When Zaria rushed into Branka's room that morning, hearing of Svetlana's attack, she was already in tears. Her beautiful childhood friend lay on the bed pale and motionless. Branka was still at Svetlana's side since the late night, keeping the tourniquet which Murka had given her firmly in place over her knife wound to stave off any further bleeding.

            "She is in a deep sleep, Zaria," Branka told her, obviously still shaken herself from the night's violent ordeal. "But she breathes steady . . . and is not as cold to the touch now. I see improvement."

            Zaria placed her hand affectionately on Svetlana's unresponsive head. "I will make sure she never goes back to Murka's home. Sharvur grants me what I desire these days and I will see to this. I will not let this happen to any of us again."

            At that moment, Sharvur strolled into the room closely attended by Krido, his aged counselor. Both men were dressed regally, Sharvur in a dark green silken suit and Krido in his customary black and dark blue garb. Zaria herself was even more exquisite, looking the role of princess. This garment was finely knit, the color of the spring grasses, and with scores of tiny bronze crafted deer in repose fastened to it. For she had, of late, been drawing upon the craftsmen of the palace for her clothing and jewelry.

           Sharvur spoke loudly and insensitively to Svetlana's condition. "Murka tells me, it was his mate, Dressa. She could not tolerate his satisfaction with Svetlana. He asks now for her condition and assurance that she will recover."

            Zaria looked at him and Krido spitefully.

            "She will remain here, with Branka and myself," Zaria responded,  casting her gaze now upon the ailing and still unconscious fellow slave. "Svetlana is not to return to that house!. Not ever! Even when she recovers!"

            Krido stepped up close to her. "You make many demands now, Zaria," he interjected softly. He too showed no particular interest in Svetlana's condition.

            "Yes. And I could say I have many demands put upon me," she answered back insolently.       

            Sharvur simply raised his hand to stop the potentially ugly discourse.

            "Very well," the king said. "Svetlana is to remain in Branka's care . . . here until she either lives or dies." Both Branka and Zaria looked up at him in immediate disgust at his cavalier comment.

           "Branka will be relieved of her nightly duties to me during this time. I understand that my cousin Moshtok is now almost entirely recovered of his battle injury under the care of  her healing hands."

            Branka did not look up at this grateful comment.

            "It seems this young slave is good for something else besides what she was intended for and has been providing to me." The king smiled and nodded to Krido, who still appeared angry at Zaria's earlier impertinent response to him.

            "If there is anything you need Branka to bring Svetlana back to her lovely condition, let Zaria know. I trust she will be checking in on you both. Correct, Zaria?"           

            The princess slave did not look up from the gentle sponging of Svetlana's cheeks and forehead, still being performed lovingly by Branka.

            Krido, in his typical style left the room early in disgust, leaving Sharvur, his guard and the two girls standing over Svetlana in the dim light of the small chamber. With Krido now gone the king motioned to Zaria to come with him outside the room for some reason.

        Before she left to be with him Branka took her arm.  "Zaria. I need you to help me. I feel such feelings for Moshtok now having been with him each day. Now he is almost healed. I want the chance to be with him more . . . and alone. He means so much more to me now than our teacher. You could never understand this, I know."

            Zaria was momentarily indignant as she looked into her young friend's attractive blue eyes and quietly responded. "What makes you so sure I could not understand wanting to be with a beautiful man . . . alone. Of course I do."

        Branka smiled a sisterly smile.

        "I will see what I can do to arrange meetings for you and Moshtok beyond your duties as his healer. Trust me, Branka, I do understand your feelings. . . as I now have them too for someone."

            Branka stared back at her in disbelief. Who could it be, she wondered?

          "And my condition in this palace," she whispered, "is much more dangerous than yours." She then left quickly to join Sharvur outside the doorwy.

            Just outside Branka's chamber, Sharvur moved toward Zaria to whisper something into her ear.

