"You can't have her," I said and swallowed hard.
His eyes moved to the girl behind me. With no ceremony, he lowered the sword and shifted forward, grabbing one of my arms. He spun me to face the tapestry and planted a hand at the center of my back, pinning me against the wall with ease. Sheathing the sword, he yanked off the scarf covering my hair and pulled down the back of the robe I wore to display the base of my neck.
"I did not come for her, Goddess," he said and traced a thumb over the lotus tattoo I was now beginning to regret ever getting. A new feeling trickled through me, one of dread. Maybe my aunt was right about tattoos attracting the wrong crowd.
He sniffed me. I resisted the urge to ask what it was with his people and sniffing, too afraid to ask.
"I'm not a goddess." It was a stupid time to protest and even stupider to ignore his claim, but the words slipped out before I could stop them.
He spun me once more, this time resting a heavy hand on my collarbone to keep me in place. "You are not ugly, either, Moonbeam," he said, amused. He reached past me to grab the girl.
He knows who I am. I started to block him, but he pushed me back against the wall. He hauled her up by the robe and suspended her in the air, not hurting her but scaring the hell out of her by the expression on her features.
"Who is this?" he asked. "A slave?"
I hesitated, uncertain how to respond.
He met my gaze, waiting. He appeared sincere, as if he neither knew nor cared whom the girl was. His size and strength left me thinking I'd never really understood the meaning of intimidating until this very moment. It was humbling to know without a doubt if he meant to act, I had neither the strength nor the speed to escape or survive.
My death would at least be quick.
Unable to form a response under his intense look, I nodded.
Shouts came from the hallway, drawing his attention. "Do not run, Moonbeam," he warned me once more. Releasing us both, he drew the sword and picked up another from one of the men he'd recently brutalized. He lingered, and I swore I saw him slice off the man's ear and put it into a pouch at his waist before he then disappeared into the hall.
I'm going crazy. No one chopped off dead men's ears, even this guy.
I released the breath I'd been holding, about to have a nervous breakdown yet knowing it was the wrong reaction if I wanted to live. Instead, I knelt and took the arms of the princess. We were both shaking, and there were tears on her face. "Do you … know a way out?"