by Sarah Hawke
“I trust you’ve prepared yourself for tomorrow,” Larric said after a moment. “Duke Kristoff had a rather specific set of instructions for how he wished you to dress and behave on our arrival.”
“I am ready,” I assured him. “Duke Darkstone will not be disappointed.”
The man grunted softly as he twirled something small between his fingers. It was a ring of some sort, assuming he was following the same pattern as the last few nights. I had no idea what it looked like; I’d only caught a glimpse here and there. But he always seemed to have it with him, just like he always seemed to be wearing his armor. I had started to wonder if he slept in it, too.
“So how do they work, anyway?” he asked after a long pause.
I blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“Your powers,” he clarified. “The Covenant always taught us that every Unbound had the capacity to pry into your mind and manipulate your perceptions. It wasn’t until many years later that I realized it wasn’t true at all. Most of the young adepts we captured couldn’t control their abilities in the slightest—some even managed to harm themselves when they attempted to channel.”
I tried to swallow but found that my mouth had gone dry. I had wondered when he’d wish to speak of my powers again. Evidently that moment was now…but if nothing else, at least we were far enough away from Sanctum that it would be difficult for him to turn me over to the Covenant. There would obviously be a temple in Skyfall, but from what I’d read Korvale was probably the least devout duchy in the Empire.
Larric cocked an eyebrow when I didn’t respond. “I assume you never had a similar experience?” he prompted.
“No,” I said, clearing my throat.
“Ah. You mentioned before that you had learned to channel before Kristoff purchased you. When did you first realize you were Unbound?”
“Not until I was almost fourteen,” I told him. It still seemed odd to discuss this so openly with him, but it wasn’t as though I had any choice. “I had cut myself working in master Kurwick’s garden, and when I clutched at the wound something just…happened.”
He clasped the ring tightly in his palm and closed his hand into a fist. “You were able to mend the wound?”
“Eventually, yes. At first I just felt an odd tingling sensation, almost like I’d stuck my hand in a tub of warm water. It was only later I realized I was feeling the Aether as it flowed through me.”
“And I assume you didn’t tell anyone?”
“No. I didn’t want to believe it at first. I knew what would happen to me if anyone found out.” I bit down on my lip as I opened the long-forgotten mental dam and allowed the memories to wash back over me. “But I couldn’t ignore it, no matter how much I tried. The Aether was a part of me whether I wanted it to be or not. After a while I realized I could feel it all the time—I had just grown so accustomed to it I didn’t notice it anymore. It allowed me to do things I knew shouldn’t have been possible. Heal scrapes and bruises in an instant, hear another’s thoughts if I so much as brushed against their arm…”
“Spray fire from your fingertips,” Larric added mildly.
I closed my eyes and swallowed. “I had never done that before the ambush. I didn’t even know I could do that.”
“Then you’re luckier than you know. Every adept we tracked down always had a clearly visible display of their power—fire, lightning, something like that. But I always knew it was the ones we couldn’t see who were the real threat. A ball of conjured flame can kill a dozen men, but a secret plucked from mind of a prelate or a duke could destroy an Empire.”
I nodded but didn’t reply. I’d never thought of it that way before, but he was probably right. The common people feared the likes of the Tel Bator for their ability to destroy enemy barricades or blast through the walls of a castle, but they were probably near the bottom of the channeler castes for a reason. The priests learned to heal wounds and manipulate minds, and ultimately those were far more powerful skills. As Master had once told me, the ability to destroy meant little without the wisdom and temperance to control.
“So your owner never knew what you were, then?” Larric asked after another pause.
“No,” I told him. “He paid very little attention to me unless I overcooked something.”
“That seems hard to believe. Faeyn slaves are rare enough in Mavarinth, and potential avenari are rarer still. I’m surprised he didn’t just hire a normal servant.” He paused and eyed me strangely for a moment. “He never took you? Not even once?”
I shook my head. “No, never. I always expected him to…change my duties once I came of age, but he never did.”
“So Kristoff really was your first then. That explains a great deal…”
I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, but I nodded absently in response. A small part of me still expected him to drag me off to the Inquisitors at any moment…but it seemed less and less likely as the seconds ticked by. For months he had looked upon me with absolute revulsion, and less than a week ago he’d been visibly disgusted at the thought of laying a hand on me. But something had changed between then and now. His eyes were contemplative, not damning. His entire body language seemed to have shifted from hostile to curious. And I had absolutely no idea why.
Perhaps he’d resigned himself to the fact that Master intended to use him as his chief negotiator, or perhaps he’d simply realized that I wasn’t a threat to him or the Empire despite the magic in my blood. Or perhaps I just didn’t understand him at all. At this point, that seemed the most likely explanation.
“Did you ever know your parents?” he asked.
“No, I don’t remember them,” I said. “Master Kurwick told me I came from a breeder somewhere across the border in Sorthaal, but he never elaborated beyond that. My first memories are from Mistress Grolaine’s slave house, and she sold me to Kurwick when I was eight.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “She’s still in business, as far as I know. Or was, before the invasion. At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone with the means has already fled across the border to Sorthaal…”
I swallowed again and took in a calming breath. I had no idea if I’d ever get another chance to ask him this question, and now seemed like as good a time as any…
“If you were in an Inquisitor,” I managed, “weren’t you able to channel, too?”
