Slave of Froize: A Froize Trilogy Novel

by Emera Rose

  "Not-"

  "Who gave you permission to speak?" King Jett was instantly at my ear, screaming at me. My body folded into itself. It’d been a while since I was genuinely afraid of him, I guess this was as good a time as any to let me know my place.

  Silence.

  He looked back toward the vampire, "Find me my script. Now!"

  She sobbed silently, looking to me for help. I just looked down at the floor. I knew when to stand by and let whatever needed to be done happen.

  She reached for the wrong drawer again.

  Jett pulled her back by her hair, "Wrong!" He slammed her forward. A long crack formed in the drawers where her head hit. "Next time you go to correct someone, make sure you know how to proceed properly!" He let her go, opened the correct drawer, and pulled out the script he wanted.

  "Leave me." He said to the room as a whole, and quicker than I’ve ever seen, the room was cleared. I turned to make my way out of the area as well.

  "Laramie, you stay."

  Oh no, I was to be punished. The rest of the human servants, the ones he let be around him, were already on the way out, giving me looks of pity and concern. They probably knew as well as I that this was not going to end well.

  Jett made his way to his throne, sitting with one leg over the arm, lounging.

  Once the room was empty of everyone except for the two of us, I expected him to come down on me, but he said nothing for a long while.

  Finally, "Do you wish to make a fool out of me?" He asked seriously.

  "No, my King, I would never do such a thing."

  "Are you sure, because if you are trying to make a fool of me, then I fear I have no more use for you."

  "My King, I swear to you it was not my intention." I kept my eyes down. He didn't need to see how pissed I was.

  "Don't you ever go against my word again. What I say is law, and it should be respected as such!" He said, forcefully moving his feet to the ground, getting better seated.

  "Yes, my King." I kept my eyes down.

  I heard a loud sigh and watched as his tattered shoes came toward me. He lifted my chin so my eyes would look into his.

  "Speak to me, plain girl. Why did you try to intervene?"

  Thank goodness, I was going crazy!

  "There was no way she was going to know where those scripts were-"

  "Exactly! She would not have known. She needs to learn some humility and her place! I ordered you to get the script, not her. She reprimanded you like you belonged to her. You don't! You belong to me! You're mine!"

  "I understand but-"

  "No, you don't. Every time you interfere after I come down on someone, they view me as soft. Thus you are making me out to be a fool! I won't have it, Laramie. Let me lead as I choose to lead!"

  He was right, but I had a point as well. "I am sorry, truly, I did not mean to contradict you. It's just when I see someone I can help no matter who it is, my first instinct is to do so. I will keep my warnings to myself from now on."

  He sighed and relaxed slightly, letting his balled-up fists fall limply at his side. "I’m sorry to have yelled at you. I just don't understand how you continuously put your neck on the line for those who do you harm. You are completely selfless."

  "Not the best quality to have as a slave." I joked, moving a strand of hair behind my ear.

  "Did she hurt you?"

  "No, not really, it was the shock more than anything else." I absentmindedly rubbed the back of my neck where she had me in her grasp.

  He reached out to touch where I was rubbing only to stop himself, mid-reach, "Good, good..." He looked down, unsure of what to do next. "Well, get me my blood cup, and you can take the rest of the night off."

  I looked up at him in shock, a night off! This had never happened before! What would I do with all the time! "Sure, Jett, I'll get it to you right now."

  I rushed to his cache and poured him a cup of warm blood, absently wondering where this blood came from, then bringing it to him.

  "Here you go." I handed it to him and waited for further instruction.

  "Thank you," he took a sip, groaning with pleasure. Looking back up to see me still standing there, he grinned his half-smile, "Anything else I can do for you?" He asked playfully, a tint of red on his teeth.

  "Oh, um no... sorry, you're welcome. I will see you tomorrow morning, then?" I asked, making sure he realized that he was giving me the night off.

  "Yes, Laramie, I can feed myself tonight." He waved me off.

  ***

  I walked into my room, excited to see what I could do with my sudden free time. I went to try a sketch, but nothing sparked my imagination. I decided maybe I would take this time to get in some much-needed sleep, but after ten minutes of tossing and turning, I realized sleeping wasn’t going to happen either.

  "Great, all this time with nothing to do." I kicked my legs over the side of my bed, swinging them back and forth. It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t seen any of the slaves since I had been transferred to be king Jett's aide. Yes, that’s what I’ll do, time for a visit.

  I took my time for the first time walking at a leisurely pace and made it down toward the slave quarters. The dimly lit area brought back all the memories. I hated these walls and would do whatever was needed to ensure I would be free one day.

