Amaya woke up briefly to a gentle shaking. She was awake but did not open her eyes. "Amaya. Amaya." a gentle voice called her. A familiar voice. But she didn't really want to get up. She was tired from a long night.
"Amaya!" she gave her a good shake.
Amaya finally opened her eyes. However, she did not open them completely. The morning rays of the sun stung her face.
"What's wrong Zariah?" she asked her.
"Why is the prince in your bed?" Zariah asked her, all accusations in her voice.
"Not for the reason you think," Amaya said.
"I was not opposed to that reason, but she refused," said Prince Ciaran.
Amaya laughed lightly to herself.
"That's not funny, Amaya." Zariah teased her. "She is not one of your concubines." she directed her anger at the prince.
"We had a little disagreement last night and it got a little out of hand," Amaya said. "He needed someone to keep an eye on him to not stop breathing in his sleep."
"He has many servants who could have done that," Zariah countered.
"But King Mael wasn't must not find out," Amaya countered.
"He's the enemy," she reminded her.
"I am her betrothed," said Prince Ciaran.
"You keep her as a prisoner," Zariah told him with venom on her tongue.
Ciaran got out of bed and went to his chambers. Amaya remained lying still. She watched Ciaran leave, leaving an empty spot in the bed. He limped on his right leg.
Amaya turned her attention back to Zariah. She stared at her.
"I'm still dressed, see?" Amaya told her. "Nothing happened between us."
"I hope you're not starting to like him," Zariah said with an accusation in her voice.
Amaya laughed at the top of her lungs. "You know me, Zariah. I couldn't even love Prince Tristan, and he is the kindest person I know. What makes you think I would be capable of loving him?"
"It was strange to find the two of you in the same bed," Zariah said more calmly. "I don't know what to think of that."
"Definitely not what you think," Amaya said.
Amaya decided to take a morning bath. She needed to wash off the remnants of Ciaran's blood. She had it behind her fingernails. She had dirty clothes from it. She even had it in her hair.
Mareena prepared her a warm bath. She put various herbs and oils in the water. The bathroom smelled of them. Pink rose petals floated on the surface. Amaya enjoyed the warm water, even though it was a hot summer. She liked the feel of the heat on her skin. She dived under the surface. The water drowned out all sounds. She could still hear everything, but it sounded so far away. She opened her eyes. The world above the surface seemed twisted. It rippled with the water. The surface was disturbed by air bubbles escaping from her lungs.
She saw a familiar shadow in above there. She emerged.
"Do you realize I'm naked?" she said to the prince in a cold voice.
"You have already seen me naked. Now that's fair." Ciaran replied with a mischievous smile on his lips and a sparkle in his eye. "Or are you ashamed in front of your fiancé?"
"Anyway, nothing will come of it between us, so at least enjoy your view," Amaya told him.
"Are you sure about that, little goddess?" he gave her a fleeting smile.
"More than sure," she replied.
"You didn't seem so sure at night when you used me for a pillow," said Ciaran.
Amaya blushed. She dipped her head back under the water. The prince laughed. She was ashamed of herself. Unknowingly, she used him as a pillow in her sleep. She felt embarrassed about it, mainly because she tries to stay away from him as much as possible and was so close to him at night.
She emerged again. Ciaran played with rose petals floating on the surface.
"Are you still going to deny that you like me?" he gave her a daring look.
Whatever answer she says is wrong.
"I was sleeping," Amaya replied. "It meant nothing and it never will."
"Never say never, little goddess."
Ciaran leaned closer and closer to her. She let him get closer. She even moved closer to him herself. But when their lips almost touched, she pulled the prince into the water. He landed with a loud splash. Droplets of water flew into the air. Amaya laughed.
"I told you, Ciaran, pride goes before a fall," she told him as he came to his senses.
