trece

It's the next day and I'm on my way to the inn. If I remember correctly, I should come back today. Platura had said three days. And I can't wait to get there. Not because I really want to meet the king, but because I want to know if Platura is still alive and because I want to escape from Zaret. His presence drives me insane. It's really exhausting not even being safe from him at home anymore. And to make matters worse, he snores. Not loud. It's more of a faint grunt here and there. But that's enough for me. I'm not used to it. It's usually quiet for me at night. I'm the only one making noises.

That's why I kept waking up throughout the night. While it was really refreshing to hit Zaret to make him stop snoring, that doesn't help me now either. I'm damn tired and didn't even look at myself in the spoon. My dark circles must be black. And fat. If they are noticeable at all under the wounds from yesterday's attack by Zartes. So all in all, I'm probably not going to look very handsome. But I don't care about that either. I can't change it anyway.

The only good thing is the dress that was given to me by Platura. It is difficult. But the fabric is really beautiful. I have never worn anything that feels almost soft on the skin. Normally my stuff leaves more of a scratch on the skin than a feeling of well-being. And I enjoy that. Also the way the dress swings around my legs with every step looks beautiful. I almost feel like a child who has discovered something new and can't marvel enough at all the great things there are in the world.

But as soon as I stand in front of the door of the tavern, this moment of happiness is gone and I take a deep breath. There are probably guards behind the door and I sneak a look around again. But nobody pays attention to me. And that just makes me shake my head. I'm used to getting lost in the crowd. But only in the gutter. Not in the upscale part of town. Here I had more of the experience of being eyed like an insect. And again it shows how much the clothes decide how I'm perceived. After all, I'm still a prostitute - a prostitute in a better dress. That's enough to fool people. But since I should really be worrying about a lot and not about that, I now step into the taproom. And as thought Two guards are waiting for me there. But not only. Platura is also there. And grins at me.

This is exactly the fact that makes me falter. I didn't expect to see him here. Suddenly I realize that I really thought he was dead. That he fell victim to Zaret.

"Kalota," he says quietly and immediately wraps his arm around me, pushing me forward. And me? I can't believe what's happening here. How can he live? So I just look at him with wide eyes while he looks at me eyes. And that's exactly how he seems to notice my new wounds. The smile freezes and suspicion takes its place. "Have you been bothered again?"

I still don't understand. But there is only one logical conclusion, Platura did not go to Zaret himself, but must have sent men there. And with that, I'm wondering how Zaret knew I wanted him dead. Somehow I thought he guessed it through Platura. But that can be bad if he's standing here in front of me. He doesn't look hurt either. His movements are too fluid for that. "What do you mean?" Yes, I should probably pretend I know what he's talking about. But I still haven't decided if I really want to work for Zaret. I could just as well be telling the truth. That he alive and attacked me again.

Platura frowns and doesn't push me any further. "I mean, if that Zaret showed up again." The voice is lurking. As if he senses something is wrong. But right now I can't help it. So I'm supposed to try to break away from Zaret's influence again But it has gone wrong before and I'm terrified that it will happen again. Then I would suffer. And not just me. I'm sure that Zaret will carry out his threat and Claire will end up in his line of fire as a result. I could never forgive myself for that. And suddenly I'm filled with anger. I really believed Platura that he would help me. Trusted him. And what happened? Nothing. No, actually even worse. Zaret attacked me and now lives with me. All because Platura apparently didn't go there himself. And with that I realize that I shouldn't trust anyone anymore. Only me. I should choose the path that seems safest to me. And that's just not to stab Zaret in the back. So I shake my head. "No, he didn't show up again."

And now the smile appears on the face again. "Very good. Then it must have been this Zaret that my men killed." With that he pushes me forward again and we go up the stairs. But I hardly notice that. Killed? Someone was murdered? Zaret didn't say anything about that. Although he generally said little about the attack. And I didn't want to ask either. After all, that could have led to him attacking me again. So there's only platura left to find out what actually happened. "You killed someone? ' I whisper, having an incredibly difficult time sounding neutral. I would like to shake him to tell me what happened. But even the question is actually already too obvious. And so I hope that Platura blames my innocence. Only now do I realize what I asked of him.

"Yes of course. That was the order. The two guards were also killed, but that's their own fault." That just makes me gasp in disbelief. Platura sounds almost bored. Like this isn't about people, it's about objects. Nothing special. And the worst of it is , that's probably the case. He doesn't care that he sent two men to their deaths.

