The wait turned out to be fifteen agonizing lapars. Rydah was really beginning to lose his nerve again when the first guard returned.
“This way, m’lord.” He bowed.
Rydah felt a wave of relief wash through him. He glanced over at Jenya to see her eyes widen with relief. Rydah felt a new bond form between them. She had risked her life to stand by her master. His affection for her grew.
He tried to act nonchalant as they followed the Warrior through a series of corridors. The guard stopped outside a door. “The Acolyte will see you here.”
Chapter Fifteen
Acolyte Lepdar stood by the window, looking out. He turned when he heard the door open and his face creased into a nervous smile that came and went quickly.
Rydah noticed they were alone. Thank Rand!
“What news do you bring? As you predicted, my father is holding Symal under house arrest. They won’t let me see her. They say she’s not in prison, but I fear she will be soon.”
Rydah approached the Acolyte, bowing deeply. “Forgive my deception on getting into the palace, my Acolyte.”
Lepdar waved his hand. “Yes, yes. Please. Tell me what news you bring.”
Rydah reached into his bag. “As you know, my Acolyte, I’m a scribe. I’ve copied many documents from the high priests, including those of our ancestors. Many rynes ago, when breeders were first becoming accepted in our society, conflicts arose between Noblewomen and Lords. The Noblewomen objected to breeders, as they felt they infringed upon their rights, but the priests were adamant that they would solve the problems caused by weak offspring. A number of edicts were written in the past to smooth over these issues, most of which have fallen into disuse over the rynes as Noblewomen have seen the wisdom of having fresh breeders among our leaders.”
Rydah stepped forward and handed Acolyte Lepdar a document, covered in spidery writing. “I came across this several rynes ago and only remembered it vaguely, that’s why I couldn’t speak accurately of it at the farmhouse. But if you read through this document written by High Priest Nidlet, I think it might give you the solution to your problem.”
The Acolyte reacted to the name as he accepted the document. High Priest Nidlet was revered among the Avalonians. He had died more than seventy rynes ago, but his words live on in scrolls and sermons. Even Bandar had been known to quote him frequently.
The Acolyte read quickly, then looked up. “Is this right?”
Rydah nodded. “This document sets for the terms of a Repall—a marriage in name only. It was named after Acolyte Repall, who found himself in a similar situation to yours, except he was heir to the throne. He loved a Noblewoman, but his father had pledged him to a distant princess. The princess, like Wenelle, also had a man she loved, and she did not want to leave her priestdom to live here. The Noblewoman and the princess had many allies and they created problems for the high priests of both regions. So they agreed to marry the Acolyte to the princess in name and title, but allow them to live separately.”
Rydah couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. “It fits you perfectly, sire. You said the only reason for the marriage is to give Syran an excuse to tell his cousin he can’t merge their armies, for it would go against his daughter’s husband. So you marry in a formal ceremony, witnessed by many dignitaries, then you go your separate ways. You can take Symal as your consort and Princess Wenelle can stay with her lover and everyone will be happy.”
The Acolyte’s jaw dropped. “And this law is still on the books? It hasn’t been repealed?”
“No, my Acolyte. It hasn’t been used in more than sixty ryne and has been largely forgotten, but it’s still on the books.”
The Acolyte reached forward and gripped Rydah by his upper arm. “By Rand this is good news! I must go tell my father immediately. Please, stay here for the night, accept my hospitality. I may need you to explain this document to our own priests.”
“As you wish, my lord.” He bowed, his heart bursting.
At the door, the Acolyte paused. “Oh, and, I’ll be back to breed with your slave later.”
Rydah looked up, stricken. “Um, my Acolyte. That was just—”
The Acolyte laughed. “Oh, you should see your face! Never fear, my lord. I see you’ve got an excellent breeder there. Don’t blame you for wanting to keep her to yourself!”
Rydah looked relieved.
“Oh and one more thing,” the Acolyte said, opening the door, “I may need a new scribe here soon—to take care of many of my fiefdom’s duties. Might you be available?”
