by Annie Eppa
Shortly after the banquet was done, the auctions for the war prisoners began, the excitement in the air palpable. Most of the bidders for the prisoners were Sarcopians, many who had participated in the war, and perhaps sought revenge. As horrifying as it sounded, it was Sarcopia who was sponsoring the auctions this year, so none of the other kingdoms had much say in the matter.
The auctioneers started off with the less important personnel and soldiers, gradually working their way up to higher-ranked officer. Each time their names were called the new slaves were led, sometimes struggling and screaming, toward two wooden poles lashed together in an X position. Their arms and legs would be tied to these poles, to be displayed to the audience almost lewdly, to the cheers and jeers of the crowd. Most of these auctions passed quickly, for it was obvious that many of the bidders were waiting for General Khalid’s name to be called.
Still, there was some murmuring when it became apparent that many of the prisoners had been bought by the General Wolf Falen, one of Sarcopia’s greatest commanders. It was he who had succeeded in getting through to the Highrolfe defenses, and it was he who was credited with conquering Skylock, the Highrolfe capital.
“It seems Falen is not quite done with the war yet,” one of the Sarcopian guests guffawed, as the dark-eyed, blonde-haired general made another successful bid on a red-haired female, breathtakingly lovely if not for the obvious anger and fear in her eyes.
The auction process both angered and disgusted Adelai, though she did well to hide them. It was one thing to enter willingly, and another thing entirely to be forced against one’s will, even if all this was a consequence of war. But when General Khalid’s name was finally called, she could not help but look on as the jeering and the invectives grew worse, as the man was led to the poles. She had expected the general to fight back, perhaps try to break away, but he did not, only allowing the guards to chain him with no word or action of protest. His gaze drifted across the crowd, oblivious to the curses and the crude catcalls, and something much like a smile crossed his face, condescending and defiant to the very end.
The bidding here was hard and fast. The general started at 500,000 marks, easily three times as high as any of the others. Still, it seemed like every Sarcopian present wanted a piece of the general, who now looked bored by the proceedings. Finally, the last bid rang out, at a stunning six million marks - the highest Adelai had ever heard paid in any auction, even among shrinemaidens - and a murmur of awe swept through the crowd. The general’s expression wore a slight, strained look, no longer disinterested.
But the real surprise came when the winner was announced. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the auctioneer began, his own face barely able to hide his own excitement, “the Highrolfe general has been sold for six million marks to the Lady Shannika Maestre.” A hush fell as a tall stately brunette walked out from the crowd. She was too young to have been part of the military campaign, and her exquisitely simple dresses were too rich and too expensive to have marked her out for anyone else but of the nobility.
“That’s Sargat Maestre’s daughter.” The high priestess said quietly, her voice too low for anyone but the girls to hear. “The richest man in Sarcopia, some say in all the kingdoms. He supplied the army with most of its weapons and supplies. He was killed when the general attacked the Sarcopian outpost in Dhan. They call his daughter the Silvermaiden, on account of all the silver mines they own, and also for their famous silverwine.”
The mystery of why she was willing to pay so much for him was explained. Adelai watched her approach the poles, where the guards were unfastening the ropes that bound the general’s wrists. They slackened, and just as quickly the man’s fists lashed out, catching one of the guards right in the chin and knocking him out. The three other guards turned back toward him, but Khalid knocked the nearest one out as well, and with just as much accuracy and efficiency.
Cries rang out from the crowd, the fear palpable, as another guard snapped up a large prod and drove it toward the general. The latter deflected it with his wrists, spinning around and knocking the prod from the man’s grasp, before ramming it into his stomach. The guard doubled over in pain, and the General lashed out with one last kick, disabling the last sentry with a hard boot to the head.
More guards were running toward the platform, this time with heavy guns, and Adelai knew that for all the General’s skill he would be hopelessly outmatched, even with the prod for a weapon. But escape did not seem to be what the general had in mind. His point proven, he tossed the prod out into the crowd. There were some screams as guests scrambled away to avoid being hit.
The General raised his hands, looked his new owner full in the face, and smiled. Immediately, he was set on by the new group of guards, shackled more roughly than the others had been, and led away over the new roars and angry curses of the people. Adelai can only imagine that the Lady Maestre was starting to have second thoughts about acquiring this new slave. She would have, had she been in the noblewoman’s place. On his part, the Sarcopian king was clapping his hands, looking delighted as if he had just finished watching a play he enjoyed.
Once the excitement of the slave auctions were over, though, it was their turn. Unlike the slaves however, they were allowed to return to their room to await the results of the bidding. Anonymous bids might be well and good to draw out the people’s hungry anticipation, but it reduced many of the girls to nothing more than a bundle of nerves. What if their bids weren’t high enough? Who would they be given over to for that night?
Shrinemaidens lost their virginities at auction, but not their freedom. After this initiation, the high priestess was now free to contract them out to others willing to partake of their services and rich enough to pay for them, for a certain time. But to those whom shrinemaidens have spent their first night with, the reputation that comes with it is nearly priceless, especially if a shrinemaiden’s fame grows among the kingdoms. Exclusivity is not an obligation, but the bidder enjoys more liberties with his shrinemaiden in many different ways than one could with a mere contract.
