In Chains

by K. L. Thorne

“I’m already unbinding you, there’s no need to butter me up now, demon,” she replied quickly, her voice tight.

  “I’ve got no ulterior motive. It’s just an observation.”

  Sivelle hurried from beneath his gaze to his back and unclipped his manacles from one another.

  “So, what do we do now? I’ve never been someone’s slave before. I’m not sure how this all goes.” Haros glanced around the large bedroom.

  “That makes two of us. I’ve never owned one,” Sivelle replied and headed for the door. She opened it and ushered Mivian back inside.

  “I think it’s time for proper introductions. Haros, this is my handmaiden Mivian.”

  The faerie girl gave him a timid smile which he returned.

  “Not that I have any possessions other than the clothes on my back, but where will I be living?” Haros asked. He cocked an eyebrow when the princess and her handmaiden shared a look.

  “There’s been somewhat of an oversight,” Sivelle hedged.

  “The servants’ quarters are full. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay here, with Sivelle, for the time being,” Mivian chipped in.

  “No issue. I’ve been told I do some of my best work in the bedroom.” Haros winked.

  Mivian tittered behind her hand, but Sivelle scowled disapprovingly.

  “I’m joking, Princess. The fireside is a welcome improvement on a hard metal cot. What duties will I be performing? I got the impression that you weren’t particularly keen on selecting a slave yesterday.”

  Sivelle winced. “Please – thrall, not slave. You are a gift for my thirtieth birthday from my father.”

  “Well isn’t that just peachy.” Haros felt his expression turn grim.

  “Mivian already undertakes most day to day chores. I had something a little more specific in mind for you. Have you had any formal combat training?”

  “A little,” Haros lied, fighting a smirk.

  “Perfect. You won’t have a weapon, but your main duty will be to guard me. Since my sisters’ escape, security has been rather strict around here, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

  “Understandably.”

  “My father has agreed that I can once again roam freely within my wing of the castle, provided I have a sentry.” Sivelle smiled and Haros realised with a start it was the first he had seen from her. It was a good look on her.

  “I’ll endeavour to do my best for you, Princess.”

  “Then it’s settled. I do not plan on going anywhere for the rest of the day, but maybe you and I can take a small tour of the castle tomorrow. Are you hungry?” she asked.

  “Famished.” The demon nodded eagerly.

  “Mivian, can you head down to the kitchens and see to it that Haros’s supper is served in my chambers tonight, please?”

  “Of course, Your Highness.” The girl dipped her head and slipped out through the door once again.

  “Haros, let me be clear on one thing. I’m not interested in controlling you. Provided you are at my side when I need you, you are welcome to do as you please.” Sivelle fixed him with a serious look.

  “That’s mighty generous of you. If I’d known being a thrall was going to be this way, I’d have done it years ago,” Haros teased.

  “Consider it a token of my appreciation for protecting Lori.” Sivelle’s lips quirked into a small smile.

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Any time.”

  ∞∞∞

  Haros had never eaten a meal so delicious in his entire life. He wasn’t sure exactly what he had been served, but it was the best thing he had ever tasted.

  “I hadn’t realised how hungry I was.” He handed an elaborately decorated china plate and his fork to Mivian.

  The handmaiden smirked. “You certainly made short work of it. I take it everything was to your satisfaction?”

  “Very much so.” Haros sighed and leant back against the soft cushions of the settee, stretching out his full stomach.

  Sivelle had left shortly before the meal had been served. Apparently, it was wholly inappropriate for her to eat dinner in her chambers. Haros was grateful to have been excused from accompanying her to the dining room.

  Mivian had stayed behind despite her own meal waiting for her, going cold, in the kitchen.

  “Don’t get used to it. You’ll be eating with the rest of us servants after this evening.”

  The girl pulled a thin silk rope that dangled beside a small door, mid-way up the wall. A bell rang faintly and she slid the hatch open, revealing a shelf above a hidden chute. Haros’s dirty crockery was loaded inside. Mivian closed the door and pulled the rope a second time, returning the plates to the kitchen.

