by K. L. Thorne
Sivelle gasped. “Mivian! I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“B-because it’s… unmentionable. What you’re suggesting is strictly off-limits. My father would have a coronary.”
“Best thing that could happen to Awrelwood, if you ask me.” Mivian snorted.
Haros’s curiosity was piqued. So, it was highly unorthodox for faeries to engage in carnal activities with their slaves. Interesting…
“Besides…” Sivelle paused. “Well, it’s not just up to me. Is it?”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about on that front, Princess. The demon is definitely interested.” Mivian giggled, raising her voice slightly so Haros could hear them.
Haros closed his eyes and grimaced for a moment. That little witch. She wasn’t supposed to just tell Sivelle that.
He looked up and met Sivelle’s gaze. Though clearly still in a state of shock, the princess’s eyes betrayed her curiosity.
Deciding to brazen out his embarrassment, Haros shrugged and smiled. He wasn’t outright admitting he was attracted to her, but he wasn’t denying it either.
The bell from the service chute rang out, breaking the tension.
“Dinner is served, Your Highness.”
“Okay, good.” Sivelle hurriedly averted her eyes from Haros.
“Do you maybe want to remove some of these clothes before you go down to eat? You look like a crazy person.”
“I suppose so.” Sivelle allowed her handmaiden to strip a few layers from her, leaving her stood in a simple, thin woollen day dress and a shoulder wrap.
“Haros and I will accompany you down to the dining room and then I’ll take him to the kitchen with me. He can eat with the other servants and I this evening.”
Sivelle strode impatiently towards the door and Haros had to launch himself across the room to get there before her. He dutifully held it open for her.
Sivelle didn’t meet his eye, but opened her mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it and hastily walked out into the corridor.
“You are so dead,” Haros hissed at Mivian as she passed him. The handmaiden shot him a smug smile and followed behind Sivelle. The demon was the last to leave and pulled the bedroom door closed behind himself.
The threesome walked in awkward silence down the corridor to the flight of stairs leading to the entrance hall. At the bottom, Sivelle branched away from them and headed towards a large room. Haros could see a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, glinting in the light, and heard a piano playing faintly.
“Come on, this way.” Mivian gestured for him to follow her and headed in the opposite direction. With one last glance over his shoulder at Sivelle, Haros followed behind her towards the kitchens. They had been deserted when he had visited them earlier, but now as he approached, he could hear it was abuzz with activity.
“Evening,” Mivian crowed happily and a room full of servants greeted her. “Everyone, this is Haros. He’s Sivelle’s thrall. Haros, this is everyone.” She vaguely gestured around the room.
The kitchen fell into an awkward silence for a moment as the group of faeries regarded him curiously.
“What’s for dinner?” Haros asked, boldly sitting down on a long wooden bench beside the others.
“Hey, there she is!” A young faerie man wearing a white apron greeted Mivian with a wide smile. He swept the handmaiden into his arms and kissed her neck.
“Dorian! Quit it.” Mivian laughed, fighting him off playfully, and squirmed free from his grasp. “We’ve got company. Haros, this is Dorian. He’s the head chef and also my beau.” She introduced him proudly.
“Nice to meet you, Dorian.” Haros extended a hand and the chef reached out to shake it.
“Mivian has told me a little about you. I hear you were rather keen on the suckling pig last night?” He grinned.
Haros laughed. “That’s what is was? I’m a huge fan. It didn’t touch the sides.”
“He wolfed it down,” Mivian chipped in, draping herself over Dorian’s shoulder. The chef turned his attention back to the handmaiden and regarded her with a hungry expression before tugging her into another passionate embrace.
An old scullery maid jabbed Haros playfully with an elbow. “Don’t mind them. They’ll come up for air eventually,” she cackled.
“It’s sickening, really,” the young maid he had made eye contact with the day before shouted and playfully threw a breadstick at Dorian and Mivian.
The couple didn’t bat an eye at the intrusion and the table broke into laughter.
