“Mr Prince!” Nuni shouted. “Mr Prince! Help me! Please!”
Nuni was panicking. I had had enough panic attacks in my life to know she was about to completely lose it. I tried to speak, to tell her I was okay, but I couldn’t because I was most definitely not okay. I was really hurting. My body felt like it was on fire, and my stomach … it felt like it had been stretched and wrung out a dozen times over.
“Look at her!” Nuni screamed. “She has a fever, she’s shaking, and her face is not supposed to be that pale! Her breathing is barely a wheeze. Almighty. What is wrong with her?”
I was about to open my eyes when large, cool hands touched my face. It was better than feeling Nuni’s cold hands because a great sensation of relief filled me almost instantly. It was like something had entered my body and was battling away the sickness that had claimed me. My eyes remained shut as I allowed the feeling to take away my aches and pains. I didn’t know how long it took, but eventually, the only thing I felt was complete and utter exhaustion.
Before I could tell Nuni that I felt better, I fell into a deep, dreamless slumber.
I wasn’t sure what woke me up, but I felt uneasy as I lay in my bed. I blinked my eyes open and wondered if I had dreamed that I was sick. My head felt a little foggy. It didn’t help that my room was mostly dark, the only light I had was from the twin moons that shone through my viewing pane. I was about to roll over when the sudden feeling of being watched made me gasp and shoot upright. I caught slight movement out of the corner of my eye and sucked in a strangled breath when a hand touched my arm.
Master.
He was the first person to pop into my head. I swung my close fist in his direction, and I hit him hard enough to make him growl.
Growl. Master didn’t growl.
“Nun … Nuni?”
“No.”
A deep, male voice answered me, and it was a voice I instantly recognised. I felt my eyes widen to the point of pain when the light of my room suddenly switched on. I squinted against the harshness of it, and when my vision focused, my heart just about stopped. Leaning over me was a prince of the Maji. I looked to my left and right, looking for an escape should I need one. I didn’t understand what was happening. I shifted my gaze back to Ezah and noticed a spot on his cheek that looked a little dark compared to the rest of him.
I realised then that my hand was hurting a little.
“Oh no.” I shrunk back. “Did I hit you?”
He nodded.
“I’m sorry. Oh please, I didn’t mean to do that. Please, don’t hurt me.”
Ezah’s eyes—literally pink—looked stunning in the lighting. I had never seen that particular colour in any of the other Maji males or females I had come across whilst on Ealra, and it was captivating. I realised I was staring and felt myself shrink. Ezah raised an eyebrow, took a step back, and slowly lowered himself down onto the chair next to my bed. It was a chair from the cookery.
“Does it look like I’m going to hurt you, female?”
I gripped my blanket and shook my head rapidly from side to side. He didn’t look hostile or angry in the slightest, and if I was being honest with myself, that freaked me out because I was so used to dealing with straightforward emotions. If someone was angry, I knew what to expect. I didn’t know what to expect from Ezah. The few times I’d encountered him had left me bewildered and confused.
“Good,” he rumbled at my response. “Because I’m not going to hurt you. Not now, not ever.”
The relief that filled me would have been enough to knock me off my feet had I been standing.
“Levi,” he said. “Why are you so scared all of the time? You reek of fear.”
Suddenly paranoid, I lowered my head and sniffed at myself. A sound rumbled at the back of Ezah’s throat.
“I can scent it,” he said. “You can’t. Human senses are not as keen as Maji.”
Right.
“Does it smell bad, my prince?” I murmured. “Fear?”
“Sickly-sweet,” he answered. “Not a bad smell, but it tickles the nostrils, so I do not like to be exposed to it often.”
I blinked. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
I shifted. “Because I don’t know how to answer it, my prince.”
How could I tell him I was terrified all the time because being submissive and fearful was how I was raised as a slave? How could I explain it was a survival instinct? It sounded hard to say in my head, let alone out loud.