  “Not a problem. I don’t suppose the food the servants get is usually that good?”

  “We eat whatever Dori—I mean, the chef is cooking. Since the other princesses are no longer around, we generally get a share of whatever he’s making for Sivelle. It’s difficult to make meals for one.” Mivian shrugged.

  “Were you surprised when the others fled?” Haros asked curiously.

  She hurried across the room, turning down the bed sheets and fluffing pillows in preparation for the princess’s return

  “Not in the slightest. I am Sivelle’s handmaiden, so I didn’t spend an awful lot of time with the other two sisters, but even I was privy to their unhappiness. Princess Lori spoke openly of her desire to escape.”

  “It’s hard to believe anyone could be unhappy here, living in such luxury,” Haros marvelled, glancing around the room and running his hand over the plush surface of the couch he sat upon.

  “It’s all relative, isn’t it? I’m sure even my humble childhood home was lavish in comparison to yours.” Mivian smiled.

  “There’s no doubt. Unless you grew up in a vat of shit, it would be difficult to get much worse.”

  “Goodness!” The handmaiden’s face was horrified.

  “I’ve spent more than my fair share of nights sleeping in a pig pen. Admittedly that was because my father threw me in there whenever I misbehaved, but…” Haros grinned.

  “Well, you get no sympathy from me then,” Mivian teased and disappeared into what appeared to be a large walk-in wardrobe.

  Haros got to his feet, his curiosity getting the better of him.

  Mivian hadn’t heard him follow her. She was on her knees, digging through a drawer filled with an overabundance of frilled and delicately laced knickers. The handmaiden casually held up a tiny scrap of rose-pink material and stretched them out, surveying them thoughtfully.

  “Very nice,” Haros grated.

  Mivian startled. “You scared me!”

  “I take it they don’t belong to you?” He jerked his chin toward the lingerie with a grin.

  “Definitely not. I’m just laying fresh clothes out for the princess. She will want to get out of that gown when she returns from supper.”

  “She doesn’t pick her own panties?” Haros cocked a brow and eyed the drawer with interest. It was getting him a little riled up just looking at some of the intimate fabrics bundled within.

  “Of course she does. I’m just being helpful. I select her clothes most days, or at least provide a choice for her to pick from.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Why don’t you make yourself useful? Can you get a nightgown from the bottom drawer over there?” Mivian nodded her head towards a chest of drawers.

  “I’m not sure I’ve got much of a fashion sense, but sure.” Haros laughed. Upon opening the drawer, he was assaulted with yet more lace and silk.

  “Just pick one. Any will do, really.”

  Haros rummaged around, eventually selecting the skimpiest nightgown he could find. It was made of silk and stained a deep, rich blue, like the colour of a sapphire. He held out the gown to Mivian.

  “An unusual choice for the middle of winter, but alright.” The handmaiden shrugged and left the wardrobe to lay the night clothes out on the bed.

  “Where should I sleep? I assume I’m not sharing a bed wi
th the princess?” Haros asked.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Mivian hurried back into the closet, returning shortly after with an armful of bed linens and a pillow. She dumped them unceremoniously on the upholstered seat in front of the fire. “There you are – have at it.”

  “You’re not going to make my bed and lay out night clothes for me, then?” Haros teased and bent to pick up the heavy down pillow. He began shoving it roughly into a pillowcase.

  Mivian laughed. “No, I am not! I may be a lowly servant, but you’re a thrall. Technically, I’m your superior. So less of that cheek, please!”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Before long, the princess returned. Haros was already laid up in his new bed, albeit fully clothed and still wearing his boots. Sivelle cast him an incredulous look and pursed her lips.

  “I see you’ve wasted no time settling in.”

  “Just grateful to be here, Princess.” He smiled at her and tucked his arms beneath his head.

  Sivelle rolled her eyes irritably and pulled each of her silk gloves off. She threw them down on a nearby dressing table.

