by K. L. Thorne
The girls tittered between themselves.
At that moment, the bath chamber door swung open and Haros stepped out from a billow of steam with a towel wrapped around his hips.
Sivelle stared, dumbstruck, at his reflection in her mirror. The soft bristled brush Mivian was holding dropped from her hand.
“I know this might be a bit of a long shot, but I don’t suppose I could get some clothes made up somewhere?” Haros addressed them, seemingly oblivious to the girls’ silent admiration.
The demon had been shirtless the day she had met him. Sivelle already knew he was well-muscled and strong. She shouldn’t have been so amazed, but there was something about that toned torso that was even more delightful to gaze upon when glistening and wet.
Tearing her eyes from Haros, Sivelle glanced up at Mivian through the mirror. The girl had yet to notice she had dropped her brush. Mivian’s hand was suspended, mid-stroke, as she stared at Haros with flushed cheeks.
Sivelle felt a little relieved she was not the only one foolishly lusting after a eunuch.
Like a magnet, Sivelle’s eyes flickered back to Haros. She was alarmed to find him looking right back at her. After a long moment of staring blankly at one another, he shrugged and gave her a quizzical look.
“What?” she asked, trying to keep her tone frosty.
“Clothes? Any thoughts? The ones they’ve provided me with are a tad on the small side,” Haros asked again.
Mivian finally sprang to life and hastily snatched her brush from the floor. The handmaiden kept her eyes dutifully trained on Sivelle’s hair, but her cheeks were growing pinker by the second.
“Oh, yes, right. I’m sure someone can sort something for you. Mivian?”
“I’ll ask the seamstress, but she’ll probably want some, uh… measurements.” The handmaiden nibbled her lip.
“Alright, well, I’ll struggle back into what I’ve got for the time being and maybe we can get to that later?” Haros strode back into the bath chamber out of view. Both Sivelle and Mivian sagged, grateful for the reprieve.
“Good grief,” Mivian breathed.
“I warned you.”
“You weren’t joking. There are no words for that other than ‘masculine’. I can see why you were having trouble believing in his, uh, condition. He’s nothing like any eunuch I’ve ever seen before either.” Mivian fanned her face with her hand.
“To be quite honest, I’ve never seen an intact man who looks quite like that before, never mind a eunuch.” Sivelle sighed.
“He must have been gelded late. There’s no other explanation for it.” Mivian shook her head.
“I suppose that’s a possibility.”
Haros marched from the bath chamber once more. This time he had his leather breeches on, although they remained unbuttoned. He was still shirtless, but carried the rest of his clothes in his arms.
Sivelle watched in the mirror as he flung them down onto his make-shift bed. He turned his back briefly and her eyes widened with surprise. He had mentioned a tattoo, but had failed to describe just how large it was. How had she not noticed that before?
The intricate pattern swirled over the entirety of his delightfully muscular back. The top finished in a sharp point at the nape of his neck and the bottom disappeared from view beneath the waist of his trousers. Sivelle licked her lips.
Haros turned and caught her eye in the mirror. He shot her a smouldering smile and the princess hurriedly averted her eyes, stomach churning.
Mivian tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind the princess’s ear and stepped back. “There. Shall I request breakfast to be brought up once you have returned? Though I suppose it will likely be lunchtime by then.”
“Please, Mivian.”
Her handmaiden left her side and Sivelle glanced at Haros again. He was tugging the woollen jerkin on over his head, and the princess breathed a sigh of relief. Though those muscles still stood proud beneath the material, it was much easier to ignore them now he was fully dressed.
“Where is this dance hall of yours?” Haros asked and sat down on the settee to tug his boots on.
Sivelle span on her stool to face him. “Not far. It’s one of the rooms off the main entranceway downstairs. It’s been a while since I last went down there. I haven’t felt much like practising lately.”
“I’ll admit I know less than nothing about dancing. Have you been doing it long?”
“Since I was a young child.” She smiled.
