by K. L. Thorne
Sivelle stilled. That was a good point; something neither she nor her father had anticipated.
“…He will have to sleep here with me until we can make other arrangements,” Sivelle replied, trying to ignore the wave of nervous nausea that thought brought with it. She repeated her mantra – he was a eunuch, she had nothing to fear.
“I’m sure the demon won’t mind. Anything would be a luxury after spending time in a cell, I suppose. Besides, you said your father had specifically requested a thrall that was…” Mivian trailed off.
“Yes.” Sivelle nodded.
“That’s fine then. There is no concern about having him stay here with you.”
“It will be strange having a man around – even though he is only half of one.” The princess swallowed.
That demon certainly hadn’t looked like half a man when he had been towering over her through those bars.
“I, for one, am looking forward to it. I like making new friends and it will be nice to have some brute strength around here.” Mivian smiled.
Sivelle laughed and took another sip from her cup.
“I need to finish cleaning. I’ll fetch your book and you can sit there for a moment and relax.”
“Yes, thank you, Mivian.”
As usual, after talking things though with her handmaiden, Sivelle felt herself relaxing. She was still undeniably nervous, but the cold sense of dread had left her. This was going to be fine, she had nothing to worry about.
She was a princess, for goodness sake, and he was her thrall. She was in charge and he had to obey her commands… Sivelle just had to ignore the nagging feeling in her gut. Nothing about that gorgeous demon had struck her as overly submissive.
Chapter Five
It had taken less time than Haros had thought for the faeries to get his affairs in order. Every time the false docket had been signed or stamped, he had held his breath and waited for someone to realise he was not Harris.
They never did.
Greyleaf had dismissed himself shortly after the princess, leaving the administration tasks to his grunts. Haros sat patiently inside the faux cell whilst guards hurried back and forth, preparing his transfer.
The princess… He felt a smile creep onto his face. What a pleasant surprise she had been.
If Haros thought Lori was an attractive piece, her sister was something else entirely. She was stunningly beautiful.
Her reaction to Greyleaf’s pandering had surprised him. He recalled the way the princess had outright dismissed the arrogant prick with a smug smile. It was rare that a woman managed to surprise him.
He hoped she and Lori had similar taste in men. Haros was already unabashedly interested in her and had temporarily shelved his great escape plan in lieu of seducing her. Provided the attraction wasn’t wholly one-sided, he supposed it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy himself a little before he made his departure.
A faerie approached the bars of the cell, drawing Haros’s attention. He definitely wasn’t one of the guards. The man had a tool belt strapped around his hips that was filled with a plethora of grooming tools – a razorblade, combs, brushes, scissors… There was a towel strewn over his shoulder and he held a large bowl of water in his hands.
A guard unlocked the cell and held the door open for the slim man to enter before closing it behind him.
“No need to look so worried, demon. The name is Luis, I’m the prison barber,” he explained.
“I don’t trust faeries with razorblades in their pockets,” Haros retorted.
Luis rolled his eyes. “I’m here to shave you, not shank you. You look like a vagrant. We can’t send you to the princess looking like this.”
“Let’s lock you in a freezing cold cell for a few days and see how pristine you look.”
Luis chose to ignore him, focussing instead on readying his tools. Haros watched warily as the man wetted a small square of cloth in the water and reached up to wipe it against Haros’s face. Haros leaned away from his advance.
“Honestly, it’s just water. It won’t bite,” Luis teased.
Reluctantly, the demon allowed the barber to proceed. Once Haros’s face was suitably damp, Luis leant in with a soft bristled brush that was coated in a thick foamy soap. He worked it gently in circles around Haros’s mouth and jaw until the entirety of his stubble was coated.
Next came the razor. Haros watched the lethal sliver of metal cautiously. Luis grabbed Haros’s chin and the demon held his breath as the blade was run across his skin.
After each stroke, the barber wiped the soapy residue onto the towel on his shoulder. Haros obediently allowed his face to be tugged back and forth, up and down as he was shaved.
Once his chin was smooth, Luis turned his attention to Haros’s hair line and used the razor to neaten all around the edges.
“That’s a little better.” The barber nodded. He wiped the soap from Haros’s skin with the damp cloth. To Haros’s surprise, Luis also washed over his horns, neck, chest and armpits.
“The rest will have to wait until you get to the castle.” The faerie dropped his eyes to the demon’s crotch. “I’m not paid enough for that.”
Haros glared back at him, but remained silent.
Luis removed a pair of scissors from his belt and began trimming Haros’s hair.
“Is this really necessary?” Haros asked.
“Here in Awrelwood, it’s important to always look clean and presentable. Particularly for you, as you are to be seen in conjunction with a member of the royal family. I didn’t think your kind would understand,” Luis sneered.
“Fuck you,” Haros growled, but the faerie ignored him once more.
When he had finally finished trimming, Luis picked up a small brush and dipped its bristles into a tub of strong-smelling mint paste before holding it out to Haros.
“For your teeth,” he explained.
“I know what a toothbrush is.” Haros snatched the brush from the man’s hand.
