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Chapter 3

Richard

I woke up the next day to warmth falling all over my face, the heat wasn't scorching but it still was a bother. A strong beam of light accompanied the warmth, its brightness piercing through my eyelids. I groaned with frustration, still clinging to the inebriation of sleep. I turned on my side while my hands moved the softness my head was laying on to cover my head. It was already too late. The grogginess that came with sleep had already left me, my mind had started to work. Then, it all crashed down on me.

A warm light...woke me up? That has never happened before. I thought, my body going still. And what is this...soft thing?

Startled, I threw the object away from my face, the glare of light forcing a hiss out of me. My hands flew to my face, blocking the worst of the light. I tried to turn over to grant more respite to my eyes when my body sank into the mushy object beneath me and a cool fabric slid over my skin. My eyes still burning, I trashed around the new torture the mage had conjured. The weird fabric wrapped around me, constricting my movements until the mushy ground was replaced by air. Instead of the hard stone floor from the cell, my back crashed against a soft surface with a subdued thud. Surprised, I opened my eyes, blinking several times until they got used to the brightness. When my eyes settled on my bondage, relief filled my heart. Under the golden light, the silk sheets trapping me were so mundane, so simple, that they brought a laugh out of me.

I had barely managed to free one of my arms from its silky prison, when the sounds of heavy steps turned my gaze to a wooden door at the far end of the room; the large rectangular door opened without a sound. Moments later, the bull knight walked in with a relaxed gait, an elaborate silver tray with a rounded dome carried on his meaty hands. The sight of the bovine was both comforting and unsettling, last night dream still hanging heavily on my mind. Golden eyes fell on me, a muffled laugh escaped his muzzle while he set the tray on a small wooden table near the door. Strong legs carried him to my side, a relaxed smile settled on his muzzle.

"Good morning my king, I see the bed was not to your liking," he said with evident joy in his voice, crouching down to my side, "I trust you weren't hurt."

"No, I'm fine. How long was I asleep? How did I get here?" I asked him curtly, cutting the shatter short. Pain crossed his eyes before he hid it behind a mask of deference.

"Half a day. You were exhausted, slept the whole way over here without even moving a muscle. Dax, your arch-mage, said your last...episode proved you were well on your way to recovery," the bull replied with a hopeful and tender tone, his strong arms carrying me back to the bed, "We decided there was no need to keep you in that cell any longer. As long as you are supervised. Even so, you need to stay in this room, just in case. "

"Supervised? By you, I guess?"

His tail flicked behind him, his hand growing tense under me. There was a moment of silence between us. His eyes stared into mine, resolute and guarded.

"Yes, it's for the best," he finally answered, releasing me of my prison with a swift tug of the sheet.

Cold air hit my naked skin and sent shivers down my spine. I glared at the silken sheet that rested beside me, my pride and a desire to return to its warmth folds battling in my heart. My hand was almost within reach of the sheet when a thick robe was set in front of me by an ebony hand.

"It may be a bit big on you now but it's better than nothing, your grace," Waken explained, politely turning his gaze away from my privates. Heat rushed to my cheeks as my hands flew to cover myself with the robe.

The bull left me with a pleased snort, granting me a bit of privacy to change. Grateful for the little blessing, I put on the robe, its thick fabric stopping the shivers from wracking my body. One of my problems taken care of, my eyes explored the room for a way out. First there was the bed I was laying in, big enough to hold at least two Wakens side by side but it would be of little help in my escape. The big chandelier hanging at the center of the room caught my interest next, its brass surface radiating small dots of light. Then there was the room in and of itself, bigger than any mess-hall I'd visited and quite luxurious, if the carpet covering most of the floor was of any indication. Immaculate white walls stood at all sides, lines of a brilliant blue painted all over their surface, weaving into broad circular patterns. A glance to the left revealed a trio of windows that let streams of light enter the room; each one was a marvelous work of art, depicting a brilliant almost lifelike sun that rested on a field of dark blue. Below the windows was a long wooden table, its mahogany color meshing well with the maroon carpet it rested on; a possible weapon if broken down into pieces. To the other side of the room laid a sturdy wooden wardrobe, gilded in golden highlights. Twin mirrors covered its doors, reflecting the world with eerie precision. Next to it rested a mahogany bookcase, filled to the brim with tomes of gold and green; an odd choice in a prison, but one that I could use.

