by Auryn Hadley
"Mam? How much more of this do we have?"
"Enough," the old woman told her.
"How much is enough?" She let a whine creep into her voice, surprised at how easy it was.
"We still gotta get them linens to the Chancery, then take alla this back ta the house. If we get done early 'nough, ya can spend a few hours in town. I know ya ain't use ta it, Rish. It'll come in no time, though."
A groan fell out when she pulled herself away from the cart. "K," was all she said.
She turned and leaned into its weight, the heavy burden rolling slowly forward. She'd already propositioned a few young men – one from the Chancery – for later that evening. The guy smelled interested, and Sal hoped word would get back to the Chancellor. When they rolled to the servant's entrance, she noticed the guards. If Blaec's vision was right, she should find herself the center of attention soon.
At Mam's direction, she carried in the first basket of clean linens, flashing a coquettish smile at the guard inside the door. After placing the basket in the storage room, she adjusted her bodice, showing more cleavage, and got a dirty look from one of the serving women. Sal sniffed at the prude and shoved her chest out as she retraced her steps.
The guard looked at her openly this time. Again, she smiled at him. He bobbed a nod, casting a glance at the women in the room before smiling back. Outside, she grabbed another basket from the wagon and rolled her eyes when "Mam" shooed her back toward the building. This time, two different guards waited next to the door. A glance over her shoulder placed the first across the room, directing women toward her.
"Ms. Jocose?" he asked, and she nodded. "Please leave that with these women and come with us."
"I need ta finish helpin' Mam." She put on her best accent as she glanced from one to the other.
"Your mam will be just fine. She's been doing this long enough to know her way round. The Chancellor wants a word with you."
"K, lemme just tell her?" She tried to play her part, but was unwilling to miss the chance.
When she turned to the door, the nearest man grabbed her arm. "Look, ya lil' slut. Come with us nicely or we'll drag you, got it?"
Sal nodded, keeping her eyes wide. She could take these men, but fought the instinct to pull free. Instead, she looked at a girl close to her.
"Tell my mam," she called, feigning panic. "Tell my mam the guards are taking me!"
The girl skittered out the door, and Sal could see her running to "Mam" and the washing cart. At least now the old woman would be able to get word back to the Blades that she was inside.
The guards pulled her along the halls, up two flights of stairs, and into an ornate room. The walls were carved with scenes of animals she'd never seen, walking through a forest of trees she didn't recognize. In the center of the room, they released her suddenly, causing her to collapse onto the floor. Pushing her golden curls back from her face, Sal saw a man in deep purple walk toward her from the dais.
She made to rise and he spoke. "Uh uh, my little one. You'd do best to stay down there where you belong."
She looked to the stony faces of the guards while the man in purple made a lap around her. Stopping directly in front of her, he waited a long time before he asked, "Who are you, child?"
"Risha, I mean, Arisha Jocose, if it please you, sir," she stammered.
He smiled. "And do you know who I am?"
"No, sir."
"Good," he purred. "You've been trying to sell yourself in town all day. Sixty pents, I hear?" While she stared at him wide eyed, he flicked two paper bills at her. "I'll pay you two krits for the night. You will not ask for names and you will not scream, do you understand me, Ms. Jocose?"
She nodded.
"Go ahead, pick those up, child." He pointed at the money before gesturing to someone out of sight. A pair of women entered and curtsied to him. The man continued, "Clean her up and take her to the suite by sundown." Then he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
When the carved door closed behind him, the older of the women said, "Come on, girl, we have to get you presentable. Up to yer feet now." Sal nodded and stood, noticing the guards still watched over them. The older woman just huffed under her breath. "Follow us, girl, and I'll only be havin' one of you come to help. The rest of you can get your kicks somewheres else."
The younger woman reached out and grabbed Sal's wrist, pulling her along. The first guard stepped in behind them, getting foul looks from the men who'd dragged her up the stairs.
