Even now, I was reluctant to pull away. His body gave off heat like a sun-warmed rock in the summer. The blanket did little to keep the cold away. And it was cold. I could feel it against any exposed skin that wasn’t hidden under the blankets or pressed against him. I drew the coverings over my head, burying my cold nose against his skin to warm it.
He sucked in a sharp breath, and I felt his body tense for a long moment before he relaxed. A big hand settled on top of myhead, his voice soft as he spoke to me. The reminder that I didn’t understand him and no one understood me made a lump form in my throat. How long would I be trapped here before they sent for a translator? Or worse—What if they never bothered? What if Umaira couldn’t get away and Hameed convinced my parents I was dead? What if I was stuck here forever?
The hand on my head started petting me over the blanket, like he could tell how upset I was and was trying to make me feel better. I allowed it because I needed a moment before I could face him.
The barbarian didn't rush me out of bed and only moved away from me when someone spoke outside the tent. He moved to get up, and I forgot for a moment we were attached to one another until my hand jerked from underneath the blanket. I ripped the blanket off my face, gaping at him incredulously for the cruelty, but he looked apologetic, seeming to have forgotten just as I had that we were chained together.
He said something that sounded like an apology, then pointed to the tent flap like he wanted me to get up so he could answer it. I outright refused, shaking my head and drawing the blankets tighter around me. It was too cold to leave the blankets. Even just having him move away was enough loss of heat to make me shiver. I’d never been this far north before, and I wasn’t dressed for it. I would freeze if I stepped out of the tent.
With a sigh, the barbarian spoke to whoever stood outside. Again, the chubby man with the red hair stepped inside, this time leaning on a cane. Another barbarian followed behind him, making the already small tent feel even smaller with two barbarians and the redhead standing above me. The new barbarian had a basket he was carrying, and the redhead reached inside, pulling out familiar bowls and handing them to my barbarian. They stayed only long enough to provide thebowls and a flask that I assumed was filled with water before leaving us alone again.
The barbarian sat at the small table, tugging very gently on the chain between us in a bid to get me to join him. I shook my head. I was staying in the blankets until it was warmer.
He studied me for a long moment before getting to his feet and scooping me up, blankets and all, and sitting me at the table. He handed me my bowl as he sat down beside me, unbothered when I pulled it under the blankets so I could eat without having to reach out of the warm cocoon I’d made. He let me eat in silence for a little while before tapping his fingers on the table to get my attention.
Plucking lightly at the blanket, he said something to me and raised an eyebrow. I raised one back. “I still don’t understand you.”
Something like amusement crossed his expression. He rubbed his arms like he was trying to warm himself, then pointed at me questioningly. I nodded rapidly in agreement.
“It’s freezing!”
He nodded, turning around to the chest that sat beside him. He dug through it, pulling out a tunic that would dwarf me. But it had long sleeves and looked thicker than what I was wearing. He offered it to me and I wriggled free of my blankets long enough to snatch it and pull it over my head. It was fur lined and the softness made me sigh before I pulled the blanket back up around my shoulders.
When he spoke again, it was in the common tongue, and he gave me a questioning look like he expected me to understand him. I pressed my lips together, glaring at him. He couldn’t judge me for not knowing either language. He didn't know mine. Why was it different for me?
He sighed and nodded again like he expected my lack of response. Then he started pointing at things and saying wordsin his language. It took me a minute to realize he was teaching me. He held up the bowl, saying a word, then looked at me expectantly.
Oh. Oh, no. They didn’t expect me to learn their language, did they? I hadn’t even learned the common tongue! Why should I be expected to learn their language?
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m not learning your language. If you want to communicate with me, you need to learn mine. I am a prince. I am not lowering myself to learning the language of barbarians.” Even if it would make my life easier. If I tried learning their language, he’d figure out quickly that I was a terrible student, and it would look poorly on my father. I wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction. He already seemed to speak two languages. He could learn one more.
Six
ZAKAI
The big barbarian was persistent, I’d give him that. He spent the entire morning touching things and saying their names, waiting for me to repeat him. When I didn’t, he’d move on to something else. We only left his tent to go to a trench to relieve ourselves, but otherwise we stayed isolated, and he attempted to teach me his language. And he never laid a hand on me, no matter how bratty I got.
I jerked the shackles petulantly, but he had grown used to it by now. His face didn’t even twitch as his hand jerked around. He’d learned to eat and drink with his opposite hand to prevent me from making him spill, and he was strong enough that even if I threw myself backward, I couldn’t pull him off balance to force it. It was starting to hurt with the constant tugging, though. My wrist throbbed, and a sting grew steadily worse every time I pulled on it. I’d been doing it all day to annoy him into releasing me, and the only one I was hurting was myself.
Frowning at the shackle, I prodded my wrist, flinching at the zip of pain. I sucked in a breath when his hands cupped mine, bringing it closer for him to take a look. He frowned atthe irritated skin, rubbing his thumb gently over it. His frown deepened when I flinched again at the touch.
With a scowl, he stood and took me with him with a gentle hold on my elbows. Murmuring something soft, he urged me toward the tent flap. I immediately dug in my heels. The few times we’d been out to use the trench, I’d nearly frozen to death. Even with his fur lined tunic, it was too cold for me. I didn't want to go out there for no reason.
He studied me for a long moment before grabbing the blanket I’d used all day to keep warm, wrapping it around my shoulders like a cloak. I still didn’t want to go, but it was an improvement, so I grudgingly allowed him to lead me out of the tent with his hand on my back.
We walked through the little village that probably wouldn’t fill an entire wing of my father’s palace, stopping by a tent that was slightly bigger than the ones surrounding it. When we ducked inside, there was a big fire in the middle with a hole above it for the smoke to get out, and a few pallet beds along the walls. Along the back were some tables covered in herbs and bowls. A thin man with auburn hair and glasses stood with his back to us, speaking quietly to a woman with a long black braid beside him. Neither noticed us until my barbarian cleared his throat. This tent was much warmer than the barbarian’s, though, so I didn’t complain about the lack of attention, soaking in as much warmth as I could.
The man turned, eyeing us both curiously as he spoke to my barbarian. I tried to guess what they were talking about, but there was a lot less gesturing than what the barbarian and I had been doing thus far. The woman approached first, pointing a finger at my shackled wrist and tipping her head. I assumed she wanted to see it, so I thrust my hand at her. Maybe if they realized it hurt, they would remove it. They’d been nicer than I expected so far. It was possible. And then I could steal a horseand escape in the night. I’d seen the field of them while going to the trench, and I was an excellent rider. Perhaps I’d throw in a few tears to make them feel guilty.
UTTIN
“He’s plotting,” Zoya said with amusement as she tipped the tribute’s hand this way and that to look at the injury without removing the restraints. If he’d shown any indication that he could be trusted with them removed, I wouldn’t have hesitated, but I still didn’t trust him.
“Does that really surprise you?” Ambrose asked, already working on a salve to help with the redness forming on the tribute’s wrist. I’d seen the tribute flinch a few times because of it, and I worried about damage to his skin. The restraints were for his safety, not to cause harm.
“No,” Zoya huffed a small laugh. “I’ve just learned to recognize the expression. The stubborn ones all get it when they first arrive. I don’t think removing the restraints will go well for you.”
“I agree,” I grumbled. “Which is why I’ve come to you. I do not wish to hurt him just because he is nervous and wishes to leave.”
