I had been right. My half-brothers now detested me, and the Queen went out of her way to trouble me — when my father didn't notice, of course. I had been Heir for a moon cycle now, and I hated every minute of it. I had no one to talk to. The servants that usually could ignore the single torque I had had before, now bowed and scraped, hoping to win favours, probably. I could hardly walk about without at least one servant or guard following me around, to take my orders or protect me, or because of something else. The only place I could be myself was in the Garden, where I was now.

Relishing the solitude — it was one thing being lonely, but quite another to for once be free of your shadows — I sat down beneath an apple tree, smelling the apple flowers in the spring breeze.

Afterwards, I couldn't quite explain what I noticed, but something was wrong. And then things seemed to happen at once. First, the rain came pouring down, and as I jogged towards the house, I heard the growl of a beast behind me.

At first I wasn't alarmed. I presumed it to be a watchdog, also caught out in the rain, so I turned around. That was when I got scared. Behind me on the path stood a grey wolfhound, at least three feet tall, definitely larger than any watchdog we kept. And it was looking at me, and snarled. I turned back, and started to run, hearing the monster come padding behind me, catching up with me.

I was breathing hard, and I knew I wouldn't be able to make it to the door in time. It was still too far off. Five hundred yards. Four hundred and fifty. And the creature was almost at my heels. Oh, but there! An open window, just within my reach. Turning from the path, I made a leap for the window, and caught the windowsill.

They say panic makes you stronger, and it must be true, for I have never been strong, yet I managed without problem heave myself up into the window, and then I rolled down onto the floor on the inside.

I lay there panting, when I heard someone walk up to the window and close it. Then I heard, "And why are you here?" It was my eldest half-brother.

I sat up and opened my eyes. Yes, I was indeed in my brother's quarters. I took a deep breath, and looked up at him where he stood leaning against the wall beside the window.

"I had to", I said, and then told him about the wolfhound.

He replied, in an even voice, "And what makes you think you're any safer here?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but closed it again. I hadn't had time to think that far. But he was right. No one knew I was here. He could easily kill me, and then throw out my body to the monster that was undoubtedly still somewhere nearby. And who said it hadn't been him who had let out it from the start?

All because of that damned torque. I had never wanted it, and now it had almost caused my death. I was certain that if I had still been only Melor, this would never have happened.

My brother had by now taken out his dagger, and stood cleaning his nails with it, carelessly. To intimidate me. I climbed to my feet, and looked up at him. He was twenty-two, and two heads taller than me. Our hair had the same, dark red-brown colour, though, even if mine was shorter than his, and was draped over my shoulders instead of held back in a braid. No one could deny that we were kin.

I took a deep breath, and made a quick decision. "I cannot stop you, if you want to kill me, Brother."

He bared his teeth slightly as I called him 'brother'.

"But I'm certain you know as well as I do that Father would never be able to believe my death was an accident. He'd..."

"Excuses", my brother spat.

"That wasn't the point", I cut him off. Being his superior in rank, I could, theoretically, order him to be quiet until I had finished, but to do so would be to court death, and I had no intention of dying here. "If you had let me finish, you'd have understood what I was getting at." Incredibly enough, he remained silent. "True, I don't want to die, but I won't just come with threats and empty excuses to stop you from killing me." My brother looked at me with a strange 'how-pathetic- can-you-be?' look. I took another deep breath to stop myself from coming with an unnecessary comment on that. Now how was I to put this before him, without him laughing in my face? For a few seconds I stood still, looking back at him. Then I sank to one knee before him. I saw him change position, startled, and I smiled.

"My Prince. I offer you a gift." I reached up and unclasped the torque around my neck. "I was never meant to wear this, and I am sure it fits you better." I looked up at him as I held it out the heavy collar. His green eyes showed only shock. Then he slowly reached out and took the torque, still looking at me in baffled silence. His mouth worked, but he said nothing.

"Please", I said. "Take it, and let me be the first to swear loyalty to you." It was a certain way to make sure he wouldn't kill me, for sure, but it also rid me of the burden that torque was. And by swearing loyalty to him as a subordinate, I ensured that I wouldn't be put in a position above him again. Too bad I hadn't thought of that before my father decided to name me his heir.

"M- Melor?" He hesitated before pronouncing my name, as if he wasn't sure of it. I'd never heard him say it before. Usually it was only 'bastard', or 'brat'. "Are you sure?" I could hear the wonderment in his voice.

I nodded. "I never wanted it, and I was as taken by surprise as you were when Father decided to give it to me." I looked up at him, and hoped he could see the sincerity in my eyes. "If you want it, I'm just happy."

It was quiet for a long while. Then he said simply, "Thank you." He held out the torque to me again, and I just looked at it. Didn't he want it? Was he giving it back?

"Don't stare at it like it were a viper", my brother said, and smiled. "I was wondering if you could hold it for me a few seconds."

Hesitatingly, I took it, then looked as my brother took off his own collar and then exchanged it with the one I held.

"I'd be honoured if you would wear mine, Melor."

I blinked. Then I bowed my head. "Thank you, my Prince", I said.

"And don't call me 'my Prince'. I have a name, don't I?"

"Yes... Ashtir." I smiled up at him, and put on his collar, feeling it adjust itself to fit my neck. And then I swore loyalty to him, before he could tell me not to.

He sighed before he accepted my oath, and then gave me his hand to help me to my feet. "You hadn't had to do that, you know", he reprimanded me.

I looked him in the eyes. "Yes, I had. Otherwise Father could still have given it back to me. Now I'm sworn to remain below you in rank till you release me from the oath before the priestesses of Law. And I hope you will not."

My brother looked at me in silence for a few minutes, then he started to laugh. He laughed for several minutes, and even I started to chuckle. Then he stopped, and looked at me. "You really didn't want it, didn't you?"

I shook my head, still smiling. "No. I told you that, didn't I?"

Just then, the bells for supper were heard, and my brother walked with me to the great hall. There we parted, me going back to my old place, and him going to the seat to the right of the king.

"Prince Melor", my father's voice rang through the hall, and I stopped and winced. "Come here", he continued, and I could hardly disobey him.

"Yes, my King?" I asked as I stood before him. At his side, Ashtir looked slightly uncomfortable.

"Why", he asked, "are you wearing Ashtir's torque, and he yours?"

I looked down and swallowed before I took a deep breath to steady my nerves and looked back at my father. "Because we traded", I said.

"You what?"

I shrugged, trying to make light of it. "I didn't want to be your heir, but he wanted to, so I offered him the triple torque, and in return, he gave me his."

"You had no right to give it away." My father held out his hand to my brother, who, out of habit, obeyed his unspoken command and reached up towards the torque.

"I'm sorry, my King, but you can't give it back to me", I interrupted them. My father's stone grey eyes swung back to me. Unable to meet it, I looked down. "I'm sworn to him."

The entire court was silent, waiting for my father's next words. So was I, but when he remained silent, I dared look up at him. That was when his fist hit me, and I tumbled to the floor.

Slightly dizzy, I lay still, listening as my father spoke. "I'm disappointed in you, Melor. Very disappointed." He walked up to me, and I didn't move. "They told me nothing good would come from accepting an illegitimate, and obviously, they were right." A short pause. Then he bent down and removed the golden collar from my neck. "You are no longer my son", he said.

The world stopped moving, fell silent and froze. I was no longer his son? He had denounced me?

Then my father vanished from my sight, probably went back to the table. "Ashtir", I heard him say, and silently pitied my brother. I hadn't quite intended for him to have to face my father's anger. "That boy is your problem now", my father continued. "He's sworn to you, so he's your Property."

Property? I blinked. But somehow, I wasn't as shocked as I perhaps ought to have been. I guess living by Law makes it easier to accept Law.

"Yes, Father", my brother replied.

"I'll let you keep that torque, for now. So far you haven't done anything to show me you would be a useless ruler, like the previous heir most probably would have been."

Thank you for noticing finally.

"Boy", my father said, and I looked up at him. Oh yes, he was talking to me. "Get out of my sight. If I see you again, I won't be responsible for what I'll do."

I supposed that meant I was to return to my brother's quarters and wait there. I rose and bowed, and quickly vanished from the hall, very much conscious of my bare neck and the many eyes on my back.

It took almost four hours before Ashtir showed up. By then I had explored his quarters twice and found out where he kept the usual things, and I had also become very hungry. As my brother entered the room, I rose from the floor where I'd been sitting.

He took no notice of me, though, but crossed into the next room. I stared after him for a short while before I noticed the servant girl who had also entered the room, carrying a tray with food on.

How I wished that it was for me. But when she put the tray down on a table, I didn't dare take anything from it. I was Property. Law decreed I could do nothing without my owner's permission. If he decided I was no longer allowed to breathe... I shrugged mentally. Then I would have no choice but to cease breathing. Unless I wanted to be brought before the Law and condemned by the priestesses, and that was a fate that could be a lot worse than suffocating. So I forced myself to stay, leaned back against the wall to have something to do.

