When I tried to face him, he held my shoulder and made me turned my back to him, even if it was the last thing I wanted to do.
That, night, I did not close my eyes again. I could not sleep through the little time I have with him. Not when I would leave sooner. I did not want his scent to be the only thing I would remember of him, not the walls I as facing, not the interior of his room and not the canvas. I wanted to have his face glued to my brain until my last breadth. He was my only chance at love.
Encountering the Jihadists has made me realised something. It was how fragile our fates were. That I could be sold and depart from him forever. Once again that night, I tried face him but he stopped me. A tear fell from my face.
"Why won't you let me look at you?", I asked. Am I so disgusting to stare at? I thought dejectedly. But he did not say anything. However, I could also hear his uneven breathing and I knew he was also awake. Out of anger, I tried to remove his hand that was curled around my waist but he didn't allow me. I gave up with a loud huff and we both remained awake until the dew came.
The moment I found the yellow moonlight, I sprang up from the bed and I was thankful when he did not try to stop me. I ran to the washroom and washed myself. When I came back, he was not in the room anymore. I had thought he has left as usual but while I was dressing, he came in.
"Good morning.", I greeted him and he nodded back. I had turned to leave when he spoke.
"Eat before you go."
I shook my head.
"I don't want to.", I told him when he deepened his voice.
"That was not up for an argument, Freye.", he said and I bite my lips in anxiety. It was that rare moments when he would say my name. It had always gave me a mixed feeling.
"And drink this when you're done."
That was when I noticed he was actually holding a mug in his hand. The stale smell hit me and I did not try to ask what it was, for I knew. I raised my brow at him and I was glad when he acknowledged my thoughts.
"I knew you didn't take it the last time. You should start now."
It was my time to nod.
When I finished the meal and I rose to leave, he rose with me.
"Let me walk you back.".
My eyes widened. I was about to decline when he left me and returned with a black robe. He helped me into it and covered my hair with the cape.
Due to his company, I walked freely without the guards suspicion. They all looked away from us the moment they saw him. But I knew that they wouldn't have had it been he was walking a slave and not any of the servants.
It was a bright morning. Like every other day, The Oak was lively and full of different activities like, sewing, butchering, sun_drying and cooking, among many others. What actually made this particular day splendid was not the usual activities.
We were to be let out in the evening for peeling, so many of us did not even bother to rise from our lay, until a woman spoke.
"Is this a dream? I think I can see Master Damascus."
We all sprang up and ran to the gate. And truly, it was the eldest master, Damascus. My face brightened up. As Damascus comes toward the slave chamber, a warm smile spread across his face, putting everyone at ease. My eyes lit up as I caught the sight of him, a stark contrast to the wariness I often felt around his brother. They were complete opposites.
While Angus has a pale skin and deep black hair, Damascus has a toned skin due to his closeness to the North. His hair was a rich brown and while he shares the same energetic blue eyes with his brother, his were as warm as honey. There was something about Damascus's gentle demeanor that made everyone relaxed.
Damascus made his way through the compound , two of his servants trailing behind him. He asked one of the servants to open the door and we quickly stepped away but he gave us a warm smile.
He entered the slave chamber, his eyes scanning the room to ensure everyone present, both the young and the old.
As he walked, he noticed the worn-out sandals on one of the girls feet. He stopped and knelt down, gently taking the slave's foot in his lap to examine the sandals more closely. The girl's eyes widened.
"These are in poor condition," Damascus said, his voice laced with concern. "I'll arrange for new ones to be made for you and the others who need them."
We exchanged surprised glances, our faces softening with gratitude. It was an older slave named Esme that spoke up,
"Thank you, Master Damascus. That's very kind of you."
Damascus smiled and held Esme's wrinkled hand in his.
"You're all hardworking individuals who deserve to be treated with dignity. I'll also see to it that the living quarters are cleaned and repaired. You deserve a comfortable place to rest.", he added.
As he continued his rounds, Damascus distributed small tokens of appreciation – a few extra rations, some fresh fruit, and a promise to improve our working conditions, even though we all knew it will all end the moment he leaves The Oak. Nevertheless, our faces lit up with appreciation, our eyes shining with a mix of surprise and gratitude.
Damascus was a rare being. That was not the first time he would be so kind to us. He was just passionate. No wonder he has two princesses as wives, I thought.
Throughout the day, we all in a bright and energetic mood.
.