Sal followed her new jailers out of the room and up another flight of stairs, mentally mapping her path through the large building. The elder woman paused at a plain door before opening it, then ushered them through. Inside was a large, stone bathing chamber. Kettles of hot water sat steaming beside the tub.
"Make yourself useful, Harn, and pour the hot water in. Kasa, get the soap," the woman ordered, and both the younger woman and the guard obeyed. "Now you – Risha did you say?"
"Yes'm."
"Risha, the Chancellor demands that his women are clean before he'll touch them, so start scrubbing. If you don't do it well enough, I'll make Harn hold you while I scrub."
"Was that the Chancellor?" Sal asked, stepping out of her rags without embarrassment.
"No, that's the Viceroy. You'll meet the Chancellor later. And scrub harder."
Sal put effort into cleaning herself, but when Kasa reached for her discarded clothing, she paused. "Hey! What are you doing?"
"I'm just putting your clothes up to be cleaned," the younger woman said, confused.
"My krits's in there!" Sal made to stand in the tub.
"Kasa, just leave it," the older woman ordered.
"Yes, Marna. I'll just set it here for you," the girl said, placing the pile of clothes in Sal's sight.
"Thank you. That's enough to get Mam's meds." Those words elicited the first sign of emotion from the older woman.
"Is that why you're doing this, girl?"
"Yes'm. If Mam don't get some meds, she won't make it through the winter. Her cough's gotten bad. I came back to try an' get her ta move, but Mam's staying. Said Da died here, she plans to be buried next to him. I don't know how to make much money, but the men say I'm pretty enough, and they pay well enough." Her accent wasn't perfect but the story was close enough to the truth, and Sal figured that a little sympathy might be all she needed to get someone to look the other way.
Marna patted her wet shoulder and gestured for her to continue scrubbing. Sal complied. After the third time, the women allowed her out of the bath, wrapping her in soft towels. Harn leaned against the wall, his eyes following her without embarrassment. For all of his youth, he was the only real soldier she'd seen so far. Where there was one, there were usually others, Sal reminded herself, quoting Cyno's wisdom.
The women dressed her in fine satins and brocades, clothing a girl like Arisha would never have experienced. Unlike the evening attire worn by soldiers, this was demure and covered most of her body. The gown reached to the floor, hugging her hips too tightly. The bodice, called a karakou, was sewn into the dress. Rather than lacing, it had bone hooks.
Sal would be infiltrating the Chancellor without any weapons. Shift carried an arsenal with him tonight, Cyno only needed a single blade, and Arctic would be using the jakentron, firing small poison filled needles. Only Sal had the skills to get into the Chancery, and only if she entered without any obvious supplies. She'd planned her clothing wisely. The laces were made of strong fibers and would work as a garrote. A few pins tucked into the hem were typical for a washer woman. Hers were long enough to pierce the brain through either an eye or the ear. Now, she stood dressed in clothing not her own.
She looked it over for lethality. The satin was strong enough, but too thick to be easily used. The lack of laces made her wonder if the dress had been planned to be useless as a weapon. While the women dried and styled her hair, Sal's heart sank. They were going to leave it loose, not even giving her hair pins for potential weapons. At l
east Cyno had trained her extensively on making the most of what was around – or using her own body to kill if she had no other options. Silently, she thanked the hard man for the hours he'd spent forcing her to prove she could best him with nothing more than her bare hands and teeth.
When the women declared her suitable, she was allowed out of the chair. A nod from Harn, and she followed him from the bathing chamber, through yet more halls. Marna trailed them placidly. Pink and violet light trickled through the window, signaling the day was nearly over. Her heart beat faster. She took a deep breath to slow it, but the older woman heard.
"Nervous?" Marna asked.
"Yes'm. I'm terrified. I've never worn clothes like this before, and I don't know what a fancy gentleman will expect of me."
"You'll do fine, child, I'm sure of that." She gestured to a bed chamber. "The Chancellor will be with you shortly, Risha."
Sal stepped in and looked around the room, hearing the door close behind her. She couldn't decide if she was terrified or pleased to see the decor. Ancient torture devices adorned every surface. It was a veritable arsenal. Knowing Arisha would have been scared to tears, she tried to call a few to her eyes.
