Never taking her eyes from her captor, Danara moved slightly to gauge how securely she was confined and Sarin knew by her tense expression that she was scared. To be at the mercy of a mere man was her worst nightmare. Determinedly he forced her arms above her head, and tied them to the rope she’d used not so long ago to secure him in a similar fashion.
‘Perfect,’ he said softly, his lips twisting in the parody of a smile. ‘Just how I like to see my women,’ he added, pulling off all her remaining bedclothes.
The many hours she’d spent abusing him were now about to be paid back in abundance. He ran his hands over her naked body, feeling even more empowered as he saw her limbs tremble slightly at his touch. He looked back at her face, heartened by the raw fear in her green eyes, as he played with her nipples, stroking and squeezing them until they hardened and grew even more pronounced. Then he ran his hands caressingly over her flat belly, sliding them between her thighs. ‘Not so long ago I was the slave, now you are my captive. Does that frighten you, Danara?’ he purred menacingly as he tugged at her abundant curls. ‘I confess, I do not like my females to have body hair, it offends me. It’s crude and ugly. At home in Percheron, I always insisted that my women have it removed because it distracts from the beauty of the female form.’
Sarin picked up the dagger, holding it in front of her face for a moment, before he ran the flat of the blade slowly over her lower stomach, tracing the line of her pubic hair. An unconscious shiver ran across her belly, then she froze in terror as he angled the blade and started to scrape away the curls. Sarin shaved her pelt slowly, employing great care, having no wish to cut or nick her pale flesh. Of course the women of his seraglio would never have employed such crude methods; the slaves of the hammam used sugaring or plucking to remove the offending hair.
Danara gave a pleading whimper, which was half muffled by her gag, as the cold metal moved closer to her most intimate parts, shaving every inch of her until her quim was as naked as the day she was born. Sarin smiled as he tossed the handful of auburn curls on the sheet beside her, certain that the humiliation of this moment would stay with her for far longer than her pelt took to grow back. ‘Much better,’ he said to Danara, amused by the expression of helpless fury on her face as he surveyed the result of his endeavours, admiring the way her rosy inner lips peeped out of the innocent-looking little slit.
She squirmed and struggled as he stroked her denuded flesh, sliding his fingers into the pink valley of her sex, surprised at how soft and moist she felt. His own desire increased as he skilfully teased her clit. He didn’t want this to be rape, he was determined to make her body respond to him. Then her humiliation and self-anguish would be even more acute.
Sarin was well used to seducing frightened and unwilling females, those who had been gifted to him and were destined to spend their lives pandering to his every need. Most had ended up worshipping him, eager to do anything and everything to please their master. Danara’s eyes were still full of hate but her struggles gradually lessened and her hips moved seductively, almost as if she were secretly enjoying the experience.
‘You deceive yourself when you say you do not desire a man. However, your body does not lie,’ Sarin commented with lustful amusement, feeling her moisture increase until it slickly coated her sex, allowing him to easily slide his fingers inside her. ‘You’re wet, and so ready for me.’
Kneeling between her outstretched thighs Sarin stimulated himself, making sure she could see his every movement, masturbating until his cock hardened into a rigid rod. Danara desperately bit at the silk gag, trying uselessly to force it from her mouth, bucking her hips and wildly shaking her head as Sarin crouched over her, his lust growing. Now he would possess her as a man should a woman, and she would learn to enjoy the pleasure-filled experience. This one supreme act would destroy Danara – once he’d fucked her, the Queen of Freygard would never be quite the same again.
As he tried to enter her, he felt her muscles tense, but even so he managed to slowly force his cock inside her. Her struggles became even more desperate, even more urgent as he inched deeper, until he was almost fully embedded. Suddenly she relaxed and stopped fighting the inevitable. Sarin felt triumphant as he gave a final thrust, then paused, allowing himself time to savour the unique perfection of this moment.
‘This will be so good,’ he promised Danara. She briefly closed her eyes and Sarin took it as a vain gesture of submission. Amused by her hate and confusion, he wondered how he could both loath, despise and want her all at the same time.