  “Would you like to change into your nightwear, Your Highness?” Mivian appeared at the princess’s side.

  “Yes, I need to get out of this corset. It’s killing me.”

  Sivelle cast Haros a shy glance and he realised with a start that she meant to undress here. In front of him. He watched silently from the chair as the princess swept her long hair over one shoulder and Mivian began unlacing her gown.

  Never one to question a good thing, Haros held his tongue and observed keenly as the situation unfurled before him.

  The heavy satin gown sagged around Sivelle’s slender frame as the handmaiden pulled the corset loose. She slid the girl’s wings out through slits sewn into the back of the gown. The princess held it in place with her hands against her chest. She looked nervous; her eyes were downcast and her lips pressed tightly together.

  “Your Highness?” Mivian looked up at Sivelle questioningly.

  “I… I have no brassier under this dress, Mivian,” the princess whispered.

  Mivian glanced between Haros and Sivelle. “He’s only a thrall, Your Highness. There’s no reason to be shy of him, remember?”

  “Yes, of course. It’s just… going to take a bit of getting used to.” The princess smiled sheepishly and released the material from her grasp.

  Haros could feel his heart pounding in his chest and he held his breath. An eternity seemed to pass before the pearlescent gown fell to the floor, pooling around the girl’s feet.

  Sivelle hastily wrapped an arm over her exposed breasts, but it was too late. Haros had already seen them. Though small, the flesh was pert, soft and creamy with nipples that matched the dusky hue of the lace knickers laid out on the bed.

  The rest of her body was just as wonderful to behold. She was impossibly slender at her waist with strong, toned thighs and a generous behind. The princess looked almost too good to be true.

  Haros’s mouth was dry. Sivelle turned her back on him and rearranged her undergarments, casually plucking the lace from between the cheeks of her bottom. The demon sank a fang into his tongue in a bid to remain silent.

  Mivian held out the blue nightgown Haros had selected and the princess shimmied into it. He ran a shaking palm over his mouth as Sivelle stepped out of one pair of knickers and into another clean pair.

  The handmaiden unclasped the various gems and jewels that Sivelle wore, including a small tiara, and disappeared into the closet with them.

  Haros hurriedly cast his eyes away and stared at the fire as the princess turned to face him once more. He feared he was coming across as more of a pyromaniac than casually indifferent as he fought to keep his eyes on the fire and not on the scantily clad faerie before him.

  He was equal parts relieved and disappointed when Sivelle scurried to her bed out of his eyeline.

  Haros had been keen to seduce the princess before, but now he was itching to. He had only been her thrall for a matter of hours and had already gotten a good look at her underwear drawer and superb little body.

  Haros had meant what he had said – if he had known being a thrall was going to be this way, he’d have done it years ago.

  Chapter Six

  The heavy drapes whisked open and bright light burst into the room. Sivelle rolled over and hid her head beneath her blanket with a groan.

  “Come on, time to get up,” Mivian crowed.

  Sivelle stilled, surprised and confused for a moment when a man’s voice answered her handmaiden.

  “Fuck. It’s too early,” Haros grumbled.

  Mivian laughed. “It’s practically noon! Don’t tell me I’m going to have to wrestle you out of bed in the mornings too. It’s bad enough trying to get her up!”

  “Mivian!” Sivelle scolded from beneath the sheets.

  “Sorry, Princess, but it’s true.”

  There was a dull thump and Haros grunted.

  “It’s rude to kick people when they’re trying to sleep, y’know.” His voice was muffled as though he had his face buried in his pillow.

  “Get. Up,” Mivian ordered. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about you either, Princess.”

  Sivelle yelped as her covers were yanked away and her warm skin was assaulted by the cold air. A fire crackled in the fireplace and heavy snow fell outside her bedroom window.

  “Would you care for a bath this morning, Your Highness? I have drawn one ready,” Mivian asked and folded down the bed covers around Sivelle, who still lay stubbornly in the middle of the mattress.

