Wizard's First Rule - Terry Goodkind [322]
She woke him with her boot instead of the Agiel. He almost cried at her mercy and heard himself thanking her profusely for her kindness to him. She gave him instructions as to his behavior. He would have his chain hooked to her belt, and was to keep his eyes to her, speak to no one unless they spoke to him first, and then only if he looked to her first for permission to answer. He would not be allowed to sit at the table, but would sit on the floor, and if he behaved himself, he would be given something to eat.
He promised to do as she wished. The idea of sitting on the floor sounded wonderful to him: to be able to rest, and not have to stand, or be hurt. And to be allowed something to eat, at last. He would make sure he did nothing to displease her, or to keep her from giving him food.
Richard’s brain was in a fog as he followed behind Denna, attached to her by the chain on his collar, concentrating on keeping the proper amount of slack. The manacles were off his wrists, but the cuts from them were red and swollen, and throbbed painfully. He vaguely remembered some of the rooms they passed through.
In the room with other people. Denna stopped as she strode around, talking briefly with finely dressed people. Richard kept his eyes on her braid. The braid had obviously been done over for the dinner; the vigorous use of the Agiel caused it to loosen, and freed stray wisps of hair. She must have done it over while she had let him sleep.
He found himself thinking about how beautiful her hair really was, how much finer she looked than any of the other women at the dinner. He knew people were staring at him, at his sword, as he was led around the room by his collar and chain. He reminded himself that his pride was locked away for the time being. This was about getting a chance to rest, to eat, and about having her not hurt him for a while.
Richard bowed and stayed bowed while Denna spoke to the Queen. The Queen and the Mord-Sith gave only a bow of the head to each other. The Princess was at the Queen’s side. Richard thought about how Princess Violet had treated Rachel, and had to return his thoughts to Denna’s braid.
As she sat at the table, Denna snapped her fingers and pointed at the floor behind her chair. He knew what she wanted and sat on the floor, crossing his legs. Denna sat to the left of the Queen, to the right of Princess Violet, who eyed him coldly. Richard recognized some of the Queen’s advisors. He smiled to himself. The court artist wasn’t among them. The head table was higher than the others, but sitting on the floor, Richard couldn’t see many of the gathered guests.
“Since you don’t eat meat,” the Queen said to Denna, “I had the cooks prepare a special dinner I know you will enjoy. Some wonderful soups and vegetables, and some rare fruits.”
Denna smiled and thanked her. While she was eating, a server brought her a plain bowl on a tray.
“For my pet,” she told him, interrupting her conversation only briefly.
The man took the bowl from the tray and handed it down to Richard. It was some sort of gruel, but to Richard, as he held the bowl in his trembling hands, preparing to drink it down, it looked like the best meal he had ever seen.
“If he’s your pet,” Princess Violet said, “why do you allow him to eat like that?”
Denna looked over to the Princess. “What do you mean?”
“Well, if he’s your pet”—the Princess smiled—”he should eat off the floor, without his hands.”
Denna grinned, a glint in her eye. “Do as she says.”
“Put it on the floor,” Princess Violet said, “and eat it like a dog, for us all to see. Let everyone see that the Seeker is no better than a dog.”
Richard was too hungry to do anything to lose his meal. He concentrated on a mental image of Denna’s braid and set the bowl carefully on the floor as he glanced into Princess Violet’s eyes, to her smirk, and ate the gruel to the sound of laughter. He licked the bowl clean, telling himself it was because he needed the strength,