Sarin angled his body so that she would experience the most intense stimulation with each powerful thrust. Then he began to move his hips slowly and seductively, employing all of his skills in order to give his unwilling partner the most profound pleasure, withdrawing occasionally and rubbing the head of his cock over her clit. At first Danara just lay there, meek and acquiescent as if made of stone, but he was determined to overcome her passive resistance as he kept up the relentless rhythm. The room was cold, but a thin layer of perspiration still formed on his skin as his vigorous jerking over her clit became faster and even more demanding.
His arousal increased, his orgasm growing steadily closer. He could stand the suspense no longer, and plunged back into her cunt just in time to feel her internal muscles tighten and see her eyes glaze over as her breathing became ragged and uneven. He fought to hold back on his own release, knowing he was close to winning this battle. Bending his head Sarin, pulled one of Danara’s nipples into his mouth, sucking on it hard as he sensuously rotated his hips, still keeping up the relentless thrusting rhythm.
Danara gave a muffled moan, her limbs trembling as her climax overwhelmed her, and her cunt tightened around his cock in powerful waves. He could hold back no longer – pulling out of her, he spilt a creamy stream of seed over her belly and breasts. Sarin had no wish for a child to result from this encounter; no female offspring of his would ever rule this accursed land.
Hate and disgust flared again in Danara’s eyes, and Sarin knew that she would loathe him even more now that he’d shown her that no matter how much she despised his sex, she could still gain pleasure from coupling with a man.
‘I doubt you’ll ever forget this encounter,’ he said with a taunting grin, wiping his cock clean with a hunk of her hair. ‘I would love to stay and remind you of it often, Danara. But sadly I must depart.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘When we meet again, it will be on a battlefield at the head of our respective armies. One day soon I intend to invade and conquer Freygard, enslave you, Danara, just as you have me!’
If she’d not been gagged venom would have poured from her mouth. Instead Danara gave a muffled grunt and pulled at her bonds so hard that the rope dug deep into her flesh, almost drawing blood. Sarin didn’t care much what happened to her now as he sprang from the bed and put on the close-fitting leather trousers and fur-lined doublet, which felt far better than his scanty tunic. He had no boots and he doubted that the sandals he’d worn as a slave would be sturdy enough to survive a long journey, but they would have to do for the present. Picking up the sword, and tucking the dagger in the top of his trousers, he headed towards the far wall of the chamber, which was half covered by a fretwork screen.
Zene had told him that there was a door hidden behind the screen. It led to the great hall and Danara used it when she wanted to spy unseen on her warriors. He glanced back at his Nemesis, still lying bound and gagged on the bed. ‘Farewell. You do not realise what a dangerous enemy you’ve made, Danara,’ he coldly warned. Then he stepped into the narrow passageway, which led to another door – hidden by the massive tapestry, depicting scenes from Freygard’s history, that decorated the wall of the great hall.
Chapter Three
FORTUNATELY FOR SARIN, the great hall was empty and silent. In most castles it would have been full of sleeping retainers, bedded down on the cold marble floor. Only the lord and his immediate family would have their own personal bedchambers, but in this castle even the lowliest ser
vants had their own bed to sleep in at night. The women of Freygard did not conform to what others did, they were a law unto themselves.
Moonlight streamed through the large, arched windows. Sarin kept to the shadows, creeping along close to the walls, aiming for the main doors which, according to custom, were always left partially open. The castle guards were mainly for show, because in an isolated kingdom such as this, there was little chance of an enemy breaking into the castle. The only guard on duty outside the hall entrance sat slumped on a chair, fast asleep. Such dereliction of duty in Percheron would result in brutal punishment, but Sarin knew he should be grateful that discipline here was so slack.
Holding his sword at the ready, he inched past the sleeping guard, wincing when he eased open the heavy oak door of the keep and heard it creak. Still undetected, he ran down the stone steps and across the deserted bailey. There were guards on the battlements but their eyes were turned towards the distant forests and mountains, ready to defend the castle, not on the lookout for someone trying to escape.
