A week has passed since I fled the apartment of the Angel of Doom.

I am cold. The desert isn't warm at night and I have nothing. The gold my master was generous enough to bestow upon his servant girl was stolen the first night, save for a few pieces I had slipped into my undergarments.

I was fortunate enough to escape with my life and virginity.

I fear staying on the streets. I fear returning to my master. He instructed me to be careful with the gold and I lost it! I fear his wrath.

But, as I am finding out, the stomach calls loudly and I cannot resist its pleading for sustenance which I will only find in the apartment of the Angel of Doom.

I make my way to the palace gates and whimper as I see the guards. I cannot slip by them. I am too weak to the climb the walls and they won't let me inside.

I look like a beggar now.

Tears streak down my cheeks as I turn away and hide myself in some bushes, hoping the leaves will block some of the night wind.

Then, I form a plan. My master rides frequently between the current palace the one he is building some miles away. I shall wait for him to leave and then, on my hands and knees, plead for him to help me.

Even if that help is merely to strangle the breath from my lungs.

I have been faced with the reality that I am incapable of living on my own. No one wants a rejected harem girl.

I was a fool that night to believe that one could survive on gold alone.

If my old master doesn't want me, perhaps he will grant me mercy and end my existence.

I must hide and wait. And pray he leaves before I weaken too severely to ask for his aid.

X

The girl never leaves my mind. For the past week the scent and feel of her have haunted my nightmares. Even opium gives no relief.

Nadir and I do not speak of her and so I have no name for her.

Last night was no exception from the dreams and as I prepare for a day at the work site. Her image must be forced from my mind. I will concentrate on my work and forget the girl who I will never see.

Why must I be a monster?

I leave the palace in a hurry, my black mood following me like my black cloak. The sun has barely risen and I know I look like the devil I am.

My horse waits at the gate, held by a quaking guard. I snatch his reins away from the man and swing into the saddle. The guards at the gate step several feet away from me as I spur the creature away.

I barely make a hundred yards before I see a black lump lying in the road.

As I draw near, the lump looks up at me, brown eyes laced with tears and black hair matted.

Her.

I stop the horse in front of her but do not dismount.

"Master..." Her voice is too weak for me to hear it properly. Her racing pulse is visible in her neck and her breathing is labored.

I should leave her in the road.

She didn't obey me and is paying for it.

But I can't.

I dismount my horse and kneel beside her.

Her dress is torn. She is covered in mud. Her hand reaches towards me and she faints. I gather her in my arms. A woman is lying in my arms. A living, breathing woman. I swallow nervously and slowly climb back onto my horse, her balanced neatly in the crooks of my arms.

My horse carries us back to the palace where I return her to my rooms. I am about to lay her down when I once more notice the state of her clothing.

Panicked, I try to think of another way than the one which is presenting itself.

I don't want to see her unclothed again. I don't know if I could resist.

I don't know why she came to me for aid. I would have thought she wouldn't return to me ever again.

There is no other choice and I go about the process of disrobing her, bathing her and cleaning her injuries.

What a pretty piece of hell she has turned out to be.

X

I wake once more tucked into the silken sheets of the bed. I am dressed in some sort of silk nightgown as I realize my master must have undressed and bathed me.

Perhaps I should feel embarrassed or violated but I do not. My body is my master's to do with as he pleases.

I only hope whatever he has planned as appropriate punishment won't be too horrendous.

When he found me he didn't appear too angry. His eyes didn't hold any emotion I could identify really.

As I think, the door opens and I look up into the golden eyes of the Angel of Doom. I look downward and away from him, submissive as always.

I hear him approach me and hear the rattle of dishes as he sets a tray down beside me.

"I wondered when you'd wake." He says softly as he hands me a few pillows so I may prop myself up. I do so while never making eye contact.

"Thank you, master. Thank you for bringing me back." I worry for a moment when I notice his fists clinching.

"I'm not your master." He says. "Eat. You look starved." I turn to face him at this and take the plate he held out to me.

I steal a look into his eyes. He seems so distant and cold. He wears a mask that shows his chin and lips. I am surprised at the emaciation. The bits of jaw I can see are angular.

"Thank you." I whisper as I begin to eat. It is delicious and even though I am still afraid of him I am glad I have returned.

"What to the money?" He asks and I lower my head in shame.

"It was stolen, Sir."

"I should have known you couldn't have protected that much gold."

"Forgive me, Sir. I am too weak to live on my own."

"You have no experience."

"I know you do not want me. But, I beg of you to let me stay! I will serve you in any way you wish!" I turn to him and clasp my hands together, pleading with him.

He turns away from him and I am forced to stare at his back.

I keep eating slowly, waiting for him to make up his mind.

A while of silence later, he turns back to me. He is frowning.

"You may stay with me. I will teach you how to live on your own. I do not wish to be saddled with you for the rest of my life here."

