In Chains

by K. L. Thorne

  “Haros! Are you alright?” Sivelle dove to his side and tugged his hand to hers, turning it over to look for scalding.

  “You little shit!” Haros growled at the dragonette. Nyre made a chirping noise that was almost like laughter.

  “I don’t understand. I can’t see any burns… In fact, your hand is freezing. You’re like ice.”

  “That’s kind of the point.” Haros hissed a breath between his teeth and stretched his hand out in an attempt to get the blood flowing. “She’s not a fire-breathing dragonette – she’s a fire-eater.”

  “A fire-eater?” Sivelle frowned.

  “They’re very rare, but some dragonettes can draw power from fire. I’ve read stories about them. I don’t suppose that fool of a shopkeeper even knew what he’d stumbled upon. He could have made a fortune off her.” Haros cast his eyes over Nyre.

  “It looked like she just breathed flames onto you.”

  “It wasn’t fire. It was cold, colder than anything you could imagine.” Haros glowered at the dragonette. “And it’s not a very kind thing to do, either.”

  Nyre’s chirping stopped and she lowered her head. The elaborate spines and scales that adorned her body flattened and she sank down into the snow. Her eyes grew wide with remorse.

  “She won’t do it again, will you, Nyre?” Sivelle asked in a stern voice.

  The dragonette looked away guiltily.

  Feeling steadily began to return to Haros’s fingers and he rubbed them back to life with a frown. That had been close. Ox’s voice resounded in his head:

  Never underestimate a dragonette. It’ll be the last mistake you ever make.

  Naturally, Haros had underestimated Ox’s dragonette, Rend, on several occasions over the years he had trained with the Black Bones. He had the scar tissue to prove it. Letting Rend out of her cage and locking the boys in a room with her had been one of Ox’s favourite punishments for bad behaviour.

  Haros eyed the sorrowful dragonette. Shaking his head at his own stupidity, he clicked his fingers and summoned forth flames of majicka once more.

  “Think fast, Nyre,” he said, launching a small ball of fiery majicka into the air towards her.

  The little dragonette didn’t hesitate. She opened her jaws wide and sprayed more cyan sparks at the fireball, snuffing Haros’s flames out entirely.

  “Interesting…” Haros grinned and Nyre cooed quietly, clearly unsure if she was still in trouble or not.

  “If the pair of you have done enough messing about, I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me on a walk around the castle gardens? It’s a beautiful day.” Sivelle turned her face to the sun.

  “It would be good to get some fresh air. I’m sure Nyre would be keen to explore a bit too.”

  “Excellent. I’ll get my cloak.” Sivelle cast him a dazzling smile and headed back indoors.

  Haros turned to address the dragon with a deep sigh. “That smile does things to my insides, Nyre,” he groaned, rubbing a hand down his face.

  The dragonette just cooed happily in response.

  ∞∞∞

  The castle gardens were truly spectacular, even under a foot or more of snow. Thousands of trees, hedgerows and shrubs, all pruned to exacting standards, crept towards the outer walls in elaborate patterns. Though Haros could only make out their rough shapes beneath the snow, he could tell the gardeners took a lot of pride in their work.

  He followed behind Sivelle along an intricately tiled mosaic path, which had been swept clear of any snow and gritted with salt to stave off the worst of the ice.

  For the first time since Haros had met her, Sivelle had forgone her usual flowing gowns for some ornately decorated leather breeches. They did wonders for her figure. Sivelle had also picked a half-cloak that left all of her best bits available for him to gaze at. Haros eyed her shapely behind greedily as he trailed after her, silently thanking whoever was looking out for him.

  Nyre was curled around his torso and he could feel her pawing at him, eager to get out from beneath his cloak to explore the gardens. Now he knew she was a confident flier, despite all the reasons she had not to be, Haros didn’t feel nearly as concerned about letting her loose.

  “This is one of my favourite spots in the summer,” Sivelle sighed, coming to a stop beside a large marble fountain. The water was frozen solid, which somewhat detracted from its appeal, but Haros gazed around trying to envision what this part of the garden would look like in the height of summer.