Rydah’s face reddened and he suddenly felt weak in the knees. “Yes, my Acolyte. Whatever you desire.”
When the Acolyte left, Rydah turned to Jenya and clapped his hands. “Did you hear that, Jenya? He wants me as his scribe! We could live inside the palace walls!”
Jenya’s face broke into a big grin—bigger than the sun she’d found out she’d been selected by this Damon. Her instincts had been right. Her lord had turned out to be quite a catch.
“My lord! That’s wonderful news!” She wanted to hug him but kept her place. Instead, she was shocked when he grabbed her and swung her around, then planted her back on her feet and kissed her on the lips.
On the lips! A Damon!
It was just as Lady Margeld had told her it might happen, so many rynes ago. That’s why she had made sure the girls learned the correct technique…
Not long after Jenya had turned fourteen, Margeld had announced in class, “This sun, girls, we learn how to kiss. Not that you should expect your master to kiss you—no, far from it. Most will not, for that signifies a much more personal relationship. No, we learn this simply on the rare chance that someone requests that you kiss him. You must obey and you certainly don’t want to disappoint.”
Jenya had known this sun was coming and she was more than ready. Already, she had experimented with Mavela, a fifteen-ryne-old, after lights had gone out at bedtime. The lessons hadn’t gone too far because they both suspected they were doing something wrong—they didn’t feel anything. Other girls had told them of a tingling in their stomachs or a funny feeling even lower, but they just felt a little foolish.
Now they were about to learn to kiss the right way. Jenya’s mind raced. Who would they bring in to volunteer? Craftsmen? Merchants? Wouldn’t that arouse them too much? Would the men try to mate with them, even though they were strictly off limits? Jenya wasn’t sure she would know how to behave.
Lady Margeld clapped her hands. “Now, girls, pay attention! I can see you sun-dreaming there! Now, we can’t very well bring in a bunch of men to practice with, can we? So you’re going to learn on each other.”
There had been murmurings around the room. The twelve girls in the class looked at each other, eyes wide.
“I know, I know—it’s not ideal. And it won’t be the same as a master’s kiss. But it will have to do. Now pick a partner.”
The girls tentatively began to pair up. Jenya saw Mavela in the back talking to another girl, so she turned to her left and asked Palava, a cute dark-haired girl to be her partner. Palava blushed and nodded.
Margeld had them first just touch each other’s faces and bodies and look into each other’s eyes. Stroking Palava had an odd effect on Jenya. That tingling that hadn’t occurred with Mavela was happening here, all right. No wonder they had felt nothing. They had jumped right into the kiss without any stroking. This felt very nice, Jenya decided, wanting to squeeze her legs together again.
Finally, Margeld told the girls to lean in and just brush their lips together gently. Jenya felt a little spark fly between their outstretched lips just before they touched. She giggled and so did Palava. Jenya inhaled her partner’s sweet breath.
Jenya’s loins tickled her fiercely. She pressed her thighs together hard.
“Now just touch your lips to each other, making sure you don’t bump noses!”
Palava sighed softly and tipped her head so they could kiss a little more easily. The sensation rolled throug
h Jenya from her lips to her breasts and down to her pussy. Her mind roiled. She wanted to breed all of a sudden. She wanted something in her to fill her aching need.
The girls in the class kissed and kissed as the teacher walked among them, giving them tips—
“Thank you, my slave for suggesting that I help!” Rydah said, snapping Jenya’s attention back to the present. “I’d been ready to duck responsibility for fear of getting in trouble. I will never forget this.”
“Having your children will be thanks enough, my lord,” she said, her mind awhirl. The kiss had been very nice indeed. It hadn’t been a quick peck, nor a lover’s kiss, but somewhere in between. Still, it sent chills through her.
“Speaking of which, it’s been a while since we’ve been able to breed, hasn’t it?”
Jenya smiled. “Yes, my lord, what with my injuries and all.”
“Do you think you might be healed enough to perform your duties?” There was a twinkle in his eye.
Jenya nodded eagerly. “Oh, yes, master!” She had hoped he might breed with her again—she had missed it so!