  "Well, well, look who it is. If it's not the golden child."

  I turned to see Midieon. He’d arrived about eight years after me, but had already become as if not more than me.

  "Hey, how are you, Midi?"

  "I could be better; I could be you."

  "Believe me, Midi, it's not all candy and roses."

  "Yeah, well, you look like it is."

  I looked down, realizing for the first time in a while that I was clad in fine cotton and silks. My hair was coiffed, and my face and body scrubbed of any dirt. "Looks can be deceiving."

  They weren't compared to where I was before I came to live the good life with the king. I hadn't been tortured yet by my new master yet, and the one time someone else put their hands on me, he nearly killed them.

  "Whatever, Laramie." He started walking away from me.

  "Wait, where is everyone? The workday is over, no?"

  "Yeah...I..." He was hesitant. He had information but didn't want to tell me, the same man that came to me crying his first day was now scared to tell me things.

  "Midi, I am still one of you. Just because they put me in new clothes and took me from my cell and put me in a bigger one doesn't mean I’ve changed." I tried to reassure him.

  He smiled and walked back over to me, looking around to see if there was anyone around. "We’re breaking out." He whispered.

  "What?"

  "Come with!"

  "Where are you going to go? How do you plan on getting off the island?"

  "We don't know we just know that we can't stay here anymore." He looked at me with so much determination. Crap, I had to talk them out of this. They’d never make it.

  "Fine, show me where you plan on escaping."

  I followed behind him, every so often looking over my shoulder to see if there was anyone following us. It wasn't very likely since the vampires thought it was beneath them to come down to where the slaves lived. We walked into the library, and he bolted the doors behind us. It was dark, but I could hear and see several other slaves.

  "What is she doing here?" I heard a voice in the darkness.

  "Who's that?" I squinted my eyes, trying to see who was speaking.

  Melissa came forward. She was one of the few slaves I saved the day of the attack; of course, she would know of this place. She’d only been here a few years, two, I think. It pissed me off that after two years, she believes she has the right to question why I am here.

  "You need to go back to the lap of luxury." She rolled her eyes and went back to the wall.

  I chose to ignore her and questioned Midi more on what the plan was. "Midi, how do you plan on making it out from the library?”

  "We
made our way out through one of the tunnels in the walls, and there is one area that’s just a few feet of bricks. Once we break through, we are free!"

  I shook my head in disgust, how can he be this dumb? He knew there was nothing but dense blackened rotting old forest and water out there. "Midi, what happens when you get out there? What’s the end game. If you get caught in the middle of an escape attempt, they will just torture and kill you or bring you right back to harder labor. Don't make things worse for yourselves."

  "Don't listen to her Midi," Melissa said as she made her way back into the small opening they’d made in the tunnel, "She is living the good life now, she doesn't know what we are going through."

  That was enough to push me over the edge. I walked over to her, the limp a bit more pronounced from the tension in my body. "Who the hell do you think that you are? You have no idea what I’m going through or what I’ve gone through. What, you think because you have been here two years you know everything they can do to you? You're wrong. They can torture you in ways that you can’t imagine. They will break you, and this ridiculous attempt to escape is just giving them a reason to beat you." I snarled down at her, watching as she cowered little by little at every word.

  *Click*

  We all turned toward the sound. Someone was trying to get into the library. I looked at Midi, thinking maybe this was another slave coming to help with the foolish plan. The look on his face told me it wasn't.

  The tunnels led to other floors so we could get out that way, but they were narrow, and we all wouldn't fit.

  "Go!" I instructed in a hushed tone as the door began to open. Midi and Melissa ran quicker than I ever could toward the opening and up toward the different levels.

  "What are you doing in here, slave?"

  "Nothing." I couldn't think of a lie quick enough, and there was no way that I was going to give up the others.

  "No?"

  The guard looked me up and down, clearly skeptical that I was in there alone, not doing anything but still unable to find the proof that I had been up to something. He looked around me, again, not seeing anything.

  His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He had found it.

  "Don't move at all!" He said through clenched teeth. I listened to his footsteps in dread as he made his way toward the back of the library, where the still open access panel lay sitting on the floor. I strained to hear as he made his way into the tunnels and cringed at the sound of the growl that left his throat when he realized the wall was not in the best shape.

  Before I could completely relax the muscles in my body, he’d already returned to me and pulled me up and off of my feet. "How did you do this? Who were you working with?"

  No response.