That is why, though Adelai was obligated to spend only one night with her bidder, she still could not help her anxiety. She remembered the fat guest from earlier and his threat of buying her, and could not stop her quiver of disgust.
Her other sisters share the same trepidation, some capitulating to the stress and weeping quietly, and it felt like ages before the High Priestess finally arrived with the results.
“The bidding went off splendidly.” She said first, and they all relaxed at the words. This meant that none of them had drawn bids that went short of what was expected, and that was something to be thankful for. “As I call your names, you will follow the servants back out into the hall, where the auctioneer shall make his announcement.”
One by one Adelai’s sisters trooped out of the room, until she was the only one remaining, which did nothing to ease her worry. “Go now, Adelai,” the High Priestess told her, pointing toward the door. There was a curious expression on her face, a mixture of uncertainty and doubt that Adelai had never seen her wear, and it only made the butterflies in her stomach grow. “Come on.”
When Adelai finally stepped into the hall there was a silence so profound that it took all she had not to bolt away. Every eye was on Adelai as she walked up the platform, turning to face the audience as the auctioneer began.
“Our last shrinemaiden on auction - Adelai. Her winning bid goes to King Belair of Atalantea - “
A queer gasp rose among the members of the crowd.
“ - to the the amount of three million marks.”
Adelai felt her knees begin to buckle, and had no idea how she was able to remain standing. Three million marks! This was more than any one had ever paid for a shrinemaiden.
And why would the king of Atalantea pay such a high price for her services? She could recall meeting him only once before that night, at a banquet the high priestess had thrown for the shrinemaidens a few months back, and she was sure she had never
caught his attention then. It was no secret, after all, that King Belair was in love with his wife, and would look at no other woman. Was this why he was paying her so many compliments during supper?
With all these questions swirling in her head, Adelai was barely aware of the rest of the auctioneer’s words, nearly drowned out by the roar of the crowd. She barely remembered being led away, the high priestess taking her gently by the arm and steering her toward the room where she was to prepare herself for the coming night.
She spent the next hour in that same daze as servants came and went, helping her into the sheer lace gown she was to present herself to the winning bidder with, anointing perfume in her hair.
What would the King of Atalantea want with her?
She finally snapped out of it by the time she was walking down the corridor, the high priestess leading her into the chamber she was to spend the night in. That Priestess Saleia was here and aiding her instead of directing someone else to do so should have set off the warning bells in Adelai’s head, but she was still in shock. “Priestess Saleia,” She finally asked, as they approached the door. “I don’t understand. Why would the king choose me?”
The high priestess turned to face her. Strict and very much a disciplinarian, she rarely displayed much affection for any of them through the years, but now her eyes are a liquid lavender, very soft and compassionate. “There shall be enough time to explain.” To Adelai’s surprise, she patted her cheek fondly. “Perhaps some of the explanations you seek lie beyond this door. You have done me very proud, my dear. Now go, your master for the night awaits.” She pushes the door open.
It was a beautiful room, with soft carpeting and white walls. A four poster bed stood at the center, and the smell of fresh rosemary and rose petals filled the air. Only a few candles were lighted, and Adelai could barely make out a tall, dark shape standing by the bed, facing away from her. She took a deep breath and step in, shutting the door. The figure did not move.
“Your Highness,” She quavered, too overwhelmed to catch the break in her voice. She curtsied low, but shot up quickly again when the figure stepped toward the candlelight, revealing his features to her for the first time.
“Haven’t I told you many times before,” the captain of the guard said, with an amused smile. “That a simple ‘Thornton’ would do?”
CHAPTER TWO
The Temple
The captain was no stranger to Adelai.
She had first met Thornton over a year ago, when she was only turning seventeen. Lessons had been over for the day, and she was taking the opportunity to take a walk in the gardens and tend to some of the vegetables and flowers growing there, a habit she often indulged in whenever she could. At the sound of unfamiliar footsteps, heavy and leaden and so unlike the other sisters and matrons that sailed through the hallways, she had grown wary, and hid behind a large column, unsure of what was heading her way.
The first thing she noticed about him were his blue eyes, so penetratingly bright, and of an azure color she have never seen in anyone else. He had short black hair that fell close to his shoulders, which looked broad and strong even without the armor he wore. None of the other matrons were in attendance. Adelai crouched behind the pillar, not daring herself to breathe, as he walked past her, and stopped.
He didn’t bother to turn his head. “Why are you hiding, little one?” His voice was low and deep but with a roughness to it that, even then, sent little fireworks dancing up her spine. “Come out,” he said, and there was something in his manner, so strong and reassuring and confident, that she found hard to disobey.
Adelai stepped out from her hiding place, but made no move to come closer to him. Those electric blue eyes swept over her petite frame, and she suddenly felt foolish, dressed in her stiff woolen garments and a small riding cape. Her yellow hair was pulled up in a tight bun from a previous calisthenics session, and locks of it escaped to fall in straggles around her face. Certainly she looked nothing like how a shrinemaiden should look! And yet, for some obscure reason, she wanted him to look at her the way she was, and find something to approve of.