"Thank you, Sir! Thank you!" I press my clasped hands to my forehead and bow to him as well as I can while in bed.

"What's your name?" He asks.

"Ester, Sir."

"When you are finished eating, Ester, dress. I shall give you instructions as to your chores."

I hurry to finish. I shall be the Angel of Doom's servant.

At least I shall be warm and fed.

X

I love him.

That morning when he allowed me to remain as his servant, I never imagined I might one day love him. Love is not often found in this country.

But, I do love him.

He always treats me as an equal. We sometimes talk in the evenings and he is teaching me French and English. I clean and cook and keep the apartment in order. He feeds, clothes, and provides a cot for me.

It is a fine arrangement.

A month after my return, I learned his name is Erik. I of course never use it when addressing him but I often catch my mind thinking of him by his common name.

I know not what he looks like beneath the mask but I don't care how horrible he may appear. He is but the man I love. Poor esthetics don't bother me.

He doesn't love me.

I am convinced.

Sometimes, I see him undressing me with his eyes but his fingers never follow.

I am his servant but I am still a gift to him. He could take me if he wished. I wouldn't resist. He would be welcome and I would show him I love him without words.

The khanum never once questioned the blood which the Daroga put on the sheet so he has never been required to go further than he did the first night.

I am cleaning.

This evening he went out to the wedding party of the Shah.

He had been planning a grand trick with a skeleton and I am excited to hear how well it goes.

It is growing late and I begin to worry.

Parties going until dawn aren't uncommon but I am inexplicably nervous. something is wrong. I wish I knew.

I pace and fret, unable to relax.

Suddenly, the door bursts open and Erik stumbles through. My eyes widen and I rush to his side.

"Sir!" I cry but he pushes me away.

"Leave!" He orders before vanishing into the bathroom. I hear gagging and wrenching from within. Terrified beyond imagination, I rush after him and drop to my knees beside as he coughs blood into the bath.

"Sir!" I cry again, reaching out to him. I don't know what to do. He must command me!

"Get. Out!" He shouts, his lips covered in blood and his golden mask flecked with it. "Leave!" Violently, he grabs me and throws me towards the door.

I am a slender creature and he is strong.

I know I will have a few bruises from the impact.

Shaking, I flee the room.

I must find the Daroga!

He must know how to help my master!

I run through the palace halls. Through my panicked tears, I see the Daroga striding down the halls towards me.

He sees my expression and my panic leaps to him.

"Ester! What has happened?" He demands of me.

"Erik!" I cry out, unable to explain what else is happening. Neither him nor I notice my verbal indiscretion.

One word is enough for him to understand something is greatly wrong. He grabs my arm and drags me after him. I run as fast as I can; tears pour down my cheeks.

"Blood! Blood...coughing!" I cannot speak more than a few words but I hope it is enough for him to understand.

The Daroga silences me.

We arrive at the apartment and he rushes through the door, giving me orders to remain outside once I point towards the bathroom.

The door closes behind him and I lay my ear against it so I might hear what is happening to my master.

"The wine. How many times have I warned you to employ a taster?"

"If you don't mind. . . I should prefer to conduct my final performance without an audience. . . . Ask nicely and I'm sure they'll give you your money back at the door!" There is a pause. "Go away! I don't want you here. . . I don't want anyone. . ."

"Stop wasting your strength. Do you have any idea what you may have taken?"

"No, I've made no study . . . of your crude Persian toxins . . . I don't make a habit . . . of poisoning people as a rule. It's not a form of death I find . . . esthetically pleasing."

"Ground glass would account for the internal bleeding. There are various substances with which it could have been combined. Most of them produce a protracted and agonizing death."

"How long?"

"Those who are lucky die within forty-eight hours, but I have known a strong man to linger up to ten days."

"Ten days. Then . . . I could get to Ashraf?"

"You could never endure that journey in this condition."

"I must. There are . . . instructions . . . I have yet to give . . . And I must see . . . with my own eyes . . . one last time."

"You'll die on the road long before we reach the palace. Why give yourself so much more necessary pain?"

"The pain is nothing . . . compared to the regret . . . the frustration! Nadir –" His voice vanished so that I could no longer hear it.

A painful sob rips through me as I tear myself away from the door. Quickly, I move to my cot and tuck a nightgown into a bag along with some things I know my master enjoys.

A couple books, mostly in French of which I don't understand but can pronounce enough to read them to him, his violin, and all his money.

The Daroga left the bathing chamber and looks towards me and then the bag in my hands.

"You wish to go with us?"

I nod.

"I am going."

"I am fetching a carriage for him. Be ready to leave before dawn."

I once more nod.

"I will."

X

Our trip the shell of a palace is reeked with pain. My master is so ill but still lucid. He lays still and I reach out every now and then to gently touch his hand.