I was used to a life in luxury. That was how I had lived the past eight years, ever since I had been taken from my mother and brought to the palace. Certainly, I hadn't been as pampered as my brothers, my half-brothers, perhaps, but although the Queen had disliked me, and my brothers had as well, the King had been very fond of me. I suppose he must have loved my mother at some time for him to bring me here.

Ashtir came back into the room and sent out the servant. Then he turned towards me. "I'm sorry", he said. "I wish he hadn't..."

I shook my head wearily. It didn't matter anymore. What had happened had happened, and I doubted Father would change his mind. He could hold grudges longer than I had lived so far.

Ashtir smiled pityingly, and I hated him for it. "All right", he said. "I won't mention it, then. But you should eat." And for that, I loved him.

Quickly I crossed the room, and picked my choice from the tray. Then I sat down on a chair beside the table, and ate.

Ashtir waited, still standing, until I had finished and wiped my mouth on the napkin. Then he said, "I suppose you understand that you can't leave my quarters any more."

I clenched my jaws and nodded once, tightly. Yes, I did.

"I hope you also understand that it isn't to... annoy you, but to save your life."

I took a deep, angry breath, then I nodded again. I understood that as well.

Ashtir was quiet for a while. "I hope..." he began then. "I hope you don't think I find pleasure in owning a former Prince, illegitimate or not."

Sure, throw it in my face. I looked away. Why should I care?

I heard Ashtir sigh. "It's OK. You don't have to believe me, I suppose", he said, moving away.

I looked back in time to see him enter his bedroom. That made me realize something. I blushed and went after him.

"Ashtir?" I asked hesitantly, not really knowing whether he'd take offence if I called him by name. But he had only a few hours ago himself told me to use his name, so...

Ashtir turned towards me where I stood in the doorway. "Yes?" he asked, once more composed, and slightly cold, I have to admit.

"I wondered... Where do you want me to sleep?"

Ashtir blinked. "Oh yes", he mumbled. "I suppose it is bedtime now." Now what did he mean by that? I stood silent as he looked around. Then he shrugged. "I guess you can share my bed."

I started. Share his bed? I stared at the said bed. Sure, it was broad enough for at least three persons, but... I looked at my brother and blinked.

"Shut your mouth", Ashtir said sharply. "You look silly. I'm not going to 'take advantage' of you, if that's what you thought. I just don't feel like getting another bed here right now."

I looked down, slightly ashamed of myself. Of course he'd only meant that I should share his bed as in sleeping in it. Nothing else. "I'm sorry. It's just..."

"It's all right", Ashtir said gently, a smile in his voice. "I understand."

Did he? I wasn't sure if I understood it myself.

"Oh", Ashtir suddenly exclaimed, and I looked up at him. "I just thought, is there anything from your old quarters you want to keep? I think I can save it before Father burns it."

Burns it? I blanched. I hadn't quite thought his denouncing me would be quite that final. "Y-yes, please", I stammered. "My... My books."

He nodded. "I'll see to it they're here at first light in the morning. Nothing else?"

I thought about it. My books were one of the few things I had. And then of course my... "Yes. There's... a loose floor-tile near the foot of my bed. Beneath it is another book." My journal. "I'd like to have that one as well. But please don't read it."

Ashtir nodded again. "All right." He gestured towards the bed. "You can go to sleep. I'll see to it." And with that, he brushed past me and vanished.

I wasn't sure whether his suggestion for me to go to bed had been an order or not, but as I sat down on the bed, I yawned and realized I was indeed rather tired. So I took off my pants and went to sleep with my long tunic on, not quite comfortable with taking it off.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Summer, day 2-

Today I've belonged to Ashtir for two moon cycles, and this is the first time I've had time to write since the day before... Before what happened.

I still can't believe that Father would disown me like that. And I still remember what happened as though it had happened yesterday. But I don't want to remember it. And I don't want to write it down. Hopefully, if I don't, I'll wake up someday to find me back in my own rooms. Hopefully? Like it will ever happen, anyway. I suppose it doesn't matter. That's what I tell myself, and that's what I tell Ashtir when he asks me.

But Ashtir has been pretty nice. I never thought before that he was this nice. Back when I was the King's Favoured, they all looked down at me, probably asking themselves whom I thought I was, coming from nowhere, pretending to be better than them. I never did, though. Thought I was better than them, that is. I only wanted to have a normal life. I don't think I really wanted to be a Prince. (I know I definitely didn't want to be Heir.) And now that I amn't a Prince any more, I find I don't have a normal life anyway. Hn. Life is, and has always been, a bitch in heat. Doing as she well damn pleases without thought or concern of those standing in the way. Obviously she thought I stood in the way.

The day after I came here, or rather, the night I came here, I woke up when Ashtir climbed into bed. And after that, I couldn't sleep any more, so I got up as silently as I could and went to the other room. I jumped up in the window I had first barged through, and looked out at the Garden. I miss it so much. I wish Ashtir had a Garden of his own that I could walk in. I miss the solitude and peace there. The sky had already begun to brighten. I wonder why Ashtir was up that long. He always is, but he hasn't told me why. I haven't asked either, so I guess I have to blame myself then.

It turned out that Ashtir had noticed when I left bed. He'd asked me, quite sourly, whether I always got up that early. So I told him the truth, that he woke me up. And he demanded that I ought to sleep at the same time as he did. At first, that was quite bothersome, since I was used to getting up before mid day, but now I'm doing fine.

The reason I'm writing now is that he's off on some public occasion with Father. Funny that. I still call him 'father', although he's officially proclaimed me as no relative of his.

Now that I think of it, Ashtir has been with me quite often. He's even eaten in his room most of the time to keep me company. I hate pity. I hope he doesn't pity me. I would, had it been someone else. But that doesn't mean I like people pitying me.

I don't have much to do, either. I brush Ashtir's hair in the morning and in the evening. That's a pretty nice job. He's got lovely hair. I noticed the first time that when it's not braided, it almost reaches to his waist. The braid, of course, makes it quite wavy, but it is straight. I noticed that when he was bathing.

Yes, I had to help him with that. I hope no one comes in now and catches me blushing. He's got a rather nice body, as well. I don't think there's an ounce of fat on him anywhere. Just muscles and...

I'd better stop that thought right there.

Other than brushing his hair and washing his back, though, there's not much I do. And you can't believe how boring that is! Oh, I talk to him. I play games with him. He likes to play dice. Especially as I'm really bad at it, I guess. We play Stones too. And I've actually managed to defeat him in that a couple of times. Although sometimes I wonder whether he loses on purpose to humour me.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Summer, day 10-

I had to stop last time because Ashtir returned. I don't like writing when anyone else can see me. It's too private, I guess.

Doh. As though a personal journal can ever be anything else than private. I don't want to think of what Ashtir would think if he read that last entry. I re-read it right now, and it was all I could do not to tear out the page.

Ashtir demanded yesterday that I should start working out. He says I'm spoiling my body being locked up in here. Of course, he's only telling me so because he wants to be my friend. That's what he says. I wonder. Most probably it is because he pities me, and wants to give me something to do.

I suppose it can't hurt. My belly has grown rather soft lately. Earlier, I used to run a lot. There isn't much space here to run.

Odd person, amn't I? Reading and running. And sitting in the Garden. Now, though, I'm lucky I like reading, because that's the only thing left for me to do. I can't swim, and besides, Ashtir's bath is slightly too small to swim in.

Oh, what wouldn't I do to live in an ordinary village, like I did when I was little? I don't really remember much. I hardly remember what my mother looked like. Yes, I know I've written before that she has blonde hair and grey eyes, but that doesn't really say much, does it? I know I must have remembered before what she looked like, since I've written it down, but now, her face is just a blur. A blur with two grey dots in it, and yellow hair around it. That's all my mother is to me now. It's kind of sad. There are times when I envy my brothers. At least they have a mother. And even if she should die, they have lots of portraits of her. I have nothing. Everything I have from her is that feather I use as bookmark in this book.

It's from the purple peacocks that supposedly live around my mother's birthplace. I wouldn't know. I've never seen one. It's too bad they can't live outside that place, otherwise I'm sure the menagerie would have one. Or two, so they could mate.

I remember, though, that there was this huge field near where I used to live, where I used to play. I'm sure I've described it somewhere, either in this one, or the ones before, the ones I burned so no one would read them. Now that seemed a silly thing to do. I would need to read them again. To know what I thought as a child. How old was I when I started to write these journals? Eight? Nine?

Yes, yes. I'm still a child. Only thirteen. Who cares? I'm still older than I've ever been before in my life, and that's the truth.

I think I heard that from a servant once. I know it's pretty silly, but why should I care?

I'm keeping this book hidden in several places. I still haven't found as good a place as in my old room. But why should I hide it? Ashtir said he wouldn't read it? And if he wanted to read it, I'm sure he could find it. After all, it's his room, so he ought to know all hiding places in it.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Summer, day 30-

Yes, It's been a while since I wrote. But I've been busy.

Ashtir gave me a box yesterday, with a lock on it, and a key. He said it was to keep my private things in. I'm sure he thought of this book.

I'm stronger now. But I still have my boyish body. It's somewhat annoying. I wish I was older. Then perhaps...

