“What happened to him?” Leda asked with concern evident in her voice.
Ariadne shrugged. “I found him beside the street, unconscious. He must have gotten into a bad fight.”
“But what was he doing here at night? He doesn’t belong here.”
The question had occurred to Ariadne as well. Rich men like him wearing the finest set of clothes she had ever seen didn’t usually make their way into slums unless they were quite desperate. All sorts of trade went down here. But she doubted someone like him would be involved in all that. But then again, whatdidshe know of him?
“Do you have any idea who he is?”
“No,” Ariadne said. “But I assume we will know soon enough.”
Ariadne walked to the basin to clean herself off the mud. Leda stood next to her as she washed her hands. The clothes were too dirty and would simply have to be changed.
“You must be hungry. Let me get you something to eat.”
Ariadne realized that she was, in fact, starving. Emma brought her a small plate with chunks of bread and some porridge. She ate in silence as Leda spoke. With her blonde hair and alabaster skin, she never failed to garner attention while Ariadne was silent and content to stay where nobody would notice her. She was no great beauty and with her plain and common features, easily dismissed by people.
“There’s a man on Papa’s bed,” Leda said as if she almost couldn’t believe herself. “Do we know who he is?”
Ariadne shook her head. She recounted the details of how she had found him. “Maybe he’s a prince and he’s here to sweep us off our feet and carry us into his world.”
Ariadne rolled her eyes. Trust her sister to make romantic notions out of air. The two sisters couldn’t be more different. “We don’t even know who he is.”
“Well at least, he’s rich. Have you seen his shoes? Those alone will fetch us dinner for at least a year,” Leda said. This was true. His clothes were fine too. Ariadne blushed at the thought of the stranger’s naked skin. She had touched him. She had felt the pulse beneath his skin. Even though he was only feverish, Ariadne felt the heat scandalous.
Emma came into the room, clutching her shawl to herself. “Is he all right now?”
“He seems to be passed out for now.”
“You have your mother’s spirit and I see so many parts of her in you.” Emma held Ariadne’s cheeks fondly. “Ever brave, ever kind.”
Ariadne didn’t remember her mother anymore. Emma had raised her but the thought of her being even slightly like her late mother brought immense joy to her.
“Are you going to stay beside him?”
Ariadne nodded. Someone needed to keep an eye on him. She quickly changed into her nightgown and went back to her father’s room. The flame of the candle placed beside the table cast an orange glow on the stranger on her father’s bed.
Ariadne brought over an old wicker chair and placed it beside the window, a few feet away from him so as to not disturb him. She was almost drifting away to sleep when the stranger’s moan woke her up. She rushed to him and found beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. Ariadne sat down beside him and rubbed at it.
Her other hand that was placed beside him suddenly moved and she found his fingers intertwined in it. Her touch seemed to have given him some comfort. She looked up to see if he was conscious, but he didn’t appear to be so. Ariadne looked down at their clasped hands. Heat rushed through her body at the contact. She flexed instinctively to feel more of his skin that was smooth under her touch. His hand swallowed her tiny one. For some reason, this felt more intimate than taking his clothes off. It was nothing like touching her sister, Emma, or someone else.
He was probably having a nightmare. Not willing to break their contact, she lay down beside his bed on the floor, arranging the blanket around her. This was going to be a difficult night.