Page 26 of Lhora
“More what?”
He replied by shaking his head and said no more.
She noticed the coach went around to a back entrance before stopping. Duren got out first, holding up a hand to assist her. This time he didn’t latch onto her like he had at the dungeon. Instead, he walked ahead of her, leading her down several long corridors before reaching a set of carved double doors. He opened one, stepping aside to let her enter.
The room inside was as elaborate as she’d expected. The furniture was all exquisitely carved wood. The fireplace and windows were equally magnificent, sculptured stone. The place was stunning with its artwork.
Lhora walked over to the roaring fire, turning her back to it as she stared at the artistry. “Wow. You’d never know such beautiful craftsmanship existed just by what’s visible outside.”
“Coltrosstian art is considered to be personal. Meant just for the eyes of the creator, or for those who own it.” He closed and locked the door, then turned and stood watching her with his arms crossed over his chest.
“That’s stupid. Why deny others the pleasure of seeing it?” She gazed up at the high, arching ceiling. “And your buildings.”
“What about them?”
“They look to be towering and multi-storied, but they’re not. They’re low. One-storied. It’s the ceilings that are vaulted and make it appear as if the building’s tall.”
“Your buildings are the same way,” he countered.
“No, they’re not.” She looked over at him and grinned. “You were restricted to where you could go. The audience cathedral and guest wing are like that, but the majority of our buildings are at least two to three stories tall, and contain at least that many floors.”
He tilted his head. “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you genuinely smile. It changes your face when you do.”
She dropped the smile. “I’m not digging for compliments.”
He held up his hands as if in surrender. “Sorry. No harm intended.” He strode over to a wide door on the other side of a large chifforobe and opened it. “The shower and lav are in here. Go ahead and get started while I have a servant bring you a change of clothes.”
She nodded, but remained where she stood until he’d left the room. She didn’t hear a key or any kind of lock being turned. She took it as a sign that he trusted her not to leave. “Unless he’s placed a guard outside to prevent me from escaping.” She was tempted to look, but chose not to.
Going into the cleaning chamber, she was struck by the austere yet beautiful design. The walls were polished white stone with dark blue veins. The floor and ceiling were covered in dark blue rock tiles. The fixtures were made from the finest silverene, as were the accents.
She fingered the thick, woven towels sitting in a cradle-shaped stand next to the shower stall. So much of this place reminded her of her own home, but at the same time there were many differences, some subtle and some not.
She glanced out the door to the bedroom. She always believed she could tell a lot about a person from their bedroom and study. By what personal items they kept around them. From the paintings or tapestries on the walls. She’d expected Duren’s rooms to be… She shook her head. Maybe a bit more bombastic? Compared to other chambers she’d seen, these were austere. If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear he’d brought her to a guest room in a rarely used part of the manse. But she knew he hadn’t. These were his actual rooms.
“What kind of man are you, Sarpen Duren?” Lifting her face, she closed her eyes. “Would you believe me if I told you I was willing to come here with you because I desire you as well? Would you believe me if I admitted to having a hunger for you that I can’t explain?” Opening her eyes, she stared at the beams of sunlight reflecting off the panes of glass in the domed ceiling. “What is it about you, Duren, that makes me melt inside? You make me melt when I should hate you with every part of my being. I shouldhateyou.” Tears rolled down the sides of her face. “I should hate you,” she whispered. “But something inside me won’t let me.”
She sniffed. She needed to be finished before he returned.
Stripping, she stepped inside the shower’s glass enclosure. Pressing the lever, sun-warmed water poured over the lip of the ebony rock at the top of the stall. She hissed as it washed over her skinned arms and palms, but she’d suffered worse. Lhora shoved her head underneath the fall. The drenching felt marvelous. For the longest time, she was content to just stand there and soak in the heat and moisture.
A soft knock sounded on the stall’s door. She opened it a crack to find Duren standing on the other side, a playful smile on his face.
“Just checking to make sure you hadn’t drowned.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to take so long.”
“Don’t be sorry. In fact, I was wondering if you’d accept some company.”
She read him. He was serious but cautious. Being careful in his approach, but anxious.
And definitely curious.
Leaving the door ajar, she stepped back underneath the spray. “It’s your shower. I’m just your prisoner, to do with as you please tonight.”
The smile disappeared. “No, Lhora. You’re not my prisoner.”
“Then what am I?”