He has entrusted many documents and plans to Daroga. The finality of this action scares me.

He knows he's going to die.

I can't let him go.

I try to forget he is dying.

I refuse to acknowledge I am going to lose the man I love.

We reach the palace and Erik is loaded onto a litter; I walk beside him. I am his servant. I will be faithful until the end.

Erik sits up on one elbow and calls out furiously,

"Give me those papers! And fetch the master mason here to me now!" As one of the many workers darts off, he pulls himself to his feet. I reach out to stop him but he only uses my hand to stand up.

"Sir..." I begin to beg him to lay down once more but he silences me when the master mason arrives. He ignores me and addresses the man,

"You have not followed my instructions. Why?"

"Forgive me, master. I did my best . . . but the specifications were so – so complex . . . I did not understand them." He stammers and kneels before the Angel of Doom.

Erik grabs a whip and struck the man's shoulders. He falls backward and almost to the ground.

"Next time you don't understand something, ask, damn you! Ask!"

"You weren't here, master!" I hear and comprehend the terror in his words. He fears the Angel of Doom much like I did so long ago. "You weren't here to ask. It has been more than three weeks since you came to us."

The whip drops from Erik's hand.

"Yes, you are right . . . This is a damnable way to build. Get up now . . . are you hurt?"

"No, master." I step forward a moment to offer my hand towards the man who accepts it and rises. I quickly slip behind Erik's back once more.

"You are very fortunate that I lacked the strength to break your neck. Come to my tent now and I will go through the plans with you . . . give you my last instructions. You will listen very carefully – and you will not be afraid to tell me if you do not understand. I swear to you now that as long as you show me honesty I will show you no more anger."

I suspect more because of his weariness than any kindness.

The moon is high in the sky before the master mason is done.

"Are you sure?" Erik demands, insistent that the man understood all his complicated plans.

"Yes, master." The man leaves and Daroga watches him leave. I watch Erik and see him begin to sway. I dart forward just in time to break his fall.

X

"It was an accident. It was an accident. . . . I didn't mean to make her fall. . . . I didn't want you to see. . . . . Oh, Father . . . way did you make me do it . . . why?"

I hold his head in my lap and try to ply him with water. He is nearing his death.

His fingers grab my arms, leaving small bruises.

"Give me back my mask! Give me back my mask and let me go home. . . . I hate it here. . . . I hate this cage . . . this filthy cage!"

Daroga helps me restrain him while he fights us. Tears slips from my eyes as I hold the man I love even closer to my body.

He quiets.

Tears shimmer in his eyes.

"Where's Sasha? Where is she?" Fear is in his tone and I quickly assure him she is with us so he may quiet. I feel a stab of jealousy. Who is this Sasha?

"Don't let her out tonight. Promise me you won't let her out . . . promise me!" The Daroga and I quickly promise him.

Before we reach the Daroga's home, he slips into a coma.

X

He is quiet now, resting in a bed. He sleeps without a sign of pain. His limbs are still and I weep.

The Daroga knows I care for my master and he has left us alone.

I sit by his bed, holding his hand and running my fingers over the veins. I removed his gloves. I should think of him in his last hours but I can't help but think of myself.

I shall never hear his voice again.

I shall never see his eyes look into mine again.

I shall never have the chance of his caring about me.

I force these thoughts from my mind.

When he dies, I shall die with him. It is quite simple.

A bit of poison and we shall rest together.

I weep and press his hand to my face. I tremble as I recall his hands against my body. He could have been cruel but he wasn't.

"Je t'aime." I whisper to his unconscious form. "Je t'aime. Je t'aime."

I learned those words in secret. I learned them so I might speak to him in his native tongue.

Now I whisper them to his dying body.

X

I am dying.

I feel the life slipping slowly but surely from my blood.

I hurt but I don't move. I am weak.

I feel nothing and hear nothing.

Nightmares flood me as I relive ever moment of my awful life. There was nothing sweet. Nothing that I wish to recall.

Then, a pretty face appears. Her eyes are brown and her hair black. Her skin the perfect shade of caramel and her figure so graceful.

She stares down at me, her face such a picture of innocent pretty and kindness.

This must be a memory of a dream I had forgotten.

Her fingers reach towards my face and I watch tears pour from her eyes. I have made another angel cry.

"Je t'aime." The words are a whisper and I know I have imagined them. Such pretty words that have never been pointed towards me.

When I don't respond, the angel begins to cry even more, her face crumpling into more tears.

"Je t'aime! Je t'aime!" Her words are wails now.

Must I cause pain even as I die?

"Come back to me. I beg of you." Her fingers caress my cheek. "Please don't die. For the sake of your servant girl." Her eyes lower.

I cannot resist her. I open my eyes to the world I had closed off for so long.

I will live.