  “No, I have to practise today. I will bathe when I return,” the princess replied.

  “Practise? Practise what?” Haros asked.

  Sivelle sat up and rubbed her eyes. The demon was up on his feet, stretching his neck and rolling his shoulders. Though he had removed his woollen jerkin and boots to sleep, she was relieved to see he still wore his undershirt and breeches. It was far too early for any inappropriate, lustful thoughts.

  “I dance.”

  “Ah, that explains a lot.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Sivelle frowned.

  “Nothing. Just another of my observations, that’s all.” Haros grinned. “Hey, if you’re not going to bathe, can I? I haven’t actually washed properly since I got captured.”

  Sivelle wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Please do. Which reminds me, whilst we’re on the subject of capture, I have a bone to pick with you about that.”

  Sivelle hadn’t been in the state of mind the evening before to question Haros’s story, but as she had tossed and turned through the night, she had come to one glaring realisation.

  The demon faltered on his journey towards her bath chamber and looked at her quizzically.

  “Why does your docket say you were arrested for standing on a guard’s cloak if, in fact, you were captured saving Lori?”

  Mivian looked at the demon in surprise. Sivelle had forgotten her handmaiden hadn’t been privy to that conversation with Haros the evening prior.

  “Ah, well. That may have been another misunderstanding that I didn’t go out of my way to correct them over.” Haros rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Anything else I should know about you that’s factually incorrect?” Sivelle glared.

  “Not that I can think of. The rest is probably all true. I’ve got the tattoo. I can show you, if you’d like.”

  Sivelle held up a hand. “That’s quite unnecessary, thank you. Do you realise how much trouble both you and I will get into should anyone discover who you really are? Aiding in treason is a death sentence. My father would be furious if he found out.”

  “Then it’s in both of our interests to make sure he doesn’t find out, isn’t it, sweetheart?” Haros pinned her with a serious look.

  “Don’t call me—”

  “Yeah, yeah – you got it, Sweet Thing.” The demon strode past her and into the bath chamber with a flippant wave of his hand and pulled the door to
behind him.

  Sivelle felt her blood boiling, and she narrowed her eyes.

  “Insolent twit,” the princess growled and snatched the clothes her handmaiden held out to her.

  “I heard that,” Haros called out from the bath chamber.

  “Good!” Sivelle stormed into her dressing room.

  She hurriedly changed into her ballet clothes – thin, tight-fitting trousers with woollen leg wraps and a loose, cropped jerkin. She left her feet bare, but grabbed a set of grubby silk ballet slippers on her way back into the bedroom.

  Still silently fuming with rage, Sivelle sat down heavily on the stool in front of her dressing table. Mivian hurried to her back and skilfully began plaiting and twisting the princess’s long hair up into an elaborate bun.

  “Who does he think he is?” Sivelle muttered. “In fact, who do I think he is? He clearly isn’t ‘Harris’. He could be anyone.”

  “Did he really rescue Lori?” Mivian asked quietly.

  “It appears so. Given that my sister had never left the castle before last week, he certainly knows a lot of personal things about her for someone who hasn’t met her.”

  “Goodness… What has that sister of yours gotten herself into?” The handmaiden’s face crumpled with concern.

  “I wish I knew.” Sivelle sighed, pausing as a fleeting thought took root in her brain. “Mivian… Haros’s information on that docket has been wholly incorrect so far.”

  “I think I know where you’re going with this.”

  “Do you think… I mean, I’m no expert on castration practises, but I wasn’t aware demon society observed the same rules as ours. He’s so… masculine-looking. From what I’ve seen of eunuchs in the past, that’s highly irregular.” Sivelle felt her face flush. “You don’t suppose…”

  “Surely not, Your Highness. You said yourself, it was the one particular that your father had stressed above all others. I’m sure the prison guards check these things before they admit people to the dungeons.”

  “You’re right. After all, they know he’s got a tattoo. Surely they checked to see if he’s got… you know.”

  “I could always pop my head in there and check, if you’d like?”