Page 62 of The King has Fallen

The moment he would leave, after that first breath of relief because my nerves disappeared, a crawling kind of dread would climb my spine and would not leave me until he returned.

It was insane. Confusing. And very unsettling.

But after five or six days of sleeping whenever I could, forcing myself to ignore Melek when I could not, I was rested and growing restless.

I needed to move. I needed something to engage my mind.

I needed a purpose.

So, it was with that fidgety, agitated spirit that I finished eating my lunch a full week after that dreadful night.

There were crumbs of the bread left on the plate, so I gathered them and sprinkled them in the corner of the cage, then placed the plate next to the door where Gall would remove it later.

The only time Melek had spoken to me with any kind of levity had been three days earlier when he’d seen me spread the crumbs and he took a moment to tease me about inviting rodents into his tent—was I trying to get him bitten?

But before I could respond, there had been a messenger and he’d left abruptly. Then he was in a black mood again when he returned hours later.

But even though that little memory made me smile, now I found myself with nothing to do, no one to talk to, and a body that no longer yearned for sleep.

I had been careful to keep my injured joint mobile, swinging and rolling it every hour or so, increasing the activity a little more each day. I thought perhaps to try pull-ups on the cage roof that day, but the moment I jumped up to take my own weight on my hands the joint screamed.

Too soon.

I sighed and began jogging a small, tight circle around the cage just to keep my blood pumping.

But then there was nothing left to do. And so, once I had caught my breath again, since I was still alone, I began to sing.

I crouch in shadows, but still your heart beats for me.

I am safe.

I lay in the arms of danger, but you do not leave.

I am safe.

I am safe in your arms.

Safe under your eyes.

Safe with you.

I am safe.

The shadows do not touch me.

Danger does not claw.

I am safe.

Rest with me, and find

I am sa—

The tent flap snapped aside and Melek strode in, his expression dark and his body lined with weariness. I opened my mouth to greet him, but to my surprise a small army of serving women followed in his wake, along with two young soldiers struggling under the weight of a very large bath. It was oval shaped at its base, but the rim was irregular, with one end higher than the other. All of it large enough for a massive Nephilim to sit comfortably inside.

I watched the soldiers drop the tub to the dirt, then turn. My heart flinched when the women behind them dropped their heads and jerked aside to let the males pass, their postures making it evident they feared being touched or hurt.

Once the two soldiers were gone, the line of slaves continued to file through, each carrying a large pot or pitcher that steamed. One by one, the women walked to the tub to empty their vessels—some glancing at Melek from the side while others avoided all eye-contact—then turned and exited the tent in single file.

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