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“You have my word.” Gareth dips his chin in a respectful gesture.
“Truly?” She gives the bed a wary look.
“Sit on the floor if you like. I don’t care.” I take her hand. “But stay here where it’s safe for as long as you can.”
“This is very strange.” She glances from Gareth to me.
“I’ve been called worse.” I finally pull a half-smile from her.
“Why are you helping me?” Her gaze lifts to Gareth. “And why are you letting her?”
He sighs. “If you knew her at all, you’d know that I don’t let her do anything.”
“But she’s your slave, is she not?”
“Slave harlot. Yep. That’s me.” I let go of her hand and take Gareth’s. “Come on. Let’s see how fancy the bathing room is. I bet the privy is made of gold.”
Raywen sits gently on the bed, her watchful gaze following us as we pass into the bathing room. Once we’re out of view, I let myself go and press the heels of my palms to my eyes. That poor female. Stolen away from her wintery woods and forced into the worst kind of slavery. Dragged to this vicious nightmare by promises of love. I was already gutted when I first passed through the gates and saw the multitude of mistreated slaves, but each one I meet seems to cut me a little deeper. And her wound is the deepest. She shouldn’t be here. She should be free in the winter realm, not shackled to a master who uses her so horribly. It’s nearly too much to bear.
“Shhh, my beloved.” Gareth pulls me into his arms with such gentleness that it makes my eyes water even more. “We will right these wrongs.”
“How? Did you see her? She’s part pixie. The gentlest of all the creatures in Arin. And look what they’ve done to her. I didn’t have the heart to ask her how long she’s been here. I don’t think I can stand to hear the answer.” I shudder. “How can this ever be set right?”
He strokes my back, his warm hands soothing away the tension. “I don’t know, but I will spill as much blood and fight as long as I must to ensure that neither you nor anyone else is ever enslaved again.”
“Do you promise?” I look up at him, his dark eyes offering a solace that calms my scarred soul.
He runs a hand down my hair and cups my cheek. “I promise.”
Magic floats around us in a curtain of blue sparks, then fades.
He pulls me close again, and I press my cheek to his chest, close my eyes, and breathe in his comfort. We stand there for a long while as I work to master my emotions. When I finally open my eyes, I begin to laugh.
Pulling back, he asks, “What could possibly be funny right now?”
I point at the lustrous privy, even the handle cast in the richest of materials. “I told you it would be gold.”
12
Gareth
We bathe together, though Beth is lost in thought during most of it. I hate to think she’s reliving her time with Granthos, but I’d be a fool if I believed she didn’t return to that mansion from time to time. If only I could take it all away. But I can’t.
When we’re done, we return to the bedroom, and Beth sends Raywen on her way. Perhaps I’m imagining it, but the lesser fae seems to walk with her head just a bit higher.
“If you’ll excuse me?” A different slave stands just outside the door. “Lord Zatran awaits you in the dining hall.” He looks past me at Beth who’s donned an equally skimpy outfit she found in the drawers. “You may dine with the rest of the pleasure slaves in their rooms.”
“I’d prefer to keep her with me.” I button my ridiculous tunic.
“Apologies, my lord. But precious few slaves are allowed in the dining hall.”
“Why?” I keep my tone nonchalant, though a sweat breaks out along my brow. I can’t let Beth be separated from me.
“Lord Zatran sometimes finds them off-putting when he’s trying to enjoy his repast.” He sneers, and I don’t need Beth to tell me that he’s the sort that would happily run and tell his master every word we say. “Slaves are, after all, lesser beings.”
“And would you say you’re a lesser being?” Beth drapes the dangling fabric across her face.
“Of course. Next to the high fae, we are nothing more than the sand beneath their feet. They honor us by letting us serve them.”
“Spoken like a true servant.” I clap him on the back so hard he almost falls over. “We need more like you in the winter realm.”
A female in scant clothing waits in the hall and motions to Beth. “Come. I will escort you to the pleasure chambers.”
Beth walks to her, but I grab Beth’s hand and pull her back to me. “Be a good girl, Xalana. Don’t let me hear of you misbehaving.” I tilt her chin up. “And save your charms for me. No one else.” I turn to the mealy-mouthed slave. “You will ensure she will not be touched? I can be quite possessive of my property.”
“None shall taste her without your permission.” He bows low, the twisted horns atop his head broken in places.
“Good.” I snatch her face covering away and press a hard kiss to her soft lips before pulling back. “Be in my bed and ready when I return from dinner.”
“Yes, my lord.” Her breathiness could be mistaken for an act, but I can scent her on the air. She is mine. Even as I turn away, effectively dismissing her, my heart stays with her.
“If you would please follow me.” The slave shuffles ahead of me, though he is one of the few I’ve seen without a limp.