"Then how do you know Zaret was killed if you weren't there?" My voice is so low again. It's as if my fluttering thoughts sap the strength to speak aloud. But I can't make out who was murdered there. Zaret said he wasn't home. So who was in his apartment? Or did he kill someone and drag him there so Platura would just think they got him?

"After nobody came back, I checked. There were three dead in the room. The description of one matched yours of Zaret. Except for the scar. But the cheek was slashed, so I couldn't really judge whether it was the right man." And now we've reached the top and my head is spinning. Actually, I wanted to concentrate on the king. I wanted to please him and got a grip on my nervousness. But none of that matters now. Yes, doesn't even seem to be present. The questions that arise weigh everything down.

"And aren't you wondering who killed your men?" God, what the hell is happening here? But I'll do one thing, ask Zaret who died in his place. No matter how much I like the answer After all, it could be an innocent person who died because of it, who died because of me.

Platura laughs, and the swelling sound makes me flinch violently. That alone shows how stretched my nerves are. "No, I don't care. Probably some people from the gutter who felt something like togetherness between the arms." And although Platura didn't plan it, I now see why Zaret knew the men came from me. The uniforms. Probably had "The men have the king's mark on their clothes. So Zaret just had to put two and two together. And as much as Platura wields power, he's disappointing me right now. In fact, I really thought he wouldn't underestimate anyone from the gutter. But he did. He underestimated Zaret. Hugely underestimated. A small mistake that I have to pay dearly for. And he will probably get it too. At least if I do what Zaret says.

"But enough of that," he mutters softly, and suddenly I sense the change in the air. But before I realize what's going on, he's pushing me against the wall of the hallway. I gasp immediately, wanting to push myself back I try to apply the pressure, but I can't. How can I? Platura is strong. Doesn't suffer from malnutrition. So my face rubs painfully against the wood and as I open my mouth slightly to say something, a splinter digs into mine Skin.

"Do you really think that I won't notice if I'm being lied to?" Platura hisses and now exerts even more force on my neck. I whimper softly and can only close my eyes in resignation. He notices that? But not that it wasn't Zaret lying in the room full of dead people? How can Platura seem to have the sensitivity to convict me of a lie and yet fail to see what is so obvious.

"I don't care what you're not telling me, and I don't care who hit you like that." He presses his knee into my lower back and I yelp. God, he hurts me. Why does everyone always hurt me Can't there be a man in my life who doesn't feel the need to hurt me And there's this thought again that there must be a reason for the behavior of others, that the reason is me A kind of mirror for my insignificance That no one cares how each pain pushes me deeper into the darkness Keeps me dying inside.

And now Platura approaches my ear. The heavy breath shows the aggression this man holds. "But if you don't tell me anything about this deal, then I'll become your personal nightmare." I believe him. Every word. But again, Platura underestimates Zaret's power. Well, he probably doesn't even know for sure if Zaret is still alive or not. And thus doesn't even know his rival. But that doesn't matter. Platura doesn't realize that what he's about to inflict on me is nothing new. It's part of my life. Zaret worked on me for years to teach me humility Platura can't trump that, not with a threat, nor with the inflicted pain.

Then he pulls away from me and while I'm still crouching against the wall, he brushes off his clothes. As if he had dirt on it. As if he wants to erase my marks on the fabric. That makes me exhale shakily as I turn to him. He immediately signals me with a hand gesture that I should go on. And I do. My legs are shaking and I have a hard time putting one foot in front of the other, but I don't want to feel any more of his anger. So I keep groping. Not sure where to go actually. And just as I want to go through another door, Platura speaks: "In there." There is no longer any warmth in the voice that was contained at the beginning. This sounds harsh. But I know that too, so I keep dealing with it, but follow his instructions and open the door. Apparently too slow. An annoyed tone sounds. And even while this echoes in the air, I am pushed. This now robs me of any steadfastness and I stumble a few steps into the room before falling hard to my knees. And now the so beautifully swinging dress is a disadvantage. The careless movements make it flutter in the air. Gives me no protection from the impact.

The ribbed wood can eat right into my skin. Tear these up. But I do not care. One more injury. This makes no difference. What is important is platura. That I keep an eye on him. So I spin around and look at him with wide eyes. But he doesn't pounce on me. Just casually stands in the doorway and gives me a disparaging look.

"Prepare yourself. He's coming soon." With that he closes the door and I'm alone. But that's not what draws my attention. Even the king is banished from my mind. But I know the look Platura just gave me. A look that only someone who is actually already dead gets. Something between resignation and pity lies in the eyes. In the entire broadcast. A lot of people looked at my mother that way. Yes, even I used to look at her like that all the time. over months. If I know one thing, it's this expression. And that makes me hard to swallow. It shows that there is another danger somewhere. A danger that I do not yet recognize. Which affects neither Zaret nor Platura. And with that, muffled voices ring out from the hallway. Xerxes is coming.