Sarin jogged swiftly across the cobblestones towards the stables. He’d been working there of late, and had befriended a coal-black stallion, who was rarely ridden by any of the warriors. The horse was exceptionally strong and needed a firmer hand than most of the women could provide. Even if he’d still been king, Sarin would have chosen just such a mount for the long journey which lay ahead.
There was a faint glimmer of light from the stables, but that wasn’t a troublesome sign, for a lantern was always left burning in one of the far stalls at night. As he opened the door, someone stepped unexpectedly from the shadows. Before the warrior realised who he was, Sarin grabbed her and wrestled her to the ground. He struggled to put a hand across her mouth, determined not to let her call out and warn the guards, but she fought so hard he was forced to clamp his fingers across her windpipe and half strangle her instead. Gasping for breath, and barely conscious, she fell limply back, doubtless fearing that if she resisted again he would kill her without a second thought.
Sarin dragged his captive inside the stables, kicking shut the door behind them. In Percheron men did not indiscriminately slaughter women and even after all he’d suffered in Freygard he still couldn’t bring himself to kill the guard. He looked around for some rope to tie her up. He would find a place to hide her so she wouldn’t be discovered until he was far away.
She gave a faint groan and for the first time he looked down at his captive. ‘Zene!’
‘Sarin?’ she croaked in surprise, her hand going to her bruised throat.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know it was you,’ he added, relieved that he’d not chosen to kill her as soon as she’d attacked him.
‘How did you get out of the slaves’ quarters?’ she asked, as he pulled her upright and examined the fingermarks he’d left on her tanned flesh.
‘You will be a little hoarse for a few days but you’ll recover.’ He half carried her towards the black stallion who was lodged at the far end of the stables. ‘I’m leaving,’ he added, noticing that the spirited chestnut Zene often rode was in the adjacent stall. ‘Are you coming with me?’
‘Now?’ she asked stupidly, still looking dazed. ‘How did . . .’
‘Yes, now,’ Sarin interjected impatiently as he sat her down on a bale of straw, and grabbed a halter and bridle. ‘Are you with me, or not?’ he asked, hoping she wouldn’t refuse as she knew the countryside and he did not.
‘I am with you.’ She gave a shaky smile, still rubbing her bruised neck. ‘As long as you promise not to throttle me again.’
‘That was a mistake and you know it,’ he replied as he set about saddling his mount.
‘I’ll take the chestnut. Saddle him as well,’ she commanded, as if he were still a slave.
Sarin chose to ignore the curtness of her tone. She would be forced to change her ways once they were safely away from the castle. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked, as she stood up and walked towards a door at the rear of the stables.
‘We need extra clothing and provisions. I may find something of use in the tack room,’ she explained, disappearing through the narrow doorway.
Sarin set about saddling both horses, knowing he would have to try and put his full trust in Zene despite the fact he barely knew her. It would be far easier to get out of the castle with her help.
He was just tightening the black stallion’s girth when she returned. ‘Here.’ She tossed Sarin a pair of well-worn boots. ‘I hope they’ll be big enough. They belong to Gelar,’ she added, her voice still sounding a little strained.
Gelar was in charge of the stables. She was almost as tall as Sarin, three times as wide and as ugly as sin. She had taken a liking to Sarin and, even though she was probably well past child-bearing age, he had been haunted by the fear that she might turn up at the coupling chamber one night and ask for him. He was certain that he’d never manage to get an erection if he saw Gelar naked.
Sarin gratefully pulled on the boots, which were a tight fit but would be better than riding in sandals. ‘They’re fine,’ he said as Zene put on one of the heavy, black woollen cloaks she was carrying.
She handed the other cloak to Sarin. ‘Pull the hood low over your head. It will help hide your face from the guards on duty at the gate,’ she said, taking hold of the chestnut’s reins and throwing a pair of bulging saddlebags across its back. ‘And if you want to survive, let me do the talking.’
