“Wine?” Danara picked up a jug and filled two engraved silver goblets.
“Not for me, thanks. It’s too early in the day.” Nerya took a seat and watched her mother sink elegantly into the other chair. For a time, Danara sipped her wine in quiet contemplation while Nerya waited, filled with impatience.
“Did you wish to talk to me about something in particular, Mother?”
“This isn’t easy for me.” Danara turned the goblet in her hand, tracing the lines of engraving with a fingertip. “I’m not sure how you’ll take this.” She stared into Nerya’s eyes, which were the exact same green as her own. “I should have told you this a long time ago, but I feared to do so.” Danara took a deep breath. “You are not the child of my body, Nerya.”
Nerya felt as though she’d been hit in the chest with a thunderbolt. “If you are not my mother, then who is?” she asked in a strained voice.
“Your birth mother’s name is Kitara. We are close kin, cousins—my mother and hers were sisters.”
“Her name is Kitara?” Nerya interjected. “So she’s still alive?”
“Yes, she’s still alive.” Danara nodded. “She resides in Harn. Kitara is the wife of Gerek, the Protector of Harn.”
“Married! To a man?” Nerya gasped. “Yet she was…is…from Freygard?”
“Indeed she is.”
“Then if my mother is in Harn, why am I here? Did she not want me?”
“It’s complicated.” Danara put down her goblet. Leaning toward Nerya, Danara took hold of her hand. It was an unusual gesture on her part. She and her mother had little physical contact. She couldn’t even remember the last time Danara had hugged her. “I need you to know that I care for you deeply, even though I’ve not always shown it. You have to be hard and strong to be queen. I’ve tried to impress that upon you by deliberately being cold and distant at times. You are, and will always be, my daughter. Please remember that.” She cleared her throat. “Many years ago, Kitara left Freygard. She was on a secret mission for me at the time. I don’t know what happened to her after she left our land. All I do know is that she met Gerek, became pregnant by him and, for some inexplicable reason, agreed to marry him.”
“So this man Gerek is my father?”
“I have no idea if he’s your father or not.” Danara’s tone tightened. “The marriage happened long before you were born. The girl child Kitara had then was named Rianna.”
“I have a sister?”
“Yes, you have a sister,” Danara confirmed, almost as if she were loath to speak of it. “As time passed, I came to believe Kitara was lost to us forever. Ten years went by and we heard nothing from her. Then, quite unexpectedly, one of our patrols found her badly wounded in the forest not far from the castle. They brought her back here and I cared for her. In time, she recovered, but she’d lost her memory and had no idea who she was or what had happened to her. She was in the early stages of pregnancy when we found her. After your birth, she was still too weak and confused to care for her child, so I cared for you myself. As the months went by, her memory slowly started to return, and when you were about a year old she decided to leave us and go back to Harn and her husband Gerek.”
“Leaving me behind.” Nerya’s voice broke on her words. “How could she have done that?”
“She thought it best. She knew you would be well cared for. I’d never been able to conceive a child, so it seemed the best option was for me to continue to raise you as my own and make you my heir.” Danara paused and looked thoughtfully at her. “If Kitara had taken you back to Harn, you would have been brought up in a society where women are considered of little importance, while here you are someone of note, a princess who will one day rule Freygard.”
A long, hard ride would help clear her head, Nerya decided as she reached the stables. She’d avoided talking to anyone as she strode across the bailey. She needed to be alone with her thoughts. There was still so much she wanted to know. She had to accept that her mother hadn’t wanted her. But what about her sister? Did Rianna even know she had a younger sibling?
“Slave.” She called out to the only person she could see in the stables at present, a skinny boy who was feeding the horses. “Where are all the grooms? There should be at least two on duty.”
He put down the bucket of feed and hurried toward her. “My lady?” he said, his voice shaking with fear. “They are out exercising the horses.”
“That’s not good enough,” she snapped. “Saddle me a horse. The sorrel over there.”
