by K. L. Thorne
“Your Highness,” Greyleaf greeted her, his tone heavy with reverence. “Welcome. Please, come in. I am Captain Greyleaf and I run your father’s thrall trade. I do hope you find everything to be to your liking. If there is anything I can do to assist you, please do not hesitate to ask.”
Typically, the faerie captain was all sweetness and light now the princess had arrived. Haros wondered if she would have had anything to say if she’d heard the way he was talking to the others moments ago. Would she have even noticed? Haros scowled.
Not wanting to seem too keen or to attract too much attention, Haros forced himself to walk away from the bars. He sat on the cushioned bench and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers.
“Come. Right this way. I’m afraid there isn’t a vast selection. Your father’s specifications were rather tight; however, we have presented our very best for you.”
Haros listened as three sets of footsteps approached. His heart thundered in his chest.
A pale gown, almost pearlescent in colour, swept into his peripheral vision and the demon eagerly glanced across at the princess.
Haros lost his breath. She was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen.
Chapter Four
Sivelle swept her heavy fur stole from her shoulders and draped it over the back of the luxurious lounge chair before her. She could feel her long silk gloves sticking to the sweat on her palms. The princess was so anxious, she felt nauseous. She desperately fought the urge to twirl her hair around her fingers – a nervous tick of hers. Instead, her arms hung heavy and useless by her sides. She licked her lips in an attempt to alleviate her dry mouth.
Sivelle had cursed her father every step of the journey here. She had never wanted this. What would she even do with a thrall? She still felt awkward ordering Mivian around sometimes and the girl had been her handmaiden for years.
A male thrall was especially daunting. The only men she had ever spoken to for more than a few minutes were her blood-relations. How was she going to cope having a male slave at her heels all day, every day?
The princess clung to the faint relief that at least this man, whoever he ended up being, would have no interest in her sexually. She had to keep reminding herself of that important fact.
He was going to be no different than any of the female servants. In fact, it was rumoured that eunuchs were even more placid and reliable, making them impeccably good thralls.
Sivelle shook herself. It didn’t negate the fact that she still didn’t actually want one. This was supposed to be her birthday present and yet she felt like she wanted to cry whenever she thought about it.
She was turning thirty a lonely, virgin slave trader. Sivelle placed her palm against her abdomen as her stomach churned. She was so opposed to slavery, it made her feel faint just thinking about it.
What had she ever done to deserve this?
“Please, Your Highness, feel free to browse at your leisure.” Captain Greyleaf bowed low, keeping his eyes averted from hers.
Her King’s Guard escort loitered silently in the background like a bad smell. The large man had not spoken a word to her the entire way here, as per usual.
Sivelle took a deep breath and, steeling her nerves, glanced across into the cells. Hollow, worried expressions gazed back at her and she hurriedly looked away. Her wings fluttered, shrinking and folding back with fear.
Sensing her apprehension, Greyleaf held out his arm for her. “Come, Your Highness. I shall show you to each of the thralls.”
The princess took it gladly, relieved to have someone to hold onto, and nodded weakly. Her legs shook as she approached the first cell.
The boy inside couldn’t have been a day over fifteen. He scampered away to the back of the cell fearfully.
“F-father says I am to pick a sentry to watch over me.” Sivelle’s voice shook. The boy’s reaction had surprised her.
“Well this cowardly specimen would be no use to you, Princess,” Greyleaf said, a spiteful edge developing in his tone.
“No. I suppose not.”
The princess gazed through the bars at the poor wretch as he continued to watch her fearfully from the far corner of the cell. She looked away with a frown. Surely, she wasn’t anything to be frightened of. Were these men afraid of her because of her father?
Greyleaf led them to the next cell. This thrall stood patiently and allowed her to observe him. The man stared straight ahead, his eyes vacant and glassy. Something about him unnerved her.
“Now, this thrall looks a little more stalwart.”
“No. No, not this one,” Sivelle said quickly. Her stomach churned as she looked at the thrall’s emotionless expression.
“As you wish, Princess.” The captain walked ahead with her obediently.
Her heart hammered in her chest and she begged silently for this to be over. How could people be so blasé about selecting thralls?
They reached the next cell. This man also stood still for her to observe him. Though his face seemed kindlier than the last, Sivelle couldn’t help but notice his stature.
Though he was slightly taller than her, the princess felt she would make a better bodyguard than he would. She should be the one protecting him, not the other way around.
“He’s… quite small,” she muttered.
“I couldn’t agree more,” Greyleaf replied. “It is an unfortunate trait in most, uh, men of his condition, particularly if they have been enslaved since boyhood.”
‘Men of his condition’. Sivelle knew Greyleaf was politely referencing the thrall’s castration. The princess shivered. That was something she desperately didn’t want to think about.
At the fourth cell, another emotionless husk met them. Sivelle hurried past towards the last of the cells. She was relieved to see the end of the block, marking the end of her traumatic experience.
Would her father be angry with her if she didn’t select a thrall? No, it was more likely that he would punish all these innocent people for wasting his daughter’s time. Unfortunately, Sivelle wasn’t convinced this would be her last visit. Her father would continue to send her to these viewings until she eventually conceded.
