Silk Dreams - Songs of the North 3 by Mia Marlowe Read Free Book Online Page A

Erik said.
    Valdis swiveled the device in the right direction. “There's a young man there, dressed in white linen with a purple border. Dark hair, neatly curled beard. He's laughing and drinking from a jeweled cup.”
    “Describe the people who are with him.” Erik relayed Damian's new command.
    “There's a lovely woman at his side with bare breasts,” Valdis said, a blush creeping up her neck. “She must rouge her nipples. They're as scarlet as the emperor's boots. She looks totally unconcerned about her state of undress, but frankly the man seems more interested in what the older man is saying to him than he is in her.”
    “Damian says the young man is Leo Porphyrogenito, the emperor's nephew. The woman is the Cretan princess. Women of that isle wear a palla that displays their charms. Sensible custom,” Erik said. “No disappointments later.”
    Valdis stuck out her tongue at him.
    “What about the older man?” he asked, totally unperturbed by her rude gesture.
    “Darker skin. Even though his beard is shot with silver, he's still a hawk of a man. Well dressed in a flowing robe. The way it hangs it must be silk; very fine silk.” In the short time she'd been in Damian's household, Valdis learned to appreciate the feel of that lustrous fabric on her skin. “He wears a jewel on each finger of his hand.”
    “The silk merchant,” Damian said under his breath, nodding as if the information Erik repeated only confirmed a suspicion, and then he murmured another order.
    Erik took the seeing glass back from Valdis. “The eunuch says that's enough for now. He wants you to enjoy the show.”
    Below them, a mock battle raged purporting to show the emperor, Basil the Bulgar-Slayer, pushing back the unwashed hordes from the borders of his realm. The “Huns” were defeated with no apparent casualties to the Byzantine legions.
    “I'll wager it wasn't as easy as that,” Erik said as he watched the set piece with the eye of a warrior.
    Valdis cast him a sideways glance. His mouth was drawn in a hard line, his jaw a block of granite. Controlled power rippled through his honed body. Even at rest, Erik was formidable. In the grip of the black
berserkr
rage, he'd be terrifying, Valdis decided.
    “Oh!” Something brushed against her ankle and she felt a wet tongue on her skin. It was the little dog again. She bent and scooped it up before it could shy away. “What are you doing here?”
    “Probably hoping you'll drop something again.” Erik didn't reach over to pet the animal, but his face lighted with a quick grin. “Looks like you've made at least one friend in this city.”
    “Only one?” she asked pointedly. “We've spent weeks practically living in each other's pockets. You could have been killed protecting me from those huge cats today. Are you telling me I may not consider you a friend?”
    He leaned toward her, resting one of his brawny forearms on the marble balustrade. What was it she read beneath the ice of his gray eyes? Pain, certainly, but there was something else. Wariness, the caution of a wild creature who dares not approach from fear of what she might do to him.
    Or what he might do to her.
    With obvious effort, he turned away to peer down at the oval track. “Trust me, Valdis. You do not want to be my friend.”
    Her chest constricted at his rebuff. She should have known better. Even though he spoke her language, she couldn't trust this Northman. Hadn't he told her so in a dozen ways since he took up the job of teaching her Greek? She could rely on no one but herself.
    The little dog wiggled, trying to free itself. After Valdis crooned small endearments and held it close, the animal ceased struggling and nuzzled the crook in her arm, obviously deciding she was trustworthy. She'd felt so alone since she was ripped from her homeland, it was comforting to have the warmth of another beating heart close to hers, even if it only belonged to a mangy stray.
    A guttural chant started in the lower tiers,