“At once, Princess.” He scurried toward the tack hung on the wall. His hands trembled as he picked up a bridle.
As the boy stepped toward the sorrel she often rode, Nerya happened to glance at the adjoining stall. “Wait! Where did that magnificent white stallion come from?”
“I believe it belonged to the leader of a band of soldiers who were apprehended a couple of days ago,” the boy stuttered.
“Saddle him instead.”
She did not conceal her impatience as the boy hastened to the other stall and slipped the bridle onto the stallion. The horse stayed still as the boy heaved the saddle onto its back, but, as he went to tighten the girth, the animal pricked back its ears and tried to back away, snorting and pawing at the ground. The boy appeared unruffled. He stroked the horse’s muzzle then pressed his face close to the stallion’s neck and whispered in its ear. To Nerya’s amazement, the creature’s agitation ceased almost at once.
The boy finished preparing the mount and handed her the reins. “He’s a little frisky, my lady.”
“Then a long, hard gallop will do him good.” She smiled at him. “You’ve a good way with horses. Do you work here all the time?”
“No. I just fill in when needed.” He kept his eyes lowered, not even daring to look at her.
“Would you like to work in the stables full time?”
“Oh yes.” Glancing up, he smiled tremulously. “Would that be possible?”
“It would if I arrange it.”
“Thank you, my lady,” he stuttered. “Thank you so much.”
Nerya had never thought much about slaves having feelings before. She did now, and she felt heartened by the child’s response. Perhaps the short time she’d spent with Jaden had affected her even more than she’d thought. She led the horse outside. As she put her hand on the saddle and prepared to mount, the boy hurried after her. “Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but this horse doesn’t appear to like being ridden by anyone other than its former master. He has thrown both the warriors who tried to ride him.”
“Don’t be concerned. I’ll handle him.” Nerya swung herself into the saddle. Hauling back hard on the reins to keep the mount in check, she kept her legs pressed against his flanks as she urged him into a fast trot.
After riding out of the castle gates, Nerya turned onto the narrow road that led down into the valley before allowing the horse to break into a slow canter. When at last they reached the floor of the valley, she turned, not toward the forest and the borders of Freygard, but onto the road leading to the small town of Gisor only a couple of leagues away.
So the horse had thrown both warriors who tried to ride him? They can’t have been very skilled riders. There was nothing wrong with the beast. Perhaps she’d stop in Gisor and take a cup of wine in the tavern. It was wise to get to know her future subjects and it would help take her mind off her concerns.
She spurred the stallion onwards. All of a sudden, he stopped dead in his tracks, then reared up on two back legs and almost managed to unseat her. Nerya clung on with grim determination. She’d show him who was in command. When he failed to dislodge her, he bucked and reared again. She was a good horsewoman and as resolved not to let him throw her as he was to toss her from his back. Pulling on the reins until the bit dug into his mouth, she forced him to turn and kicked him hard, urging him into a gallop. The horse surged forward and, ears laid back, ran as fast as he could, thundering across the countryside. She wasn’t quite in full control of
him, but she didn’t care. It was an exhilarating experience. The air sang in her ears, and stray strands of hair from her ponytail whipped against her face as the horse moved faster and faster, galloping with wild abandon through the peaceful countryside.
When they reached the first signs of habitation, she pulled him back a little, and this time the stallion did not make any protest. She’d not trust him; the animal wasn’t totally subdued as yet, but he was a fine piece of horseflesh. She would keep him for herself. She smiled. Being Danara’s daughter did have some advantages.
Fields of golden corn, ripe and ready for harvesting, lay each side of the dirt road. Farther on, closer to the town, she passed large areas planted with vegetables where the field slaves, dressed in their regulation rusty brown tunics, toiled in the warm sunshine. Soon the road started to straighten as she rode through the orchards laden with fruit and into Gisor itself. The slave barracks were, for convenience’s sake, on this side of town close to the most fruitful growing land. As she rode past the metal-barred pens where the new captives were housed, Nerya noticed a dozen or so men confined in one pen.