Sarin followed her from the stables, mounted the black stallion and adjusted the cloak he now wore so that it hid the majority of his face. With luck the guards wouldn’t even realise Zene’s companion was a man, he thought, as he followed her towards the small postern gate in the west wall, which was the only exit at night. There were two guards on duty, and one automatically moved to bar their way. ‘Let us through,’ Zene snapped. ‘We carry urgent despatches from Queen Danara to the eastern settlements.’
‘Safe journey to you sisters,’ they said, not even bothering to glance at Sarin, as they pulled open the gate.
Sarin followed Zene, hearing the gate slam shut behind them. It was the most comforting noise Sarin had heard for a very long time. Urging his horse into a gallop, he followed Zene down the narrow road that led into the valley below. The escape had been easier than he’d ever imagined, but they had many leagues to travel before they would be safe.
Dawn was breaking over the mountains when Zene stopped her horse at the crossroads and looked at Sarin. ‘We’ll take the road south,’ she said. ‘Then turn south west on to a little-used track that leads directly to the borders of Percheron.’
‘That’ll be the route they’ll expect us to take,’ Sarin pointed out, throwing back his hood and taking a deep breath of the cold morning air. It smelled different now that he was free.
‘The Queen is unlikely to send many warriors after an escaped slave – even such an important one as you. We can easily evade a small group of warriors if we are careful,’ she replied. ‘We go south.’
‘No!’ Sarin said curtly, his former arrogance returning in an instant. ‘I know that the Queen will be determined to recapture me at all costs. If needs be she’ll send every warrior she has after me. I’d stake my life on that, Zene. We have to head due north, then turn west after we pass the mountain range.’
‘Into Kabra?’ Zene asked in surprised confusion, appearing unsettled by the fact that he’d had the temerity to disagree with her.
‘My army occupies Kabra. There is a large garrison stationed close to the border. They will be able to provide protection for us even if any of Danara’s warriors do manage to track us down and follow us into Kabra itself. Although with luck we will evade our pursuers, because Danara will not expect us to travel in that direction. It is the safest choice.’ Then without waiting for her approval, he turned his horse and headed due north into the forest.
Zene frowned and shook her head, then urged her chestnut forwards to follow Sarin.
Lady Rianna tapped her foot
impatiently; it was getting colder by the minute as she stood at the top of the steps that led into the keep. She had been up before dawn, and had been waiting for some time for Captain Leon and his companion to arrive. She was eager to leave the castle and return to Ruberoc, having endured three days of soul-destroying boredom before Leon had announced it was now safe to depart.
The soldiers Leon had sent into the forest had returned after slaughtering most of the bandits and driving the rest back towards the distant mountains. Leon had immediately begun to plan their departure and he had suggested they travel with a friend of his, the Baroness Crissana, who was also on her way to Ruberoc. There was always the chance they might come upon small groups of Percheron soldiers who had not yet heard of their army’s retreat. He had pointed out that as the baroness had a large body of soldiers in her retinue, their combined forces would ensure that they could travel in perfect safety.
Leon had not said much about this mysterious baroness, other than that she was recently widowed and very wealthy. However, he had been spending an inordinate amount of time with her over the last three days. One of the maids had heard tell that the woman, who was very beautiful, had arrived in the local village soon after they had reached the castle. Rianna could only presume that the baroness had been following Leon because they were romantically involved. Now that the war was over, Leon, like other noblemen, could think seriously of settling down. Rianna hoped they would be happy together, while she wondered whether she and the baroness might become friends. There had been little time for socialising since she and Tarn had arrived and she knew few people in Kabra.
Rianna had originally intended to travel on horseback, but because the weather had turned so damp and drizzly again, Leon had suggested that she might be more comfortable riding in the baroness’s carriage. Rianna was inclined to refuse the kind offer as carriage travel on these rough roads could be bumpy and uncomfortable. Yet she had agreed, mainly because she was curious about the baroness.
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