As my eyes weakly scan the room, I feel pressure on my hand. I glance to the side and see my servant girl gripping my hand tightly in hers, pressing it against her face.

My hand is wet with her tears.

Her pronunciation is awful.

She loves me.

My heart, only recently having returned from dying, thunders and pounds. She loves me! I wish to rejoice! To hold her tightly to myself and weep for joy!

Logic rears its head.

She hasn't seen beneath my mask.

She doesn't know what love is. She is too young.

I am a fool. She has imagined herself in love so as to endure my presence.

The poor child. I shall release her as soon as I am well.

Perhaps the Daroga will accept her, take care of her.

I am a poison. The Devil's own son. She would only waste affection of any sort if she bestowed it upon my undeserving carcass.

The Daroga will take good care of her.

My heart throbs.

I have long loved her.

How could something so perfect not weasel her way into one's heart?

She is safer away from me.

Love of a monster is poison.

X

I pull away from his hand and quickly go about drying it. I have embarrassed myself thoroughly by weeping. I wouldn't want the Daroga to walk in and find I have been so fragile.

I clean his hand and dry my face.

I finish and once more pick up the book and begin reading. I don't understand most of the words and so I know I have failed pronunciation but perhaps it will ease him nonetheless.

I glance over.

His eyes look steadily into mine.

I scream.

Daroga is there in moments, obviously expecting my master to have expired. We help him sit up and give him food. I hope he hasn't heard anything I have said.

But the way he looks at me, I know he has heard me.

He shall soon throw me out of his service.

I want to tear my heart from my chest.

I go about my duties, caring for him as best as I can.

The next day, as I return with hot water so he may bath, I pause at the door and hear the Daroga and my master speaking.

"Nadir, I want you to take Ester. Take her into your service."

"Why?"

"She loves me. She loves me. I heard her. I can't let her stay with me while she is under such a delusion."

"Delusion?"

"Yes, for what else could it be? She is so young. She believes herself in love with me. Such a belief might cause her harm. Take her away and keep her with your servants."

A sob breaks from my lips but I cover my mouth and keep listening.

"If you wish, Erik. Will you miss her?"

"How could I not? She has become a vital part of my life. I love her, Nadir!" Tears are in his voice and the tray I am holding clatters to the ground at his confession.

He loves me!

He loves me!

He loves me!"

The door is opened and the Daroga sees me there. A kindly smile is in his eyes as he leaves the room.

"Speak to him, child. You two of all people deserve some happiness."

I am crying again as I step around the broken dishes and fallen platter. Yet these are happy tears! So unlike those I have cried since the wedding party.

I read unspoken fear in his eyes as I approach the bed. He is propped up on one elbow.

Those golden eyes pierce me deeply.

"Forgive me..." He whispers as he hangs his head. I boldly sit beside him.

"Forgive you? For what?" I ask quietly. Love may be shared between us but I am still his servant girl. I must not step out of line.

"For loving you." He looks up pleadingly at me. "You must get away! Get away from me!" I should obey and step away but I don't. I draw near and take his free hand in mine.

"Why must I go away?" I ask, kneeling beside his bed.

"You must be safe. I break all I touch." I shake my head.

"You've never broken me."

"I never admitted I loved you before. You must escape while you can." He is weak and falls back onto the pillows.

I shake my head once more.

"I love you. I won't leave. I'm not under a delusion. I love you."

"It's not safe. You don't know what monster you are offering your love to!" For once I determine to speak my mind.

"Yes, I do know to whom I offer my love. To a man. Remember that first night? You cried. You let me go. A monster wouldn't do either. I knew from that moment you were a man. Not the fiend I had long believed you to be."

I take his other hand in mine. They are shaking violently. He tries to pull them away but I hold them firmly and gently pull off the black gloves, revealing his scarred, thin hands.

"These are human hands. I love a man."

I don't know where I have found this strength to talk. But, I keep talking.

"These fingers may have wrought great horror and death but they are still beautiful. They make beautiful music and fantastical tricks!"

I reach forward and touch his chest, racked with tremors.

"You have a good heart. You want to be loved, appreciated. I understand."

Tears gush from his eyes as he throws himself forward, his long arms wrapping around my waist and his head landing against my stomach.

He sobs and I hold him.

He is lost and I am his rock.

He lifts his head and began to furiously grapple with the strings of his mask. I watch in shock as he yanks the contraption away from his face and throws it aside, baring his visage for me to see.

He thinks I will leave.

I don't.

No words are needed. I lean brazenly lean forward and begin to kiss away his tears. He is deformed. I still love him.

He lays his head against my bosom and cries more.

When he is stronger, there will be rejection. He will doubt me. I am no fool. It is not easy to love the Angel of Doom. But I have chosen that path.

He looks up at me.

I look down at him.

Our faces draw near.

Our lips meet in our first kiss.