Before they reached the bars of the last cell, Greyleaf hesitated and slowed at her side.
“What is it, Captain?” she asked, gazing at him with curiosity.
“Before we conclude here, I would first like to apologise for the standard of thralls available for you today, Your Highness. It was very short notice, not that that’s an excuse, naturally. I assure you, should you wish to come back next week, I will arrange to have some of the other men freshly… prepared for you and—”
“Goodness, no! That’s barbaric!” Sivelle exclaimed. The words had escaped her before she could stop them.
“I-I’m terribly sorry, Princess. Please—” the captain stammered. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his forehead nervously.
Sivelle realised with a start that even this man was scared of her. No, not her – they were all terrified of her father.
“There’s one more cell,” she stated simply, gesturing ahead at the last cubicle.
“I’m afraid this is the worst of them, Princess,” Greyleaf replied, keeping his voice low and apologetic.
Sivelle felt the hairs on her nape stand up. Worse than what she had seen so far? Could that be possible?
“Why so?” she asked.
“The last is… He’s a demon, Your Highness. I told them to exclude demons from the selection, but—”
The princess supposed she had nothing left to lose. She might as well confront the demon and get it over with.
Sivelle’s thoughts immediately turned to Lori and Faye. Unlike her sisters, the thought of meeting a demon, face to face, did not worry her. She loved her sisters more than anything, but she hadn’t been totally honest with them growing up.
When Sivelle had been in her early teens, their father had expressed his concern about her younger sisters. He believed they were becoming unruly and feared
they would end up getting into trouble. A vast underestimation on his part, as it turned out.
As the eldest, sensible sister, their father had entrusted Sivelle with a secret, one she had pledged to keep from Lori and Faye. Sivelle had believed an irrational fear of monsters would keep her sisters safely within Awrelwood’s walls and had agreed to tell her little sisters horror stories of the terrifying, blood-thirsty demons.
Sivelle had obeyed her father’s wishes, but it had done no one any good in the end. To this day, her sisters were unaware that demons were rarely as frightening as they were led to believe as children.
“Show me.”
They stepped in front of the cell. Eyes the colour of the richest chocolate met with hers instantly.
“Oh!” Sivelle exclaimed. She hadn’t even been aware that the small, surprised squeak had escaped her until it was too late. She felt her cheeks flush.
The shirtless demon sat on the bench inside the cell, leaning his forearms against his legs. He didn’t obediently get to his feet for her inspection, just gazed back at her intently.
He was handsome. Alarmingly so. Sivelle gasped for air, noticing for the first time how tightly her corset was laced.
“Get to your feet, brute,” Greyleaf hissed.
The demon fixed Captain Greyleaf with a poisonous glare through the bars but obeyed his request.
“Oh…” Sivelle pressed her lips together as she hungrily took in the vast expanse of the demon’s smooth, muscular torso.
He was tall – much taller than she and even Greyleaf. There was no denying he was by far the most formidable of all the thralls she had been shown. She didn’t doubt for a second that he would be a valiant protector.
Sivelle dragged her eyes away from the demon’s impressive abdominal muscles. Her stomach flipped as she realised he was appraising her just as thoroughly.
“Would… would you like to see the demon’s paperwork, Your Highness?” Greyleaf asked hesitantly.
“Yes. Please,” Sivelle replied breathlessly. She didn’t take her eyes from the demon before her. Her feet were frozen in place as the captain strode away from her side, back to the desk.
“Shit, you look so much like your sister,” the demon grated, keeping his voice low. He trailed his eyes over her.
Sivelle felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her head.
“M-my sister?” she whispered.
“Lori. She’s not a fucking patch on you though…” The demon scrubbed a hand over his mouth.
“H-how…?”
“Sign the paperwork and I’ll tell you.” He shot her an intense, smouldering smile.
All too soon Greyleaf was back at her side.
“This is Harris. He’s got a good clean record, by all accounts. He was imprisoned for standing on the cloak of a King’s Guard captain.”
“For standing on a cloak?” Sivelle gasped incredulously at Greyleaf.
The demon smirked at her through the bars, his eyes sparkling with interest.
“Th-that’s what it says here, Your Highness.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she muttered angrily.
“There is nothing much more of any interest to add,” Greyleaf hurriedly continued. “Naturally, should you decide to purchase this thrall, you’ll get a full copy of his credentials.”
Sivelle stared at the handsome, mysterious demon inside the cell. He knew Lori? How was that possible? She needed to know.
“I’ll take him.” The princess marched away, her gown sweeping behind her. Her stomach fizzed with nerves and she hastily put as much ground between herself and the magnetic demon as she could.
Sivelle’s hands shook as she rushed to get her stole back around her shoulders. Greyleaf hurried after her.
“Y-yes, of course, Your Highness,” he spluttered. “I’m glad to have been of service. Please, I just need a signature—”
Sivelle snatched the quill from his outstretched hand and dipped it into the ink pot. Greyleaf pointed to a small blank section at the bottom of the lengthy legal form. The princess didn’t read it, just swirled her signature against the parchment.
