The next time Eliana was summoned to Samsu's chambers, she knew her luck had run out.

He stood near the door, sober as a stone and waiting for her with a grim expression staining his face. The look in his eyes pierced her stomach and she felt her confidence draining away, replaced by a bubble of fear. She clenched her fists to stop her hands trembling and concentrated on breathing evenly to slow the gallop of her heart.

Ashan stood at his usual post. It lifted her spirits ever so slightly to know that she had a friend in the room; even silent support was welcome.

A light breeze blew in from the terrace behind him, stirring the blood-red gossamer curtains, making them swirl and dance.

Dressed in only a half-tunic, his scarred torso left bare, Samsu seized Eliana's upper arm in an iron grip, squeezing so hard that little darts of pain shot down through her fingertips. He pulled her to him and pressed his lips to hers in a possessive kiss; he pulled away, leaving a lingering taste of onion and fish.

Revulsion was plain on her face, however hard she tried to keep her expression blank and impassive. Samsu saw it – her free arm flew to block the blow he aimed at her head, taking some of the force from it, but still it felt like a thunderclap inside her skull. Her head snapped back as he gave her a violent little shake.

'You have delayed long enough, karkittu. This is the night I will have you, whether you like it or not. If you are good for me, I shall send you a little gift. If not, you will make the experience more unpleasant for yourself than it needs to be.'

She spat on the floor at his feet.

The spittle barely hit the ground before she did, as he hurled her to the tiles and delivered a forceful kick to her stomach. All the air exploded out of her lungs with the impact and she struggled to draw breath, panicking, thinking that he might have broken her ribs, so sharp was the pain.

He stood over her, staring down as she fought to regain her breath. Winded, but not seriously injured, she recovered herself after several seconds. Samsu bent down and took her by the arm again, hauling her up and dragging her half-stumbling to the bed, where he sat and threw her back to the ground beside it.

'Do not make this harder for yourself.' He said coldly. Pulling up his tunic and exposing his member, he did not need to give any further instruction.

Eliana rolled her eyes insolently, but set herself to the task. If anything, it was less revolting than his kiss.

As his breathing became more laboured, she increased her pace and intensity, bobbing her head up and down. Like a duck on the river she thought, struggling not to laugh at the absurdity of it.

Samsu gave a gasp of pleasure. 'Stop!' he commanded.

She continued faster, hoping to make him spend himself now and prevent the invasion he planned.

'I said stop!' he growled, wrenching her head back by the hair. Pulling her up, he shoved her back onto the bed. The soft opulence of the red silk sheets did nothing to give her comfort.

He dropped himself on top of her, pinning her down with his weight. He was not a large man, but he was a military man and every inch of him was solid muscle and sinew, crushing her to the mattress. Fumbling at her legs, he got hold of her dress and pushed it up to her waist.

Eliana froze in horror – she had known this was coming, had known it for many moons, but the moment had finally arrived and panic flooded through her. She began to thrash beneath him, twisting like a cat to free herself.

He laughed. She might as well have been trying to fight her way out of a locked iron chest for all she was achieving. Catching both her wrists, he pinned them above her head easily with one hand.

She threw a desperate glance at Ashan, wondering if he was watching. Samsu spotted it in a heartbeat. Laughing again, he said, 'ah yes, I've heard about your odd attachment to Ashan!'

Over at his post, Ashan forced a laugh to chime with Samsu's.

'Don't expect any help from there, karkittu. My stepson is more loyal to me than any blood relation.'

Her jaw dropped.

Seeing her shock, Samsu threw his head back and gave a great long bellow of a laugh from the pit of his belly. 'Ashan, you sly dog! Did you not tell her you are my wife's son?!'

Ashan reddened and gave another laugh. He hid his discomfort well, though his insides burned with shame. He had hoped to keep his secret from Eliana until the time was right to tell her.

'My naive little whore – you'll have to be cleverer if you want to survive here. You knew my wife had a son, yet you never thought to ask his identity. Well it's in Ashan's interest to see you miserable – if you and your sister fail to give me sons, he'll have my throne when I'm dead.'

'May Marduk grant you long life and many sons, sir.' Ashan responded immediately. His tone was flat, as though he had learned the words by rote and said them more times than he could count. 'The throne of Babylon belongs to your bloodline.'