“What’s your poison, good sir? Wine or ale?” a skinny older gentleman addressed Haros.
“Ale.”
“Good man.” The faerie reached for a tankard and filled it with a dark, foamy liquid. He slid it down the length of the table towards Haros.
The demon caught it and lifted it to his lips, taking a greedy glug. Like everything else he had partaken of in the castle so far, it was delicious.
“I told you he was handsome.”
Haros glanced up over the rim of his tankard and noticed two of the younger maids giving him the eye. He shot them a confident smile and the girls dissolved into titters.
“Alright!” Dorian announced, finally breaking away from Mivian. “Who’s hungry?”
The table erupted into cheers and Mivian slid herself in beside Haros, smiling widely at him. Her cheeks were flushed from her amorous encounter. One of the maids placed a glass of wine in front of her and she took a healthy sip.
Before he had come to Awrelwood, Haros had always had a preconceived idea of how the faeries must live. He realised he had been wrong.
The aristocrats lived in disgusting wealth, but these people? If he closed his eyes, he could have quite easily convinced himself he was sat at any kitchen table in Banesteppe.
They joked around, made lewd comments and chewed with their mouths full. Someone broke wind further down the table and the room erupted into laughter. Yes, he admitted to himself, he was going to fit in around here nicely.
Chapter Eight
Sivelle lay awake in her bed and stared up at the ceiling. It was her birthday, though admittedly only the early hours of it.
Birthdays usually brought happiness, but Sivelle’s heart was like lead in her chest. She was thirty today and the people she cared about the most were not here to see it. Instead, her evening would be spent celebrating with a room full of people she barely knew.
A week had passed in a blur. Between dancing lessons, reading and preparing for her birthday ball, Sivelle had deliberately given herself little time to think about anything else. Haros, in particular.
Even now, days later, she felt shame burning in her gut. How could she have ever thought a man so truly awe-inspiring to gaze upon could be a eunuch? It was humiliating.
Since the truth had come out, the chemistry she had tried so hard to deny continued to build between them. Sivelle barely managed to keep her eyes from Haros and likewise she often caught him looking at her. It appeared the demon didn’t particularly care when he was caught and usually shot her a smouldering smile that made her feel sick with excitement.
Mivian had been correct. It appeared the handsome demon was interested in her – that Sivelle was almost certain of now. She was both elated and terrified by the prospect. Neither of them had spoken about it, but the air was heavy with potential any time she and Haros found themselves alone.
Naturally, Sivelle avoided those moments like the plague.
A bird began to sing outside and the princess watched the light creeping beneath the heavy drapes growing brighter. Dawn was upon them.
She had a busy day ahead of her. One final gown fitting and then an afternoon of pampering and preening ready for her party in the evening.
Sivelle’s mind wandered to her dress. It had taken months and months of preparation, the seamstress was about ready to have a mental breakdown, and yet it still wasn’t quite right. Sivelle would never say it – she feared the woman may turn homicidal – but the dress
wasn’t what she had hoped it would be.
It was beautiful, made from thousands of layers of fine silk and gossamer, stained a pale lilac. There was corset lacing at the front and back and the sleeves were off the shoulder. It fitted her like a glove and the seamstress had cooed and admired her, telling her how fantastic it looked. Yet Sivelle wasn’t satisfied.
She had wanted the dress to be perfect for tonight but, as with everything in her life, she feared it was going to fall just short.
The whole day felt like a sham. Sivelle so desperately wanted her sisters to come bursting in through her bedroom door, screeching and singing even though they knew she hated it.
They should all be huddled together around the fireplace whilst Sivelle opened her presents, dividing which of their father’s many unnecessary and impersonal gifts they would each adopt. Sivelle would make bets, trying to guess which of his gifts had been the most expensive. As a rule, it was usually the one they all hated.
This year was going to be entirely different. Sivelle sat up in bed and glanced across at the dark shape on her settee. Haros was by far the most expensive gift her father had bought her this year and, try as she might to deny it, she definitely didn’t hate him.