Amaya got out of the bath. Even though it was warm, she was cold when she got out of the warm water. She felt Prince Ciaran's predatory gaze gliding over her skin. She wrapped a large towel around herself. She turned to the prince who was looking at her with his bewitching eyes. He was leaning on the edge of the bath. He gracefully ran his palm through his wet hair.
"You are terribly mean, little goddess," he said. He bit his lower lip gracefully.
"Gods are like that," Amaya replied. "And stop looking at me like you want to eat me."
"I want you in my bed," said Ciaran.
Amaya laughed. "You definitely don't lack self-confidence," she said. "If you're lonely in bed, call some girl from your harem. They are still at your service until the wedding."
"You still don't believe me that I had nothing to do with them?"
"I believe. I trust you on this one."
"I do want you, though, Amaya," Ciaran said.
"But that will never happen," she retorted forcefully.
Amaya dressed in dry and especially not blood-stained clothes. When she came out of the wardrobe full of dresses and men's clothes, that Prince Ciaran had kindly brought her because she hates dresses, she found him sitting on her bed. He was leaning on his elbow. His wet hair fell into his eyes. Into beautiful, dark eyes. He held her dagger in his hands.
"Will you take it from me again?" she asked him.
"No. It's yours." he handed it to her. "I also wouldn't want my enemy to possess the one thing that can kill me."
Amaya hesitated for a brief moment. She looked for a trap hidden in his generosity but found none. She accepted her dagger back even though she didn't trust him. Maybe it was his way of gaining her trust.
"Thank you," she said.
"Is there anything that can kill you besides that dagger?" Ciaran wondered. "For example, fire? Or will you rise from the ashes like a phoenix?'
"Are you trying to kill me, little prince?" Amaya raised an eyebrow in question.
"No, I'm just curious," he replied.
"I will feel the heat of the flames, I will feel the pain, but they will not burn me. That's the answer to your question." Amaya replied. "There's a downside to that because after an hour in the fire and painful torture, you wish you were dead."
"How do you know that?" Ciaran wondered.
"The Shadow King liked to test my limits," she said.
"Shadow King?"
Amaya realized that she had already told him more than she should have.
"It's a long story," she snapped.
"Amaya."
"No."
"You don't trust me enough to tell me," Ciaran stated.
"I don't trust anyone," Amaya said.
"Zariah knows about your immortality?" he asked her.
"No, and I'll be happy to keep it that way," Amaya said. "Nobody knows but you."
"So we share a secret." Ciaran grinned.
"Only because you didn't give me a choice," Amaya shot back. "I can hardly explain the blood on the neck and no wound without a clear cause."
"You could have been lying," said Ciaran.
"You're not a fool. You wouldn't believe me." Amaya said.
"I wouldn't believe it, but you didn't have to tell the truth," said Ciaran.
She had nothing to say to that. She turned and left without a word.
⸸
"Why are you limping?" General Marcellus asked his prince.
"Amaya was playing with the dagger," replied Ciaran.
Marcellus' eyes widened in shock. "What was she playing with?"
"She was trying to steal back her dagger and run away," said Ciaran.
"And by the fact that you don't have it with you, I'm guessing that she got it back," Marcellus commented. "Are you sure it's a good idea for her to be armed?"
"You're forgetting that she was attacked by a member of the royal guard. She needs to defend herself. And she's definitely better at fighting than you." Ciaran said with a mischievous smile on his lips.
"And she's even better than you," Marcellus reminded him. "And at night she tried her talent on you and obviously won."
"I didn't mean to hurt her," defended Ciaran.
"And she took advantage of that. Do you really think she shouldn't be watched by guards again?'
"I won't do that. I want her to trust me."
"She won't love you. She's too wild for that. But you should tame her before she destroys everything here."
"And how would you like to tame me, General Marcellus?" Amaya spoke, watching them from behind.
Both the general and Ciaran jumped in shock.
"You creep like a ghost, Amaya," said Ciaran.