  Summer in Hestaesia wasn’t warm by any means, but the snow would thaw and the temperature would rise high enough to encourage plant life to bloom. Summers were beautiful but brief on the frozen plane. You had to take time out to enjoy them, or else you would blink and miss it.

  Sivelle brushed snow from a nearby stone bench. He followed suit and sat beside her. Nyre eagerly clambered out from the cover of his cloak and took off, billowing fine flakes of snow over them in her haste.

  Sivelle and Haros laughed, blinking against the onslaught, and watched the little dragon perch herself on the frozen ice at the tip of the fountain. Her bright eyes narrowed as she keenly took in her surroundings.

  “It’s nice here,” Haros said, looking around. “There are no gardens in Banesteppe.”

  “What a shame. Why not?” Sivelle asked.

  “No one can afford the upkeep on them. Most families are barely getting food on the table, never mind worrying about trimming hedges and planting flowers.”

  There was a long, thoughtful pause, and Haros silently chastised himself for being so negative. It wasn’t the princess’s fault the demons were suffering; it was her father’s.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, no. That’s alright. I know very little of what is occurring outside of the walls. I had heard rumours of demon poverty, but it wasn’t a subject our father was keen to educate my sisters and me on.” She smiled sadly.

  “I can tell you anything you want to know. Have you got any burning questions?”

  Sivelle shuffled closer to him, until her thigh was pressed against his. He squeezed her knee and, though she didn’t look up at him, he saw her lips quirk into a small, secret smile.

  “Where to begin? I have so many questions,” she said, pausing for thought. “Are we at war, your kind and mine?”

  “We’ve been at war for eons, but there are no current battles right now if that’s what you’re asking. Though I have a bad feeling we’re on the precipice of one.”

  “Have you been to war before?”

  “No. I was too young to join the rebellion to fight for King Tennul and there hasn’t been an uprising since. King Zelrus is keen to keep it that way, but your father…” Haros trailed off.

  “Is a tyrannical bastard who just won’t let sleeping dogs lie?” Sivelle smirked and Haros raised his brows in surprise.

  “That’s one way to put it. I take it you and the old man don’t see eye to eye either? Lori certainly wasn’t his biggest fan either.”

  “I always got on better with our father than my sisters did, but that was mainly for an easy life. It wasn’t pleasant keeping my mouth shut and pretending I didn’t see the awful things he was doing, but I knew it would spell trouble if I didn’t. It’s a shame my boneheaded middle sister couldn’t do the same.”

  Haros chuckled to himself. “Yes, she’s a bit much, isn’t she?”

  “You weren’t interested in her? Most men who meet her are.” Sivelle was clearly trying her hardest to remain indifferent; Haros saw the flicker of a frown on her brow.

  “No, not really. I mean, she was the first female faerie I’d ever seen up close before I met you, so sure I was interested in her, but not interested-interested,” he clarified.

  Sivelle toed a lump of snow with her boot and Haros hesitantly reached out to rest his hand on her knee once more.

  “You shouldn’t do that out here. Someone might see,” the princess whispered.

  Haros shrugged. “I’ll be sure to remove it if I see so
meone approaching.” He squeezed her, pleased when she eventually rested her hand atop his.

  They sat in a comfortable silence, watching the world go by. Nyre soared through the air above their heads, landing on the large, snowy expanse of lawn. She disappeared entirely in the deep snow and Haros and Sivelle laughed as they watched her hopping around.

  “She really is a fantastic present.” Sivelle giggled. “I can’t thank you enough for getting her for me.”

  “I’m glad you like her.”

  “Like her? I love her.” Sivelle beamed at him, and Haros stared at her in wonder, forgetting to breathe for a split-second.

  He glanced around, ensuring the garden was deserted before wetting his lips and pressing a soft kiss to the princess’s mouth. Her nose was cold against his warm cheek and her eyes fluttered closed as she returned his affection.

  As he pulled away, Sivelle reached out and grasped the back of his neck, pulling him back in for another hot kiss. Haros hummed his approval and slanted his mouth over hers.