“My lady,” one of the men called as she rode past. Pressing his face to the bars, he stretched out his hands. “Can you answer a question for me, my lady?”
She pulled her mount to a halt. The man was young, barely out of his teens, with a chubby face, innocent features and a thatch of straw-colored hair. He seemed very frightened and, for the very first time in her life, she experienced a brief surge of pity for these captives.
From what Jaden had told her, she knew this man was not a bandit. He was a soldier in the service of Lord Sarin of Percheron. Jaden had claimed they were not even over the border when they were attacked. She wasn’t sure if that was true, but it was a possibility—even though she’d never have admitted it to Jaden. There were a few captains who tended to be a shade overzealous in their duties, especially now that Danara had offered her warriors a generous bounty for each raider they captured.
“What question?” she asked the man.
“Your horse, noble lady. It belongs to someone I know. The nobleman who was traveling with us,” he gabbled. “Do you know if he survived? The last time I saw him, he was surrounded by your warriors and fighting for his life.”
“Describe him.”
“Tall, broad-shouldered and handsome, with long, black hair. He was wearing brown leather breeches and a studded leather doublet, and he carried a magnificent sword with a dragon’s head carved in the pommel.”
It must be Jaden. Her thoughts flew back to the last time she’d seen him, stark naked and chained to the bed. Her nipples stiffened beneath her leather doublet, and the sudden pulling sensation in the pit of her stomach made the pressure of the saddle between her thighs grow stronger. Her arousal increased as the seductive image in her head became even more powerful. This was insane. What was happening to her? It was foolish to be plagued by obsessive thoughts about a mere slave.
“I know of a captive,” she said. “I think his name was Jaden.”
“That is he.” The young man sounded relieved. “Is he well?”
“He is well,” she confirmed with an arrogant nod.
“Thank the gods. I am obliged to you, my lady.” The young man’s fingers tightened on the bars. “Can you tell me, if it pleases you, what will happen to us?”
“Be assured we do not harm our prisoners.” She was unable to find the words to tell him he was now a slave and would be for the rest of his natural life.
“I see you’ve made an effort tonight,” Murana commented as Nerya entered the anteroom which led to the coupling chambers.
“Effort?” Nerya queried.
“The dress—it suits you.” Murana sniffed. “And perfume as well.”
Surely Murana didn’t think she’d dressed like this for the benefit of a slave. “For your information, I’m dining with my mother tonight.”
The gown of cream wild silk had been a gift from Danara. Not that she expected Nerya to dress so elegantly when they ate together, but after what had occurred between them earlier, she’d thought it would please her mother tonight if she wore it. Lorenna had been a little too free with the rose oil in her bath, and the sweet scent of it clung to her skin, surrounding her like a cloud of blossoming flowers. When she was out of uniform, she wore breeches. Nerya didn’t like such feminine clothing and couldn’t understand why some of the women chose to wear dresses.
“Of course. I did not mean to offend,” Murana replied with an obsequious smile.
“No doubt you did not. I take no offense, but I cannot linger here long this evening. My mother is expecting me.”
“The slave is prepared.” Murana frowned. “I confess I was surprised you decided to come here again so soon. Perhaps you found this new slave pleasing?”
“Pleasing? Why should I be concerned about that? I have a task to perform.”
“No doubt Her Majesty wants you to provide her with an heir to ensure the stability of the kingdom. I can understand your eagerness in the circumstances,” Murana said. “Yet I am surprised you specifically chose to see this particular slave again.”
Murana was like a dog nipping at her heels. Damn the woman. “One slave is much like another,” Nerya said curtly. “However, this creature is the most impressive captive I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s my hope his seed will prove to be equally potent.”
“Let us hope, then, Nerya, that your visit reaps a successful harvest.”