No.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Summer, day 31-

You won't believe it.

Yesterday, about when I stopped writing, Ashtir swept into the room, bringing three or four servants with him. They had several boxes with them. The boxes were filled with clothes, and Ashtir demanded I wear them.

The only thing is...

They're not really clothes.

I look like... Like a total idiot in them. Like a slut. What's next? Dresses?

Although some of my new 'clothes' do look like dresses. I'll try to describe what Ashtir wanted me to wear this morning. Yes, I'm wearing it. I don't have much choice. I tried to protest yesterday, but then he just gave me this look, and told me firmly that if I wanted to, he'd be happy to take me to the priestesses of Law. After that, I shut up.

I never thought he'd do that.

I hate being Property.

And all because I didn't want to be Heir.

I hate it.

I wish I hadn't done as I'd wanted to. I wish I'd kept that damned torque. Then I hadn't been Property.

Then I'd have been dead, most likely.

I'll shut up about that now.

As to what I'm wearing... It's a pair of trousers, more or less translucent. (Yes, they're opaque in... the important areas) The trousers are of the newest fashion, he tells me. I don't like them. And I haven't seen him wearing such trousers.

I hate these clothes. They show exactly how much I'm blushing. I hate it.

Anyway. They (the trousers) are very wide, but held together at the ankles, with bands filled with small bells. I actually jingle when I walk. And they're green.

To the trousers I'm wearing a vest. It's also green. Grey-green, with embroidery. But it's not really a vest. It only goes down to my belly button. That means about four or five inches of bare skin down to the trousers (did I mention that they're very low cut?)

I hate these clothes. It's hardly more than being naked.

I wonder if that was the point?

I hate blushing.

I hate Ashtir.

But I could hardly tell him that, could I? Then he'd probably drag me before the priestesses.

Or worse.

Now what's worse than the priestesses?

Well, I don't know exactly what they do. So I suppose that could be worse. But Ashtir could also decide to punish me himself. Or...

...Or do what I feared he'd do that first evening. I don't know whether I could live with that.

(2)

Part Two

-entry in Melor's Journal, Summer, day 32-

A. is strange. This morning he didn't so much as look at me, and then he left the rooms without saying one word.

I hope nothing's wrong. Was it something I said? Or something I didn't say?

If the latter, then good riddance. If he wants to take offence for nothing, I don't care much for him. I mean, I endured their hatred for several years while remaining civil towards them.

If you didn't understand it, A. is that bastard. I just don't feel like writing his name today. I wonder if I'm supposed to get dressed at all? I've given up sleeping in my tunic, by the way. It seems to me unnecessary. He's seen me naked — and somewhat half-naked (in those so-called clothes) — enough times. I began to feel silly. But I still lie trembling in fear each night. 'What if this night is the night he'll... do something', I always wonder.

Why do I still long for the night to come?

I wonder if A. is going to return soon, or if he'll be away all night?

-entry in Melor's Journal, Summer, day 33-

Ashtir is still gone. I wonder where he is.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Summer, day 34-

Ashtir returned early this morning, and went straight to bed. He's sleeping now, so I have to be really quiet.

I wonder where he's been. He came home dead drunk, though. I don't like people who are drunk. I don't know why. They scare me somehow. I've always been afraid of drunken people. I think... No, it vanished. I suppose memories are that way; vanishing just when you think they're within reach.

I hope Ashtir's not the type that gets violent when drunk.

I'm sitting in the window in the bedroom right now. Ashtir's pretty cute when he's asleep. I've never had a chance to watch him sleeping before. He looks kind of... innocent, I guess. But he stinks. He reeks of alcohol. I can smell it even here. I wonder how much he drank.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Summer, day 37-
(there are some tear-stains here)

Yesterday was horrible. Ashtir went out almost first thing the 35th, and came back some time during the night when I was asleep. He was probably still drunk.

And then, when he finally woke up yesterday, he started drinking again, in his rooms this time. And he demanded I stay with him. And...

I...

Ashtir is the violent type. He confirmed it.

I'm still hurting. I suppose I should be glad he didn't do something permanent. Just bruises. But why should I be happy?

What a lousy birthday.

Yes, it was my birthday yesterday. I became fourteen. As if anyone would notice.

I would have written yesterday. I'm sorry I didn't, but Ashtir was here all the time, and then when he finally left, I was hurting too much to write. I just lay crying in the bed.

Luckily I had stopped crying by the time he came back. Then he didn't look at me. Again. He just turned his back on me, and went to sleep.

I felt like crying again, then. But I didn't. I didn't want to wake him up. I didn't dare to. Who would know what he'd do then? Cut out my tongue? No, that's silly, I knew it even as I wrote it. He most probably wouldn't do anything permanent to me. Hopefully. And I think you can still cry even without a tongue, so it'd be pretty useless as well. But he would most probably have given me another beating.

I wonder if I'll have time to run away? If I

-entry in Melor's Journal, Summer, day 49-

I haven't had time to write before. I had to stop last time because Ashtir came back, and I had to hurry to hide my journal. I didn't want him to read that. I hope he didn't see I had been crying.

If he did, he didn't show it.

But he was rather nice all next week. If you don't count that he never left my side, so I didn't have time to write anything else. It was almost as though he'd read what I wrote about running away.

And...

He brought me Outside! (I write Outside with a big O because right now, the outside of his quarters is pretty scarce to me) He brought a closed palanquin to his door, and then we went Outside.

He was rather smug all the time, and kept looking at me. I got pretty irritated at his weird smile, but as soon as the curtains opened again, all my irritation flew away.

Even now, ten days later, it's hard to believe. I wonder why he did that, all of a sudden. Perhaps he was feeling guilty over hitting me? If so, he can easily hit me again. Anything to get Out again.

'I hope you understand that it's impossible to run away', he said though. I had completely forgotten about my notion to run away, and I looked at him in puzzlement, not understanding what he meant. He pointed to the saddled horse that stood nearby and told me that if I ran away, if I didn't come back at once when he called me, he'd come after me on the horse, and when he caught me, I'd be a very sorry boy.

Boy. I hate being a boy.

I didn't say that to him, of course. I told him I understood. And of course I didn't try to run away. Why should I run away?

And as I said, all that week he was nice to me, as if to make up for me that he'd been drunk and hit me.

But he still never left me alone. That was sort of boring. He was always there, watching me. Watching me read, watching me work out, watching me wash up. He almost watched me while I... well. Those personal things, you know.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Summer, day 50-

I read what I wrote yesterday, and I almost felt sick. Did I really think that? I'm getting good at being Property. First he beats me up and makes me so scared I don't even dare to cry, and then all he has to do for me to forget it is to be nice for a week?

Too bad I don't have a tail to be wagging. I'd make a pretty perfect dog, I'd say. Although I think even dogs don't forgive as easily.

I hate him.

I hate being Property.

I suppose it's really this 'Property' thing I hate. I don't think I'd hate him if I was still a Prince.

On the other hand, if I was still a Prince, I wouldn't be spending this much time with him.

I hope he won't hit me again.

I hate feeling inferior.

I wish I wasn't Property. Then perhaps, I could tell him what I really thought of him, without being scared. I am scared. I hate not knowing what will come next. I hate it, but still there's something in me that feels sort of queasy about it. This kind of queasiness that makes you wonder why you're not there already. The kind of queasiness that makes you want to go and hide, yet at the same time makes you hope they will find you.

The kind of queasiness I feel about him.

Oh dear. I shouldn't have written that. What if someone reads this?

It doesn't matter, I suppose. The book is soon finished, and then I'll get a new one and burn this. Can't break traditions, can I?

I've never felt this way about anyone. I wonder what it is.

As I looked up from the journal and gazed upon the sleeping Melor, I wondered whether he'd suspected any more that I was reading his journals. If so, he hadn't mentioned anything, even in them. On the other hand, there wasn't so much written.

But he'd written enough. I almost smiled as I put the journal back in its box and locked it with my own copy of the key. He'd never suspected that either. What a naïve boy, not to suspect something when I gave him a box that was lockable.

I suppose it's because of his trusting nature that I loved him.

Yes, I loved him. I didn't at first. Then, he was just a boy. But as time passed, I learned more and more of him, mostly through reading his journal, I must admit, and by watching him.

I still regretted beating him up. But I had felt scorned. I wanted to hurt him the way he'd hurt me by writing that he hated me. I wondered why he hadn't fought me. I wondered what I'd have done if he had.

I put the box back in its place, and crossed the room to the window. I looked out at the stars and sighed.

So innocent. So innocent that he didn't even recognize his own feelings.

"Ashtir?" his voice mumbled from behind me.

"I'm sorry I woke you up", I replied without turning.

Soft, somewhat swishing sounds on the floor tiles as he padded across the room towards me. "It's all right, Ashtir."

I loved the way he said my name.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

I looked down at him. He was looking back up at me, his grey eyes trusting. His naked body unaware of what it did to me. I'd be damned if I'd ruin that innocence. I'd be...

Quickly I looked back out the window. "I can't", I answered.