  When the princess finally released him, they parted with hot breaths billowing between them in the icy air. Sivelle smiled shyly and Haros pecked her cheek before turning his body away.

  He needed to focus his thoughts on something entirely unerotic and insipid before things got out of control – again. What was happening to him? He had never lost his cool so easily.

  Voices approached from the entranceway to the garden, and Sivelle and Haros separated, though he was loath to. Two King’s Guard soldiers strolled past, looking at them curiously.

  “Princess?” The younger of the two shouted, giving a half-wave to his companion before striding towards them. The second guard continued on with his rounds alone.

  “Captain Morgwell.” Sivelle got to her feet, hurriedly standing in front of Haros to block him from view, but to no avail. The young captain cast Haros a quizzical glance.

  “Is everything alright here, Your Highness?” he asked, scowling down at the demon. Haros stared back frostily.

  “Y-yes, just grand,” Sivelle replied. Her voice was tight with nerves. Haros cast his gaze between the two faeries.

  “What are you doing out here in this weather? And with a demon, no less!” Morgwell wrinkled his nose with distaste.

  Ah, I see. This is how it’s going to be with this one…

  Haros got to his feet, relishing in the trepidation that crossed the man’s face as he took in Haros’s stature. Though the guard appeared to be relatively well-built – as far as faeries went – Haros very clearly had the advantage over him on all counts.

  “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Sivelle?” Haros asked.

  “Why, yes, o-of course…” Sivelle stuttered.

  Morgwell scowled. “I should kindly ask that your kind refer to the princess as ‘Your Highness’, demon.”

  Haros felt himself bristling in response and shot the man a venomous look. Sivelle shifted nervously between them.

  “It’s quite alright, Captain. Haros here is my thrall and—”

  “Oh, I see.” The captain’s stern lips tilted into a cocky grin. “He’s the slave I’ve heard so much about. That makes more sense, although not an entirely appropriate choice given your father’s standing, Princess.”

  Sivelle didn’t reply, just pressed her lips together.

  “Will you give the princess and I a moment?” Morgwell said, flapping his hand at Haros dismissively.

  The demon clenched his jaw and stood stock still, refusing to move. Sivelle turned to glance at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide, begging him silently for his obedience.

  Haros sighed heavily, unable to refuse that gorgeous powder-blue gaze. Though it went against every fibre of his being, the demon took a step back.

  Morgwell extended an arm to the princess who hesitantly took it, allowing the captain to walk her away, out of Haros’s earshot.

  He was alarmed by the sudden flare of jealousy that slashed at him like a knife. He burned to follow the faeries, to hear what the captain was muttering beneath his breath, but he remained still and resolute.

  Never had he felt so powerless in his life. Haros, as a demon, had been made to feel like a second-rate being by faeries before, but he had often been given the opportunity to even the score – whatever that entailed.

  This was gut-wrenching. He allowed the faerie captain to disregard him, to disrespect him, all for the sake of Sivelle.

  He hadn’t realised it before, but it was a harsh confirmation that his feelings for the princess had begun to morph into something far more meaningful than a simple bed-mate. Haros felt his scowl deepening, unable to tear his eyes off the captain.

  Nyre was thankfully absent. Haros glanced to the disturbed snow on the lawn, pleased to see something had caught the dragonette’s attention high in the top of a tree at the far side of the garden. He didn’t want to make this encounter any more awkward for Sivelle than it already was.

  He sank his fang into the inside of his cheek as he saw her and the captain approaching once more. The guard had a wide, self-satisfied smirk on his face that Haros was desperate to erase.

  “Well, it was lovely to see you again, Captain,” Sivelle said, hastily releasing her grip on the man’s arm. Before she could move away, the guard reached out and grabbed her. Haros growled beneath his breath.

  Sivelle looked down at the captain’s hand on her arm with surprise before looking back at him.

  “Release me.”

  “I’m sorry. Pardon my boldness, Your Highness. Could your slave perhaps see himself home, if I were to accompany you back to the castle later?” The captain cast a heated look at Sivelle that made Haros’s blood boil.