“When can I expect him?” she asked, ignoring the tremor in her voice.
“As soon as we can get him chained up, Your Highness. There’s a small amount of paperwork to complete and then the transaction will be complete. I can have him with you by this afternoon.”
“Excellent. I will be in my chambers. My escort will ensure he gets to me.” Sivelle glanced at the large guard beside her. He nodded silently in agreement.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Princess. May I say—”
Sivelle ignored the captain. She walked away abruptly, uncaring that he was mid-sentence.
“Come, let us go back to the castle.” She strode ahead. Greyleaf gaped and his mouth opened and closed like a goldfish.
Sivelle shivered. She was sure she could still feel the demon’s eyes on her, even from across the room.
What had she let herself in for?
∞∞∞
Sivelle burst into her chambers, startling Mivian who was dusting the mantlepiece surrounding the large fireplace.
“Princess! Is everything alright?” the handmaiden gasped.
“No, Mivian, it’s certainly not!” Sivelle slammed her bedroom door shut. She paced back and forth, twirling a long strand of hair around her fingers.
“Oh no, was it that bad?” Mivian’s face crumpled sympathetically and she rushed to Sivelle’s side, dusting cloth still in hand.
“Yes… No… I don’t know!”
“Could you speak with your father? I know he’s not the most even-tempered of men, but surely he would be just as happy to buy you some other unnecessarily extravagant gift – a throne, or a golden statue of yourself? Anything, really. He might forget all about this slave business.”
“It’s too late for that. I selected a thrall.” Sivelle stopped pacing and hid her face behind her hands.
“Oh!”
“I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“…Are they refundable?” the handmaiden asked with a smile and, despite her turmoil, Sivelle fought to suppress a laugh.
“Oh, Mivian. What have I done?”
“Don’t worry yourself over it, Princess. It might take a bit of getting used to, but I’m sure we can find our new friend some chores to keep him busy. He’ll be part of the furniture before you know it.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” Sivelle snorted and Mivian shot her a quizzical look. “The thrall I’ve selected is a demon.”
Mivian’s mouth dropped open and the princess finally released the laughter she was holding in.
“I told you! I’ve made a big mistake!”
“But your father… He won’t like that.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking!” Sivelle shook her head. She paused, debating whether to tell her handmaiden the full story about how she came to her decision.
Her insides burned with curiosity. The demon knew Lori – how was that possible? Though apprehensive, she eagerly awaited his arrival. She would be able to interrogate him in private, away from prying ears.
Her face flushed. She was going to have to stand, face to face, with that formidable, devilishly handsome demon. There would be no bars between them this time. Sivelle felt sick.
“Okay, this isn’t the end of the world. We’ll find a way to fix this,” Mivian continued, frowning determinedly.
Sivelle walked to the large doors leading to her private balcony and stared out vacantly. Everything was coated with white and sparkled invitingly, like thousands of tiny jewels, in the sunshine.
A small bird hopped through the thick dusting of snow. It shook its feathers off and scratched around, hunting for insects.
“What a disaster,” the princess sighed.
“What made you choose a demon thrall, Your Highness?” Mivian asked, trying to mask the surprise in her voice.
He was handsome beyond all reason. He recognised me as Lori’s
sister. His dark mysterious eyes and stunning physique…
“I’m not sure.” Sivelle lied.
“Here, why don’t you sit down a moment.”
Mivian appeared at Sivelle’s side and gently took the princess’s shoulders in her hands. Sivelle allowed the girl to guide her to the soft, plush seat in front of the fireplace. She sat obediently and stared into the flames.
Her handmaiden hurried to the door and popped her head out into the corridor.
“Could the princess have some tea, please?”
Though the heat from the fire was warm against her face, Sivelle shivered. In a matter of hours, her demon thrall would be delivered. She felt ridiculous, acknowledging how excited she was by the prospect.
The man may have been handsome, but he was also a eunuch. She needed to remember that. He wouldn’t be interested in her the way she was shamefully interested in him. It was nothing personal, just simple biological fact.
Maybe Mivian was right. It wouldn’t be so bad – he was certainly easy on the eyes and his presence would allow her to return to normal. She would no longer be a prisoner in her own home. Besides, it would be a welcome change to have a handsome, albeit sexually inert, man to look at day in, day out.
Really, it was a perfect scenario for a woman like her. Sivelle had a real appreciation for attractive men, but, unlike her sisters, was petrified by the thought of intimacy with one. This demon could very well be a dream come true for her.
Mivian reappeared at her side and held out a dainty china cup, filled with sweet tea. Sivelle took it from her and nodded her head in thanks.
“So, what time are we expecting our new arrival?” the handmaiden asked and perched herself on the chair beside Sivelle.
“They said this afternoon.”
The princess took a cautious sip from the hot cup and wrapped her hands around it, enjoying the warmth seeping through her thin silk gloves.
“Where is he going to sleep? The servants’ quarters are full. Some of the kitchen maids are already sharing beds as it is.”