That night, following the frenetic performance of the "Dance of the Warriors" Zaria retired to her new room. It would be her first night there and she found everything to her liking. She had just diligently sat for hours through the wild evening festivities at Sharvur's side, displaying herself to his chosen subjects as the new "princess." As her tattoo was still red and inflamed, she chose not to expose her arm and shoulder to the public that evening—though that new bold part of her very being she now adored and treasured.  During the all-male dancing program her tattoo had been covered inside the sleeve of her long, silk gown—one of the new garments which Sharvur had ordered made for her and placed in her room for this and such future occasions.

         Earlier, Zaria's afternoon appointment with Tsudros, which she had anticipated with great desire, did not disappoint her in the least. She found the artist still overbearingly attractive, caring and attentive to her as yet fresh wound. The meeting was exhilarating to her, despite the fact it was merely to dress the dark, swirling lines and cuts Tsudros had personally etched upon her body. While he rubbed his magic ointment into her raw and tender skin, soothing the burning pain, Zaria felt herself becoming yet again warm and moist in other places. It began as soon as he positioned himself so closely next to her and she could smell his body—a mixture of manly sweat and light perfume. A familiar throbbing began for Zaria as Tsudros leaned closer, touched her body with his and recited his words of comfort.

      Several times during the brief procedure their eyes met and there was a mutual urgency communicated which hinted of seeing see each other beyond these few days of therapy. Both spoke none of this. But both Zaria and Tsudros felt the beguiling pull of attraction which it offered. To Zaria that magic had begun the day before, under Tsudros' first light breaking of her skin and the thought that he was, in some physical way, transforming her.     

        Yet, Zaria also knew the risks involved in pursuing such an irresistible fantasy—that erotic dream she had only envisioned the night before—feeling herself enveloped and caressed in his strong and embellished arms. If such a meeting was discovered, it would surly mean instant death to the artist, and most possibly to her as well. There were, however, certain dangerous, yet new, possibilities inherent in Zaria's position of power within the palace. They might present themselves creatively, she imagined, to bring about future liaisons. And as Zaria left Tsudros that afternoon—both of them ending their longing stare with a nod, these possibilities were already carefully being considered by her, unbeknownst to the young artist. 

                                                     *     *     * 

         As the monotonous drumming died down and the final performance of the fearsome warriors was celebrated by boisterous cheering, Branka knew from her small room in the palace that she would now be called upon to join Sharvur in his bedchamber. The directive finally came from one of the attending women. The older woman seemed vicariously aware, through her furtive smile, of what would take place for the young slave that night.

       To Branka it would be her second time with the king, and she only hoped it would not be as traumatic as the first long night she had spent him. Was it possible, now that her virginity had been lost, that she would not feel the same pain when he ravaged her again? Would he now be less sadistic in playing upon her fears and her innocence? And might he not use again the horse whip he kept under his pillow to intensify his pleasure, teasing and striking her naked backside? Branka had every reason to be fearful as she entered the king's candle-lit bedroom with these questions for a second night.

          "Ah Branka . . . I have been thinking of you all day." Sharvur said greeting her inside. "And I see you have worn the little dress I left for you in your room."

           Branka nodded to the king as she gingerly approached his bed. He motioned for her to stop and stand for a moment in the candlelight as he rose from the mattress, observed he closely, and stood closely behind her.

            "You can now hear me Branka. . . but you can not see me," he whispered. "Does that give you fear?"           

           She held her hands together helplessly and nodded while Sharvur moved his face more closely behind her head.

            "You will again be obedient to me this night . . .  for I have new surprises for you"

            She felt him run his finger gently down her back, all the way to her buttocks.

            "Because . . . if you are not obedient to your king this evening, you will have to dance . . . not for me, but for all my soldiers . . . and in the nude. Would you like that Branka?

            "No." She whispered back.

            "That's good, "Sharvur replied, his voice already showing signs of arousal.

            She suddenly felt a silk scarf cover her eyes, as he tied it tightly, disenabling her to see.

          "Now . . . you will not know if it is just me . . . or there are others here who will watch you undress yourself tonight. Will you sweet Branka?"

            The king's voice had moved back. Away from her but still behind. She tried to hear if there was anyone else in the room as she stood motionlessly. Only the sound of the fireplace crackling in the corner of his chamber could be heard.

            "So now . . . I want you to undress yourself. . .  slowly. . .  here as you stand. And I think you remember the little encouragement I showed you last time . . . with my whip when you took too long to follow my commands . . . do you remember, Branka?"

           This comment and a memory of the sudden sting of leather compelled her to start removing her dress and undergarment. She did it slowly but diligently as he ordered. When she had totally removed all she wore, she stood waiting obediently for him to respond. It was too silent, and she did not know what to expect. This tortuous anxiety caused her to tremble slightly.

           Suddenly she felt him roughly take both of her arms behind her. Her hands were tied at the wrist by the same silk material. And again Sharvur moved back into the silence as she just stood naked, blindfolded, and now tied-up in the center of the room. She fearfully awaited what would happen next and this dreadful anxiety caused her breathing to increase.

           "Tonight I just want to look at you, Branka, in all your beauty," he said loudly. "But not here."       

            She felt his strong hands grab her shoulders. "On my bed . . . and on your knees!"

          Sharvur led her over quickly to the mattress and then he pushed her onto it. She landed softly on her side, but the king commanded her loudly to get up onto her knees. He then ordered her to put her head down on his pillow. Again there was the agonizing silence and darkness as she tried not to imagine what could happen to her next while she remained in this uncomfortable and sexually compromising position. She could hear the loud breathing only of the king as he seemed to be spending all his lustful energy at a distance from her. And in a few moments it was quiet again.

        Sharvur then walked over the bed and helped her to her feet. He removed her blindfold and easily untied her wrists. Branka was perplexed as she tried to get her eyes to focus on him. And she was thankfully relieved to see there was no one else in the room.   

        "So. . .you are free to go now, my sweet one," he said in a somewhat weakened voice.

        Branka looked up into his face with questioning eyes.

         "And I very much like your new little friend." He said this handing back her clothing and pointing to her shoulder. He referred to the graceful, still raw tattoo of the nightingale. It was sprightly and alive, perpetually in flight on her skin.

          "Thank you . . ." Branka whispered, more about the light treatment he afforded her that night than the compliment about the tattoo.

          "I am a man of many mysteries, Branka, he said. "And many games. You will play some of them with me. And even learn to like them. But you will never know or understand all of them. Because if you ever did . . . I would have to dispose of you."

           Sharvur then laughed out loud at his strange and horrid comment, leaving Branka terrified but at the same time just relieved to leave his room untouched that night. As she walked out alone, she was thankful there was no pain and only minimal humiliation. She now understood that this uncertainty would be a part of her ultimate curse with him.

*     *     *