Who these nobles and imagined lovers were, Rahela couldn't say. She didn't know any of them. There were also rebellious people to consider. They might not approve of their Emperor marrying her for political or cultural reasons.

Rahela's teeth pinched at the inside of her lower lip. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something to say, something that could please him, but she didn't have any experience with this kind of scene. She wasn't supposed to have any experience.

He said, "I won't put you in a pot of boiling soup." There was a tight chuckle. Then he moved again. Her cheek felt his lips move. "I won't harm you." A light kiss. Her stomach moved again. "You're already tender and sweet. You don't need any fire."

Then, relief? He was setting her back down so she could stand?

Her hair fell back into place, but her heart was still quick. Her fingers had slid away and down from the man. They then rested at Rahela's sides.

"Little Princess?" He reached down to pull on her plait of hair again. It was almost as if he expected the thing to snap off. "Come sit on my lap."

He led her to a chair she was hardly aware of. He sat down, and then he had her plant herself on his thick thighs. Her back was against him. One of his arms crossed over her, keeping her in place. Rahela still had some irritation when trying to remain balanced. Her legs kept readjusting.

Soon, she felt the weight of his hand again. Boldly, it dared to grip one of her thighs, although her clothing shielded her flesh. A grinding kind of yelp burst from her throat when it happened. He didn't linger, but he did nudge and position her body so that one of her legs was between his and the other dangled off.

Undignified. Ungainly. Even boorish.

Her skirts were stretched out with her knees. They weren't enough to protect her skin from the warmth in the man's thigh. It didn't even matter that he had his own clothes. He was like a long pillow that had been heated by a pan full of coals. The area between her thighs was sensitive. Maybe that was why it felt so hot there?

"Isn't that more comfortable?" the Emperor asked, but he might not have expected an answer. At the very least, Rahela couldn't think of one.

She felt his chest shake as he laughed. "When you're full with my child, you'll be clumsy but adorable. Such a little frame for a round belly."

Rahela didn't know if she wanted to imagine it or not, but she knew that pregnancy was the best option in the future.

"But you may rest well in my arms, Little Princess." His free hand went up to pat her shoulder. "I won't give anyone the opportunity to question your timing. I'll see to it that your belly will be filled only after we're married. Until then, anyone that says you aren't a virgin will be forced to say it before my feet."

At least ... there was that piece of comfort?

Rahela sighed. Her bosom pressed into the arm holding her. She thought her nipples tingled. She didn't know why. The curious, unnerving reaction was ignored.

"Not a word has left you," the man said after a few more seconds. "Would you like to leave?"

A chance to flee! Rahela's heart might've forgotten about a beat or two.

"I might be weak," she said. "I should find my maids and rest."

"Then you'll have to go to them."

He gripped her waist and helped her get onto her feet. Then he got up and led her out of the partial room of dividers. He handed her an oil lamp and pointed towards the exit.

***