Thrall (Deridia Book 3)

by Catherine Miller

  “I am sorry if I do not learn quickly enough,” she finished, looking back into her lap. “I know how I frustrate you. It is...” she stopped, certain she was saying too much already.

  “What is it?” he prompted, tapping at her chin with his forefinger. “What were you going to say?”

  She swallowed, meeting his eye as he obviously intended. “It is hard to know what is real, sometimes. If... if I will wake up one day and everything will be as it was.”

  She did not add that she feared he would be the same as her other masters. She didn’t need to, and it would only upset him if she did.

  And then he was reaching for her, settling his big hand over both of hers, gripping lightly. “You can trust me, Ness,” he encouraged. “Things are going to be better here. You do not have to be afraid.”

  She smiled because she did not know what else to do, what answer that was left when she could not be sure, could not know with absolute certainty that he was correct.

  The Caern could still determine she was a poor addition to their people. She could be sent back, or be reassigned to another keeper.

  There were simply too many unknowables.

  But perhaps in this, she could try. He had been clear that he didn’t want to be known as master. Whether or not he understood his place, that word troubled him. If he knew she still used it, even in her own mind, he likely would be upset.

  And she didn’t want that.

  Olivar. That was his name, what he preferred for her to use.

  And she would obey.

  Olivar patted her hands, giving her a smile of his own. “Now, are you going to let me buy you things?”

  And he seemed so enthusiastic about the venture, that she could do nothing but nod.

  She had known that Olivar was a strange master, but she had not expected his oddness to extend to how he behaved with her in public.

  Nor did she ever think that she would be riding a master to a market. Whatever that might be.

  He hadn’t approved of her walking in the streets again without boots, and had eyed her thoughtfully for a moment before helping her to stand up on her chair. She’d stared at him in confusion but obliged, just as she would always do, though her willingness waned when he turned his back to her, bringing her wrists about his neck and pulling her forward.

  Her eyes widened as he began to walk away, the only thing supporting her was his hands gripping her wrists and it hurt.

  She had hung down his back, limp and confused, until he’d released her and turned back with a frown on his face.

  “Ness?” he’d enquired. “You are supposed to hold onto my back with your legs.” He rubbed the back of his neck, that sheepish look on his face again. “I am sorry I did not make that clear.”

  She was leery when he suggested they try again, especially since she wasn’t certain she wanted to walk through the town in such open display with him, but he was insistent and the second time went much better. It felt... wrong to be touching him so much, but he had requested it of her so she supposed it was all right. And with her ability to support herself with her legs, nothing hurt, and she did not feel as if she would immediately fall off.

  Though she did feel perfectly ridiculous.

  And that did not change by the way people stared at them, Olivar giving them warm smiles and greetings as they passed.

  She did like that she was able to tuck her face behind his neck, to hide as best she could as he manoeuvred the streets for her, much easier to pretend that she did not exist than when she had to walk on her own and be careful of running into obstacles.

  He hadn’t fully explained what a market was, but as soon as they entered the bustling street, its meaning became rather obvious. The street was lined with people, wares displayed artfully as others mingled and traded, or passed little pouches of somethings in return for a wanted good.

  Many beckoned for Olivar to come and see, but he shook his head with a smile, seeming to know where he wished to go. She now understood that his insistence on this method of bringing her was not only to protect her feet, but was also to keep her from getting lost. She had no idea that so many of his people lived here, and as she looked about she noticed that there were a few that did not look like the others. Their skin was an odd shade that seemed to shift in the daylight, even up to their bald heads.

  She swallowed, ducking her head again, overwhelmed by all the sights.

  Olivar turned his head, rubbing at her arm with his thumb. “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice slightly raised so she could hear.

  “I did not know you had so many people,” she informed him, able to speak much more quietly as she could bring her lips very near his ear.

  “Oh.” Olivar looked about him, as if noticing the crowd for the first time. “I suppose we do.” He glanced back at her. “Are there too many? Would you rather return home?”

  She found herself unconsciously holding onto him a little closer, as if somehow she would be spirited away if her grasp was not tight enough. “No,” she assured him, hating the thought of being alone in his home.

  Olivar gave her forearm a pat. “Right then. We shall see if we can make this quick.”

  She opened her mouth to clarify that she hadn’t meant to hurry him, but he was already approaching one of the people, lines of boots in varying sizes openly displayed.

  “Alindra,” Olivar greeted with a nod. “I am in need of a pair for my friend.” He touched her arms that were twined about his neck, still using the Naradian tongue.

  Ness stared, not having expected to interact with any mistresses, but she kept her surprise to herself.

  “Olivar!” Mistress Alindra exclaimed, also in Ness’s language. She had not expected that either, for so many to accommodate her, to try to include her in conversations that she truly did not need to be a part of, but they did. Olivar’s people were most strange.

  “You put that girl down this moment—she is not a rope you can hoist over your shoulder!”

