Eris tossed his drenched head on his pillow, away from the attack, with a savage roar. He came up spluttering and spitting mad. He grabbed the source of the unwanted disturbance to his sleep. The pail in the slave boy’s hand dropped with a loud clank. Eris shook the wide-eyed youth. “What in Hades are you about, boy? I could break your fragile neck with a flick of my wrist.” His hand around the sputtering youth’s neck tightened. Eris shook him in frustration. The boy gestured nonsensically, soundlessly. His special disability was favored in the palace—“the ears with no tongue.” He must be a mute. Eris sighed and tossed him aside. As the boy scrambled to his feet, a voice warned him of a second presence in his chamber. “Two fractured ribs, a sprained wrist, strained larynx, countless bruises and tissue damage—and the tainted poisoning of a viper,” the voice drawled with deceptive calmness. Eris lost all interest in the boy, who saw his only chance for escape and took it.