****

I just stare at the door. Wait for this to open. And during that time, my mind seeps that I'm not following his requirements. He had told me how to receive him. And not in a dress. Not dressed. And so I jump up and tear wildly at the sleeve. Somehow trying to force him over my shoulder. Of course it doesn't work. As well as. The lacing is too tight for that.

"Crap," I whisper softly and now reach for my back. Again and again my gaze darts to the door. But it's still closed. Damned. I have a task. Just one. Being naked and sitting on the floor. How can I miss this? Of course I know why I didn't think of that. But that will hardly interest Xerxes. He will only see me defying his orders. At the first day. I make a tight noise, still trying to catch that stupid strap on my back. Nothing more would be necessary. With that I could loosen the lacing and finally rip the dress off my body.

"Come on." And with that I catch the thin ribbon. I immediately exhale with relief and pull on it. The fabric around my breasts loosens. That's enough for me. I pull on my sleeve again and finally it works. The dress can be pulled over my shoulder. Releases my chest. And while the air heated by the fire settles on my area that was just covered, the door opens. Xerxer's laughter can be heard and I stop mid-movement. crap damn it!

I would like to rush forward and push him out again. But that probably wouldn't lead to the desired success of having more time, just making him angry. So all I can do is stare at him wide-eyed. Xerxes immediately looks around and it doesn't even take a second for his gaze to linger on me. He raises his eyebrow slightly and I can't tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"I expected a different sight." He kicks the door and it snaps shut. The bang makes me wince and I finally wake up from my rigid state, wanting to pull the dress further down. But Xerxes just shakes his head. "Let it be." He examines me and takes a step towards me. "There's something about that too. Like I caught you undressing." Very slowly it touches my décolleté and my gaze lingers on my exposed breast for a little too long. Then he circles me. Drags your fingertip over my skin.

"But that's kind of true, isn't it?" he whispers in my ear while brushing my hair from my shoulders to my back. And again I notice this beautiful sound of his voice. That tune that tells me everything's going to be okay. Such a beautiful contrast to the rumble of Zaret.

"I...I was just about to prepare," I want to defend myself, but Xerxes just laughs. Interrupts me with that. "Yes I see that." There is no aggression in what is said. But I'm not sure why that is. It could also just be that I don't hear it because I've never heard such a soft voice. How could I ever hear anger in that when I've never heard such warmth in words? So I say nothing. I don't even know what to say to that.

But Xerxes doesn't even seem to expect an answer. Instead, he gathers my hair and ties a ribbon around it. And that looks tender. Almost carefully, he grabs the last few strands and pushes them to the braid and fastens them. It looks surreal. I want to associate this man with the one from last time. With the punches. But I really don't want to succeed.

"How's your butt?" he asks, then lets go of my hair. I frown in confusion, understanding less and less. Since when does a suitor take an interest in my well-being? Since when does anyone even care? He tugs at a strand of hair and it's immediately clear that he's expecting an answer.

"It's OK." You can clearly hear my confusion. But that doesn't seem to bother him either. Or maybe he even understands it? After all, his behavior is not normal. Not at all.

"Mhm," he murmurs, and a rustle shows he's moving. But I can't see him. He's right behind me. And then hot breath hits me. Sweeps down my ear to my neck. "Today I wanted to protect your butt anyway." And as if to prove his own words a lie, he grabs my butt roughly. The fingers literally dig into my skin and even if the fabric of the dress is still in between, that's enough to make me gasp. The welts are still too sensitive.

He hums contentedly, as if my soft sound of pain amuses him. "At least that's what I intend to do." With that he moves away and now reappears in my field of vision. An almost mischievous grin is on his lips and now I can take a closer look at him. Gray highlights run through the black hair and the slightly longer three-day beard. Show that he is older. But there are hardly any wrinkles on his skin. These can only be guessed at very subtly. Especially the ones on the eyes. The little crow's feet. But that doesn't make him unattractive. Rather interesting.

"Today it's supposed to be different than last time," Xerxes explains calmly and looks at my mouth. "After all, I want to find out your weaknesses." And now there is a threat in what has been said. Even if the voice is still melodic, it sounds almost humming. And that makes me stiff. Xerxes seems to register and his grin widens. He brushes roughly over my lower lip and doesn't even look me in the eye. Just follow the movements of his thumb. "Apparently it's not pain, huh?"