She sighed, bringing her knees up and wrapping them close to her chest, her wings fluttering softly at her back. Turning thirty was traumatising enough, but turning thirty alone? That was heart-breaking.
Her bedroom door creaked open, and Sivelle watched Mivian tip-toe inside, holding a beautiful bunch of flowers. The princess smiled.
“Oh!” Mivian squeaked. “You’re awake!”
“Good morning.”
“Happy Birthday, Your Highness!” Mivian beamed and hurriedly placed her gifts on the nightstand. “It’s not like you to be up so early. Too excited to sleep?”
“Something like that.” Sivelle smiled sadly.
Mivian opened the drapes and Haros grumbled incoherently from the settee. The demon turned over and buried his head beneath his pillow. Mivian rolled her eyes, but allowed him to continue sleeping.
The sun was just rising, casting a glorious pink hue out across the snowy landscape.
“A beautiful morning to match a beautiful girl. It’s even stopped snowing for the occasion! That should make it easier for the guests who are travelling here this evening.” Mivian smiled.
“Yes, it certainly will.”
“Stay in bed, Princess. Let me go down to the kitchen and fetch your breakfast. I know you don’t usually eat in your chambers, but I think we can make an exception today.”
Sivelle stared out of her window at the vast, clear sky whilst her handmaiden exited the room. It would be cold outside today. She would need to ensure the serving staff lit plenty of fires at tonight’s ball to keep everyone warm.
There was a delicate tapping. Sivelle frowned, only looking up when the noise persisted.
Glancing across at the doors that lead to her balcony, she saw the source perched on the handle. A large black raven tapped its beak against the glass.
Sivelle hurried from her bed and, uncaring of the bitter cold, tugged the door open. She didn’t know anyone who used a raven as a carrier. All of her father’s acquaintances that would send a message by bird would have used a dove or pigeon, and yet there was a shiny gold clasp attached to the bird’s leg.
She reached forward hesitantly and gently pulled it free. The raven cawed at her and wasted no time before flying away. Its wing span was impressive and billowed the air around her softly as it took off.
Sivelle closed the door and looked at the peculiar message casing. It was unfamiliar, unlike any she had seen used before. With shaking hands, she opened it and unfurled the parchment within.
Happy Thirtieth Birthday to the best big sister anyone could ask for. We love you so much. We are safe and working on a way to smuggle a proper letter to you. All our love, L & F xxx
Sivelle hadn’t been aware of the tears that had sprung forth until one tracked silently down her nose. Her lower lip trembled and she held the tiny strip of parchment to her chest. It was truly the best birthday present she could have asked for. Lori and Faye were safe.
Mivian reappeared, holding a tray filled with a variety of breakfast foods. She cast Sivelle a concerned look and the princess hurried forward to show her handmaiden the parchment.
“Oh, that’s wonderful news.” Mivian’s own eyes turned glassy with emotion.
“I can’t believe it. It was delivered by a raven! Have you ever heard of such a thing?” Sivelle read the parchment again, still not quite believing what was written upon it.
“Actually, yes, I have,” Mivian replied quietly. “Demons send messages by raven, Your Highness.”
“…I guess Haros was telling the truth about Lori being under his commander’s supervision. He said the man was taking my sister back to Banesteppe, but Faye is with her now too. Do you think they’re both there?” Words poured from Sivelle’s mouth in a rush.
“Your guess is as good as mine, Princess. What a relief that they are both alive and well. You must be so glad to have finally heard from them.”
“Elated.” Sivelle beamed. She clambered back into bed and Mivian placed the breakfast tray over her legs.
With her spirits lifted considerably, Sivelle began picking at the delicious treats laid out before her.
“We’ve got a pretty packed day ahead of us, haven’t we?” Mivian hummed happily as she scooted around the room, tidying clutter away on the dressing table.
“That’s an understatement. Are you still planning to accompany me this evening?” Sivelle asked.