"You're just not paying attention," Amaya said. "For my benefit."
"And where is your companion, the priestess?" General Marcellus asked her.
"She is slightly offended. She thinks I'm starting to like this place because Prince Ciaran spent the night in my bed." Amaya replied bluntly.
The general stopped in shock. He was almost at a loss for words. He looked at the prince with wide eyes. If there were other soldiers in the training room, they would probably react with the same surprise.
"I think I underestimated you," said the shocked general.
"That didn't happen," said the embarrassed prince.
"And it never will," Amaya said. "As you said, General, I will never love him. But why do you want me to love you, Ciaran?" she asked him. "Are you a cursed prince? I have already met a few cursed people who asked for my help, but not a single prince. Is that why you need me, Prince Ciaran? Do you want me to break your curse?'
"Did you manage to help those people?" asked the prince.
"Of course not. Curses have their own rules. There are no shortcuts."
"What to expect from a witch." laughed the general.
"I am. Not. A. Witch." Amaya pointed out. The general apparently forgot about her origin. "If you need to be re-educated about dark creatures, it's very easy to summon them."
"I have an idea." Ciaran stepped between them to ease the tension. "Fair fight. You wondered, Marcellus, if Amaya would have won if there were no distractions. I'm injured, so you can try it."
"That's not a good idea," said the general. "She's dangerous even unarmed."
"Are you afraid I'll win, General?" Amaya teased him.
"No," said the general.
"So you accept the challenge?" Ciaran asked him.
"Let her take the sword," replied the general.
Amaya was going through the various swords that were placed in the racks. There were heavy two-handed swords and light cords. She looked at the sword that the general was holding and finally chose a saber that combined the lightness and power of the strike.
Amaya and General Marcellus faced each other off. They drew their swords. At first, they just circled each other. The general was an experienced soldier, he analyzed Amaya's steps. Amaya was just waiting for his first move. It reveals the most about the opponent.
"Will you start or you be circling here until morning," Ciaran teased them.
General Marcellus finally made the first step. Amaya fought him off with ease. The general repeated one lunge after another and Amaya parried them all. She found him to be quite predictable. Before each strike with the right leg, he steps back before striking.
Steel sang as it collided with steel. It was like a dance. One step forward, one step back. Move to the right. Move left. They copied their steps.
Amaya was better. And the longer the fight lasted, the more aggressive the general became. He didn't like the idea of losing. Amaya was pleased. She was pleased with how she managed to provoke him.
The blade slipped on the blade. The general was already getting out of breath. She hit him on the ass with her sword. She laughed. Ciaran laughed too.
"That's not funny," said the general irritably. He gave the prince a murderous look.
"Admit that she is better," said the prince.
"Not until she wins," replied the general.
Amaya decided to end it. She made her lunge. The blade spun around the blade. She hit the general's hand. The sword slipped from his hand. It hit the ground with a thud. She brought the tip of her sword to his neck.
"I think I won," she said.
⸸
At night, Amaya went to Prince Ciaran's chambers. His face showed surprise at seeing her there.
"Did something happen?" he asked her.
"I came to check on your wound," she replied." You tore your stitches in training with General Marcellus."
"How do you know that?" he wondered.
"I smelled blood," she said.
"You smelled blood?"
"Yes," she admitted shyly. "I am a dark creature. It also has its advantages."
"You keep surprising me, little goddess," said Ciaran.
Amaya smiled involuntarily. She couldn't stop the movement of her lips.
"I also brought a bandage from the doctor," she said.
"The doctor just gave it to you without insisting on examining me personally?" he gave her a questioning look.
"Actually, I kind of stole it," Amaya admitted.
Ciaran laughed. Sincerely.
"Pants down," Amaya ordered.
His eyes sparkled mischievously. "You must really like the look of seeing me naked," he smirked.
"Don't be presumptuous." she warmed him with a smile.
Amaya poured the fragrant liquid into the glass. A fine steam rose from it.