  Olivar did not immediately move to obey, but she wished he had. “She does not have any boots,” he reminded her, tugging at Ness’s ankle to show off the bared foot.

  Alindra rolled her eyes. “And we will fix that, obviously. But you can allow that girl a little dignity, too.” She had questioned his choice to carry her, and hearing a mistress’s disapproval only furthered her unease. She loosened her legs a little, hoping to urge him to oblige, and with a sigh, he did so, helping her to find her footing before bringing her about to stand by his side.

  He leaned down, his voice soft as he whispered in her ear. “Did you mind?”

  She glanced up at him, at his worried eyes and found that she had no easy answer. She never did with him. Not when she wanted to please him so much, wanted to ease any of his upsets however she could.

  He sighed, turning back to Mistress Alindra. “I was thinking a child’s pair might suit her well enough,” he mused, looking about the table. She had never seen so many boots, at least not attached to thralls with special tasks—and none of those were nearly as fine as these. These were new, the leathers soft and supple, though she had not even dared touch one to experience for herself.

  And one would soon be hers?

  Alindra leaned over the table, peering down at Ness’s bare feet. Her eyes widened. “Are you certain she is grown?” Her tone heartily suggested that she was not convinced it was so, and Ness blushed deeply.

  Olivar stood a bit nearer to her, his hand settling on her shoulder. She appreciated his sign of ownership, but also worried that it was too familiar. But he could do what he liked, even if it made her stomach squirm oddly for it to be witnessed.

  For she liked it all too much.

  “Mandar thinks so. Well, or near enough. So something to last a long time, I should think.”

  Alindra made a soft humming noise, gesturing for him to come behind the table.

  She knelt down, bringing out a piece of wood, notches carved into the smooth surface, and she placed it o
nto the paved street. “What is your name?” she asked, smiling for the first time.

  Ness hadn’t expected to be addressed directly, and though she still felt a moment’s fear at having to confess a name, she was growing more used to the Onidae knowing of it. “Ness,” she answered clearly, not wanting to have to repeat it.

  Mistress Alindra nodded. “Right then. You step here, Ness, and I will know what will fit you. Left foot, first, please.”

  A mistress had said please.

  Ness blinked at her, but only once before she hurried to obey. Alindra smiled at her. “Other foot, Ness.”

  Her cheeks turned crimson, and she righted her mistake, not able to look at the boot-maker any longer. “There is no need to be embarrassed,” the mistress told her, though Ness could object heartily to that. There was reason, as she had erred during her first experience with a mistress. “You would be surprised how many do the same.” She positioned Ness’s foot just so, humming softly as she took note of each mark, before asking her to switch feet.

  Olivar watched it all, his expression inscrutable. “Have you seen Bendan of late?” There was a forced easiness to his tone that made Ness glance up at him, for it was unfamiliar given how he generally spoke to her.

  Mistress Alindra gave a snort and shook her head. “You brother is a fool,” she declared, obviously meaning it. Ness worried that her words might anger Olivar—she did not understand these familial ties very well, but Olivar gave no sign of distress beyond rubbing his neck thoughtfully.

  “Is that a no, then?”

  Mistress Alindra rose, looking over the line of boots. “I have informed him that he is welcome to seek me out when he has become reasonable. So far he has chosen to be otherwise.”

  Ness caught the slump of Olivar’s shoulders. “I see.”

  Mistress Alindra selected a pair and handed them to Ness. “You can try these,” she suggested, tugging over a low stool. “They may be a bit wide for you—I did not know that a foot could be so narrow! If I had been told you were in need, I could have made something special.” She gave Olivar an accusatory look, but he seemed too preoccupied with news of his brother to appreciate the significance of the look.

  These were laced boots, and Ness looked at them worriedly. Some of the garments assigned to her had lacings, and surely these would not be much different.

  She sat on the offered stool, slipping a foot into the boot, suddenly grateful that Olivar had insisted on carrying her. It meant that her foot was clean, and she wouldn’t be soiling something so fine. She still had a hard time believing that these might be meant for her.

  “What do you think?” Mistress Alindra asked her, still kneeling as she pushed lightly against the leather, likely judging the fit. It felt wrong seeing her positioned so, for Ness to be taking the stool while a mistress had nothing, but she had been put there and so she would stay.

  She looked down at her covered feet uncertainly. Nothing pinched horribly, but her feet felt confined in ways she had never imagined. “I do not know,” she confessed. “I have never worn boots before.”

  The mistress glanced up at her in surprise. “Oh. Well. I imagine they will take some getting used to.”

  She got to her feet and held out a hand. Ness stared at it, but only for a moment, recognising the gesture that Olivar had sometimes given her, reaching out tentatively and surrendering it to the mistress. She was tugged to her feet, and she stared down at them bemusedly. Was this how boots were meant to feel? There was a softness to them that was a blessing compared to the hard stone of the street, and she was certain once the suns grew higher and began scorching said stones, she would be grateful for the coverings. But for now...