An annoyed grunt brought my attention towards the bull at the far side of the room, the scrapping of metal on metal came from behind his hunched form while his tail flicked with annoyance behind him. My gaze settled then on the last objects in the room: The small table where the knight had settled the tray and the pair of silver chairs that accompanied it. Sturdy and regal, almost too pretty to be used but they would serve as weapons if it came down to it.

A joyful hum came from the bull as he rose to his full height; the silver dome held in the bull's paw gleamed under the chandelier's light. The aroma of grilled leeks, roasted chicken and turnip soup filled the entire room, the smells forcing a traitorous growl from my stomach. The bull shot me a knowing smile before he lifted the other dome and a second wave of smells assaulted my nose. I turned away from the bull, resolute to not allow him to see my weakness. I pulled the robe tighter around me, trying to fight back against the growing hunger. Another protesting growl came from my stomach, louder and more demanding.

“It seems your body is as honest as ever your grace," said the bull with mirth, “Perhaps you will do me the honor of joining me for a late lunch."

My eyes remained fixed on the walls, my mind conjuring a thousand thoughts to forget the delicious smells that invaded my senses. But no matter what I came up with, how detailed or broad the idea was, in the end my body prevailed. With a downcast gaze and gritted teeth, I dragged my feet towards the table. Each step closer to the source of the heavenly smells making my mouth water with anticipation. The bovine knight didn't make a single remark as he helped me into my seat, the solid structure of the chair a welcome respite after all the agitation of the morning. I had barely gotten comfortable in the seat before swift ebony hands covered my legs with a white silken napkin and laid the cutlery on the table with care. His task done, the knight took a seat opposite me, the silver chair surprising me when it bore the considerable weight without a single sound. Waken gave me small smug smile before his meaty fingers took hold of a delicate spoon and submerged it into the soup. A memory flashed into my mind, a glint of silver and a stream of curses, a spoon bent in half and a knife lodged deep into a table. I shook the images out of my head and clenched the napkin in my lap to remind me where I was.

“Is the food not to your liking your grace?" asked Waken with his brows creased in worry, an expression that brought more mixed feelings into my heart.

“No, it was nothing," I replied, my hands moving to pick up the spoon when a frightening idea burst forward in my mind.

“What if they poisoned the food?" I thought, cold dread settling into my heart. “Could they make me forget? Change me into this king of theirs?"

My eyes fell onto the silver tray, the porcelain bowl of soup didn't look as inviting as before. The large piece of chicken that laid to the side now provoked me nausea and the leeks were a promise of certain death.

“How could you be so foolish?" I chided myself in my head as I let my hands return to my lap, “Did you forget everything Mom taught you about wizards and their traps?"

“Dax would never do that and the cook would kill him if he ever tried," argued the 'King' inside my mind, a playful growl in his voice.

“And why should I trust you? The damn crow could make you say that," I replied, trying to push the presence to the edges of my mind.

“Because I'm you, the real you. The one who knows them best and, deep inside, you know I'm telling the truth." With those words, its presence grew faint once more. I could still feel it haunting my every action, like a coat that covered my skin, but for the time being I was more like me and I counted it as a triumph.

“Your grace?" said a gruff voice, worry clear in his tone.

“How…,"I began, my own voice sounding way too loud in my ears, “How do I know you didn't put anything in my food?"

Waken closed his eyes, his brows creasing with exertion while a soft hum came from his throat. A sudden huff came from the bull after some time, his golden eyes glowing with resolve. Spoon in hand, he sunk the metal in my bowl of soup and without any hesitation drank the liquid. The leeks followed the soup soon after and the chicken was not too far behind. Then, we stared at each other until steam no longer came out of the soup. A big smile appeared on his face, open and honest.

“I believe, your grace, that this should be enough proof. The only thing this food is guilty of is of being particularly tasty," he announced, pride clinging to his words. A boulder like fist hit his chest with a dull thud.