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The handmaiden smiled softly.
“You’ll be the only person there I truly like, I would imagine.” Sivelle snorted.
“Not true. I slipped Liza an invitation last time she visited.”
“Oh, you are a diamond, Mivian.” Sivelle picked up the message from her sisters and cast her eyes lovingly across it once again.
Once she had finished eating, Mivian cleared away her platter and popped it inside the service chute.
Sivelle entered her closet to dress for the day – at least until it was time to get ready later. As usual, Mivian had laid out a choice of outfits. She picked one of her simpler gowns, knowing she would be able to put on unaided.
There was a sharp rap at the door and muffled voices. After ensuring she was decent, Sivelle joined the others back in the bedroom.
Three of her father’s guards had appeared, each with arms full of elaborately wrapped gifts in all shapes and sizes. There were at least ten bouquets of flowers – some of the displays were so large Sivelle doubted she had a surface big enough to house them.
She glanced at the humble bunch of wild flowers Mivian had laid on her nightstand. She infinitely preferred those. She would ensure they had pride of place.
“Your mother and father send their warm wishes, Your Highness. They have many other engagements through the day, but have said they look forward to seeing you at your ball later this evening,” one of the guards addressed her, and all three men bowed formally before exiting her chamber.
She caught Haros’s eye across the top of the pile of gifts. He was still in his bed, looking half-asleep, but sat upright.
Sivelle tutted under her breath. “A ridiculous number of presents, as always. My sisters would usually get first refusal on any gifts, but as they cannot be here today, it looks like it’s your lucky day, Mivian.”
“Your Highness! I couldn’t!” the handmaiden gasped.
“Please, you would be doing me a favour.” Sivelle laced her fingers together and held her hands at her chest in a silent plea.
Though clearly uncomfortable, Mivian rolled her eyes and nodded her consent.
Sivelle settled herself down on the chair adjacent to the demon, and the handmaiden brought the first of many gifts from the pile, placing it in Sivelle’s lap. She ripped open the paper, revealing a beautiful jewellery box.
&nbs
p; “Now that’s just the height of impersonal, really,” Sivelle scoffed and held it out to Mivian, whose eyes were wide with surprise. “My father has clearly forgotten he bought me one identical to this last year.”
“A-are you sure I can have this, Your Highness?” Mivian stroked the glossy box.
“Sure. Please, feel free to share anything you don’t want with the others. I have no use for them, that much is certain.”
Mivian placed the jewellery box down and hastily returned to the pile of gifts to pick out the next for the princess to unwrap.
Haros and Sivelle caught one another’s eye.
“Happy Birthday, Princess.” Haros smiled. He was sat up still shirtless and dishevelled from sleep.
Sivelle supposed she couldn’t ask to be looking at anything finer on the morn of such a momentous birthday.
“Thank you, Haros.” She returned his smile. She still had her sisters’ message clutched in her hand and held it out for him to read.
Haros took the parchment and his eyebrows rose as he read it.
“Fuck me, they’re alive. That means Lephas must be, too.”
“It was delivered by raven this morning.”
“Large or small?” the demon asked curiously.
“Large or small what?”
“Was the bird large or small?” Haros clarified. He held up his hands to give an approximate size of each.
“Large, I would have said.” Sivelle nodded. “Why is that important?”
Haros laughed and fell back onto his bed with a wide grin. “Ravens that are used whilst on the road or travelling are usually small – it makes them easier to carry around. If it was a large bird, that means they’ve made it back to Banesteppe. Lephas, you hero! You fucking did it! Way to go, old man!”
“Will this Lephas still take my sisters to King Zelrus?”
“Yes, he’ll have to, but that’s no real concern. I mean, I’m sure it will be to your sisters, but honestly the king is a decent, honourable sort. They won’t come to any harm by his hand.”
“That’s a relief… It’s more than I could say if the situation had been reversed.” Sivelle’s tone grew solemn.