  He had never thought of himself as a jealous man, but perhaps he had just required the right motivation.

  “I’m quite tired. I have been busy today and—” Sivelle began, before she was cut off by the overzealous faerie guard.

  “I promise I won’t keep you long.”

  Haros could bear it no longer. He stepped forwards to Sivelle’s side. “I think she said no, champ.”

  When the captain grimaced at him, still grasping the princess’s arm, Haros strode forward another step and shoved him roughly. His hold broke and Sivelle scuttled away to hide behind Haros.

  “How dare you! Who do you think you are?” Captain Morgwell looked him up and down.

  Haros stepped closer still, ignoring the small voice at the back of his mind that advised against it. The captain faltered for a moment before seemingly finding his feet. He sized up to Haros brazenly.

  “I think it would be best if you got on your way, Captain,” Haros growled. “The princess is not interested.”

  “Don’t you tell me what I should and shouldn’t do, filth.”

  Haros shoved the captain harder this time. The faerie stumbled backwards, almost losing his footing, and Haros took a deep breath.

  Calm down. You need to calm down!

  “Get out of here, before you get yourself in over your head,” he snarled, beginning to back off towards Sivelle.

  He froze as the familiar sound of a sword being unsheathed rang out across the frozen gardens.

  “I’m going to have to have a serious conversation with the head jailer. They’re clearly not teaching you peasants any manners in those jail cells.” Morgwell weighed his sword in his hand. “No matter – I’ll gladly teach you some.”

  “Now just hold on!” Sivelle piped up, but Haros held up a hand to her, warning her to keep out of it.

  “Typical faerie,” he scoffed, eyeing the blade with interest. “Bringing a sword to a fist fight. Coward.”

  The captain lunged forwards, but Haros anticipated him. He side-stepped the blow easily.

  Morgwell was talented with a sword, but he had clearly never been taught how to avoid telegraphing his movements. His training hadn’t been up to the standards of Haros’s own – but then, very few were.

  The captain’s sword struck the stone pathway with a loud clang.
He glared at Haros with bloodlust in his eyes.

  “I’m going to warn you one last fucking time, pissant. Let it go and walk away or you’ll regret it.” Haros’s voice was low and menacing.

  The captain did not heed his warning. Again, the faerie charged him, and this time Haros observed him keenly, noting areas of weakness in his stance.

  As quick as a flash, Haros stepped forwards into the guard’s assault. He gripped the pommel of the sword tightly in one hand, jerking it from the ineffectual hold the captain had on it, whilst simultaneously using his weight and strength to his advantage.

  He barged the faerie off his feet and the man fell backwards into the snow, leaving his sword behind in Haros’s grip. The captain stared up at him, stunned. Haros flicked the sword expertly in his hand, swirling the blade through the air as if it were an extension of himself.

  He turned the sword on its owner, pointing the sharp tip at the captain’s throat. The man glowered, but there was fear in his eyes.

  “I warned you,” Haros grated and pressed forwards, enjoying how the man was forced to crane his neck away from the blade. He stared into the captain’s eyes, allowing his expression to grow dark and serious.

  The list of men who had lived after they had found themselves at the end of his sword was a short one. He desperately wanted to add this prick to his body count.

  “Haros!” Sivelle gasped from beside him, breaking his fixation.

  He obediently stepped away and turned, launching the blade through the air like a javelin. It speared into the frozen ground at the bottom of the garden, and Haros turned to cast Morgwell an pitiful look.

  “It’s got nice balance, that blade. You should learn how to use it properly.”

  “Who the fuck are you?!” Morgwell spat.

  “Come on, Sivelle.” Haros gestured for the princess to follow him and she scampered to his side. As they passed, Morgwell was struggling to his feet. Haros pushed the captain’s shoulder roughly, knocking him back down onto his backside in the snow.

  Haros let out a long, sharp whistle, pleased to see Nyre flutter from the tree and glide towards them overhead. Haros and Sivelle turned the corner, leaving Captain Morgwell alone, hunting for his blade in the snow.