I stared at the bovine incredulous, his solution had been both risky and simple. So unlike anything I'd expect from a kidnapper or anyone of sound mind. If the food had been poisoned, it wouldn't be long before the knight was dead or worse. Yet, the presence in my mind didn't seem worried for his knight. Only exasperation and mild amusement came from him. I took in Waken's golden orbs once more, making an effort to discern the truth of this whole affair. His eyes were open, unguarded, warm and trusting. None of the things you'd find in a kidnapper and, despite myself, I couldn't help but believe in him. Whether it was his acts, the presence's own feelings or the dream that moved me, I couldn't tell but soon, under his watchful gaze, I was eating for the first time in days.

Like every other event that involved the bull, the food brought up a weird mix of feelings. Some were mine, some came from the King. But chief of them all was a sense of safety and companionship that was not wholly mine or his. And yet, these weird feelings were what made the rest of the meal refreshing.

The rest of the day passed without much incident with only the sporadic talks with Waken to distract me from my thoughts. He would go on and on about the other knights under his command, from the ones he had trained to those he had served with. The bull would always start his tales talking about a trait he admired of them: their courage, their honesty, their diligence; no matter who he spoke of, Waken always found something to compliment. Then, he would shoot me an apologetic look and describe the different knights with all their titles, more often than not leaving me more confused than before. His tale would always end with an adventure of his chosen knight with impromptu and exaggerated acting from the black bull. Unlike the crow mage, the bovine didn't talk as much about the King but, whenever he did, his voice was thick with emotion and conflict would mar his golden pupils. Then his eyes would settle on me, a shadow of regret would haunt his face for a moment before a strained smile came on to his face, equal parts painful and pitying.

It wasn't long after the sun had set that sleep started to take a hold on me, the endless tales from Waken guiding me to my rest. It all started with some yawns and some rubbing of my eyes. In no time at all, it had graduated into something worse, with the many shocks of the day weighting on my body and mind, sleep munched away at my energy and will. By then, Waken was already urging to get me to bed, but with the morning scene still clear in my mind, I flat out refused his offer or at least I think I did. The next thing I know, a familiar musk is enveloping me as my body rises into the air. A soft hum comes from the side; the twin steel pillars that held me up swayed me gently across the air before they laid me to rest in a bed of clouds. A warm fabric, soft as a marshmallow was laid on top of me, keeping me warm in the clouds. The humming grew in strength, its melody gaining speed as I sank into blissful oblivion. A tingle spread through my body in concert with the melody, its nostalgic and sad tune calling to something within me. Moments before I fell asleep, when only a thin thread of consciousness connected me to the world, I heard a deep voice say a few words filled with sorrow and felt the soft caress of furred fingers.

My dreams of that night were quite simple, unlike any since my capture. There were no battles, no courts, no kings or knights. Magic was nowhere to be seen, there wasn't a word for demons or prisons. There was only peace and numbers. Endless travels with my caravan through impossible lands, filled with the laughter of friends and the clicking of coin. It was an eternal festival that cooled my grated nerves and banished the worries of the waking world. It spread warmth and safety throughout my body in soothing waves. A soft murmur of voices filled my ears, neither upsetting not a bother. They shared a quiet message with me, not with words but with an abstract expression, more pure than anything I had heard of before. The message went on and on, never repeating and never hurrying until, with a final drop of pure knowledge, the dream came to an end.

I didn't have as much trouble waking up this time. The softness and warmth of the bed, though still alien, didn't surprise me as much as the day before. The filtering light however, was as unwelcome this time as it had been the day before. Its insistent attack on my face and its unwelcome warmth, dusting off the cobwebs of my mind. I rubbed the sleep of my eyes and cursed whoever had thought that window was a good idea. There wasn't a repeat of yesterday's fall, thanks in no small part to the throbbing pain in my back.

