At least Demitri was there. Though, she thought, narrowing her eyes at him, it’s probably his fault they avoided her. Then again, this might be better than the alternative if these men were anything like the one Demitri had originally threatened. Either way, what was done was done. No use moping too much about it.
He sat with the men, talking with the captain, but met her eye when she’d glanced back toward them a second time and beckoned her over. She steeled herself and obeyed, skirting the men to kneel by him, keeping her hands and eyes to herself. She had no desire to intrude or make anyone feel anymore uncomfortable than they already did. He nudged her arm and she met his questioning eyes as he passed her a bowl of what looked like baked fish on… something. If it was the same something as the day before, then she knew if tasted more appetizing than it looked. Still, her stomach lurched slightly. It had been doing that, but she attributed it to a mild case of sea-sickness. It wasn’t as if she were used to this form of travel.
She thanked him and gave him what she knew was a self-indulgently pathetic smile… but she couldn’t help herself. She was feeling a little sorry for herself. And if she was going to be really honest about it, she thought as she rose and left the group to sit apart, her increasing anxiety wasn’t entirely related to the ship and its crew. It was more closely linked to where they were going and their increasing proximity to that place… whatever that place may be. The fact that she had no idea where they were headed, or what to expect, wasn’t not helping matters much either.
What little she’d gotten out of Demitri was not encouraging… and as usual, nothing at all could be gotten out of Thelios. Slowly the excitement and the eagerness the trip had bred, was leeching out and being replaced. First by the fleeting doubts: had she brought the right clothes? Should she be silent and keep out of the way… or behave as a proper servant would and oversee her own masters comfort. Her intentions were the later… but she was almost more inclined to the former… particularly if her reception from the other servants looked anything like this one.
Thus far in her new role as Thelios’s servant, she’d managed to translate most of what she had learned in preparation for marriage quite easily, especially considering no one involved was all that particular about what she did or didn’t do. But this was another ball of wax entirely. This was different… wasn’t it? There would be others like him, and their servants… and women.
She glared at her untouched fish. And then, there was that. What she expected in that regard she didn’t know, but it was by far the one aspect of this whole ‘adventure’ which obviously caused her apprehension to ratchet itself up to pure dread. At least until she could talk herself back down into a more rational state. Usually with a healthy dose of logic and an even healthier dose denial. When in doubt, pretend the issue didn’t exist. Pretend there wasn’t a nest full of beautiful vipers against whom she would have to stand and be judged… and invariably be found wanting.
Her stomach sloshed and she swallowed hard to keep any of its contents from climbing her throat. Her fingers found her belly, rubbing to sooth the discomfort. It did little to help, and only served to remind her of that other issue she had been trying valiantly to ignore.
It had officially been more than two months. Two months and counting. Her belly was still as flat as it had ever been, with just that slight, gentle slope… but for how long? She wanted to deny it… but she couldn’t. The more she considered it, the more she knew. She just knew. But what to do about it, that she didn’t know.
It was one thing to consider the possibility, but to face the reality was something totally different. She had heard of slaves who’d accidentally become pregnant. Some were allowed to keep them and they inherited their mothers slavery, but there were other, darker stories as well. About how they were hidden away and the child taken from them and who knows what done with it. Sold perhaps… or worse. Or how the women were cast out, or given away to another if the wife had been embarrassed.
Her eyes stung and she inhaled sharply to keep herself in check. She shouldn’t think those things. Thelios had no wife to be vindictive, and he couldn’t be so cruel as to… No. She sucked in a deep breath and banished the thoughts. Pushing everything from her mind. She had to be rational. She merely had to discover his stance on that matter, and once that was known, she could then work out how she would deal with the situation. She would deal with it Then, not angst about it Now. Now she would focus on her duties… once she figured out what those were supposed to be.
A footfall beside her startled her from her thoughts, causing her head to jerk toward the shadow which fell over her and in the process sent a nasty jolt up her neck. She winced up at Demitri plaintively. He chuckled. “Scare ya?”
She made a noncommittal sound and went back to moving her fish around the bowl. He took it as an invitation and made himself comfortable on a crate next to her. They sat in a mostly comfortable silence until she broke it by setting her bowl before her and looking up at Demitri with a frown.
“Demitri?”
“Yes luv?”
“What am I expected to do when we get there?”
“Do?”
“Yes, do. My duties.”
He shrugged carelessly. “I don’t know. I rarely follow him to these places myself.”
“Fat lot of help you are.” She groused, glaring at her bowl. That only made him chuckle and she was hardly in the mood. “Well,” she started again with a sigh, “what do You do?”
He shrugged again. “Not much. Mostly keep to myself, sometimes talk to people and keep my ear out for interesting news.”
“What about the master? You don’t do anything for him?”
“Sure, I guess. If he needs me too.”
“Of for the love of-honestly Demitri, why do I always feel like I’m pulling teeth with you two. What?! What do you do?” She realized her voice had raised somewhat and that a few of the men were casting weary glances in her direction. Demitri had a bemused look on his own. She shrunk slightly and tried not to pout.
“What in Hades has your goat, eh? Red tide or something?”
She parted then shut her lips, suspecting that if she didn’t she’d likely shrill at him like an overwrought harpy. So she glared at him instead, fighting the flush which was creeping across her collar. Eventually she managed to swallow most of her irritation and squeezed out a few words.
“No. Nothing has my goat, I merely wish to know what will be expected of me when we arrive so that I can be prepared.” She gritted out tightly, counting slowly back from 10 as she waited for the inevitably vague response.
He frowned back at her then slid down off the crate to face her on the deck, leaning in to close the conversation to the others. “Seriously woman… what’s wrong. You’ve been jumpy for a couple days now, is it the sea? You getting sick?”