The entertainment ended late in the evening, and etiquette allowed Eli to retire to his suite.

As the prince stood, the sultan grinned and winked. “The desert nights get cold. Your bed will be much warmer now.”

Eli dipped his head.

The sultan laughed, pleased with himself, and motioned for Eli to take his leave.

Giving Pandhuka a diplomatic smile, the prince tried not to think about the sultan’s implications, his physical reaction to those implications, or how much he wanted to give into that reaction.

Eli escaped the feast, and his bodyguards and adviser on Qumarefi culture were waiting for him on the other side of the massive oak doors.

A servant led the prince to his rooms, and when they were some distance from the hall, his adviser motioned toward the slave girl. “Mess we got here, Your Highness.”

Eli raised a brow at the “we”.

Rolland shook his head. “Sultan can be surprising like that. Generous to a fault if he likes you. Nothing you could do but accept his gift, Your Highness, or risk insulting him.”

The slave stared down at her hands but continued to follow them.

“Not a mess, but things took an unexpected turn.” Eli glanced back at the girl. He was unsure why he comforted her, but he wasn’t in the mood to question his instincts. He offered her his arm.

The girl stared at him, her eyes widening in surprise, but she slid her arm through his.

“Qumaref isn’t like Tamryn, Your Highness,” Rolland said. “She’s your lesser. She should walk behind you, not next to you.”

“By Thalia’s flame, don’t tell me you believe that nonsense.” Eli took the girl’s hand and laid it on his sleeve. Her fingers were cold and trembling, and he laid his other hand over top of hers to warm and steady her. A slightly intimate gesture by Tamarian standards, but well within protocol.

“Qumarefis will think you’re mad, Your Highness.”

“Good. They’ll underestimate me.”

Rolland grimaced then stared at the floor. “If the Dragon Church gets wind of your present, they’ll be angry, Your Highness.”

“When aren’t they?”

Rolland grinned. “True enough. Good thing no Knights of Valor came with us.”

“I expected extenuating circumstances. Knights will only complicate an already difficult negotiation.”

Prince Eli allowed the conversation to end as he followed his bodyguards down the winding halls, through an arched doorway, and into a sumptuous suite.

The room was cool, and fresh-cut flowers filled crystal vases, scenting the air with their delicate fragrance. Elaborate mosaics decorated the floors, and plush rugs cushioned their steps. Cinnamon-colored silk draped the walls, flowed over the windows, and encircled the massive bed that dominated the center of the room.

Unbidden thoughts teased through his brain, and Eli forced himself not to glance at the slave girl beside him.

“Checked the suite?” Eli stared into the shadows searching for the only bodyguard he trusted.

Sligo appeared and bowed.

The slave beside Eli jumped, but she didn’t utter a sound.

“Thoroughly, Your Highness. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I’m glad we brought extra men. Security is lax despite the big wall.”

Sligo had been correct on that as well. Eli was glad he’d taken his guard’s council.

Rolland inspected the slave girl, and while the adviser’s face stayed neutral, his gaze lingered over the girl. “Do you want me to take her with me?”

A rush of jealousy struck the prince, and Eli’s hand tightened over the slave’s. She inched closer to him, her soft hair teasing over his wrist.

“How would it appear to the sultan if I gave you my ‘gift’?” Eli arched a brow, and his voice was neutral even though he wanted to blacken both of Rolland’s eyes for leering at the slave.

“Good point, Your Highness, but aren’t you worried about how it’ll look to the Church if you keep her?”

“Get some rest. Tomorrow will be an even longer day than today.”

Rolland bowed and left the prince alone with his bodyguard and the slave.

Studying the girl, Sligo’s eyes narrowed. “If I wanted to kill you, I’d put an assassin in pretty clothes and have her dance like she did.”

The slave stiffened, and a shiver stole through her.

“No, you’d have poisoned the over-spiced meat.” Eli rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, enjoying the feel of her slender and delicate fingers. “I’ll be fine.”

Sligo’s eyes bore through the girl, but he nodded and closed the door behind himself.

Eli regarded the slave. Her breath was coming fast, and she’d curled her toes in the dainty slippers. There was a hint of dampness on her skirt where she’d wiped her palms.

The prince poured a glass of water and offered it to her. Her eyes widened as she glanced from the glass to him before accepting it.

“It’s hot, and I’m thirsty. Figured you’d be too.” Eli poured himself a glass. He sipped it, and satisfied that it tasted as it should, downed the glass and poured a second.

The girl sipped her water without meeting his gaze.

“You have a name.”

“Auburn,” she whispered.

“Well, Auburn, what are we going to do with you?”

Auburn sucked in a breath, drank the water, and set the glass aside.