“Indeed.” She couldn’t even imagine bearing a child, let alone Jaden’s offspring. “Which room, Murana?”
“The same as before.”
Nerya opened the door and entered the room. Her gaze was immediately drawn toward Jaden. She was barely conscious of Murana shutting the door behind her and the bolt squeaking into place. Jaden wore a simple blue tunic, and the color complemented his dusky complexion. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that. Handsome! What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t be thinking about a mere slave in such a way.
“Nerya!” He seemed surprised and yet pleased to see her again.
She was foolish to come here. Warriors did not form attachments to slaves. It went against everything she’d been taught. Yet, as soon as she saw Jaden again, her heart began to beat a little faster. Now her nipples tingled, and an aching warmth gathered in the pit of her stomach.
Nerya took a firm hold on herself. Be strong, be determined. She couldn’t let him know for a moment how vulnerable he made her feel. “The slave mistress tells me you’ve behaved yourself since we last met, and that pleases me.”
“Pleases you. Why?”
“It means you’ve come to accept you’re now a slave.”
“Accept?” He gave a harsh laugh. “I’ll never accept that. It just seemed rather foolish for me to rail against the position I find myself in at present. I’m just biding my time,” he said with supreme confidence.
Murana had taken no chances. Jaden was still manacled, but his chains had been lengthened so he could at least lower his arms to the bed. Yet he was now under the foolish misapprehension he’d find a way to escape. It was impossible, but it might make him more amenable for the time being if she at least let him believe there was a chance he could do so.
“I gather you’ve been made aware of your duties?”
“I have. That ugly, skinny woman you call the slave mistress informed me I’m to couple with any woman she sends to me.” He grinned. “Not that unpleasant a task for a red-blooded male. I have one question, however. Are all the warriors as beautiful as you?”
Her heart leapt—he thought she was beautiful. What was wrong with her? He was a captive, nothing more. She had to keep calm and in control. She should not let the words of a mere slave affect her so strongly. “You couple with them as ordered, regardless of what they look like. No doubt the slave mistress will punish you if you cannot perform.”
“No doubt she will.” Jaden seemed unconcerned by the threat. “By the way, I’m flatt
ered you took so much trouble over your appearance.”
“I did not wear this for you.”
“How foolish of me. Of course you didn’t.” She frowned, detecting a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “I should tell you that I enjoyed our encounter last night. But this time it would be far more satisfying for both of us if you’d free my hands before the coupling.”
“It’s a duty. Enjoyment doesn’t come into it.”
He gave a harsh laugh of derision. “Believe that if you want. But your response to me last night belies those words.”
She’d tried to forget how good it felt when his cock was buried deep inside her, but she could not. Lust surged through her loins, and her breasts ached. By the gods, she wanted to couple with him again, to feel his thick shaft thrusting inside her and experience another earth-shatteringly powerful orgasm.
Her desire for him wasn’t natural. Perhaps he’d somehow cast a spell over her senses? There was a land somewhere to the east of Freygard, over a nearly impassable mountain range. No one knew much about Acheron other than that it was said to be ruled by powerful mage lords who were masters in the art of dark magic. Was he using such magic on her now? That would explain her foolishness. “Where do you come from, slave? What land?”
“I thought you came here to couple with me, not question me.”
He studied her with half-closed eyes, then his gaze raked her body with a slow insolence that took her breath away. His expression became bolder and more sensual, as if he somehow knew she desired him. Perhaps he was indeed from Acheron. He certainly had some power over her senses, and his air of masculine authority prevented her from feeling superior to him, even though she knew full well that women were the superior race.
“Do you serve Lord Sarin of Percheron, or perchance another master?”
“I was on a mission for Lord Sarin. Why else would I have had his men under my command? As I told you last night, we didn’t venture into Freygard. Your warriors came over the border to attack us.” He paused for a moment, then added, “The soldiers who accompanied me, do you know of their fate?”
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