“Good. It is time I resumed my lordly duties,” Rydah couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Jenya’s face mimicked his. “Whatever you say, master.”
Their chambers consisted of two rooms—the master’s suite, complete with large four-poster bed—and the slave’s quarters, which was essentially a large closet equipped with a cot.
Rydah noticed Jenya staring at the small room. He came close to her, putting his hands on her bare shoulders. “Normally, of course, you would be sleeping here,” he said softly, leaning down toward her delicate ear. “But I may want to breed several times tonight. Therefore, I order you to sleep in my bed.”
He felt a shiver run through his slave. Looking at the side of her face, Rydah saw the shy smile appear.
“Come, prepare yourself.”
Jenya moved quickly toward the bed, then paused, as if seeking permission. He nodded and she crawled under the thin coverlet. Rydah shook his head: this would never do. He reached down and pulled the cover off his beauty. He enjoyed seeing her naked. As he watched, Jenya’s nipples became hard points. Her pussy swelled, then opened like a flower. He could see her wetness within. If ever he had any doubts about Jenya’s willingness to be his breeder, they evaporated in that moment.
This slave—this woman—wanted him. He would not disappoint.
Rydah climbed onto the bed next to her and let his fingers trace patterns on her skin. She shivered again. Her lips parted. He had a sudden urge to kiss them, and damn convention! No other Damon would know what went on in Rydah’s chambers. He leaned in. Jenya’s eyes grew wide, but she turned her face toward him. Their lips met.
They kissed, like lovers. He tasted the sweetness of her for a long time.
His hand roamed over her breast, exploring the turgid nipple. Then he moved it down along her hip to the beginning of her leg. He could feel goosebumps on her skin. His tumescent cock ached for release.
The hand returned, brushing the delicate hairs on her mound. The kisses became more passionate. When he finally touched her core, she was wet with desire.
Rydah moved over her. Jenya looked down at her lord’s cock. He knew she didn’t have a lot of experience with them, and appeared to be fascinated with it. Perhaps she wondered how they could start out so soft, yet grow so long and hard!
Rydah almost laughed as she stared at it. He watched her hand start to reach for it, then pull away. “Go on,” he urged.
She looked up at him, then let her gaze return. She reached out and gently touched it with her fingertips. To Rydah, it was like the kiss of the apalar, a delicate insect with large wings that lived during the hot season.
“Put it in you,” he breathed. Her touch made him want to spill his seed soon. It wouldn’t do to waste it.
She looked startled for a moment, as if that was something that shouldn’t be allowed. He just nodded. Then she smiled and grabbed his cock more firmly. She spread her legs wider and placed the tip against the entrance. For a lapar, she rubbed the tip between her labia, covering it with juices. She let it rise up to stroke her clit and soon found a rhythm there.
Rydah could tell she was pleasuring herself, something no slave would normally do. He watched, enthralled, trying to hold back his seed as Jenya began to rock her hips with the rhythm of her building orgasm. When he sensed she was about to achieve her release, he pushed into her, letting the shaft of his hard cock press against her clit. He felt his seed erupt into her.
She gasped, grabbed him hard around his chest and exploded into a powerful release. “Oh Rand! Oh Rand! Oh Rand!” she shouted.
“Oh, my darling! You feel so good!” The words tore out of him. It was as if, for that moment, Jenya had become his equal.
Chapter Sixteen
Symal’s barred carriage carried her through the forbidding gates of Goren that afternoon. She gripped the bars with manacled hands and stared, mute, as tears flowed from her eyes. She doubted she’d ever see the Acolyte again and if she did, he would be repelled that she had been used so brutally. Would he take revenge on his father for her? She doubted it. He’d be angry, yes, but would soon learn to accept his princess. Before the ryne was out, she’d be a distant memory to him.
The carriage halted in front of the doors to the decrepit stone building that housed the slave pens. To Symal, it was a prison. Except what happened there would probably be worse.