I walk at a slow pace as I scan every room, every corner, every spot where I could find an advantage when the revolt begins. The sound of voices and music soon greet my ears as we return toward the front of the house, and servers hurry past with platters of rich foods.
“My lord.” The slave stops outside two wide doors. A feast occurs within, dozens of high fae lounging on floor pillows, sitting on airy divans, and a few deigning to dine at the long, full table.
“Come, yes!” Zatran rises from his spot at the head of the table, a goblet in his hand. “Lord Gareth, we must have your company.”
I saunter toward him as his horde of slavers pause to turn and gawk. Seeing a winter realm fae must be a particular treat for them given the way their silver eyes widen and their painted mouths begin to move in whispers.
“Sit, sit.” Zatran gestures to the seat at his right hand.
I take it, and a changeling slave hurries up and begins arranging a place setting. I swallow hard when I realize the changeling’s ears are missing, cut off completely with surgical precision.
Zatran must notice me staring, because he says, “We don’t allow slaves in for our meals unless they’ve been specially suited. Too many wagging tongues is never good, and we can’t have anything repeated.” He reaches out and grabs the slave’s chin, then yanks down to show me his mouth. “And their tongues can’t wag at all, as you can see.”
His tongue has been severed far back at the base. Zatran smiles at his own brutality, and my magic coils inside me, wanting desperately to strike. But it can’t, not without risking the slaves we’re here to save.
“Ingenious.” I force the word out as Zatran releases the slave, who goes back to setting my place as if nothing were amiss.
“I can show you all the tricks to keep them in line.” Zatran leans back and spreads his arms along the back of his cushioned seat that looks more like a throne. “And you can pass that knowledge along to your king.”
“Of course.” I look around at the simpering masters, all of them grotesque in their excess, though one catches my eye.
Chastain. He leans back on a bank of cerulean pillows as a female high fae feeds him grapes. He blends in well with this crowd, and I can’t say that’s a good thing.
“Eat, drink.” Zatran pours me a goblet of wine and gestures to my overflowing plate. Just the leftovers from this feast could feed a multitude.
I force myself to eat, to pretend right along with Chastain. It’s the only way to see this through. The food is good, but it would be far better if it were prepared by free hands.
“How did you like my pixie gift?” He smiles knowingly over his cup. “She is the pride of my harem. I must admit she isn’t particularly skilled in the ways of a pleasure slave, but her sparkle is enough to get me hard just looking at her.”
Murder pirouettes through my mind as I spear a piece of meat. “She’s a rare beauty.”
“And yours is quite nice, as well.” He tsks. “Though the scars on her are a bit off-putting. Did you mark her yourself?” He leans forward, his silver eyes hungry. “Did you have that done to her as you watched? Byrn Varyndr was always too easy on their slaves, never showed them the true might of the high fae bloodline, but I can see you are of my persuasion—what can be done to them, should be done to them. It’s our right.”
I chew with a vengeance, then take a large gulp of wine. There is no way I can trust myself with words, so I raise my goblet and tilt it toward him in toast.
He laughs and knocks his cup against mine. “Yes, I can see we are going to get along famously.” Leaning closer, he drops his voice. “And when my special guest arrives in the morning, everything will be clear. There’s a reason you happened along when you did. It’s fate,” he says in an echo of Chastain’s words, though I’m not sure which version of fate will prevail. He continues in a boisterous tone, “Tomorrow is going to be the start of a new alliance, a joining of fates that will rock Arin and set it on its proper path.” His zeal overflows in a line of spittle at the corner of his mouth.
“Who is the special guest?” I keep my tone conspiratorial.
“And spoil the surprise? Never. But I do have a little something to hold you over.” He leans back, his voice rising. “I have a gift for all of you this evening.”
Icy claws run down my spine, and I give up the charade of enjoying my meal.
“I admit, I was surprised when Lord Elliden dropped this prize on my doorstep, but he had no idea what an important slave he purchased from a Jinn—”
A torrent of whispers flows through the overdone fae crowd.
Zatran holds up his hands to calm them. “Yes, a Jinn sold a slave. Curious, no?” He glances at me, his eyes laughing. “What you couldn’t have possibly realized, Gareth, is that Jinn do not traffic in slaves. It goes against their beliefs, as foolish as they are, and strictly forbidden.”
“I … don’t understand.” I feign confusion. “I bought—”
“You were led to believe you purchased a slave. But, in fact, you were being used as a pawn by a dangerous criminal.” He walks behind me and pats me on the shoulder. “You are new to this world, uneducated in the ways of the greedy underclasses. There was no way you could have known that you weren’t buying a slave.”
I sputter to an almost comical level as Chastain shoots me a pained look. “What is going on?”
“Bring her!” Zatran claps his hands.
