King of Me (The King Trilogy #3)(21)
Author: Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

“I can undress myself.” I held out my hands. “Thank you, umm…what’s your name?”

The young woman didn’t want to answer.

“I insist on knowing your name.”

“Mela,” she replied.

“Thank you, Mela. If you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you’d wait outside.”

The five women exchanged glances.

“It’s okay,” I assured them. “I’ve been washing my body for a few years now. I promise not to miss any strategic spots.” I seriously needed a few minutes alone.

Reservedly, they nodded and left me to soak in the amazing tub that smelled of fresh rosemary and sage. I couldn’t believe such luxury existed in ancient Minoa, but there it was, and I felt damned grateful for it.

I closed my eyes and my mind drifted for a moment. An image of my parents popped up. Oh God. By now, they have to be a mess. Only, they didn’t know I was gone, did they? Because they hadn’t been born yet.

I mentally scratched my head. So that means if I die here, my parents won’t ever know what became of me. On the other side of the coin, if I went back, King would be waiting to kill me and do God-only-knew.

Not if you stop him from becoming cursed. He’ll die a natural death, and life will go on. That was, after all, the way it was meant to be. We all had our time, and then we went. And that was the only way to stop the horrific tragedies still to come. I could only hope I’d get the chance to go home and see the new future with my own eyes.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Mia, wake up.”

My eyes snapped open to find Hagne standing over me. Still feeling a bit weak, I’d drifted off in the tub.

“The meal will be served shortly, and you are not ready,” she said. “This will displease our king.”

I cocked one brow. As if I gave a flying Minoan fig leaf about pleasing him. “He’ll just have to wait, then.”

Her eyes nearly exploded from her skull, but then she smiled and nodded. “As you wish.”

Translated to mean, “It’s your ass, not mine.”

“See you at dinner,” she said.

After she left, I dried myself off and slipped on the dress left for me on the “bed” (a hay mat over a stone platform). My vivid blue frock was pretty damned impressive for folks who didn’t own sewing machines. It was a pleated toga style, belted at the waist, that hung over the right shoulder and flowed to the floor. Luckily, it hid the fact I wore no undergarments.

“Ready!” I called out. The posse of young women stormed inside and made me sit. They frantically began putting my hair up, using little copper pins with rounded jewels on the ends. Then they wrapped a little headband made of pearls and other polished stones of various colors to hold everything up, with the exception of the curls in the back, which they left hanging down. They quickly rubbed my underarms with oil that smelled like lavender mixed with roses, and then held up a small polished plate.

“Wow. I look beautiful,” I said. “Thank you.”

The women stared at the floor, and Mela gestured toward the door to where that battalion of guards awaited. “I hope he is pleased,” she said.

“I’m sure he will be,” I said, “thank you.” I felt so incredibly guilty about the way these women lived. Maybe I could talk to King later.

I followed the men outside down a set of stairs that skirted the edge of the building and through another courtyard illuminated by torches. I entered the open-aired hall with vaulted ceilings and noticed a shirtless King sitting at the head of a long table lit with oil lamps, a look of utter outrage shooting from his eyes. Hagne sat to his side, smothering a glib expression, and the other eight guests, all men, were motionless.

I cleared my throat and smiled. “Good evening.”

“You are late,” growled King. The muscles in his neck and shoulders flexed with irritation.

“And you never change,” I scowled.

The room collectively gasped.

Okay, I get that at this point some might accuse me of insanity for behaving so rudely toward this man, especially given my current predicament; however, this was no time to start second-guessing the facts. Curse or no curse, King was not a man who respected weakness. Nor was he the type to trust easily. If I was going to change his fate, and thus all our fates, he needed to see that I was there without hidden agendas. What you saw was what you got. That also meant cowering to anyone, especially him, would be the kiss of death.

That said, I prepared for his wrath. Because the other thing I knew? He hated to be disobeyed. “Do as you are told, Miss Turner,” he’d say.

King’s stunning blue eyes drilled me for several nerve-racking moments, and then he exploded with laughter, his head full tilt toward the aquatic-themed, mural-covered ceiling. The guests chuckled along nervously as well, exchanging glances. They didn’t have a clue as to why their king laughed like a madman, but I sure as hell did: my insolence amused him. It would three-thousand-something years from now, too. I equated it to how one might feel if they were hiking through the woods and came across an ornery chipmunk. It could squeak and squeal all day long, but you’d never feel threatened. You’d simply say, “Look at the balls on that furry little bastard. He knows I could squish him, right?” You might even feel a bit of respect for the creature’s standing up to you, even if you weren’t quite sure what its damned problem was.

That was how King thought of me.

King’s laughter died, and he gestured toward an empty little stool made from carved wood, opposite Hagne. “You look very beautiful tonight,” he said.

I self-consciously reached for my hair. “Thank you. Mela did a nice job.”

King frowned. He had no clue who Mela was.

A few servants appeared out of nowhere and poured wine into my metal chalice. On the table was quite a spread of almonds, fresh figs, more olives, and some lentils mixed with herbs and…stuff. Hell, I had no clue.

What I wouldn’t give for a glass of whiskey right now.

The servants began placing small portions of food on the beautiful, hand-painted ceramic plate in front of me, depicting a blue octopus eating a fish. A scoop of barley, topped with some cooked snails and little sardines, was placed in the center. Eesh…

I smiled, knowing it could’ve been worse. At least I recognized most everything. “Looks delicious,” I said.

“Eat. You will need your strength tonight, Seer,” said King.

I held in a gasp. He’d said similar words to me in a dream that had spiraled into a nightmare and turned out not to be so farfetched. King tying me up, tearing off my clothes…The reminder sent a cold spike through me.