The Prince's Concubine

14: When morning came

She woke to a tug on her hand and the Prince sitting up in bed beside her.

"Oh no! What bell is it?"

The light around the curtain cracks was silver no more, but full gold. How long had they been asleep? The Prince had loosed her hand and was scrabbling around in the bed looking for his clothes. "I'll be late for council. He hates it when anyone's late."

He found the trousers of his night clothes and slid them on in haste, tying the cord as he ran towards the window. Startled, Bilhah sat up and crossed her legs, draping the sheet around herself. He held back the curtain, letting a flood of light into the room, and stood on tip toes craning his neck to try to see over the balcony's edge to the ground below.

"Thank the Three, the temple merchants are still setting up, it can't be third yet. But we don't have much time. If I'm going to help you leave, we need to get dressed quickly."

He turned, dropping the curtain. It didn't fully close, leaving him bathed in the morning light. His bare chest glowed gold and his black hair fell over his eyes which seemed to shine out from underneath. Bilhah had only ever seen one man shirtless before and that was her father. Back then she had been very small, and he had been a huge frame of swollen muscle barely contained within ruddy skin pocked with bristles and burn marks and veins. His right arm had been thickened by his hammer, and his body showed the strains of his work.

The Prince was completely different, so different it was hard to believe they were both the same kind of creature. His muscles lay in ordered planes, untroubled by common toil, held by tight sinews which stood out when he tensed. Stretched taught over them, his warm skin was smooth and radiant with health and there was not a single mark on it. His whole body was full of vitality, from his hair which no grey had yet dared touch, to his sharp cheekbones and carved collar bones, down to the narrowing of his waist sweeping under the contrasting linen loosely tied around it. Standing in the light she thought he looked like a statue come to life, like the fire of the day was shining out of him rather than out from the sun.

She must have stared for too long because he looked down at his body and seemed to become suddenly aware that he was half naked. He pulled his mouth into an apologetic grimace. "Not quite the Warrior Prince you were hoping for, I know." He turned away and began pulling open drawers to search for clothes to wear.

Oh Goddess, he thought she had judged him and found him lacking, when the opposite was true. Didn't he know how radiant she found him? How magnificent he seemed to her? Couldn't he sense that she would give anything to stay in this bed with him, to spend one more night at his side? Why was he filled with such anger and self-doubt?

Sadly, she swung her legs down from the bed. Should she say something? What words could she use to convey the difference between how she felt and what he believed? Likely he would interpret anything she said as sycophantic flattery taught to her at the House. If only she had been better able to show him the Goddess' love, perhaps he would feel more assured of her affection. Under her breath, she sighed to herself, "You're everything I hoped for, January."

The noises behind her stopped, but she dare not turn around. Had he heard her words? Was he watching at her? She kicked nervously at the towel still on the floor from the night before. Should she pick it up to hide her body or walk to the screen uncovered? She still felt shy, but what more did she have to hide now that he'd been on top of her? The drawers behind clattered again, urging her to hurry. She made her decision, pushing the towel away to lie discarded after it's solitary use. Lifting her chin to bolster her thin confidence, she walked across the room to collect her dress.

On her way back to the bed Bilhah kept her eyes on the floor, fearful to confirm whether he cared to look at her body in the daylight or whether he was disinterested. She concentrated on donning her underclothes, closing the fastenings and ties as quickly as she could manage. When everything was in place she smoothed the layers flat so that her dress wouldn't wrinkle over them. She might have to leave him, but at least she would be presentable for the few moments that she walked by his side. She would not shame the Goddess by being dishevelled, not even as he led her to the gate to send her away. After all, any fate was better than the foot of a staircase. She would put a brave face over her sorrow and be sure to go quietly and with no trouble, as she had sworn to him. She wouldn't make him late for his council, whatever that was. It sounded terribly important. She would work out what to do once she was outside the Palace.