My cold, dismissing tone of voice hurt him, that was obvious, and I felt ashamed of myself. "I'm sorry", I said, rather coldly. I didn't trust my voice that much. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just..." I'm just what? A mad fool in love with Innocence? A foolish Prince who doesn't know what's good for him? A crazy man, lusting for a youth he can never have back? All those, yes. "I'm just sorry, Innocent", I mumbled.

Then, in the silence that followed, I realized I had said it loud.

"...Innocent?"

I swallowed. "Never mind. Go back to bed."

Melor was still for a few seconds, but as I said nothing more, he sighed, and turned back towards the bed. I stayed up for another three hours or so, before I finally turned to bed and went to sleep as well.

The next day, I had to attend the celebration of Autumn. Summer is short. Too short.

I hated ceremonies. Like Melor, I hated quite a lot of things. Father, among them. I hated him for what he'd done to Melor. But as Melor had written, would he have noticed me if it hadn't been for that?

I supposed I would have to do something about Melor's status as soon as I became King. I couldn't do that now, since the one who had removed his collar, the King, was of higher status than I was.

As I finally came home, I saw Melor scurry back into the bedroom, probably to hide his journal. I waited in the outer room until he came back out. As he did, I almost cried. He'd put on some of his new clothes. The ones he didn't like. The green trousers and vest. I'd chosen them thinking of how they'd match his colours. While he didn't have green eyes like me, he had that reddish hair that went perfectly together with green. I could hardly wait till he went to sleep so I could read what he'd written. Judging by previous entries, he was fairly detailed when writing, and I wanted to know why he'd dressed up like that. I didn't comment on it, though. Didn't want to show him how much it had touched me.

I didn't have a chance to read until late that night. Father summoned me, and I had to go there. He's ill. The physician says he might not last the cycle. I had to be there while the physician argued with the clergy on how to treat his illness. The priestesses were certain that the only thing that worked was prayers, and lots of holy incense so strong it brought tears to my eyes. The physician on her part claimed that the only thing working would be cold baths and not eating certain things. At least the physician gives him the medicine I'm sure he needs, as well.

By the time I was free to go, I had a severe headache, and had to take a cold bath myself. So it was well past midnight by the time I returned to my quarters. Melor was asleep by then, so I sat down with his journal to read.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Autumn, day 1-

I wonder what really happened last night. I woke up to find him standing at the window. When I asked him, he said he was unable to sleep. He said it rather coldly though. I wonder what I'd done? And then he said he was sorry. And...

I still don't understand what he meant by calling me 'innocent'. Like a name.

'I'm just sorry, innocent', he said.

Why?

Sorry about what?

Waking me up?

I don't mind.

I'd like him to wake me up every time he can't sleep. And I wish he hadn't ordered me back to bed. It took him at least four hours before he came back to bed. I was still awake then. Doesn't he need to sleep? I hope I was able to fool him. He didn't mention anything, but then again, he might have decided he didn't care whether I was asleep or awake when he went to bed.

I got dressed in that awful green outfit again, for his sake. He told me he liked it. I hope he'll notice.

I hope he'll tell me...

Tell me what?

Tell me how nice I look in it?

Why should he? I know it already. He told me the first time I wore it. That's why I'm wearing it today, even if I look like a prostitute.

I suppose that doesn't work.

How could he buy my body when he already owns me?

I wish he...

I really hate how these clothes show my blushing. It can even be seen through the trousers. You think I'm satisfied with getting red in the face? No, I'm red all over. And writing about it doesn't help, either.

I don't dare write what I thought there. Hope no one will ever read this. And if they do, I hope they'll believe I am a girl. Then at least it will make sense.

But no.

I've already said I'm a Prince, haven't I? Then it's useless. No one would ever believe a girl could be... Could have been a Prince. I forgot myself there. I am no longer a Prince, no matter how much I'd wish that. Then he'd perhaps notice me.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Autumn, day 1, later-

I hate him! He didn't so much as look twice at me! I give up. Obviously he doesn't care for me at all. Just as well, I suppose.

I'm still scared.

I guess I don't have to be, now.

I wish he'd care about me.

Last night... Last night, when I finally fell asleep again, I dreamt.

I wish he'd do what he did in the dream.

I hope he didn't notice the wet stain on my side. I had the sheets changed as soon as he'd left that morning.

I was going to write about it earlier, but then he came back in.

I still hate him.

Why can't he notice me? Why can't he see I exist?

I hate crying.

I wonder when he's coming back.

I've found myself longing for him to interrupt me at writing.

And a small, small part of me tells me I ought to forget my journal lying around somewhere, so he'll read it. Perhaps then he'll understand? He'll never do it otherwise, that's one thing that seems for sure.

I wonder what it'd feel like to kiss him. I've been practising kissing. On one of the servant girls. I suppose she thinks I love her. How foolish of her.

He had to run away again. I didn't hear much of what the servant fetching him said. Something about the King, I think. I hope he'll die.

No. I shouldn't say things like that. It's against Law. Law says you die for saying things like that about the King. I hate the Law.

I hate them both. For doing this to me.

Although I suppose I should thank the King. If he hadn't... done it, I'd never found out how wonderful he is. I wish I hadn't found that out.

I hate being like this.

I wish he knew. I wish he'd understand.

I hope he doesn't see through me.

Am I weird? I suppose so. It doesn't matter. I think I'll stop writing now before it gets too weird.

He still hasn't come home, so I guess I'll go to sleep alone.

I hope he hasn't drunk again.

"Ashtir?" a voice exclaimed from the bed, and I jumped. "What are you doing?" And I could do nothing but sit frozen as Melor leapt from the bed and at me, snatching his precious book from my hands. I looked up at him where he stood fuming, eyes gleaming like cold steel.

"Reading", I answered as calmly as I could. Obviously I succeeded in appearing calm.

"You're not allowed to read my journal!"

I slowly rose, taking advantage of the fact that I was taller than he was. "Not allowed?"

Immediately, Melor shrank back. "I didn't mean it like that", he mumbled.

"Since you seem to have forgotten it", I said, following him, "you are my Property. You have absolutely no right to tell me what I am allowed to do or not. In fact, the only person allowed to say so, is the King." Well, the Queen too, of course, but I wanted to see his reaction. I looked down at him coldly. "Do you care to ask him in person to tell me not to read you journal?"

Melor stumbled back against the bed and fell back on his firm behind. "No", he mumbled, staring up at me. "Please, I didn't mean..."

"Please?" I snorted. "Yes, I do as I please. And you can't tell me not to. Understood? If you dare breathe one word about 'not allowed', or 'can't do' again, I'll be happy to take you to the priestesses myself. Or worse." The last part I added from memory from his journals.

Melor paled, still staring at me, seemingly transfixed.

I grabbed hold of his hair and pulled him to his feet. I raised my hand, and he closed his eyes. A single tear left his eyes right then.

I swore mentally. Damn his innocence. Damn his trust. Damn his vulnerability. I grabbed hold of his hair with my other hand as well, and then I kissed him deeply, forcing myself upon him.

At first, he was frozen, then his arms went up to encircle my waist as he kissed me back.

The sweetness of his lips, and his young, unsoiled body, slender and firm. It was all I could do to tear myself from him and cross the room towards the window. I looked out at the stars, trying to gather my wits again.

Calm down, I told myself. Calm down? Easier said than done. But apparently from the gasps I heard from behind me, Melor was far away from calm himself.

I cursed myself for taking advantage of him. I didn't want to ruin his innocent naïveté, yet that was exactly what I was doing.

"Well?" I asked, venting my self-disgust. "Now you know what my kisses feel like."

Melor drew in his breath sharply, then he was completely silent for a long while. Then he padded off, still silent. Not until I heard the scraping sound of a knife being pulled from its sheath did I turn, surprised. Did he really think he could get away with trying to attack me? Not that he would even succeed, but...

As he turned the dagger on himself, I didn't think any more.

Crossing the room in one, giant leap, I threw myself at Melor, in an attempt to stop him from killing himself and taking the knife from him. I wasn't aware of shouting his name until I heard the echo of my scream ringing in my ears.

Then everything happened at once. I succeeded in stopping a suicide, but I missed the knife. It, however, didn't miss me. And then I continued onwards towards the floor. Melor still held the handle of the dagger, which resulted in him pulling the knife from my arm again. Unfortunately not the same way it came in.

I stared at him in shock as he came flying through the room, and then fell to the floor, blood spurting from the wound in his arm. As he whimpered, I recovered.

The physician.

I ran to the door, and opened it. A guard just passed by.

"Hurry!" I gasped. The guard looked at me, and then, seeing the blood on my naked body, started with alarm. "Get the physician!" I went on before he could say anything. "Emergency! Heir wounded!" Then I ran back in.

I fell to my knees beside Ashtir.

"Please", I whispered. "Please don't die... You can't die..."

"You", he gasped, and I squealed with joy. "No right", he continued in the same, strained voice, "to tell me... not to die."

I looked at his arm, and my joy vanished. The blood was pulsating out from his arm in a steady flow. If I didn't do anything fast, he would bleed to death.