Though resentful of the implication that he was oblivious to even the simplest of hygiene practices, it was a relief to finally be able to brush his teeth. It was a luxury Haros had been denied since his capture.
“Guard. The chest, if you please,” Luis called out.
The guard posted outside the cell strode from view and Haros watched curiously when he returned, carrying a heavy-looking leather-bound chest. He unlocked the cell door and dropped it inside.
The barber opened the lid. It was filled to the brim with clothing.
“There’s not much choice for a man of your stature, I’m afraid.” The faerie rummaged through, pausing to hold out a few shirts as he mentally sized the demon up.
Haros handed the toothbrush back to Luis. The faerie held it at arm’s length between his thumb and forefinger, as if it were contaminated, before dropping it by the door to the cell.
“Stand. Let’s get a good look at you.”
Haros obeyed silently and allowed the man to fuss around him, holding up various shirts and trousers. Eventually, they narrowed the choice down to a plain undershirt, a grey woollen jerkin and a pair of dark leather breeches.
Haros hurriedly tugged the shirt and jerkin on. Typically, they were too small and the woollen material clung far too tightly to his body, but he was appreciative. Not only was he significantly warmer, but he felt some of his anxiety lessen with his tattoo finally covered up.
The leather breeches just about fastened around his hips, though Haros didn’t fancy his chances of being able to bend down too far. Luis threw a thick pair of socks and some plain boots at him. Haros gratefully donned them.
“There. You’re not perfect, but it’s an improvement. Just one last thing.”
From the chest, Luis produced two golden clasps.
“What are they for?” Haros asked.
“You’re a thrall now. You need to wear them so the guards can identify you as such.” The faerie grasped one of Haros’s arms and clipped the metal into place before repeating his actions for the other.
The demon frowned and looked down at his wrists. Though decidedly more elegant-looking and cast in gold, they were essentially manacle cuffs without the chain. Each had a loop of metal attached – presumably for quick and easy restraint, should it be required. He tugged against them, but the metal was fastened securely.
“The demon is ready for transfer,” Luis called out.
A different, much larger guard strode forwards with paperwork in hand. He had a familiar crest emblazoned on the chest piece of his armour – the King’s Guard. Haros felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Haros turned his back and held out his freshly manacled wrists obediently. The guard tugged his wrists together and clipped the manacles to one another.
“Come, demon.”
Haros was marched from the cell. As they reached the main door and the guard pushed it open, Haros shuddered. The temperature was still below freezing, despite the sun shining. The woollen jerkin did little to protect him from the elements.
“This way.” The guard steered him across the courtyard. Other than the crunching of snow beneath their boots, they walked in silence.
At the other side, Haros was led through a door into a corridor, then up a flight of stairs and along another corridor, across a rampart, down a flight of stairs… It was seemingly unending.
They saw very few of the castle’s inhabitants as they travelled, besides the sentries that were posted at almost every door. Haros garnered several curious glances as he and his escort passed by.
They crossed another frozen courtyard, eventually coming to a halt outside a set of large, ornately carved wooden doors. The guard stepped forward and unlocked them before gesturing Haros inside.
A young servant girl was crossing the large open entrance hall with a basket of linens resting on her hip. She stared at Haros as he stepped inside and her eyes grew wide. She scurried from view into a side room and closed the door quickly behind her. No doubt he was going to be the talk of the kitchen for the next few days.
He glanced around. Awrelwood castle was just as extravagant as he had imagined it would be.
The walls were a dark, glossy wood which was carved into all manner of elaborate patterns and designs. Every surface had some form of precious antiquity upon it. Large paintings and mirrors adorned every wall.
Another King’s Guard soldier strode forward to meet them. Without a word, the guard at Haros’s back passed a handful of paperwork to the other before silently letting himself out. The demon heard the door shut then lock behind him.
Haros hurriedly followed as the man before him turned and marched away. He was led up a flight of stairs and down a long, narrow corridor.
They stopped outside a door and the soldier rapped his knuckles against the wood sharply. Haros’s heart thumped in his chest and he clenched and unclenched his fists.
“Enter,” a woman called from inside.
The guard opened the door and Haros hesitated at the entrance. Noticing his apprehension, the soldier grabbed him and he was dragged roughly into the room.
A slender, mousey-looking servant girl stood before him, her eyes wide with surprise. She held out a hand as the guard handed her the documents.
“If he causes you any trouble, let me know.”
“Yes, thank you,” the girl replied vacantly.
The door shut with a soft click. Haros and the faerie girl stared at one another for a long moment.
“Am I, uh, allowed these off, or…?” Haros eventually asked, nodding backwards in the direction of his manacles.
“Your Highness?” The girl glanced across the room and Haros eagerly followed her gaze.
He had failed to notice the princess at first. She was curled up on a window seat with her pale gown spilling out around her. She stared out through the glass at the snow.
Though the faerie deliberately had her face turned away from him, Haros was gladdened to be looking at her again. Her blonde hair flowed down her back, between her delicate gossamer wings, in soft curls. It was so long she was almost able to sit on it.
He clenched his jaw. He always had loved women with long hair, and hers was particularly beautiful, so pale it was almost white.