The walls were lined with manacles. Screws and masks were set along the counters like prized sculpture. The deep purples of the room only made the aged items seem that much more ominous. Touching one, Sal felt actual metal, an item so rare it made sense that they had a place of pride in the room. Military Command would definitely want to know about this. When the door opened behind her, she jerked her hand away as though burned.
"Do you like what you see?" The man's voice sounded bored.
"I don't know, sir," she said weakly. "It looks like a jail, or such."
"It does, doesn't it." He proudly walked around the room, glancing at the items as if on stage. This man was everything humans wanted to be. "What's your name, girl?"
"Arisha, sir."
"Arisha, come here."
She resisted the urge to walk right up to him, knowing he wanted to make her afraid. An ordinary girl would be terrified of a wealthy man like this. Sal ducked her head as she slowly shuffled closer. When he touched her shoulder, she trembled and wiped away the tears that should have come to her eyes. His aged hand turned her chin up to his face, and he looked at her for a long moment. His teeth were nearly perfect and his skin was almost as dark as Zep's. Black eyes stared deep into hers. She darted her glance from one eye to the next, biting her lower lip while the inspection continued.
"You'll suffice. Have you ever been with a man before?"
Sal nodded, hoping that was the answer he wanted.
"Good. I want you to do exactly as I tell you. If you please me enough, I will double your pay for the night."
She nodded again. He wasn't a bad looking man, probably in his forties, maybe as old as fifty, but his body had never seen the hardships that were common among the poor.
Casting a glance to the window behind him, dark sky allowed the light to reflect on the glass. Night had just set. In less than an hour, Zep and a squad of men would be waiting for her. She was right on schedule, but needed the Chancellor to be off guard before she incapacitated him, otherwise he might call out and bring guards into the room. Sal stepped toward him, trying to find a balance between terrified and seductive.
The Chancellor put his hands on her slender waist and pulled her closer. He smelled sweet and metallic. Her instincts screamed that he was her prey. With one hand wrapped in the hair at the back of her neck, he tilted her head back gently and kissed her throat. The air she'd been holding slid out, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The man grazed his teeth against vulnerable skin, biting softly, and she reached up to grasp his forearms. Remembering her dull human teeth, she fought the urge to bite back. When his lips met hers, she returned the kiss.
The Chancellor fumbled with the hooks at her back. His breath came quick against her cheek while he unlatched each one, his erection pushing into her abdomen. Sal leaned into him, encouraging it, and glanced again at the window. Below, the city lights were starting to glow.
Feeling the last hook release, she ran her hands up to his chest against his expensive shirt. Slowly, he guided the gown from her shoulders. Only her closed arms prevented it from falling to the floor. Then he reached up and grasped her delicate wrists in his strong hands, kissing her neck, working down her collar bones to the tops of her breasts.
"Do you like that?" he asked.
"Yes," she whispered, trying to make it sound like the truth.
Without warning, he shoved her away. "So you are a slut."
Sal staggered a step back, eyes wide, and looked at him with honest confusion on her face. He closed the distance between them, but his demeanor had changed. No longer the timid lover, he looked at her with savage eyes.
A quick backhand caught her across the temple, and Sal swayed on her feet, fighting to keep her mind clear. When he reached for her again, she cowered, reminding herself not to dodge the blows, anticipating the pain that would come. A strike to her cheek followed.
Reeling on her feet, his hands pulled the now loose gown to her waist. Instinctively she covered her breasts with her arms, looking through her golden curls at the madman before her. His black eyes focused on her face as he said, "Now you will respect me, whore. Come here."
She nodded, once more trying to push tears to her eyes, and realized he wanted her to fear him. She intentionally took a trembling step forward, until her crossed arms brushed his velvet shirt.
"Undress."
