Reika stirred awake. The first thing she registered was a deep, throbbing ache in her jaw. The second was the weight of a muscular leg pinning her own. Her eyes flew open in shock.
She sprang upright, the silken sheets falling away.
"Awake, are you?"
Cayman sat at a small table, pouring a glass of golden wine. A gentle smile graced his face, but it did not reach his heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one purple.
Reika's expression darkened. She quickly assessed her condition, a wave of cold dread washing over her, only to be replaced by confusion. There was no tearing pain, no evidence of the violation she had expected.
"Aren't the people of the Summer Islands rather open-minded in this regard?" Cayman asked, his tone light. "Why the tension?"
Reika's muscles were taut, her complexion grim. "Not everyone is the same. Where are my clothes?" she murmured, the question a feeble defense.
"You lost," Cayman stated, his voice turning flat and pragmatic. He refrained from addressing her inquiry, instead seizing control of the conversation. "According to the rules of the duel, you would die. I trust this is self-evident."
His words hung in the air, thick and heavy. Reika maintained a stony silence. He was correct. The duel only concluded upon one participant's death. She had agreed to his wager, and by the laws of the Bloodstone Arena, her life was his to claim. That he had not killed her yet signified something, and her naked presence in his bed seemed to speak volumes. Yet, she was perplexed. Didn't the Lyseni favor women with pale skin and delicate bodies?
"Silence is futile and merely wastes time," Cayman remarked, taking a sip of his wine. "What do you intend to do?"
After a considerable pause, Reika retorted, "What do you intend to do?"
Cayman did not answer directly. Instead, he poured a second glass of wine and approached the bedside, his movements fluid and assured. He offered her the glass, a silent command to relax.
"Are you in dire need of money?" Cayman's peculiar eyes bore into hers, seeming to see past her pride to the desperation that had driven her into the pit. "Perhaps I could assist you. But you must first divulge your reasons."
Reika bit her lip, sensing that Cayman was not a man of virtue. Her instincts had always been astute. Yet, she was in desperate need of funds. To reclaim what was rightfully hers, she needed to gather resources and establish a mercenary band loyal to her.
"Could you return my clothes first?" she asked, a last attempt at dignity.
"What do you think?" Cayman replied with a knowing smile.
Reika inhaled deeply, suppressing the surge of embarrassment. She took the glass and downed a hearty sip, the strong wine burning a path of resolve down her throat. A decision crystallized in her mind. She had once rejected the advances of Brenna Godwin, clinging to a virtue that had since proven worthless. That refusal had incited his wrath after he ascended to the Prince of Valerano Island, leading to a relentless vendetta that left her family in ruins. If she could exchange that same virtue for Cayman's support, she would not hesitate.
"I hail from the Ross family of Valerano Island," she began, her voice gaining strength. "Our seat was in Lotus Port. But I failed in my bid for the title of Princess."
As she spoke, Cayman discreetly removed his own robe. Reika braced herself, but the tempest she envisioned did not materialize. Instead of forcing himself upon her, he draped the elegant garment over her shoulders. His voice was gentle, laced with a convincing regret.
"I apologize. I mistook you for a greedy pirate. Forgive me for failing to accord a princess the respect she deserves. You must have endured considerable hardship along this journey."
The unexpected apology and concern left Reika momentarily speechless. Looking up, she met the earnest gaze of the handsome youth, his face etched with what seemed like sincere remorse. The tender tone, so alien to her after a year of hardship and cruelty, nearly brought tears to her eyes. She hastily lowered her gaze, stifling them.
"I am not a princess. I failed, and my stubbornness led to the ruin of my family."
More than a year of wandering had shown her the world's stark realities. The helplessness and regret she harbored were known only to her. Each night, she was tormented by 'what ifs'. Had she acquiesced to Brenna's proposition, would her family have been spared? Would her parents and brother not have been reduced to ashes?
"I sympathize with your plight," Cayman said, his voice soft. "However, I believe that anyone who dares to pursue their true self deserves to be called a prince or princess. This spirit should be celebrated. You need not bear guilt."
He grasped Reika's hand, his touch rough and calloused. Seeing that she did not recoil, he gently pulled her into his embrace.
"You may share your experiences with me," he murmured. "I will do my utmost to assist you."
Reika nestled against him, curling into a ball as if she could finally, for a moment, let her guard down. A flicker of joy briefly illuminated her downcast eyes, only to be swiftly overshadowed by sorrow and helplessness once more.
Unbeknownst to her, Cayman, who held her close, also harbored a glimmer of joy in his own gaze. He had just found his key to the Summer Isles—a land rich in gems, rare timber, and spices—a veritable gold mine.