Thinking quickly, I tore the sleeve off his shirt, and tied it hard around his arm above the wound. The flow lessened somewhat. Then I remembered something someone once had told me. 'Keep the bleeding limp above the rest of the body.' So I took hold of his arm as gently as I could, and held it up into the air. And then we waited.

"I'm so sorry", I whispered in despair as no one came. "I'm just so sorry!" Tears rose in my eyes, and fell unhindered down onto his hair. "I didn't mean this to happen."

Ashtir didn't reply. His face was grey, and his emerald eyes unfocused.

"Oh please, please!" I urged the absent physician. "Hurry!"

Finally, the door slammed open, and the physician hurried into the room, followed by four or five priestesses and as many guards and servants.

"What's..." the physician began, but came no further before she saw Ashtir, and more importantly: his arm.

I was quickly ushered aside, and the physician and the priestesses took place around him.

I needed to see him, but there was no room for me. I needed so to know he was all right. Unable to sit by and watch them flock around Ashtir, I went to his bath to wash up.

Just as I was finished, and climbed out to get a towel to dry myself, the captain of the guard came inside.

"Who did this?" he asked bluntly.

I stared at him for a few seconds. "It was an accident", I said then. "I held the knife, and he jumped me, and got injured."

Well, that was pretty much what had happened. I wasn't so sure I wanted him to know the rest.

"So it's your fault?"

I looked down. It had been my fault. I wished I could have done things differently. Wished I hadn't acted on my impulse. Wished I had begged him instead to kiss me again. Wished I had swallowed my pride and done so.

Then someone grabbed my arm, and dragged me out of the bath and out to the room where Ashtir was now put to bed with a bandage around his arms. The room stank with incense, but he was asleep, so I guess he didn't smell it.

"It's this one's fault", the captain said. I looked up at the one he was talking to, and shrank back involuntarily.

"You", the King snarled where he sat beside the bed.

I swallowed. What would the King do now? He had warned me that he wouldn't be responsible for his actions the next time we met.

"What have you to say to your defence?" the King spat.

"My lord King", I managed, but only when I looked down at the floor. "I... I would never do anything willingly to harm Ash... the Prince. I am sworn to him, and he owns me." And I love him.

I could feel my father's eyes on me, as hard as steel. "Yes. You are. And then I suppose you know the penalty for what you've done?"

For what I've done... Jeopardizing the Prince's life. Failing to stop him from injuring himself. Doing something against his will. As a vassal, the penalty wasn't so harsh. But as his Property... I swallowed, then nodded.

"Good. Then I hope you won't fight them?"

Them? I shook my head. And I didn't. 'Them' took me away. Led me down to the lowest dungeon, and threw me there as I were. The first thing I noticed was the icy chill against my bare feet.

"I'm sure the priestesses of Law will be pleased to get their hands on a pretty one such as you", one of the guards chuckled evilly as he closed the door.

The priestesses of Law. I didn't want to think about them. But I deserved it. I had hurt Ashtir. I'd go through every pain in the world to make that undone.

"Ashtir", I whimpered, and fell to my knees. I shivered in the cold, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

And I didn't have my journal. I wanted it. I needed it. I needed to write my thoughts on what had happened. Perhaps then I'd have a chance to tell Ashtir why I didn't fight. Perhaps then I'd manage to tell him what I'd only just realized. But perhaps he'd realized as well. Obviously, he'd been reading my journal a long time. Perhaps he'd read it from the beginning? Not that my journal said much. Well, not before I met Ashtir, at least. Before that, some days had only been one line. Sometimes, a moon phase had passed between writings. It differed. But since I'd met him...

It'd have to be. I couldn't very well ask the guards to bring me my journal, could I? Then they'd read it on the way, and my shame would be out all over the Castle. Not to mention that I had on several occasions in them said that I hated Ashtir, and the King. That counted as high treason.

Hated Ashtir. How could I have been so stupid? I had never hated him. I had been afraid of him. I had wanted to hit him for making all those things to my mind. But I had never been able to hate him. That was only what I'd tried to tell myself. Fool myself, so I wouldn't realize I was, in fact, in love with the older man.

"How stupid I was", I whispered. "How stupid..."

My damned pride. If it hadn't been for my pride, I'd have broken down and told him what I'd felt for him. If it hadn't been for my pride, I'd never had attempted to kill myself from the shame I'd felt when I'd realized he'd only been playing with me. If it hadn't been for my pride, he wouldn't have got hurt. If it hadn't been for my pride, I wouldn't sit here, freezing my testicles off.

And there was no window here, either. The only light there was came from the small, barred window in the door. Otherwise it was completely dark.

I never noticed the first tears running down my cheeks. Then I was crying like I had never done before. Crying my guts out. Weeping for what I had lost in listening to my Law-damned pride.

I woke up, aching. Not only my arm, but my entire body. And the room stank of incense. Those damned priestesses. Why couldn't they ever stay out of anything?

"You're awake", I heard a familiar voice say beside me. I looked that way, and saw my father. I closed my eyes again. That was not the person I had wanted to see.

"Where's..." I croaked. I tried to swallow, but my throat was dry — probably from all that incense-burning. "Water", I managed. A cup was brought to my lips, and I drank eagerly. Then I swallowed a couple of extra times to make sure my throat was working again.

I looked up at my father. "Where's Melor?" I asked him.

"Don't worry, Ashtir. He's been taken care of already. You needn't worry about that."

Taken care of? I sat up. "What do you mean, 'taken care of'?" I exclaimed.

Immediately, a dozen hands were upon me, pressing me back down into bed.

Law damn them! I wasn't an invalid! "What do you mean, Father?" I asked again.

"He's already been sent off to the priestesses of Law. You don't have to think more of him."

This time, I was out of the bed before anyone had time to stop me. Then I fought the hands trying to get me back to bed. "Let go of me!" I cried. They wouldn't listen. And I realized I wasn't in condition to fight too hard. Finally I gave up, and let them herd me back to stillness.

The priestesses of Law... I closed my eyes in despair. Why? Why, damn them? Couldn't they have waited until I had woken up? Waited and asked me? After all, he was supposed to be my Property, wasn't he?

"Father", I said, not opening my eyes.

I sensed him leaning closer. "Yes?"

"Get. Him. Back. Here", I demanded, in a voice more a snarl than a voice.

"I would like to, my son", Father replied calmly. "But I'm afraid it's too late."

Those words sank to the bottom of my belly, and turned it to stone. Too late. I had seen once what the priestesses had done to a runaway slave. I didn't want to think of those things being done to my Melor. But I couldn't stop thinking of it. Too late.

(3)

I was back on my legs within a week, my arm as good as new. But although the arm healed, leaving a rather nasty scar, the wound in my soul remained as open. Melor had died because of me. He’d died because of my inaction, and not just had he died. He’d been tortured out of his mind first. I wondered what he’d thought of. Why hadn’t he fought them?

Had he somehow thought he deserved it?

I didn’t want to imagine that either. How could anyone deserve what the priestesses did? If it were up to me, I’d abolish Purifying. But so far, my father was King.

Or had he fought them? I remembered how he’d looked when I’d given him a beating. He hadn’t fought me then. After those first painful moments that he looked at me with those large, innocent, grey eyes. Eyes filled with incomprehension, hurt and dejected acceptance. The memory of it hurt so much.

Why had I ever even thought of beating him? Even if I felt affronted by his saying he hated me, that should have been no reason for me to get violent. I’m not the violent type at all. After those painful moments, he’d just looked down, submitting to my treatment. He hadn’t fought me at all. When I finally realized what I was doing, and stopped, he apologized for having offended me.

He’d cried afterwards. I had avoided looking at him when I returned, since I knew I’d comfort him and apologize then, and that would somehow ruin any meaning I could have had. But he wrote it in his journal. I kept reading it every night, reliving everything. Why did I torment myself? I suppose it was because I felt so guilty. Had I not been so stubbornly set upon making him decide, he’d never have tried to kill himself, and then I wouldn’t have been hurt, and Father would never have sent him to the priestesses.

Had he fought them? I would never know. I would never know what had happened on his way to death.

My father became better, despite what the physician had surmised. But the cycle after, during Summer, he suddenly died. Something with the heart, they said. I hope he suffered. I hated him so much for what he’d done to me. Taking all responsibility for my Property. It would have been my decision that would have sent him to the priestesses — not that I would have given any — not his. But as higher ranking, he had the right to do so. And he had warned us that the next time he saw Melor, he wouldn’t be responsible for what he’d do. But I still hated him.

When he died, public mourning was declared for twenty-one days, one for each year he’d reigned. After that, public festivities ensued, to celebrate the new King. Me. It felt odd, being called King. I don’t think I ever really wanted to be King. When we all wanted to kill the bastard, I think it was because he came from nowhere, taking the place that rightfully should have been mine. I think I was only jealous, and angry at my father for having set me aside.

That was when I’d thought Melor was a spoiled, narcissistic brat. Now I knew he wasn’t, and I regretted making the choice that made him Property.

But that was past. Now was present, and I was King. My mother moved with my brothers to the country residence, as my grandmother had done before her.

