Nikita's lips moved slowly as he looked at the page intently.  He had done his evening exercise and bathing and was practicing reading using one of Erik's books.  They had begun reading it a week previously, three days before Erik had gone.  Nikita was to read every word of it himself.

He knew if Erik had been reading it they would have been finished before he had to leave.  As it was, he was still struggling through the last few chapters after a week of reading.  Master was proud of him anyway, and said that he'd rarely seen a quicker study, even among some scribes.  He knew that if Master knew of his frustration he would be reminded of how short a time they had actually been together.  It didn't matter, though.  He wanted to read better and quicker.  He wanted to prove himself to his Master.  To prove that Master's trust was not misplaced.

There was a knock on the door, and Nikita quickly hid the book under the table, knowing that as a slave he shouldn't know how to read.  He opened the door, admitting the proxy king.

"What's wrong with the guard?" the man asked in a sneering tone, birdlike voice seeming higher pitched than usual.

"Nothing, your Grace," Nikita replied serenely.  "He guards the door.  What do you need here, your Grace?"

"You."

Nikita looked up, startled.  The man couldn't mean what he thought he meant....  That sallow, greasy pretender with arms and legs like noodles and yellow tusks growing out of his mouth couldn't possibly mean....

He was pressing Nikita back toward the bed, but the boy neatly sidestepped.  "Your Grace, I'm afraid I am the one thing in this room not at your service.  I belong to one man."

With a rough laugh, the proxy grabbed him by the arm.  "Even if it's a dead man?  If I take you, the Human's favorite, that makes my ascent more valid.  And you know things that I can use, I'm sure."

Nikita froze.  He was practically admitting that he'd had Erik killed.

No!  Nikita would know if his Master were dead.  He knew it.  Besides, there was so much left for him to say....

Slimy lips closed bruisingly over his own and pulled Nikita out of his reverie.  He pulled away violently, wiping a hand across his lips.  "My Master is not dead and I am not yours!" he said.  Training from birth warred with the urge to punish the man who had conspired - at least! - against his Master.

Training won, and he didn't sink his fangs into the man's neck.  He called for the guard and had the proxy king thrown out.

Eyes tearing, he covered his mouth to hide trembling lips.  Was the man celebrating too soon?  Or had something happened?

'Master!' he shouted mentally, not expecting and not receiving an answering voice.  Sobbing softly, he collapsed onto the bed, pulling the comforter close.

Nikita was roused by a series of knocks.  The Harem Master was there to see him.  "Sir," he said, admitting the man, "You graced me last night.  Why have you come again?"

"This time, Nikita, you must return with me."  The man began pacing quickly around the room, one arm behind his back, other hand raised to his forehead in what looked like pain.

"Since last night, Master has not quit me of my duties.  I can't, sir.  I have to wait for him."

"After your display today, our halls are the only place of safety.  You openly defied the king!  How could one with our training do that?"  He threw his arms wide in confusion and rounded on the boy.  "What were you thinking?"

"That man is not the king," Nikita said softly, face downcast.  "And my Master told me to keep things going as if he were here.  I did what he told me."

"I have never seen the like in my life!" the man exclaimed, grabbing Nikita's shoulders and shaking him roughly.  "Erik the Priss is DEAD!  You owe no allegiance to a dead man and more to the Harem than any living one!  I tell you, you will return with me NOW!"  He started walking to the door.

Nikita held himself quietly.  "Sir... I know my Master is not dead."  He hoped every second that he wasn't.  "I cannot leave my Master's orders undone or halfdone when he could return any time."  He kept his eyes down, not wanting the Harem Master to see the tears in them.  Erik should have been just another assignment to a boy from the Harem.  Just another man to please, and the Harem Master would be angry if he knew the level to which it was more.  "I can't go."

"What rubbish is this?  You are being ordered by your Harem to return.  You will come now!"

Giving up any dignity, Nikita fell to his knees, looking up imploringly.  "I can't abandon my Master.  He'll be back.  I know it.  Please!"

The Harem Master looked at him in disgust.  "Very well.  You have until the announcement of his death."

Nikita stayed on the floor until the man was gone and the door closed.  Then he rushed to lock it behind.  If they expected him after an announcement of his Master's death they would wait in vain.

If his Master was truly dead...

Calmly, he went to a cabinet to the side of the room.   He folded a small object in cloth and tied it around his neck.

If his Master was truly dead, he would not long outlive him.

'Oh, Master!  Come home!' he begged.

Touching the lump of poison at his throat, he curled up in the residual warmth of the comforter.
 

Nikita woke to find yet another new guard.  This one smirked at him deeply.  He glared at the man and the man looked him over slowly.

Nikita had to physically restrain himself.  He couldn't bite everyone.  Not even for looking at him like that when he belonged to only one.  Let them look, he decided with a disdainful toss of his head, only his Master could touch him.

Breakfast was a worse debacle than the previous day's.  He had to catch the servant by the throat before anything got done.  He scowled deeply, but when he was alone his face fell into frustration.  How was he to do his duty to his Master if none believed that Master was returning?  It grew harder by the day, and as others insisted Erik was dead, he started doubting himself.  Perhaps....

He touched the drop of poison at his throat, but quickly shook off the thought.  Master still lived.  He'd see and touch his Master again.

He'd say what he wanted to.

He entered the throne room and immediately sat on the throne.  He took care, sitting straight and draping his arms over the arms of the chair.  It wouldn't do to make a presence and have that presence be less than awe-inspiring.

The proxy kept looking at him in annoyance while doing his job.  Nikita had no issue with him most of the time, and contented himself with growling when he didn't.  After the showdown the previous day, his warnings were listened to.

Halfway through the session, when he was correcting a sentence, the proxy turned.

"Off the throne, slave," he sneered.  "What do you think you're doing?"

Nikita pulled himself straight.  "I am the king's slave, and even a slave may know the law."

"And you think you know the law better than the one appointed to take that king's place?"

Careful, careful....  There was a trap in that question.  'Master...?  What do I do now, Master?'

The Harem Master rose from the ranks of the onlookers, approaching this throne.  He put a hand on Nikita's shoulder.  "He does what he thinks he was told.  He's a simple harem boy, my lord Proxy."  In the same breath honouring and deriding the man.  "Nikita, get off the throne," he said gently, giving the boy a shove toward the edge of the chair.

Nikita lowered himself to the floor, lowering his gaze.  The Harem Master had meant well - had to have meant well! - but Nikita had been effectively defanged.  Nothing he said here would have meaning anymore.  How could someone 'simple' be listened to?  And yet... his presence could still serve to remind of Erik's return.

It was all he could do.

Looking up, he let his gaze linger on all comers so they felt it.