“It will be done yer majesty,” the guard grabbing the pile of garments scrambled off with them to carry out the task.
It was several hours later since she had finished overseeing the removal of the Magus things from her palace. It was in returning to her private chamber where she was greeted by Mary-Anne as she stepped toward the door to the Queen’s chamber.
“My dear sweet Queen!” Mary-Anne looped her arm through Celeste’s. “You must see this!” She led the queen into her chamber to the window overlooking the city and the waste beyond. “Look, there!”
A wide grin of satisfaction played across Celeste’s face. In the distance, rising high in the evening sky was a black plume of smoke coming from the Slave square. “Agnar could have never done this.”
“No, he couldn’t have which is why Danthamore needs a strong Queen, and I’m glad that you are mine.” She meant it as no one cared about Danthamore more than Celeste.
Aghadine II
Drops of sand trailed out of his dull gray clothing as he walked across the pristine alabaster floor. He had not stopped to clean himself after his long journey across the Waste. Instead, he went to his master’s rooms before going anywhere else. The hallway itself was sparse, allowing for passing the sun’s rays through its crystal glass walls spread out on each side. The slave at the door was quick to have it open as he approached. He had never seen this slave of his master’s, the boy was young having been born after he had followed Adar into the Waste. Still, the household would know of him, he was the Magus Malark’s protector. The chamber was shaped similar to a teardrop with a large circular bed in the center which called his attention to it. Several naked pleasure slaves were mashing and sliding together, lost in pleasing one another. Each slave bore their mark of ownership on the back of their necks. He had visited his master’s slaves more than once in reward for his good service, but no women here would know him in that way. They would not have been old enough to have taken the mark when he left into the Waste.
Malark, in his black robes with silver stitching stood on the balcony of his bed chamber. His piercing eyes gazed out over the waste until he heard Dashiell’s footsteps fall upon the floor. He did not turn around right away. “Do you know why I took these rooms as my own?”
“Why Magus?” Dashiell, untied the sack Orson had given him from the belt at his waist and held it in his outstretched hand.
“It acts as a reminder that great power exists even if unseen,” he spun around to Dashiell, leaving the sack untouched in his outstretched hand. “You’ve been in the old world almost as long as my brother, what is your take?”
“It was as you predicted, they are weak, uncontrolled, and trusting.” He tilted his head in a slight nod. “You’re brother Ru’ark has also grown quite soft.”
“Has he,” scoffed Malark. “What makes you say that?”
“He has affection for the woman, the one of the blood. He takes her to his chamber as his favored bed slave.” He smirked, “That’s what they call pleasure slaves in the old world.” His outstretched arm unflinching, held the sack out. “He treats her as more than a slave.”
“Interesting,” it lent credence to what the Queen in Danthamore had been prattling about. “The Queen calls her his slave pet.” He had always known that his brother was weak, yet this he thought was beyond even him that he would care for this woman to the point of keeping his own people imprisoned. “I expect everything is prepared for my arrival in Danthamore, and the Senentia?”
“Yes, my Magus, everything is in place for your impending arrival.” Dashiell withdrew the manacles which remained encased with some of the black obsidian stone from Danthamore’s King’s tower and handed it to Malark. “The Senentia.”
“At last,” His eyes glazed over black as smoky tendrils slithered out from his fingertips piercing the black stone causing it to disintegrate at its touch. Once done, it left only the gray polished manacles with the thin chain connecting its two smooth cuffs. “To think, at one time these were used to bind those with the Waraeu inside of them before facing their final judgement.” He gripped the manacles tight. “Now, it will aid us in attaining freedom. Come, we leave before the setting sun.”
“Yes, my Magus, however, would you not prefer to leave with the morning’s first light, and take the night to prepare?” He was surprised at his Master wanting to depart with such haste, he had hoped to spend the night meeting a few of the Magus’ pleasure slaves.
“I’ve been denied for far too long of what is rightfully mine, and I’ll not be denied a moment longer.” Malark walked out from the balcony.
“Of course, Magus,” Dashiell fell in behind him. He walked again past the large bed and the pleasure slaves preoccupied in pleasuring one another. With a final look to the moving bodies on the bed a light smile touched his lips, he would miss spending the night with them and receive the relaxation they provided him with. Yet, like his Magus, he had an almost insatiable appetite for what was waiting in Danthamore.
The Magus (A Chronicle of Rebirth Book 1) Page 29