I did not miss them. My mother had all my life smothered me in affection, and decided everything for me. Although I could understand why she’d done it — after all, I was her first-born — I still disliked her for doing so. And my brothers were too competitive. I wanted them away from me, so that I wouldn’t have to watch my back all the time. I didn’t truly distrust anyone of them. If so, I would have kept him with me, to keep an eye on him.

The only one I’d miss was my sister. People said she was weird, and stupid. I think only I knew that wasn’t true. When she was five, Mother had abandoned her to servants, saying she wanted nothing to do with the child. I was eight at that time, and felt sorry for her. So I started to play with her, and noticed that even though she hadn’t even learnt how to walk properly yet, and talked like a two-year-old, she was as intelligent as I was. The servants often talked louder, and slow, as if to a one-year-old. She let me understand how irritating and demeaning that was to her.

I think I was the only parent she knew. I half-adopted her, taught her to walk and speak. When I learned she would always be hard to understand for those who did not know her, I also taught her to read and write. Despite her behaving as a child, even as she grew up, she understood people better than anyone I have ever met. She used to play with her dolls often, and once I watched how she re-enacted an episode we had seen between two servants. We’d only seen it for a few seconds — I don’t remember what they argued about, it could have been as simple as an affair. But when Isel played it out with her dolls, she spoke about what they both felt, and she went on beyond the end we’d seen, to include an understanding between the two of them, based on the personalities she’d decided that they had. I think she was thirteen at that time.

But Isel, too, had to move. But we promised each other that we’d keep in touch, and write to each other often.

It was now meant that I should find myself a wife and get children of my own.

But how could I do that, when all I saw before me when I closed my eyes was that poor slave I’d seen with the priestesses, with the only change being that he was replaced with my Melor. How could I ever condemn any girl to living with me when every moment was like that? When everything she’d do would remind me of Melor? When I would despise her for not being him?

If I could have, I would have made Isel my wife. At least I loved her as a friend. But she was my sister, and by Law, marriages between siblings are prohibited. I think there was something a long time ago about some King gone insane because his parents were brother and sister. If she’d been my second-cousin, it would have been okay; if she’d been my first-cousin it would have been frowned upon but accepted. But now she was neither.

My so-called advisors nagged at me almost every moon cycle. ‘You have to find a suitable wife, my King’, they said. ‘You have to get an Heir’, they said. I was almost tempted to make my sister Heir, but tradition says only a man can be King, so that thought was no option.

And that was also why I could not abolish the priestesses. They were tradition, and tradition was Law. And Law governed everything. A priestess was the only one with more power than the King. A priestess could at any time say that the King was unfit to be a ruler, and if three priestesses said so, the King was abdicated, and either sent to the block or to the priestesses, to be Purified.

Those Purified vanished, never to come back. Vanished and forgotten.

But I couldn’t let Melor go that way. I couldn’t live with not knowing. So the next Spring, I went to the temple of Law, to ask the priestesses what had happened to him.

"Melor?" the yellow-eyed priestess asked me. Had she not been a priestess, I would have found her beautiful, but priestesses were sworn to celibacy and a life without love, and thus it was totally unnecessary to even think of one as beautiful.

"As you wish, my King", she said. "If you come with me."

I followed her to a large room, filled with parchment scrolls.

"When did you say it was?"

I clenched my teeth briefly, then replied calmly, "Autumn, two cycles ago."

The woman picked down one scroll, and unrolled it.

Meanwhile, I looked around the room. Were all these scrolls filled with names of people who had suffered under their hands? I longed to burn them all, but unfortunately, they were the only thing left of them, the only thing saying they had ever existed. I couldn’t do that to them. Not that they were still there to know, but it still felt wrong.

"I’m sorry, my King, but there doesn’t seem to be anyone purified by us with that name."

"No mention at all?" What was this?

The woman returned the scroll, and took out three others, from another shelf. "I’ll check these ones. Here everyone visiting the temple is written down. Even you."

I waited. And when she still said she didn’t find anyone named Melor there, I didn’t understand. It was sacrilege to lie before Law. So he couldn’t have gone under any other name.

"Are there no people who do not give their names?"

A short pause. "Yes, there is. There are those who are unable to speak, for one or the other reason. They are written down as a physical description."

I swallowed. "Could you please check the records for any mention of a young boy of fourteen, the same colour..."

"A fourteen-year-old?" she interrupted me. "Then I can tell you at once there won’t be any mention of him. Not here, and not in any nearby temple either. Children are unusual, and I have a pretty good memory."

Bewildered, I left the temple. What did that mean? Had my father lied to me? Perhaps he'd sent Melor to a temple further off? Or had he somehow escaped? Oh, how I hoped for the latter.

Another cycle passed. Then, one day, the captain of the guard came to me as I was eating breakfast. He fiddled a little, seeming rather embarrassed to even voice the issue, but finally, half a second before I ordered him to spit it out, he took a deep breath.

"My lord King", he began. "I know it’s probably nothing that interests you, but what should we do about the boy?"

I froze, food halfway to my mouth. Then with a mental wrench, I slowly put the spoon down. "The boy?" Could it mean what I hoped it meant? I didn’t dare hope.

"Yes, the boy your father had us imprison. He's..."

I didn’t hear any more. It had to be him. He was alive.

(4)

-entry in Melor's journal, Spring, day 30, year 3 of King Ashtir's Reign-

So much has happened since the last time. Over three turns. I'm actually surprised that this book is still here. Somehow, I want to weep when I think that Ashtir actually saved it for me. I don't know what I'll begin telling, or how. But I suppose I'll begin that day when things started to happen:

I paced the confinement of my cell once more. Nothing interested me today. As usual.

It had been three hard cycles for me. I had received clothes the next day, already, and I got food twice a day. But time passed, and I wasn't taken to the temple of Law. Why was that? And if they weren't, why didn't Ashtir come and get me?

Finally I had decided Ashtir didn't want me, that he also thought it fair if I died.

That thought almost made me break down. And as time passed, I broke down many times. I begged the guards for a book to write in, but they only laughed at me. I asked them for something to do, and they beat me up.

Time passed, and I changed. My voice cracked, and went from my boyish soprano to a soft tenor. My body decided that growing like bamboo was a good thing to do, and I grew almost a head taller in one cycle. This, of course, resulted in a few more beatings because the guards had to get me new clothes. I learned a few good tricks during the beatings.

And my hair grew longer and longer. The guards had only cut me once. The next time they intended to do that, I was prepared, and gave them bruises they didn't forget for a while. After that, they let me have my hair. It now reached to my waist, and gave me more warmth during Autumn, Winter and Spring.

I had managed to keep my body somewhat in shape by doing some of the exercises Ashtir had showed me, but at times, doing those only resulted in tears. I didn't want to think of him.

I walked back. Ten paces this way, and ten paces that. I turned and walked up and down the other wall. That way was only eight paces, but it broke my habitual counting. Made me stop thinking about how small this place was.

Then I heard someone at the door. I didn't care. Let them give me food, or bruises. I didn't quite care. If I was lucky, they might even give me something sharp, so I might kill myself. Hanging was out of the question. There was nothing to tie the rope — or, in my case, the clothes — to. I had tried to strangle myself, but the result was only that I fainted, and then I let go of my throat, and started breathing again.

The door opened behind me. I stopped, and tensed my body for any possible attack. What came, though, made me stumble, and fall to the floor.

'Melor?' an altogether too familiar voice whispered. I had heard that voice so many times in my dreams.

No. I didn't dare believe it. It was a trick. It had to be.

Then I felt hands on my shoulders, and I curled up into a ball. I wouldn't let them fool me.

'Melor, please', his voice continued. Soft fingers touched my chin, and turned my face. I closed my eyes. I couldn't bear to look at the one torturing me this time. 'Please look at me, Melor', he pleaded.

I couldn't very well ignore a direct order, could I? Slowly, I opened my eyes, and found myself looking straight into the green eyes I knew so well.

That was too much. I tore myself free from his loose grip, and looked down again, tears flowing freely from my eyes. 'Please, my Prince. Stop... Please stop', I whimpered.

'Melor. I'm King now.' I froze. King? Yes, of course he was. I looked at the collar he wore that consisted of all three metals. Bronze for commoners, silver for nobles, and gold for royalty. Strange how our community is based on those three metals. Even our coinage. Our bronze Commoners, our silver Nobles, and our golden Royals.

Wait a minute. King? Did that mean...? Of course it did. There couldn't very well be two Kings, now could it?

'Oh, Melor', King Ashtir continued. 'I wish I had known...'

Wish he had known? I looked up at him. He hadn't known?

He looked down at me, also crying. 'They told me you'd been taken to... to the priestesses of Law. That it was too late…'

At once, my instincts set in. Ashtir couldn't cry. He mustn't cry. If he did, it must be my fault. 'It's all right, my King. It doesn't matter. It's not your fault.' How could it be?

'Yes, it is', Ashtir insisted, then gathered me into his arms and rose. 'But now I'm taking you out of here.'

And that he did. He carried me up all those stairs, and when I marvelled over the fact that he could, he merely looked at me. 'As if you're anything more than skin and bones', he said.