“Not yet,” the princess replied sternly.
The servant girl shot him an apologetic glance before heading across the room and holding out the paperwork for the princess. She turned and cast her eyes across the parchment curiously. Haros stood still and silent, glad that his wrists were chained together so he didn’t have to find something to do with his hands.
“Harris, is it?”
“Actually, no. That was a bit of a misunderstanding. My name is Haros,” he clarified.
Despite his initial intentions of keeping all factual information vague, Haros couldn’t bring himself to allow the princess to call him by the wrong name. That would be a real turn off.
“Haros…” she repeated thoughtfully. “An easy mistake to make, I suppose.”
“Which Goldwyrm are you? If you don’t mind my asking.”
The princess didn’t respond, but her body stiffened. She reached up and twirled a glossy curl around her finger.
“Mivian. Could you give my thrall and I a moment, please?”
“Certainly, Your Highness.” The servant girl, Mivian, nodded. She hurried past and quietly let herself out into the corridor.
There was a lengthy pause before the princess spoke again and finally glanced across the room. Her pale blue gaze met with his.
“You have a lot of explaining to do, demon,” she said frostily.
“You have no idea.”
The princess cast her eyes over him. “You look… different.”
“I’m fully clothed and clean.” Haros shrugged with a smile.
“Good. You’re much more presentable now.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart. How do you know Lori?” the princess snapped, sitting up and swinging her legs off the edge of the window seat to face him.
“I asked first. Give me your name and I’ll tell you about Lori,” Haros countered with a grin. “She and I have already played this game, Princess. I always win in the end.”
“Sivelle. I’m Lori’s eldest sister,” she huffed.
“That wasn’t so difficult, was it, Sivelle? That’s a pretty name. I like it.”
Haros almost laughed as the princess pursed her lips impatiently.
“I was captured whilst aiding Lori’s escape. Your father sent his men to kill her but, luckily for her, my commander and I were around to make sure that didn’t happen.”
Sivelle’s face remained void of emotion, but her eyes flickered with sadness. She blinked and stared at her hands in her lap.
“He tried to have her killed?” she whispered.
“Emphasis on ‘tried’, sweetheart. He didn’t succeed and Lori escaped with my commander. She will be safe with him, I swear it,” Haros’s voice softened.
“And Faye? What do you know of her whereabouts?” Sivelle asked hurriedly.
“Whoa, hang on – both sisters have run? We were only looking for Lori.”
“Faye left a day or so after Lori in an attempt to bring her back safely. Faye wasn’t with Lori when you found her?” Sivelle’s face fell.
“I’m afraid not.” Haros shook his head.
“Oh.” Sivelle closed her eyes and pressed her lips together.
“Lori was definitely alone when we picked her up on the main road. My commander was taking her to Banesteppe to meet with King Zelrus when the King’s Guard ambushed us.”
“And what will your commander do with Lori now you’ve been captured?”
“Ha, there’s a question I could answer many ways…” Haros laughed hoarsely and shook his head. “He will take her back to Banesteppe, as planned. Believe me when I say your sister was very much alive when I saw her last.”
“Thank you. That’s a small relief at least.”
“If it’s any consolation, she wa
s missing you terribly.”
Sivelle stood and turned her back as she walked to the fireplace, but not before Haros had seen her blinking away tears.
“You said you and Lori talked?” she prompted.
“Briefly. I asked her some questions, she asked me some – it was a little game we were playing. She’s got a bit of an attitude, that sister of yours.”
“Hm, funny. Both she and Faye would tell you I was the stroppy one.”
“Well that still remains to be seen.” Haros grinned. “So, you’re the eldest? By how much?”
“Nearly four years.”
“So, you’re thirty?”
“Goodness, you weren’t joking when you said you’d gotten to know Lori. She told you about us?” Sivelle looked up at him with wide, surprised eyes.
“Not really, but she did tell me how old she is and I did the maths.”
“Your calculations are slightly off. I’m not thirty – not yet, anyway.”
“Close enough.”
“What else did she tell you?” Sivelle asked.
“Nothing of any importance. She was mostly keen to know whether my commander was single.” Haros’s smile morphed into laughter when Sivelle rolled her eyes. “I take it that’s no surprise to you?”
“Figures, the little trollop,” Sivelle chided with a shake of her head. Her eyes grew misty once more. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear she’s alright. I’ve been so worried about her.”
“I can’t help you with Faye, but I can guarantee Lori’s safety if she’s with Lephas. The man is nothing if not a stalwart protector and a gentleman.”
“Good.” Sivelle breathed a sigh of relief.
“Now that’s cleared up, I don’t suppose I could be unbound?”
“Yes, of course.” Sivelle nodded and turned towards him. Her gown swept elegantly behind her as she approached.
Haros’s heart sped up. Never one to shy away from an opportunity to pay a woman a compliment, he cleared his throat.
“You really are very beautiful, you know. Much more so than your younger sister. No offence meant to Lori, naturally,” he said.
Just at that moment, Sivelle stood on her own skirts and stumbled slightly.