She complied, pushing the satin and brocade to her feet, then stepped out of the slippers. When she stood back up, she refused to look at his face, making note of the distances across the room and the location of the bed. The bruises were rising on her face, the blood at her temple throbbed. The Chancellor stood quietly for a moment, gazing at her, then reached up and pulled her arms down to her sides.
Sal did not resist.
He slowly ran his hands along her soft flesh, first her hips, then her ribs, but he avoided her breasts. She could feel her nipples rising in response to the evening chill and let the pathetic man think he caused it. When his hands made their way up her throat one more time, she braced for the worst, surprised when he only kissed her. Then his teeth bit into her lower lip. She had to fight the urge to snarl.
With one hand clasped on each side of her face, he devoured her mouth, his fingers digging into her flesh. Frantically, she pulled at his grip on her jaw. The harder she fought, the more excited he became, until he shoved her hard toward the bed. She staggered, dropping to her knees, and looked back at him with fear forced onto her face.
Come on, you bastard, she thought. Come get me.
As if reading her mind, he stalked her. Sal pulled her knees up, a squeal forced past her lips. The Chancellor grabbed her and threw her onto the bed face first, twisting one arm behind her, pinning her there. When he started ripping at his breeches with his free hand, she reminded herself to squirm, listening for the cloth to come free. She struggled, her bare rump brushing across him intentionally, feeling exposed flesh as she tried to pull against his grip just enough to keep him distracted. Over her shoulder, she saw the human reach for something. A singing noise warned Sal just before the curved blade arced toward her face.
Cold metal burned as it sliced across her cheek and lips. The blood welled quickly, the taste of it flooding her mouth. Was it the metal that made it so sweet? It tasted like humans smelled. Across her body, her skin tingled in response to the shock.
The Chancellor rested the blade against her neck and pushed his chest over her back so his lips were close to her ear. "Have you ever seen metal before, slut?"
She shook her head, careful to avoid cutting herself.
"The Emperor gives it to us. It cuts like nothing else. If you scream, I'll slit your pretty little throat, do you understand?"
Sal nodded, her mind working furiously. The Emperor had access to metal, enough that he was giving it away
to secure the loyalty of his men. Metal could change the war and was probably how he'd been conquering nations so easily. She felt the man grind into her bare flesh, his erection throbbing against her buttocks, and decided she'd had enough of this game. Glancing up, she saw his gaze focused on her ass, trusting the weapon to keep her tame. The fool.
Without warning, she twisted under him, rolling her body toward her pinned arm. The Chancellor, caught off guard, lost his grip on the dagger, and Sal watched it fall into the folds of the covers while he tried to grab at her shoulders. Her back braced against the bed, her legs between his, she looked him in the eyes and smiled.
Her knee met his crotch.
Moving with iliran speed, she grabbed his shoulders and twisted, forcing him under her, onto the bed. She pinned each of his arms beneath her knees, her muscled thighs strong enough to hold him easily, and leaned back, reaching for the blade near her feet. Her instincts begged to take control. She let them. This man needed to pay for all he'd done. She couldn't be the first woman he'd paid to torture.
As her hand closed on the sharp metal blade, he bucked, trying to throw her off. Sal balanced across his shoulders easily after so many hours learning to ride, but the sudden movement caused the blade to bite into her fingers. A sharp pain surged over her hand, then her own blood, sticky against the metal. Shifting her grip on the weapon, she pressed it against his throat.
"Do you like it rough?" she purred, glaring at his black eyes. The point of the blade traced a line down his chest.
Her pupils had dilated, making his movement even more obvious. His pulse hammered against his throat and his eyes widened slightly in fear. The scent of it encouraged her. She wanted nothing more than to sink her teeth into his flesh. He was her prey – and didn't realize he'd lost.
Confused at the sudden change, the Chancellor made no attempt to call out. He tried to decide if she was playing games with him or if she was truly a threat. When he opened his mouth to speak, she moved the blade back to his neck and shook her head, holding a bloody finger to her lips as she glanced once more at the window. The night sky called to her, the stars easily visible. Smiling down at him cruelly, she placed her hand over his mouth and pulled the blade across his throat.