Two guards stepped up and unlocked the rear door and motioned her out. She struggled out as best she could with her fetters, trying to cover her nakedness. They laughed at her. One reached in and stroked an exposed breast and laughed again when she tried to pull away. “Don’t worry, little pet, soon you’ll learn to love the touch of a mighty Warrior.”
They hauled her inside. When the large wooden door closed behind her, it was as if her hope had been trapped on the other side.
Symal’s feet barely touched the ground as they hurried her along the corridor, ignoring her whimpers. They came to a double-door and knocked.
“Enter,” came a muffled voice and the guards took her inside.
Symal was dragged before a desk, where a troll-like man sat, dressed in dirty Damon robes. He looked more like a Laborer to her. His face seemed scrunched up as if he had been damaged at birth. His dark hair thinned at the top of his head, giving him a tangle of unruly locks.
“What have we here?” He asked the guards.
“Slave Symal, a gift from High Acolyte Kendam, Lord Dyman,” intoned one of the guards, handing him a piece of parchment.
Dyman took it and read carefully, moving his lips. He looked up and smiled evilly at the trembling girl. “Well, it seems you’ve angered Kendam himself. Not wise, my child. Not wise at all.”
“I didn’t—”
“SHUT UP!” He thundered. “Slaves don’t speak! At least, they learn not to if they want to avoid trouble. Do you want trouble?”
Symal miserably shook her head.
“Good! You can learn, then. Perhaps you’ll make a good breeder after all.”
“But I’m only seventeen!” she blurted, only to be silenced a moment later when Dyman slapped her hard across the face.
“You must be mistaking us for one of those other slave pens,” he said. “We don’t follow such rules here.” He turned to the guards. “Take her away. There’s a Warrior breeding coming up this very sun. Ten lashes should cure her of her insolence. Then put her among the breeders.”
* * * * *
Acolyte Lepdar paced the corridor outside Kendam’s office, angry at being kept waiting. If he were Raparn the priest wouldn’t keep him out here like a dog!
Finally, the door opened and the Acolyte was motioned inside by Mipola, one of Kendam’s advisors.
“Well? Did you read it?” The Acolyte had no time for niceties.
Kendam stood, the old document in hand. “This is interesting, yes. But I’m not sure it
applies here or if it’s still in force. I’ll have to ask High Lord Bandar about it.”
“Not sure it applies!? It’s a perfect match! And I’m assured it has not been repealed. I’m sure my father will approve,” he said, stressing his lineage.
“Perhaps. But you must understand, these things have to be handled delicately. What if Syran doesn’t agree? Or Princess Wenelle? We have to send messengers to Farzan—or better yet, diplomats, to make sure no one is offended.” Even as he spoke, Kendam knew that messengers were already on their way to assure the princess that the marriage would take place as planned.
“But Wenelle has a man she wants, just as I have a girl I want. This is a perfect solution! And it’s written by High Priest Nidlet himself!”
“Yes, of course. And we’ll pay close attention to it, never fear. I promise you, good sire, that we will send couriers to Farzan in the morrow,” he lied. “Like I said, we must proceed cautiously.”
“Fine. But in the meantime, I want to see Symal.”
Kendam looked away, his lips pursed. “That’s not possible right now, I’m afraid. She’s being kept in a safe place until we can sort this all out.”
“Where? Prison?”
“Oh, my no! She’s being kept safe, you have my word,” he smiled convincingly. “Your father felt it was best until we can figure out the proper course of action.”
Lepdar couldn’t stand to be in the same room with Kendam another moment. He felt he might explode and do something rash. “We’ll see what my father has to say about this,” he said, and stalked out.
* * * * *
The high priest watched him go, then signaled the guard. “Did you deliver the slut?”
“Yes, my lord.” The guard bowed.
“What did Dyman tell you about her fate?”
“That she was to be bred to a Warrior very soon.”
Kendam smiled slowly, then closed his eyes, imagining the girl’s terror. Soon she wouldn’t be fit for an Acolyte or anyone else! When the Acolyte found out, he could just claim a miscommunication with the guards. Maybe one would have to executed, just to be safe. Kendam opened his eyes and stared at the guard. Perhaps this one.
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