            "I will not be with Branka these nights, as she is free to attend to Svetlana and continue to check Moshtok during the days.

           Zaria simply nodded.

          "But I am requesting that you join me tonight. . .  in my bedchamber."

           Zaria showed no reaction, though she was dismayed by what he was asking.

           "It has been very long since we talked and shared our experiences," Sharvur added. "I will see you there tonight after my dinner hour . . .  do you understand?"

      Zaria just kept her head down, quietly refusing to acknowledge the request. At this unresponsiveness Sharvur suddenly grabbed her arm with considerable force.

            "I said do you understand me!?"

            Zaria looked up quickly in fear of him and his unpredictable nature.

            ""Yes," she quickly said. "I will be there . . . tonight."

                                                                    *     *     * 

            That late evening, following a small banquet Sharvur had for several generals who had returned with him from his military exercises, Zaria prepared to report to the king's bedchamber as he requested. She thought it very telling that Murka was not present at the dinner, and the questions of how Murka actually now felt about Svetlana had been haunting her since the commotion  following her attack by his mate. Without being able to speak to either Murka or Dressa personally, Zaria  thought perhaps Sharvur in his semi-drunken state that night might give away some details of what she wished to know about the relationship which had developed between Svetlana and Murka. Had it become more than her sexual duties to him? Why did Dressa suddenly not tolerate Svetlana's presence?

            As she had carefully chosen clothing to not excite the kings lust, and certainly to not show or even hint at the new magnificent tattoos on her back, Zaria appeared freshly groomed and perfumed at the kings bedroom doorway late in the evening. She found him already laying back on the bed in his silken night clothes with large decorative pillows next him for Zaria's presence.

            "Come, Zaria! We have not had such an opportunity to speak comfortably here on my bed for very long time."

           She walked dutifully to the bedside and climbed up onto the mattress keeping a subtle distance from the king so that he made no contact with her. In a brief moment her mind flashed up an image of what her friend Branka had had to endure with this repugnant man on this very mattress—a man who controlled so much of their fate.

            "I must say, I have not seen you look more beautiful," Sharvur said, obligingly. "It seems your title of princess has served your looks very well here now."

            Zaria, knew to some degree she must play along with the evening's delicate dance. Sharvur was a man of games and she was up to seeing through them.

            "Thank you," she said meekly.

            "And apparently your attitude and demands have seen a change too, as Krido has brought to my attention."

            Zaria could now see the direction of his comments and how the influence of Krido played upon the king in almost every aspect of his life and his rule.

            "What? I do not understand," she said cunningly.

            "My advisor seems to think that I have been too generous with you. That I give you too much freedom.  .  . too many privileges for the slave that you actually are."

            "Krido has his own mind . . . to think what he wishes," Zaria responded boldly. "I do not believe I have taken advantage of your generosity. It was your choice to bless me with a title here in your palace. I never asked for it or felt I deserved it."

            "Well said, Zaria. And I believe so as well. But Krido has the sight which none of us possess. He selected you as our vestal virgin and was right. To be protectoress of our kingdom . . . chose you only from your female smell. He has abilities and insights to things I must trust and never question."

            Zaria could see Sharvur was truly under the influence of all that he had drunk that night. He was waxing emotional and capricious in what he was saying and she expected even worse.

            "Just as I trust that you are truly our divine charm against destruction, Zaria. You see . . . a king must keep his course in what he believes. In your case I have seen your powers with my own eyes. I sleep well at night knowing our forces could defend against any attackers . . . because of your innocence. And this protection exists. . . no matter the number of their horsemen, or the force of their arrows and spears."

            Zaria sat back motionless on the pillows to just let Sharvur speak his mind hoping he would become tired and sleep.

            "But I am also a man, beautiful slave. And I still have great desires for you as a young woman. I fight the thoughts that come to me . . . to tear off your clothing at times . . . and have you here on my bed . . . naked with me. The thoughts I have of hearing your screams turn to moans of pleasure are always in my ears."