His cheek twitched. Like most of his tells, the movement was almost imperceptible, even more so with the long shadows covering half his face. But it was definitely there…and he seemed more pained than surprised.
“Yes,” he said, his voice a grave whisper. “All Inquisitors swear fealty to the Triad and bind themselves to the Godstone.”
“And they took that away from you.”
His pale blue eyes finally latched onto me, and I felt stark naked despite the thick robe slung over my shoulders. “The Covenant does not allow traitors to retain their powers any more than it allows them to keep their sword or armor.”
Traitor. The word seared into my mind as I conjured up a thousand wild possibilities of what he crime he might have committed to deserve such a label. The Inquisitor at the Infintium had called him an exile, but surely a traitor was worse. Which tenets of the Covenant had he violated? I had always assumed they simply executed any servants who dared turn against the teachings of the Levinthian…
Before I could turn my musings into a question, Larric abruptly stood from his chair and circled around behind me. For a moment he remained silent, and it took a supreme effort on my part to remain patient and not swivel around to face him.
And then suddenly his hands brushed against my arms and pulled the robe from my shoulders. A chilling draft prickled my bare skin, and I wondered nervously if he finally intended the claim the prize Master had offered him a week earlier...
“Kristoff trusts you implicitly,” he said, his tone surprisingly conversational despite my near nudity. “Not many nobles allow their slaves to wander without an obedience collar, and certainly not a
valuable one like an avenari. He gives you your own bedchamber, he allows you to read anything you wish from the library…and he even lets you practice your dark magic in the safety of his study.”
“I am very lucky,” I replied. Another cold draft pricked at my back, and I struggled to repress a shiver. “Master has been very kind to me.”
“Other than sending you off to fuck half the city, anyway.”
My lip quivered. What was he getting at? What did he want me to say? Was he trying to bait me into revealing something?
“I gladly serve Master however he wishes.”
Larric grunted. He was just behind my ear now; I could feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my neck. “That’s what I don’t understand. You serve him, but you clearly don’t have to. With your powers, you could easily escape the mansion and flee the city. You could find the Faedari. You could fight with them to try and free your people, but you don’t. Why?”
“I…” My throat went dry and took my voice with it. He must have been testing me. I couldn’t think of any other reason why he’d choose to confront me tonight after he’d had so many other opportunities. “I serve because I am a loyal subject of the Empire. I would never join the heretics.”
“But they want to help you. You wouldn’t be a slave anymore. Don’t you want freedom?”
“It is my place to serve,” I told him. “It is the only way my people can find penance in the eyes of the gods.”
Larric remained silent for a moment, his breath continuing to tickle my skin, before he finally snorted and stepped back around in front of me. “This is what the Covenant doesn’t understand. They see every Unbound as an uncontainable threat, but there are methods of control besides the Godstone. Here you are, gifted with almost unimaginable power, and yet it never occurs to you to use it. You are sapped and docile. You are broken.”
I lowered my chin and remained silent. I didn’t know what he expected me to say. Perhaps he didn’t expect me to say anything. He just stood there glaring at me, the temporarily forgotten revulsion blazing in his eyes once again. I could almost feel the disgust pouring off him.
His hand flicked down to his belt, and when it returned it was holding a knife. Somehow I managed not to jump or even recoil as he leaned in closer to me. He reached down and grabbed ahold of my knickers before crisply slicing the band and letting the remnants fall to the floor. I was now completely naked.
“Kneel.”
I did as he asked without a second thought, and I waited expectantly for him to open his trousers and present me with his manhood. But he didn’t. He just stood there, the same as before, staring at me like I was something he’d scraped off his boot. Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore, and I reached out to touch his belt—
“I never said you could touch me,” Larric said, his voice as cold and dark as the fading winter. “I never said you could do anything.”
“Forgive me, my lord,” I groveled. “I just…”
He snorted again before curling his fingers through my hair. He then abruptly squeezed and jerked my head backwards until I was forced to look up at him. “This is all you know, isn’t it? You can’t even conceive of a life where you’re not swallowing cocks or bending over tables. I’d say it’s pathetic…but really I think it’s just sad.”
He released his grip, then leaned over to his satchel and retrieved my leash and cuffs. He hadn’t fastened it onto my collar the entire trip—he had never needed to—but now he leaned in and snapped the leather strip firmly into place.
“It’s time for you to get some rest,” Larric said under his breath as he hauled me back to my feet. “I’m sure Duke Darkstone will make fine use of you. Just like I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”
He pulled me into the small side chamber with the single bed and pushed me face-first onto the mattress. I heard the clink of metal as he adjusted my cuffs and fastened my wrists behind my back, and he even latched my ankles together before tying my leash off on one of the bed poles.
“I assume you prefer it this way, yes?” he asked snidely as he checked to make certain the bonds were secure. “I wouldn’t want you to be tempted to use your power to escape.”