He took me to his old quarters — I suppose he lives where my... father used to live. I have a hard time writing about him, but I suppose it has to be done.

Ashtir washed me himself, wouldn't allow me to be alone for one second, and then he brought me some clothes. It can't have been my old clothes, since they would have been altogether too small, so he must have had something made. Or he just gave me something of his. When he made me stand up before him, I noticed to my surprise that I had grown to be slightly taller than him. He noticed this as well, and began to laugh.

I think that was the thing that first made me aware that it wasn't a dream. That, and the fact that he didn't look like I remembered. If it had been a dream, he'd still be taller than me, wouldn't he? And he'd still look like he had in the other dreams; look like he had done the last time I'd seen him.

And then he gave me back my book. That was when I began to cry. And I didn't care that he saw me cry any more. But...

He held me. He held me while I cried. He didn't try to comfort me and tell me everything would be all right. He just sat there and held me in his arms, and waited. And then... When I had finished crying... Then he...

Then he kissed me.

Not the brutal kiss that I had dreamt about during those cycles, fantasised about, but a gentle kiss that made me cry again.

I don't know for how long I cried. The thing that finally stopped me was hunger. Ashtir heard this (well, he heard my belly protest), and had some food brought.

It wasn't much he gave me, but he told me that was to get my stomach used to more and more food. He didn't want to know how little I'd been eating down there, he said.

I love him. Oh, how I love him. I've had three cycles to really think about it. When I first came there, I wasn't quite sure yet. I was only fourteen. A child, still. But my love didn't vanish. Didn't turn to hatred when he never came. I just cried.

I don't know how many times that cell has seen me cry. More times than I hope Ashtir ever will. If he still wants me.

I hope so. I hope so.

I hope he won't throw me out. Make me free out of pity. I want to remain his. I need to be close to him.

And that kiss...? I haven't told him I love him. Would he still kiss me if he knew that? Perhaps he'd think he was just fooling me then, and stop?

I can't tell him I love him. Not if that would make him stop holding me. Not if that would make him stop kissing me.

He gave me a new box. A box with a lock. But to it, he gave me three keys, not just one. He said it was so I could trust him not to have any keys of his own. Those three keys were the only ones that fit to the lock.

That also made me cry.

I hate crying. I've cried... I've cried four times only today.

He's off on stately business right now, but he promised he'd be back as soon as possible. I hope he will.

I looked up from my writing in time to see Ashtir come in through the door. I put the book aside — why should I attempt to hide it? He'd probably just go on reading it, like he'd done before. I didn't care now.

"Melor", he said, holding up something. "I have a gift for you!"

A gift? I ran up to him. "What is it?" Then I caught sight of the torque he held in his hand, and shrank back.

No, he couldn't be doing this to me! Why was he doing this?

Ashtir stopped, a puzzled look on his face. "What is it, Melor?"

How could I tell him I didn't want his gift? How could I tell him I didn't want to be free? Law-damn my pride.

I fell to my knees. "Please, my lord King", I begged. "Please don't do this."

Ashtir knelt down before me. "I thought you'd be happy", he said. "You said in your book how much you hated being Property. I thought you'd..."

I looked down. "Being Property doesn't bother me", I whispered. "As long as I'm your Property." I didn't dare look up at him when I said that, afraid of what I'd see in his face.

A tinkling sound made me look at the floor, and I discovered that Ashtir had dropped the collar to the ground. A golden collar. So he'd intended to make me a Prince again?

A bronze collar I could stand. A commoner's collar. But a silver or gold one was too much.

"I'm sorry, Melor", Ashtir whispered. "But you don't have to worry. I won't send you away. I'll never send you away. You'll have to leave me yourself if you don't want to stay."

I looked up at him. "Never?" I asked in wonder. He kissed me.

"Never", he mumbled against my lips. "Never."

Then he suddenly stood, took hold of my shirt and pulled me up beside him. Then he pointed in towards the bedroom.

"What?" I wondered, quite bewildered.

"Get in there. Now." When I just looked between him and the doorway, he added, "It's an order." He let go of my shirt and pushed me slightly in the right direction. And then he followed me into the bedroom.

(5)

-entry in Melor's Journal, Spring, day 31-

It's hard to describe what happened yesterday. Not because I don't remember it, but rather because it's so emotional. It's so hard to find the words.

Ashtir took me to the bedroom, and then he... tore the clothes off me. Literally. I got new clothes later.

Then he pushed me back onto the bed, and took off his own clothes. The scar on his arm is pure white. It doesn't make him ugly, though. But it still makes me think of... that day.

I didn't have time to think of it too long, though. Ashtir... He climbed up to sit on me, and he started to kiss me. Not just on the mouth, but all over my body.

I've never felt anything like it. I thought I was going to die. How could anything feel that good?

...He took me. He held my wrists, pressing them down to the bed above my head, and then he took me.

I... I wish he'd do it again.

Afterwards, we lay still for almost an hour. I couldn't move. I was still caught up in what I'd felt. It had hurt at first, but then it had felt so good I totally forgot about that. To feel that again, I'd be willing to take the pain as many times as necessary. And perhaps there'll be a time when it doesn't hurt anymore? I've heard that women often feel pain the first time. Perhaps it is the same with men? I hope I'll learn the truth in that matter.

When we came to our sense again, we took a bath.

And then... Then he let me explore his body.

I hope I wasn't too bad at it.

I love him.

He told me, later, that if I kept doing that, he'd keep me as his Property forever. He was smiling as he said it, stroking my hair.

I suppose I wasn't completely worthless at that.

I'll do it every day, if it lets me stay. I'll do it more often than that! I'll do it as soon as he wants to. I hope he'll do it to me too.

I don't think I'll burn this book. It's too important to me.

Perhaps it's not the book that is important. Rather it's what's written in it that's important.

I think I'll keep it forever.

I love him.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Spring, day 32-

It feels strange, not being confined. I've been confined for four years. First in Ashtir's rooms, and then...

I went to my old rooms. They were completely remade. Someone else was living there. A girl.

Ashtir has to marry.

I hate that.

I hate not being the only one for him.

We haven't talked about it. But it has to happen. He has to get at least one Heir. Otherwise, the line will die.

He has his brothers left, of course. But they are almost as old as he is. He has to get a son.

Or a daughter, I suppose.

If he can have me as lover, I suppose we can have a female King at that. A Queen. But her husband can't be King, that'd bring the power to his hands. And the Heir must be the one to wield the power. Anything else would be unthinkable. I suppose he could be Prince, but that would equalize him with their sons.

Odd. When the King (the female one) died, then he would have to move to the country. Odd thought.

I wonder why I continued that trail of thought. I suppose that is because I didn't want to think about Ashtir marrying.

But he has to.

I hope I'll be able to stand it.

I love him.

I hope I'll not be set aside.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Spring, day 47-

The past week, Ashtir has travelled through the noble courts, to choose a wife. I went with him. I couldn't bring my journal, though, so I'll have to describe what happened now afterwards, instead.

...

I can't. So much has happened, and much of that are things I don't want to think about.

Like how all the women clung to Ashtir. Glomped onto him like harlots. The only thing that made me stand it was that Ashtir all the time looked at me over their heads, with the patheticest most pathetic look in his eyes I've seen.

He didn't like them either, he told me the first night. But Law said that he must take a wife, so he had to choose one of the noble girls.

I just hoped she'd be pretty. And willing to see through the fingers with us. Although, why should she be the one to accept us? I was here before her. I should be the one accepting her.

Ashtir thought this too. He told me I had to help him choose.

So while he was attacked by females, I had to talk to them one by one, and ask them why they thought they were fit to be Queen.

I immediately ruled out half of them. That half had to go home without any success. And good riddance.

Sure, we got rid of a few homely girls as well, but mostly, it were those with temperament that had to go.

The rest, we spent a week with. Twenty-five young girls of different appearance that all were all over Ashtir.

All except two.

One of them later told me she hadn't wanted to be Queen. She was there only because her mother had told her to. She'd lied to me before, but so cunningly that I hadn't immediately deducted it as a lie.

Such an accomplished liar is always useful. We brought her with us when we went home. She's working here. Officially as one of Ashtir's chambermaids. She's pretty enough for people to perhaps believe he beds her. Unofficially, though, she's an informer.

The other hideaway girl... She wasn't so much to look at. Blondish hair. Grey eyes. Not homely, but not especially pretty either. She was just... normal. While Ashtir spent his time with the other girls, I spent mine with her. Talking, of course. I'm not interested in girls that way. Perhaps somewhat disappointing.

I talked to her. Asked her why she didn't spend her time with the King, first of all. She said she was too shy. But she didn't seem shy to me. Perhaps she loved him in her own way. Of all the girls, I found her most appealing.

That night, I told Ashtir about her, and the next day, I saw her blush a lot. She was shy when it came to him. While he spent the day with her, I studied the other girls. Those who became jealous, I sorted out, as well as those...

Boring.

Why write down all that choosing? Suffice it to say that Ashtir finally came home with a girl. She is not blonde. She has raven black, knee-long glossy hair, and brown eyes. And her name is Taira.