I would like to laugh. Of course pain is bad. But there are far worse things. But how should someone like him understand that. One who lives only in prosperity and whom no one can harm. Nevertheless, his words do not leave me cold. He wants to find my weaknesses? Then he should talk to Zaret. He knows her pretty well. Nevertheless, what has been said arouses further astonishment in me. Why is he telling me this? Usually the punters just take what they want. So why is he acting so differently?

And then his gaze eats into me, chasing away my thoughts. The eyes narrow slightly and he seems to be looking for something. This allows me to marvel at the green even more. It looks kinda fake. Frosted. And yet unfathomable. "Interesting," he murmurs. Probably more to himself than to me. But instead of continuing to examine me, he straightens up again.

"You don't seem intimidated by simple words." That's not a question, it's just a statement. I'd like to tell him that's not true. But that would be stupid. That would only cut my own flesh.

"At least not from someone you don't know." And probably without knowing it, Xerxes hits the bull's eye. After all, Zaret's words work wonders for me. Or? I'm actually not really sure about that. I would say so, but Zaret doesn't seem to see it that way. At least judging by his words.

"But I'll change that." And that's exactly how I finally understand what's happening here. He's testing me. Still. He is looking for a reaction to what he has said. Probably scared or something. But how am I supposed to show him anything like that? His words make me panic. After all, all he tells me is that he wants to see me suffer. And not played that. Not just a little. But real. And so fear spreads through me. But this is bearable. Nothing against all the other times.

"Well, let's end my monologue then." He smiles slightly and traces the contours of my dress with his finger, touching my exposed breast. "I want you to always tell me how you feel." He looks up and looks at me questioningly. I immediately nod without really thinking about it. Should I say how I feel? That could be difficult. Why should I expend the energy to speak when no one cares what I have to say? But for Xerxes, my vote of approval doesn't seem to be enough. He immediately raises an annoyed eyebrow and leans forward so that our faces float in front of each other.

"Answer in words." And now his voice has taken on a new depth. One that I don't know and that exudes unspeakable dominance. It almost seems as if another man was speaking. And that sends shivers down your spine. But I don't pay attention to this, but clear my throat before I speak: "Yes, I'm trying."

He smiles slightly, seems to notice my hoarse voice. But what should I do? There's a man standing in front of me - no, not just any man, but the king - and he's talking to me. Normal. Not condescending. Not hateful. He treats me equally. At least mostly. When I look away from the finger that is slowly disappearing under the fabric on the décolleté.

"I want to be addressed." Immediately got the nod reflex again, but managed to stop myself this time. But I can't prevent a slight lifting of my head. And that's exactly what makes my face blush. God, he must think I'm stupid and can't follow a simple request. "This is not a problem."

Our faces are still so close to us. I can literally feel his breath. Still, he seems to notice that I'm ashamed. He just snorts in amusement and shakes his head almost imperceptibly. "How can it be that you feel something like shame when you don't even fear pain?" And now he slips his finger a little more under my dress, pulls it down slightly. I open my lips, want to answer, but Xerxes forestalls me: "I don't care." And so I close my mouth again and just wait and see what happens.

"May your suitors kiss you?" It's funny just that he asks. Many just try. I block every time. Not flashy. Most of the time I manage it so that the clients don't even notice that I've just spoiled the kiss. But when they notice, it's usually followed by beatings. "No."

Xerxes nods imperceptibly and now pulls at my dress with a strong tug. Immediately, my other breast is also exposed and I can't help but wince a little. "Will you make an exception for me?" I would like to say no. Exceptions are dangerous. Can quickly become a habit. But Zaret's words echo in my head. The king must confide in me. A kiss would certainly only contribute positively to this.

"Yes, I'll do it." And now I look at him with wide eyes. I'm giving away all my principles right now. But Xerxes seems to have expected it. No surprise is reflected on the face. Rather, he seems as if he expected it.

"Then I don't need to ask if you know who I am." With that he straightens up again and finally there is more distance between our faces. I take a deep breath and only now do I realize that I've been breathing shallowly the whole time. Well, his presence can't leave me as cold as I would like it to be.

"Okay, enough chatting." He rubs his thumb over my nipple. Very tender and yet incredibly present. This is exactly what makes it easy to set up. Xerxes sees it and smiles slightly. "Then let's see if I can find a weakness in you." And now a veil falls over his eyes. Very short. Not even for a second does the look seem to carry anything other than pure interest. But this brief moment is enough to give me goosebumps.