'Don't mouth platitudes at me, man,' growled Samsu. 'I can take idle flattery from anyone except you.' He still had Eliana pinned beneath him; gesturing to her with his free hand, he said 'don't just stand there like a vase decorating the place – come and join the sport! Give the whore a few of your best – that should end her puppy-like devotion in an instant!'

He slid off the bed and dragged Eliana up with him, holding her in front of him like a shield, gripping her wrists behind her back. She was numb with shock, staring at Ashan as though she'd never seen him before. He was no longer the one force of kindness in her life – the handsome and compassionate one who loved her; he was just another of Samsu's guards there to make her life a misery.

For his part, Ashan could barely put one foot in front of the other as he approached her. He felt he could vomit with self-loathing as he steeled himself to do as ordered. Just then, he could happily have taken out his dagger and plunged it into Samsu.

But he couldn't. Even if there hadn't been three other guards in the chamber whose futures depended on Samsu, he had never managed to defeat the man in combat in all the time he had known him. Samsu was unparalleled in the martial arts – being the best and having an air of invincibility made it easy to inspire respect in your men.

Ashan respected Samsu as little as he respected himself in that moment. It even crossed his mind to use the dagger on himself, but he feared it would go worse for Eliana if he did. Taking his own life would be seen as proof of guilt, of taking what was Samsu's. Eliana would certainly be killed, and his mother would be punished into the bargain.

With no sign of remorse or guilt to Eliana, he sauntered towards them as though he wanted nothing more than to do as Samsu ordered.

No, Ashan! She thought, her gaze pleading as she stared at him. Not you. Anyone but you. The Brute, Asag, Enlil himself – let it be anyone but you.

There was not so much as a flicker of regret in his eyes as he drew back his hand and delivered a stinging blow at full force across her cheek, then swept it back across the other one.

Her eyes filled with easy tears such as she never shed when Samsu or the Brute hit her.

He followed it up with a punch to the belly so hard that her knees buckled beneath her. Samsu let go of her wrists and she fell to the floor sobbing.

How could he? He loves me. He loves me. No, he doesn't love me. He's Susa's son. It was all part of some deception to get close to me. To gain access to Kisha's baby – if she has a son, he can put an end to it and protect his own position.

Ashan! Ashan, why?

Samsu dismissed his stepson with a nod, and Ashan walked back to his place as though he didn't have a care in the world, so eaten up with self-reproach that he would willingly have thrown himself from the palace balcony to escape the weighty demon of guilt that draped itself about his shoulders like a python.

He picked Eliana up and placed her back on the bed. She lay limply as he forced his way inside her, dimly aware of red-hot burning pain between her thighs and the stickiness of her virgin blood as he took her. Tears slid silently down her cheeks and into her hair. She was more conscious of her broken heart than her violated body.

Samsu laboured and panted above her, snorting with the exertion like an ox pulling the plough. Eliana saw the whole thing as if it was happening to someone else, her mind separating from her body. The ordeal passed in a haze; before she knew it, Samsu had gasped, shuddered, buried his face in her hair and spent himself inside her.

He lay still a moment before standing up and pulling down his tunic. 'There, karkittu. I told you it would go easier for you if you were good. Perhaps we are finally starting to wean you from that childish pride.'

Eliana did not move, did not even indicate that she had heard him.

'Get up, I am finished with you.'

It was like her body was being operated by someone else; she stood and pulled her dress back to her ankles. Her hair hung listlessly around her face, even the bounce of her curls flattened. Both cheeks burned with shame and with the lingering sting of Ashan's slaps. There was a hand in her gut, kneading at her insides, making her feel nauseous. Whether it was from the blows to her stomach or the shame of losing her innocence, she couldn't tell. Most of all, she ached; between her thighs, in her secret places, and in her heart.

When Samsu sent her off with Ashan, the door had barely clicked shut behind them before she took off, sprinting away from him as if he were the demon Rabisu, who lurked in dark places to attack unsuspecting victims. She heard his sandals slapping the floor behind her as he gave chase, but she was swifter. He called out after her; she did not look back.

She burst into the apartments, fell into Kisha's arms, and sobbed as though her life was at an end.

Ashan at least had the decency not to follow.