He glared down at me for a moment longer, probably wondering if I’d be willing to protest even the smallest amount. But I didn’t. I just closed my eyes and laid there locked in place, and eventually he grunted and left the room.
A week ago, I had curled into a ball on the floor of his room and cried myself to sleep. But tonight was different. Tonight I didn’t allow despair to overwhelm me. Tonight I simply laid there, strapped nude and motionless to the bed, rolling Larric’s words over and over in my mind.
I really could have escaped. I could have charmed one of the other guards and commanded them to unbind my restraints. I could have used my powers to blend in with the townsfolk, at least for a while, and then I could have found the Faedari rebels and joined up with them. But I didn’t want any of that…and, like Larric, I wasn’t sure why.
Did I serve Master Kristoff because he was my owner, or because I had convinced myself that I loved him? Did I refrain from using my powers because I was scared of the Covenant, or because I was scared of taking control over my own destiny? Was I a slave because the Empire demanded it, or because had I simply learned to enjoy the collar around my neck?
I had so many questions, but the more I thought about them the more I realized how terrified I was of the answers. Because if Larric was right, then I wasn’t really a slave to the Empire after all. I was a slave to doubt. I was a slave to fear.
I was a slave to myself.
Chapter Nine
Skyfall was the dark reflection of Stormcrest.
I’d heard that saying countless times over the years from the nobles back home, and I’d probably read half a dozen variations of it in the historical texts. But as we curled around the base of the Ember Peaks the next morning and got our first look at Korvale’s largest city, I decided that conventional wisdom was, as increasingly seemed to be the case, wrong.
Where Stormcrest was a mighty fortress built atop the mountains at the center of Glorinfel, Skyfall was a mighty fortress built into the mountains. According to legend, long ago a great rock had fallen from the heavens and landed at the heart of these ridges, shattering the jagged crests and carving out a massive crater of flame and ash. They had been dubbed the Ember Peaks for that reason, and sitting comfortably within them, tucked neatly away behind virtually unscalable ridges and snow-covered cliffs, was Skyfall.
In a sense, the city was a perfect microcosm of Korvale. While the province was isolated from the outside world by mountains and oceans, Skyfall was isolated from the rest of the Vale by the Ember Peaks. The result was a fractured population with far more diversity and far less unity than any of the other imperial provinces. If not for the fact that the vaeyn had conquered Balagarde, I doubted that Master would have actually bothered sending an envoy. But now, with the enemy disturbingly close to his border, perhaps Duke Darkstone could finally be convinced to join the Quorum.
Not that I was overly concerned with our mission at this point. Larric had placed me on one of the horses rather than inside the carriage today, and he’d actually gone so far as strap me into the saddle. My hands were free to clutch the reins, but my ankles remained shackled and slung over the side together. I was tired and uncomfortable, and I remained haunted by the ghosts of the previous night. Rationally, I knew I needed to prepare myself for our meeting with Darkstone…but I just couldn’t bring myself to focus.
We reached one of the guard towers outside the city gates by early evening, and a small unit of soldiers wearing the black-gold tabards of Korvale approached us. They weren’t with the Imperial Legion, I noticed. In fact, now that I thought about, I hadn’t seen any legionnaires in at least two days…
“Greetings, my lord,” one of the guards said with a stilted bow. I didn’t recognize the rank insignia inscribed on her baldric, but presumably she was some type of o
fficer. “His Excellency Duke Darkstone welcomes you to the Vale.”
“Thank you,” Larric replied politely. Having gone through this process probably a hundred times with other soldiers over the past week, his responses were almost involuntary. “Duke Kristoff sends his regrets that he was unable to make this trip himself, but I speak in his stead.”
“Yes, His Excellency was informed of the change of plans. He welcomes Duke Kristoff’s representatives nonetheless.” The woman’s helmet tilted to the side, and through her narrow visor I could see a pair of hazel eyes fasten upon me. “By His Excellency’s orders, however, I must request that you remove all restraints from your avenari immediately….as well as those from any other slave you may have brought with you.”
Larric froze in place, his brow furrowing in confusion. This was definitely not a part of the standard greeting routine. “I beg your pardon?”
“I know it is an unusual request, my lord, but His Excellency’s orders were quite clear,” the guard said. “He promised to explain why once reach the palace.”
Larric glanced over to me and then back to the other two dozen guards fanned out behind us. At least ten of the others Arland had lent us were slave soldiers drawn from Duke Arland’s auxiliary army, including the six barrel-chested orc warriors. They weren’t overtly shackled, of course—soldiers would have been pretty useless with the feet locked together—but they were all wearing obedience collars.
“Is this the new law of the land in Korvale?” Larric asked. “Because if so, I’ve never heard of anything like it before.”
“We received the orders in anticipation of your arrival, my lord,” the woman told him. “I understand your concern, but I’m afraid we must insist.”
Having seen Larric in action, I had a feeling he could have killed every one of these soldiers by himself if he needed to. But presumably there were reinforcements stationed inside the tower, and of course there was also the inconvenient fact that butchering a squad of Darkstone’s loyal soldiers probably wouldn’t have been the most auspicious way to open our negotiations. And so after another few seconds of deliberation, Larric simply nodded.