She's beautiful. Ashtir needs a figure-head. And she isn't too self-conceited either.

You thought we'd choose that stay-behind girl? So did I. But we didn't. It's too bad you can't always do what you wish. But Law dictates, and we must obey.

I must say that she was rather surprised on the way home. I suppose she'd expected to be alone in the palanquin with Ashtir. Or at least that it was her he would pay his attention to.

But as he gathered me into his arms among the pillows, I had to hide my face in his shirt to avoid being rude. I've never seen such a perfect and true portrayal of astonishment.

And then Ashtir explained to her about us two.

She took it rather well, I must say.

She still looks oddly at me, though.

And now she's Queen. And she has the oddest

I looked up again as the woman came into Ashtir's quarters. I found it highly irritable that she would come and go as she pleased.

"You", she said, pointing at me. "Could you help me brush my hair?"

I sighed, wrote down the last word in the sentence: 'notions.', and put down my book into the box and locked it. "Yes, my Queen."

After all, she had higher rank than me. I picked up a brush from the bedside table and waited for her to sit down.

I must admit, brushing hair is something I like, so I didn't mind it that much. I brushed her hair in silence.

That was when Ashtir came in.

"Melor?" he said, baffled. "What are you doing?"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "I thought that was obvious. I'm brushing her hair."

He frowned at her. "Taira."

"Yes, Ashtir?" she asked, glancing at me as she said his name, as though challenging me, see if I reacted. Why should I? She was Queen. She had the right to call him by name.

"Never mind, Ashtir", I said. "I like brushing her hair." Why make myself her enemy unnecessarily?

That night, as I lay with my King, he sighed. "This would have been avoided if you had accepted that golden torque."

"But I didn't want it, Ash." It was the first time I attempted to give him a nick name.

He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. "Ash?" Then he smiled. "I like it."

I beamed with pride. "Anyway. I didn't want it then, and I don't need it now. Let her push me around. I have you, and that's all I need. If I'm bothered, I can tell you then."

He kissed me. "Promise you do that."

(6)

-entry in Melor's Journal, Summer, day 5-

Taira is pregnant. That's good, although it means he has spent some time with her. But I shouldn't be jealous. If he spends one night with her, he spends seven with me, and now he leaves her alone. But she shouldn't be too unhappy.

I don't write as often as I used to. I guess that is because life goes on in pretty much the same way all the time. I also guess that I'm growing older.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Summer, day 46-

Taira's pregnancy is going well. Her belly is bigger, and she needs — or wants — someone with her at all time. Just to make sure nothing will happen. She's scared. Last time I brushed her hair (yesterday), she broke down and started to cry.

I feel sorry for her.

She didn't marry that much out of love. It was a political marriage. But I suppose she at least expected to have Ashtir to herself.

I held her while she cried, like Ashtir held me that time so long ago. Not one cycle has passed since then, but I still feel like it was ages ago.

And then we talked.

We're getting along better now. Taira doesn't pester me with different tasks (she has been quite bothersome, but I haven't told Ashtir, because I didn't want to put myself at odds with Taira). I feel free without a collar around my neck. I never realized it could be so... nice, to live without status.

Taira told me of her childhood, and I told her what I remembered of mine. I also told her how I had come to belong to Ashtir.

Telling someone wasn't as hard as I'd thought it would be. And I hadn't expected her reaction.

She actually kissed me.

She's sleeping right now, just a few feet from me. After that talk, she insisted that I would accompany her as often as I wanted to. Ashtir was rather surprised over this.

I think he's afraid. He doesn't say anything, but he looks oddly at me whenever I'm with Taira. I hope he doesn't believe I'm in love with her.

I told Taira that I don't love women. So even if she fell in love with me, she wouldn't try anything. I hope.

I think I'll take a long talk with Ashtir and tell him everything I think about Taira. Explain why I am with her that often. And ensure him that I'll only ever be her friend. Even if she loved me, and wanted me to come to her bed, I wouldn't. First of all, I don't love her. It'd be wrong. I know she's Queen, and I'm Property, and she can order me to bed, but it'd be wrong. And besides, I belong to Ashtir, not to her, and he presides over her, so I could always refer to him. I hope she won't ask. It wouldn't be nice to say no to her.

Everybody's wishing her baby will be a son. I do as well. The priestesses have said that the gods have given them the power to see, and they say it's a boy. I'm happy. Ashtir will have his Heir.

And perhaps he won't have to sleep with her then.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Spring, day 43, Fourth Cycle-

Taira went into labour eight hours ago. I was allowed to be with her until a few hours ago, when the midwife ushered me out. Men aren't supposed to be with women giving birth.

I'm sitting right outside, with Ashtir. Up until a few moments ago, he was clutching my hand as though he was drowning, my hand the only thing keeping him above surface.

Bad choice of rescuer. I can't swim.

Then he started to pace up and down. I think he loves her. In a way, at least. Enough that he's worried. I am as well. I've never heard a woman in labour before. The room she is in has rather thick walls, and somewhat sound-proof doors, but we can still hear her in there. It seems giving birth hurts a lot.

I'm glad I amn't a woman.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Spring, day 44-

Ahstir's daughter was finally born yesterday. People were so disappointed. I was too, at first, but then I remembered what I thought so long ago.

She could still be King.

We haven't been allowed to go see them yet. She's still recovering. The midwife and the physician are feeding her some kind of broth that's supposed to give her back the blood she's lost faster.

She's been bleeding.

I'm glad I'm a man.

Ashtir is still trying do decide on a name.

-entry in Melor's Journal, Spring, day 46-

I've changed my mind. I wouldn't mind being a woman. The child...

Taira has already decided upon a name, and won't allow any other. The child will be named Enora.

The child, Enora, is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Her hair, the little she's got, is black, like Taira's, and her eyes are a milky blue, that the midwife says will change during the first year to its real colour. I wonder why. Why aren't the eyes the colour they're supposed to be from the start? But then again, dogs are born blind.

I already love her. Ashtir was somewhat hesitant at first. I don't think he had fully understood that he's a father.

He was offered to hold her, and at first he didn't want to, but they put her in his arms nevertheless.

He just stood there, looking down at the small bundle in his arms. She's so small. I've never seen anything that small. Then he looked up at us; first at Taira, then at me, and then suddenly tears began to leak from his eyes.

He handed Enora back to her mother, kissed Taira's forehead, and then took me outside, still crying.

I looked up at Ashtir, and smiled. He was so wonderfully cute when he was confused.

"Stop writing in that damned book and come here, Melor", he ordered, and I obediently put the book aside, jumped down from the windowsill where I preferred to write, and walked up to him. He dragged me into the bedroom, where we made love passionately.

Afterwards, he lay in my arms, playing with my hair.

"It's so hard to believe", he whispered. "That she..." He broke off.

I didn't know whether he by 'she' meant Taira or Enora, so I remained silent, and stroked his hair to support and comfort him.

"She's so small", he finally said. "I can't..." His voice cracked, and he started to sob. I lay there and held him as he cried out his wonder of being a father.

Finally his tears subsided, and he lay still, his body shaking now and then with a sob.

"My King?" a hesitant female voice asked from outside.

I looked at Ashtir, and he nodded slightly at me, so I called, "You can come in." Obviously Ashtir didn't trust his voice enough to speak yet.

The servant came inside. As she looked at us, her eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing about it. "My King", she said. "The Queen requests your presence."

I felt how Ashtir swallowed against my chest. "Tell her..." he began, then stopped to clear his throat. "Tell her I'll be right there."

The servant bowed, and exited the room, with some hesitation, I must say. Ashtir didn't notice since he wasn't looking at her, but I noticed. Probably she thought it immoral of him to sleep with me while his wife lay in childbed.

Slowly, Ashtir rose, and went out into the bath to freshen up. Ten minutes later, he came back out again, dressed in clean clothes. He looked slightly hesitantly at me.

"I'll wait here, Ash", I said, and he smiled.

"Thank you. I'll be back as..."

I smiled. "Don't worry. I'll be all right. Take the time you need."

His smile wavered while tears rose in his eyes, and he nodded curtly and exited. I sighed and lay back to wait for him.

-entry in Melor's journal, Spring, day 49-
(written on the inside of the back cover)

I suppose this is good bye. The book is finished. I don't know if I'll start on another. I've written so seldom this last year that I don't think it's worth it. Why waste an entire book if I'm only going to write five pages of it?

Perhaps I should have written more often. I don't know what purpose that would serve, though. I don't know how much I'll be able to write on this very last page. There's not much space left.

I don't think I'll take another book. This will be the final good bye to you.

...I wish there was something intelligent I could write. Something you could remember me by. But nothing comes to mind except 'I'm older now than I've been in my entire life'. I guess that statement will be my last words to you.

I won't burn this book. There are too many memories attached to it. I'll save it in that box. Perhaps I'll take it out sometime and read in it. I don't know.

Good bye.

You've been my best friend always. At times my only friend. You've been my truest friend, at least. You haven't left me.

Good bye.

© Sarel