“Well, now.” He said after a moment, still studying her, and Adelai couldn’t help but blush. He had a way of watching her even then, like he considered her an appealing woman in her own right despite her age and appearance. “You’re an unexpected little find.”
“I’m not little.” Adelai retorted before she could close her mouth, despite only being a few inches over five feet tall. She was accustomed to being respected in the temple, and somehow this maddening, intriguing man’s insolence irritated her, briefly overriding her initial attraction.
He only laughed, and his laughter was just as sensuous as when he spoke.
She didn’t expect him to close the distance between them so quickly, and he was before her before she could think of moving. He lifted a hand to touch her cheek. His fingers were coarse, but welcoming against her skin - the first time any man had ever touched her.
What Adelai didn’t expect was the sudden spurt of energy, much like a lightning bolt, that seemed to pass between them. He jerked his hand back with a quick curse, and she gasped, retreating several steps back, fearful that she had broached a barrier she had not intended to cross.
“Adelai!”
She jumped guiltily, as the high priestess came into view. The expression on her face was always disapproving, puckered like she had eaten something sour and couldn’t quite wipe the taste out of her mouth. Her scowl deepened when she spotted the man. “What are you two doing here?”
“N-nothing,” Adelai stammered, trying to envision the sanction the priestess would undoubtedly have in store for her. Mopping the lavatories, probably. She was not averse to playing truant sometimes - all the girls had, at some time or other - and she was familiar with the priestess’ forms of punishment.
“Adelai,” the man said, smiling and showing little care at the high priestess’ current mood.
“Back to your rooms,” High Priestess Saleia commanded and Adelai took that as her cue to flee. Adelai didn’t stop until she had ran up the stairs, throwing herself on her small wooden bed with relief, to the puzzlement of the sisters she shared the rooms with.
She would continue to see Thornton accidentally but occasionally, often meeting him along that same corridor, as if knowing she would be there. He would say nothing, but smile and look at her in that same way again, the one that would make her redden. Adelai tried to glare at him to salvage her pride, but she supposed he had seen worse than that, for he was unmoved.
One later incident would forever define their relationship. Adelai was staying out in the gardens again, at her favorite spot near the large marble statue of Inne-Anneah. She was too caught up in her reading to hear him approach, until his mouth was inches from her ear. “And what is the little maiden reading?”
Adelai jumped, the book toppling down to the ground in her haste, and all too quickly found herself caught in his arms, with his hands on her waist. His touch burned at her skin, even through the light material. He held her longer than she knew he should have, blue eyes studying hers before letting go. Speechless at first from both his proximity, and then at his audacity, Adelai finally found her voice.
“How dare you!” She sputtered. His easy familiarity was unnerving.
The captain did not look contrite or apologetic, only amused. “I have dared before, little maiden. Or have you forgotten already?”
“I am not accustomed to being touched so freely this way.”
“Then you miss out on very many pleasures.” He picked the book she’d been reading up from the ground. He raised an eyebrow as he perused the volume. “This appears to be a book on military strategy, by the famed war hero, General Alprius.”
“It pleases me to see that you can read.” Adelai snatched the book from his hand, taking a step back in case he was angry.
“Is it customary for shrinemaidens to be reading such serious materials in their leisure hours?”
“It is customary for this shrinemaiden to do so.” Whatever fears and skittishness she’d felt had disappeared at this point. To have someone imply that she should be nothing more than a simpleton is, Adelai had always felt, one of the worst insults to suffer from. “We study history and mathematics, the sciences and languages just as much as we study court etiquette, embroidery, and other pleasures.”
She immediately regretted her choice of words, as the man’s gaze drifted back toward her mouth. She held the book against her chest, hugging it as if this could serve as a shield.
“If you are truly interested in military history, then it would do you well to read the campaigns and exploits of General Narceus in the twelfth century. Have you read that? Or General Lancrye’s memoirs detailing the war between the kingdoms of Maronchaler and Lancre?”
Adelai shook my head reluctantly. She was a voracious reader, and had very nearly read every book in the temple’s extensive library, though it was sadly lacking in books regarding military affairs.
A smile spread across his handsome face. “I shall bring books from my own collection for you to borrow, if you would like.”
“Will you?” Immediately she was delighted, forgetting her earlier vexation. “I would be very grateful. You are very generous.”
“The pleasure,” the captain said, “is all mine.”
This marked the start of Adelai’s odd tutelage, a training that none of her other sisters received. True to his word, the captain returned a few days later with a handful of books, and all the free time she possessed outside of lessons and chores since then were spent in that garden with him. More than the books, he took great pains to instruct her about the politics of the land, his firsthand account of the different myriad of cultures outside the temple, more informative to Adelai than what she could even gather from just reading. Never a week passed without his visiting, and after his business with the high priestess was over he would always seek her out in the garden at what was growing to be her favorite spot by the tall oak tree, to resume the lessons.