            Zaria was alert and totally averse to the direction of his speech. She was aware there would eventually come some physical advance toward her that night. And though she knew his lecherous ways, and tthat he was the stronger physically, she also felt strangely protected by his own absurd beliefs about the power of her virginity. She knew she would always have this as the ultinmate deterrent.

            Sharvur reached over and rested his hand carefully on her thigh. In the first instant his touch was was motionless but soon his hand was attempting to massage her hip and upper torso. That is when Zaria calmly removed it and slid over away from him to send the message she would not tolerate any of his advances. The king did not seem put off by her rebuffing of his desires, and it seemed to her he rather expected it.

            "Now . . . Krido also informs me . . . that you had a second tattoo from Tsurdos . . . one that is now completely healed. And it is one I have not yet seen."

            Zaria's heart began to beat faster.

            "And if the design is truly from Tsudros, I would expect nothing but something quite exquisite. Show me this new addition to your body, Zaria. I am curious as to how you have chosen to decorate your . . . untouchable self."

            Zaria was frozen for that moment. "I would rather . . . no one see that," she said carefully, and a bit defiantly.

            "Well I am not anyone, Zaria. Do not deny me!""

            "Yes. I am aware of that, Sharvur. . . but it is my own secret to carry this mark with me . . .  hidden from the rest of the world. It is my request of you."

            "Listen to me, my slave! Do you realize that I would not be violating your chastity if I just ripped off your clothing and looked at you. . . all of you. . . here on my bed?"

            A chill passed through Zaria's whole being. She had hoped she would not see him revert to his worst side of lust that eveing, but now saw it was a real possibility. How would he treat or touch her, she wondered? Or even punish her, once she was there on the bed within his reach, totally naked?

            "Alright," she whispered compromisingly. "I will show you, this one time."

            "Sharvur seemed content with the agreement and leaned on the pillows as she got off the bed and turned her back to him in the candle light. She slowly and methodically removed her top, careful not to reveal any part of her breasts to him.There in the flickering light, the seven leopards began to do their magic dance up and down her smooth and youthful skin.

            Sharvur was speechless. He just looked at her body for many long moments while Zaria waited for his reaction, not knowing how he would respond.

            "You are very brave," he finally said. "To endure so much pain. That remarkable design must have cost you many hours of discomfort . . . torture actually. But the result is like nothing I have ever seen . . . in my kingdom or anywhere else in my travels."

            She began to put her top back on quickly and made no reply.

            "Is there more? Do you have more designs upon you which I have not seen?

            "No. I do not."

            "Are you being truthful with me Zaria? Do I need to inspect all of you right now?"

            Zaria faced him directly, looking into his sleepy and drunken eyes.

            "You will just have to trust that you have seen all I have. This, my arm and shoulder. . . ." She lifted her sleeve all the way up her arm. "And now what you have seen on my back. I have no more tattoos on my body."

            "Then you should be pleased and content that you have finished with this passion I let you indulge yourself with. You can not expect more, can you? I suggest you make no more visits to Tsudros then."

            Zaria looked into Sharvur's inebriated eyes once more. What was he saying? What did he know of her attraction to the exciting young artist? Her obsession to want to see Tsudros again . . . to feel his work scratched onto her skin . . . and now at the discretion of where Tsudros wanted to decorate her? It had all become in itself an irresistible craving.

            "I do not know if I am finished with this yet," she said simply, wanting to sound indifferent and uncaring.

           "Well I will want to see immediately any other tattoos you have in the future. Is that clear, Zaria? You are in this house a princess now because I have made you so. But never forget . . . you are also still my slave. I have it in my power to do anything I wish to you . . . all but make love to you. And there are many things I could do to you. You must never forget that."

        She now had her clothing back on securely but did not return to the bed.

        "I have not forgotten that, my king," she said with conviction. 

        Zaria's response was more of an oath than a reply to a master. 

                                                               *     *     *