"Drink it," she handed the prince a glass.
"What is it?" he eyed her suspiciously.
"I'm not trying to poison you," she assured him. "It's only a tea. It will dull the pain," she said. "Mareena cooked it, so you really don't have to worry about me poisoning you."
Ciaran took a drink. First, he took a quick sip, then he kicked it into himself in one gulp. He grimaced.
"It definitely smells better than it tastes," he said with disgust.
Amaya laughed.
"However, if it tastes bad, you always know it will help," added Ciaran.
Ciaran allowed Amaya to treat the wound she had inflicted on him. This time she no longer laughed at the position she found herself in. She carefully unrolled the improvised bandage the prince had used to cover the wound, revealing the cut. The area around the wound was red. It didn't look good. Ciaran winced when she touched the wound.
"Apparently, there is an infection in it," she said. "You're going to have to put up with me having to stitch it up again."
"I am a soldier, I can handle a little pain," said Ciaran.
Amaya took a bottle with a clear liquid that looked like water but was definitely not water.
"What the hell is that?" Ciaran asked in shock as it burned terribly.
"Alcohol," Amaya replied. "It works as a good disinfectant. You'll have to grit your teeth now."
She took a needle in her hand and began to stitch up the wound anew. She could feel the prince's tension while threading the thread through his flesh. One stitch at a time she closed the open wound.
"You're more resilient than I would have expected," Amaya said. "Good to know. Next time I can cut deeper."
"Are you planning round two, yet?" laughed Ciaran.
"I'm always ready," Amaya said.
"You said to Zariah that if you couldn't love Prince Tristan, you can't love me. You keep saying you'll never love me."
"It's rude to listen to other people's conversations." Amaya warmed him gently.
"It was impossible not to hear that. Prince Tristan, the kindest man you know."
"Prince Tristan is good-hearted, but he will be a bad king. He is too weak. His father's enemies will tear the kingdom apart and he will not be able to stop it."
"What about me? Would I be a good king?" Ciaran asked her.
"You are a warrior. You command and you don't take orders. You can be merciful. Whether the king is a good king, however, will be decided only by hard times, when he will have to sacrifice everything," said Amaya. "You have many qualities, Ciaran, that make it difficult to judge whether or not you would make a good king. I'm confused by you."
She bandaged his wound with a clean bandage. It turned red a little with fresh blood.
"I expect you to spare your leg this time or I will be forced to tie you to the bed," she told him.
"I won't mind at all if you keep me company," Ciaran said with a mischievous grin, ulterior motives reflected in his eyes.
Amaya couldn't help but smile. The prince took her hands and sat her on his lap. Amaya let him. With a gentle touch, he brushed unruly strands of hair from her eyes behind her ear. He looked into her hazel eyes. She was lost in the depth of his.
"Does your heart belong to someone else if you are not capable of loving anyone else, Amaya?" he asked her a question that caught her off guard but she quickly shook the feeling off.
"No," she replied. "Apparently, I am not capable of such a feeling at all."
"And have you ever loved someone?" she asked him back.
"No," replied Ciaran.
"And you judge me because I'm not capable of loving you," Amaya remarked.
"Actually, I've been in love with you since I first saw you in the convent," Ciaran said.
"Then you're loving the wrong person," Amaya told him. "Your father hates you. You are no longer useful for my plans."
Her words stung straight to the living. Ciaran sighed. Amaya was about to stand up and leave, but Ciaran stopped her. He held her by the waist. Her eyes bore into his.
"You almost killed me. I think I deserve compensation," he said.
"And what do you want?"
"A kiss."
Amaya rolled her eyes. She grinned. She kissed him. She kissed his cheek. She laughed. Ciaran laughed.
"Good night, little prince," Amaya said and left.
The prince lay down. He sighed deeply. Disappointed. "Good night, little goddess," he said before she disappeared into her chambers.