The door opened on its own once more. The heavy beats of steps announced the entrance of Waken, a nostalgic melody on his lips. I felt a wave of joy wash over me at his appearance, a sliver of a smile sneaking into my face. With a gentle smile and a bow, the onyx bull proceeded to set the table. The moment he turned his back on me, a cold realization landed on me. That single smile I had given to the knight without a second thought. I could not tell whether it had been born from my feelings or the King's. Our emotions, once clear and separate pools, were mixing. There was no set end for either of us, the limits between our presences had become muddled and vague. Fear took a hold of my heart then, Waken's words ringing in my mind: “At least, not to the current you."

A shiver ran down my back, the true meaning of the words weighting heavy on my mind. A stream of reassurances came from the King, gentle but firm, like a parent's hand. But beneath the shining cover of those feelings, I could see the signs of regret and sorrow. I cut off the stream with swift accusation infused with all my rage. I could feel the King recoil at the edges of my mind, a deep shame coming to the surface of our shared pool. Disgusted and afraid, I built a wall between the two of us, using my fear and hate to keep it up. One last drop of sorrow managed to slip through before the wall was complete, the king's presence all but banished from my mind.

“My king, is everything alright?" asked Waken at my side. A tinge of worry in his gruff voice.

My body went stiff with dread. The bull was loyal to a fault and he would never let me get in their way. The moment our eyes met he would find out, I was sure. He would look for the mage and once the crow was here, it would be the end for me. There was nothing I could do against his magics, they would twist my mind until only the King remained. The King's assault on my mental wall, all but proved my point.

“My king?" the knight asked again, his furred hand gently grasping my shoulder.

My mind scampered to come up with a lie, one that was both simple and effective. Anything out of the ordinary would tick him off. My arms hugged my body. Cold sweat ran down my back as my body quaked in fear.

“Sorry, it's just a bit cold today." I said in what I hoped was a casual tone, without daring to look in his eyes. I could feel the heat of Waken's gaze, the silence that hung between us dragged on like a torture.

“I see, let me fetch you a warmer robe then, wouldn't want for you to catch a cold now, would we?" He said. His look of honest relief almost making me regret the lie I had told him.

As soon as he walked away, my whole body relaxed. Muscles protested against the sudden work with aches and numbness. My hands went on to rub my sore muscles, both to soothe them and to keep up the charade. I didn't have to wait long before Waken came back. True to his word, he had an emerald robe draped over one log of an arm. The fabric looked at least twice as thick as the one I had on and sported a more conservative cut as well.

I gave the knight a smile that felt strained and forced. His only reply was a flick of his ears before he offered the robe to me. The cloth was heavy and warm; the fabric was soft like a sheep's wool but it didn't bring the itches I would expect of one. I gave Waken a single nod before I moved to get out of the bed. As soon as I rose up to my full height, a dizzy spell hit me. The vertigo made my knees buckle under me while the cloth fell out of my frozen fingers.

“Your grace!" shouted the bull as he started towards me. Quick as lighting, his steel corded arms held me close to his chest. The warmth of his massive form seeped into my cold body while his musk brought calm to my body. Golden eyes stared at me, fear clear in his eyes. My body trembled against his while my mind struggled to come up with words. The king's emotions hit the wall between us with the strength of a hammer but somehow I managed to keep him at bay.

With painful slowness the world started to shift back into place. My legs were filled with strength once more while my fingers obeyed my commands again. The King's battering against the Wall came to a stop, his overpowering presence barely held at bay.

Can I hold on? Can I even win trapped like I am? I thought with bitterness. When a huff of hot breath hit the top of my head, I shook those thoughts out of my head. I wouldn't give in, I couldn't give in. With my resolution set in stone, it was time to carry on the play.

Waken fuzzed over me for quite a while, a twinge of concern clear in the swinging of his tail. His hands helped me into my new robe with his usual gentleness and then in a show of his monstrous strength, he carried me to the table for breakfast. The rest of the day was shaped by my moment of weakness; Waken insisted on keeping a close eye on me, thwarting any attempts at escape. No matter how many times, I reassured, cajoled or smiled at him, he stuck close to me like a shadow. There was no much conversation that day but that didn't stop him from talking in other ways. The frown that never left his face, the stiffness in his shoulders, the uneasy movement of his tail, the way his eyes followed my every move. They all spoke to me of honest worry and, much to my chagrin, devotion.