Sivelle ran her hands over the ballet slippers in her lap. She recalled her first set of silk slippers; she had danced in those until they had literally fallen apart around her feet. Though her father had never permitted her to perform in front of anyone, she’d had many tutus and bejewelled ballet outfits bought for her. She had loved to prance around in them as a young girl.
“You must be pretty good then.” Haros’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
“I don’t know. I suppose you can be the judge of that later.”
“When I was a lad, all I was interested in was catching newts and digging holes.” The demon laughed.
“Not quite as sophisticated as ballet, but an important pastime for a young boy, I’m sure. Do you not have any hobbies?”
“Not really. King Zelrus keeps us busy, and I’m not sure what I do with most of my free time could be classed as a hobby, Princess.” Haros shot her a heated look that made her pulse race.
“Come, let’s get going.” Sivelle swiftly changed the subject and got to her feet.
“You even have proper shoes for this. Are you not going to wear them?” Haros motioned to the slippers in her hand.
“Not yet. You damage them if you wear them like shoes too often. The dance hall isn’t far and most of the way is carpeted.” Sivelle padded to the door, barefoot. As she reached for the handle, Haros’s hand got there first.
“Allow me.” He pulled the door and held it open for her.
“Oh, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Might as well start this thrall business as I mean to go on.”
They stepped out into the corridor together and came face to face with a King’s Guard sentry.
“Princess.” The man bowed.
“I’m going to my dance chamber.” Sivelle raised her chin haughtily.
“I’ll be glad to accompany you, Your Highness.” The man cast Haros a wary glance.
“No need. My thrall is sufficient. I trust my father has briefed you all on the new security regime?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Good, then you are dismissed.”
“Pardon me, Your Highness, but I—”
“Dismissed.” Sivelle glowered.
“You heard the lady, pissant,” Haros growled from behind her.
The faerie guard scowled and shot the demon a killing look, but left his post obediently with just a curt nod towards Sivelle.
“What exactly do you think you’re playing at?” Sivelle turned to face her thrall as soon as the guard was out of earshot.
Haros shrugged. “What? You don’t make a lady ask twice. Am I here to guard you or not?”
“Of course, but that knight is one of my father’s men. I don’t require protection from them.”
“Do you not? You might want to ask Lori if she feels the same way.” Haros fixed her with his dark gaze.
Sivelle shivered; she hadn’t thought about it that way.
“Fair point,” she conceded quietly. “Just… try to be a little more courteous.”
“Got it. This thrall business is more of a ‘seen but not heard’ kind of deal. I’m not taking any shit from those guards though. No one disrespects you when you’re under my watch.”
Sivelle was alarmed to feel a small flutter in her chest. Despite being a princess, she had never had anyone defend her honour before. She liked it.
“This way.” She strode ahead, ignoring the heat in her cheeks.
Haros trailed obediently behind her.
A short trip along the corridor and down
a flight of stairs brought them into the main entrance hall of her castle wing. She padded across and into the dark dance chamber.
“Will you get the drapes for me?” she asked and Haros complied. Sivelle smiled as light poured into the room.
She sat her bottom down on the cold wooden floor and eagerly strapped her feet into her ballet slippers. She stood and cautiously rolled her ankles.
“Sivelle, my dearest,” a deep, warm voice called from the doorway.
Sivelle spun around with a wide smile.
“Liza!” she beamed, hurrying to embrace the portly faerie woman.
Liza had been the princess’s ballet instructor and mentor for as long as she could remember. She had taught her everything she knew. Sivelle often regarded Liza as more of a mother than her own, despite only seeing the woman once or twice a week for her lessons.
“It’s been too long, my girl… I heard about your sisters.” The woman gazed at her with sympathy.
“Yes, well. What can I say about that?” Sivelle smiled sadly. “How did you know I was going to be here?”
“Mivian sent word. I hurried here as fast as my sandals would take me!” Liza tugged the princess into a tight embrace once more. “I was afraid I would never see you again, after hearing you were locked in your room by that ghastly—”
Sivelle caught Haros’s eye over Liza’s shoulder and cleared her throat. Liza followed Sivelle’s gaze.
