The Slave (Free Men, #1) (Completed)

Part 18

"What about this one?" I waved a swatch of brightly coloured cloth at Kai, who wrinkled his nose in disgust. Laughing, I added it to the Definitely Not pile that was growing on the floor beside me.

We were in Kai's chamber, although it wouldn't be such for much longer. As a reward for doing so well in his training, Master had offered him the opportunity to furnish his sparse room. It was a sign of how far we had come that he was going to be trusted with possessions of his own.

Kai, however, had declined the offer, much to both my and Master's surprise. Instead, stammering bashfully, he had admitted he rarely entered his chamber at all, spending his nights in my bed instead, and suggested we could turn his chamber into a dayroom for us both. Permission had been granted immediately, and Master had ordered several of the better cloth merchants and furniture dealers from Otiz's markets to call on us at the compound to discuss what we wanted.

I had thought myself spoilt in the past, but it was nothing to the level of indulgence with which Kai's desires had been met. After a week of meetings with various traders, we had a pile of swatches to work through and several different options as to furniture. I favoured a warm and cosy nook with lots of pillows and soft seating so I could curl up and read. Kai had a more utilitarian nature and wanted a purposeful space, somewhere he could exercise with the weights Master had presented to him after overhearing him complain he lacked the muscle strength in his arms to properly wield the heavy weapons the guards used.

A compromise of sorts had been reached, and we decided to pad the floor and walls of half the room, leaving the half nearest the door for my opulent den. That way I could keep Kai company as he exercised, and he could provide something for me to look at when I tired of reading. First, however, we had to decide on a colour scheme.

"Nothing pink," Kai growled, eyeing the swatches I had yet to peruse.

I stuck my tongue out at him.

"It's an ugly colour," he protested.

"It's a warm colour."

"And this room is already warm enough. This green is nice." He held up a square of material in a lurid shade of lime, and I made retching noises until he put it down.

"Nothing too dark, and nothing too bold," I decided. "It'll only make the space seem smaller than it already is."

"Who made you the expert?"

"I read a book."

Kai laughed. "Is there anything you haven't read a book about?"

"Not much," I admitted, unable to contain the prideful edge in my voice.

He threw himself down on the mattress beside me, ruffled my long hair and, when I objected, silenced me with a kiss. "If you really like the pink, then we'll have it."

"No, you hate it." I set all the pinks aside. "This is our room, Kai. I want us to love it equally."

He gave me an affectionate look.

"How about green?" I suggested. "Not that green"—I indicated the discarded swatch—"but a lighter one, perhaps."

He rummaged through the pile at our feet and produced a pale mint-coloured scrap. "This one?"

I examined it, taking it and holding it before me, trying to picture the room swathed in that colour. "I think I like it."

"Or purple." His next offering was a lilac shade. "And midnight blue."