  "Answer me now, slave!" A speckle of spit flew out of his mouth and landed right on my collar bone. I quickly wiped the burning liquid off. He took my quick movement as a sign of aggression and proceeded to throw me up against the wall, my head bouncing hard against it. He sprang into my immediate vision, clearly ready to finish the job, when his face changed from anger to amusement. He dragged me up from my position on the floor to my feet and practically flew down the corridors, moving much quicker than my feet could carry me.

  We ended up right in front of where I had come from outside the king's quarters.

  Three loud raps on the king's door. I could feel the dread settling in my bones.

  "Enter!"

  We walked in, well, more like the guard walked in, I was dragged behind him. There was a look of contentment on Jett’s face as he read over some paperwork. I wondered what he was reading, what was it that made him relax and unwind? His expression transformed the second he saw me.

  Three more raps at the door, "What?" The king said softer but still loud enough for those outside to hear and make their way in. Great, now we had an audience. The king's eyes never left me, and my captor and the new arrivals realized they might have walked in on something a bit more serious than they would have expected.

  "My king," the guard started, "I have brought this slave to you, and I accuse her of trying to escape."

  Jett instantly looked confused; he must have remembered the conversation we’d had. He knew I wouldn't do such a thing, but there was no way to say that to those around him.

  I heard hissing all around me. The guests were going to move in for the kill, "Drain her!" Someone called out.

  "She must be punished!" Another screamed.

  "Break her." Another

  When the room was in an uproar with demands of what to do with me, the king spoke, "Silence!" He looked around, "Who here dares to tell me what to do with my slave? Who?"

  No one stepped forward or spoke up. Jett slithered toward me. His eyes squinted his jaw tense, anger radiating off his coiled muscles.

  "Laramie, who's plan was it to escape?"

  I dare not answer, I didn't want to lie to him, but I wouldn't give up Melissa, Midi or any of the other slaves, as good as my life was yesterday I was once one of them. They are me.

  "You will answer!"

  I closed my eyes, ashamed by my predicament.

  "Answer!" He screamed this time, wrapping his hands on my shoulder, giving a shake that rattled my teeth.

  I couldn't do it.

  "My lord, the punishment for this crime is death." The guard beside me stepped up and informed the King.

  "No," Jett said as he walked away from me, back toward his throne.

  "My lord." The guard said, clearly exasperated.

  "I knew it." The whispers behind me were audible even to my ears; they were accusing him of being soft. I was supposed to be dead, him not killing me was the same as admitting he had a soft spot for me. A king could have no weaknesses.

  "Dump her in the hot box." My eyes shot up to my eyebrows; surely, I had misheard. There was no way he’d just said to put me in the hot box. The hot box was reserved for the vampires; this was a torture designed for them. For me, it would be a death sentence, except it would be long and torturous. Why would he do that? Why would he be so cruel?

  "My King, please." Another thing I learned young that would help me avoid being tortured, begging. "Please, just kill me."

  "Who are you to talk to me, slave?" His voice rang out, authority rolling off every word.

  Tears welled in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

  "You will dump her in the hot box, but you will ensure she will not die."

  "My King?" The guard, now questioning the order.

  "She obviously was not working alone, what good would she be to me dead? How then will we find out who the traitors are amongst us? Or are you comfortable with slaves plotting against us roaming our halls?" He looked straight at the guard, daring him to question him again.

  A small smile played on the guard's face, "Yes, my King." This seemed to be enough to appease the crowd.

  "Take her out of my sight!" Jett gave me one last look, concern, and questions plaguing his eyes.

  "My pleasure." The guard pulled me behind him as I closed my eyes in anticipation of the pain to come.

  I wasn't ready for this punishment, but even with the knowledge of things to

  come, I still wouldn't have told.

  Chapter 9

  * Day 4 in the hot box*

  I haven't heard from anyone in the past four days. They’ve turned down the flames in the hot box, so I’m not on fire, but my skin has already begun to blister, in some places clear to the bone. Every movement pure torture. They gave me a special cloth that went over my face and head to keep my eyes and face from burning. I don't know what it’s made from, but my face is the only part of my body that wasn’t in pain.

  The guards came by once every hour and doused me in water, stopping the heat for a small moment in time only to have it come back in full force mere minutes later, I was being boiled once every hour. I tried to move the cloth to other parts of my body, but every time I tried to move the small cloth from my face my eyes would start to burn, I could feel them dryi
ng up and my vision fade. I screamed in the direction the guards came from.

  "Please kill me! Please!" I can't keep this up; I just want this to end.

  * Day 7 in the hot box*

  They lowered the temperature again, I was no longer blistering, but I was still raw. My skin had all but peeled off my body, the veins visible, blood seeping out of my pores.