“My, my. What do we have here?” Liza purred, flicking a tightly curled lock behind her ear.
“Liza, this is Haros. He’s my thrall, delivered just yesterday.”
“Impeccable taste as always, dear,” Liza cooed, stroking Sivelle’s chin in her hand affectionately. “Fear not, demon. There’s always room for more handsome, strapping young men in my lessons.”
“Good to know,” Haros responded with a smirk, and Sivelle cast him an apologetic smile.
“He might come in handy when I’m struggling to bend you into some of the more adventurous stretches.” Liza held a hand up alongside her mouth, but spoke loud enough that Haros could hear her. She shot Sivelle a wink.
“Happy to help.” Haros nodded, his dark eyes focussed on Sivelle.
“Not the first nubile young woman you’ve had bent into a knot, I’m sure!” Liza laughed heartily and marched to the front of the room.
“Liza!” Sivelle flushed. How embarrassing, talking to a eunuch about sexual acts like that.
Haros just raised his eyebrows and gave the woman a half-smile with a shrug, taking it all in stride.
“Enough dallying. Get that pert little bottom down on the floor, legs out and stretched please,” Liza instructed, her voice booming around the room.
Sivelle obediently sat with her legs together and stretched out in front of her. She pointed her toes and steadily stretched her body forwards. The tendons attached to her wings pulled taught.
“Get that nose between those knees. Hold…” Liza tapped her shoe against the wood to a count of five. “And release.”
Sivelle sat back upright, rolling her shoulders as her muscles protested. Though it had only been a few weeks, she felt the familiar burning sensation that told her today’s session was going to be a struggle.
They repeated simple stretches for a few rounds before Liza clapped her hands together loudly.
“Alright, this is where things get a little steamy, Haros. Look away now if you’ve got delicate sensibilities. On your back, Sivelle my sweet,” Liza purred, and Sivelle heard Haros chuckling.
Sivelle rolled over, ignoring her heart thudding in her chest. Liza rolled up her sleeves and knelt down beside her.
“Leg up,” she ordered, and Sivelle obeyed. The tutor grasped her thigh and steadily pushed it towards the princess’s chest. “Keep that lower leg straight and point those toes.” Her leg came further and further until Sivelle had it stretched right back beside her face.
“Be a dear and hold that one for me.” Liza patted Sivelle’s hand and the princess wrapped an arm around her own thigh, holding her leg in place. “Now this is where things get really sticky, Haros. I know what you’re thinking, surely those lovely legs don’t go back that far simultaneously, but I assure you they do. She’s every man’s dream, this one.” Liza chortled, and Sivelle cringed.
Liza repeated her action until Sivelle’s other leg was also pinned back beside her head. The woman held the princess’s other leg in place for her and tapped a count of five out with the palm of her hand against Sivelle’s thigh before releasing her.
“On your feet for a forward split, dear,” Liza called out.
Sivelle hopped onto her feet and positioned her feet into a ‘L’ formation. She stretched her torso tall and took a deep breath, steadying and preparing her core muscles. Her wings fluttered, preparing to help her balance.
Slowly, she twisted her body and allowed both feet to slide from beneath her. In a slow, controlled movement, she lowered herself down until one leg stretched in front and the other behind her. Her toes remained pointed the entire way.
“Beautiful. Now box splits from standing.” Liza stalked around her, watching her critically.
Sivelle repeated the same movement. She got to her feet and lowered herself down steadily, but this time each leg stretched out sideways from her body.
“And now forwards.”
Sivelle deftly stretched her body forwards, her legs still akimbo, to rest the tip of her nose against the wooden floor. Liza tapped a count of ten before she was allowed to release.
“Oh yes. Men are always keen on that particular stretch as well.”
“Liza!” Sivelle hissed.
“You are far too stiff, Sivelle. Far too stiff. It’s been painful just watching you,” Liza chided, marching off towards the piano sat in the far corner.
“I’m a little out of practice,” Sivelle replied, her voice coy.
Liza tinkled a faint tune out on the keys playfully before turning her attention to the music book propped up in front of her.
“Let’s really get those toes pointing.” She began playing a familiar tune on the piano, and Sivelle groaned.
“Not this one again. It’s so difficult.”
“All the more reason to practise it. Now, up on those toes!”
Sivelle frowned with determined concentration and hopped up onto the squared-off tips of her ballet slippers.
She was going to be sore this evening!
∞∞∞
“What a slave driver.” Haros chuckled.
Sivelle hobbled alongside the demon back towards her chambers. Her muscles had already begun to seize up from the brutal training regime laid out by Liza. She had known she was out of practice, but hadn’t truly realised by how much.
“I’m going to drink an entire vineyard of wine this evening,” Sivelle muttered.
Haros opened her bedroom door for her once again and she shuffled inside, flopping face-down onto her bed.
“Alcohol is the best painkiller I know.” The demon grinned and dropped the ballet slippers he was carrying down beside the dressing table.
Sivelle rolled over and shuffled herself up until she was sat with her back leaning against her headboard.
“I’m no lady’s chambermaid – though I’m sure I’ll be an expert by the time you’re through with me – but would you like me to prepare you a bath?” Haros asked with a laugh.
“Not just yet. Could you head downstairs and find out what’s for lunch? Mivian should be in the kitchen somewhere.” Sivelle picked up the book she was halfway through reading from her bedside table and opened it to her bookmark.
“Sure. Where is the kitchen?”
“Down the stairs, to your right. Just ask one of the guards and they’ll show you.”
Haros nodded and let himself out into the corridor, shutting the door with a soft click.
Finally alone in her room, Sivelle dropped her book back to her lap and stared out of the window at the snow falling steadily.
Her life had beg
un to return to normal, it seemed. Well, as normal as it could given her sisters were gone, replaced by a demon for whom she had very conflicted feelings.
Her thoughts turned to Lori and Faye, as they often did when she gave herself a moment to think. Where were they? What were they doing? Though she felt a little better about Lori’s safety, Faye’s disappearance troubled her greatly. She had hoped her sisters would have found one another. She knew they would keep each other safe. Though Haros had promised Lori’s safety with his commander, the same couldn’t be said for her youngest sister.
Sivelle smiled to herself. If they could see her now, she would be teased mercilessly. Her sisters loved to turn her prudish nature into the butt of all jokes. They would never believe that she had taken on a demon thrall.
She was almost glad her sisters weren’t around to see her so bumbling and awkward – over a eunuch, no less! They’d never let her live it down.
She wondered what Lori’s commander looked like. Was he anything like Haros? Surely he wasn’t castrated as well? Poor Lori would be devastated if he turned out to be, Sivelle smirked. Whilst Haros’s ‘condition’ provided solace to Sivelle, Lori was very much her opposite. The girl would jump on anything with a pulse.
Faye was the enigma. She had hinted that she had been intimate with a man before, but always refused to indulge Sivelle and Lori’s curiosity. Whilst Lori had been keen to describe everything, down to the last detail, whenever she’d had a sexual encounter, Faye kept her cards close to her chest. Sivelle had no cards to speak of at all.
The bedroom door opened and Mivian entered with a plate of various cheeses, fruit and biscuits. She was followed closely by Haros, who had apparently been helping himself to her lunch platter on the way from the kitchen if his crunching was anything to go by. He was carrying a glass of water.
“Apologies for the wait, Your Majesty.” Mivian placed the food on the bedside table and gestured silently for Haros to put his glass down beside it.
Reaching out, Sivelle grabbed a berry and popped it in her mouth. Mivian sat in an armchair beside the fire with her latest cross-stitch laid out across her lap. Haros lay back on his bed and closed his eyes, clearly settling down for a nap.
Sivelle felt a wave of contentment wash over her, one like she had not felt since her sisters had left. She began to read and the world around her disappeared.