  Her feet felt almost heavy.

  Mistress Alindra chuckled. “Walk around, Ness. If they do not feel right then we will have to try again.”

  Ness took a few measured steps, feeling awkward as she did so. Was her gait always like this? Olivar was looking at her with amusement, and she supposed her steps did look a little funny given her uncertainty.

  She was especially afraid of scuffing the fine boots that might not end up being hers, so each step was thoughtfully placed.

  Olivar began to laugh outright, taking her hand in his and pulling her towards a more secluded alley. “Come along, Ness. You need a proper walk if you are going to decide.”

  Following him made her forget about keeping the boots pristine as she tried to keep up with his wide steps. They did not go far, Mistress Alindra within view as she watched them from her wooden stall. Ness was afraid that if they ducked out of sight that she might think Ness had stolen the boots, but she pushed such worries aside. Olivar wouldn’t let her do anything wrong, or so she hoped.

  She walked about the alley a little more assuredly, and decided that the boots were not too uncomfortable. They were not like wearing nothing, of course, but she could still wiggle her toes, and nothing compressed overly much.

  But when she glanced up to tell that to Olivar, she found that he wasn’t looking at her, his attention focused solely on Mistress Alindra.

  She felt a funny twitch in her belly at the almost wistful expression she noted there, but she shoved it away furiously. Just because he was her keeper did not make him hers.

  He deserved a proper mistress, one of his kind that would be his equal in all things. Just because he was kind and thoughtful and generous didn’t mean that she could lose sight of all she’d known.

  Her eyes flickered downward, suddenly wanting to go home, but she glanced back at him when he sighed deeply. “I do not think I have ever gone this long without talking with him,” Olivar said, to her or to himself she wasn’t entirely certain.

  She looked back to the stall, and belatedly realised that Master Bendan was standing there, the knot of tension in her belly releasing immediately. It both shamed and confused her that it had been there at all, but there was no mistaking its sudden absence when she noted how it dissipated.

  She could not make out what they were saying. Master Bendan seemed to be entreating the mistress for something, but she shook her head firmly, finally pointing to where she and Olivar were standing.

  Master Bendan looked at them, his eyes widening, and she suddenly wanted to hide behind Olivar until his brother went away.

  He did not seem angry, but she was fairly certain there was a great deal she did not understand about the situation. She knew so little of kin.

  Olivar sighed deeply. “Come on, Ness,” he instructed, though he seemed loath to approach himself.

  She obeyed, wanting terribly to do otherwise, but he’d given an order and she was obligated to comply.

  She glanced at Mistress Alindra worriedly when they neared, her face looking rather pinched and irritated. The expression smoothed quickly, however, a bright smile returning. “What do you think, Ness? I can make you a special pair if these will not do.”

  Ness shook her head determinedly. She wouldn’t be a bother. Especially not with the first mistress she’d known. “They are very fine,” she complimented, bowing her head deeply. “I am unworthy of them.”

  It was true. She hadn’t been tasked with anything especially difficult that would have made them a necessity, and hadn’t earned enough honour to deserve a pair of her own.

  But still, she was wearing them.

  “Nonsense,” Mistress Alindra declared, waving away her concern. “I would be honoured to be the one to provide your first pair of boots.”

  Ness’s eyes widened. She couldn’t bestow honour—most especially when she hadn’t earned any for herself. But Mistress Alindra seemed adamant, and she would not contradict her.

  Even if the woman’s generosity left her feeling a little overwhelmed.

  “Linnie...” Master Bendan entreated.

  “I believe you need to speak with your brother before you say anything more to me,” the mistress answered coolly.

  Olivar stood awkwardly, his eyes darting between the mistress and his brother. “How much do I owe
you for the boots?”

  And just like the doctor, the price was waved away with an easy flick of a wrist. “My gift to her,” she insisted with a smile given to Ness. “I hope you will remember my work and return should you need a pair in the future.”

  Ness gave a nod for she did not know what else she could do. There was a lump in her throat, the overwhelmed feeling only growing. Were all of the Onidae as kind as Olivar?

  It seemed too much to be believed and yet... yet she had not seen much to indicate otherwise—Master Bendan’s reluctance notwithstanding.

  “Olivar,” Master Bendan entreated, not quite looking at him. “May we speak?”

  She wondered why he was using the Naradian tongue when he clearly was not pleased by her presence. Perhaps it was due to Olivar’s insistence.

  Olivar eyed him for a moment before he gave a nod. “Ness needs more things,” he informed him. “But if you would like to come this evening, I would not object.”

  Ness had forgotten that there would be more of these stops to collect new things for her. Already she felt like this was too much, that his people were too generous to her.

  She had tried to say that she wasn’t worthy of their care, but the mistress had dismissed her truth. And to insist would mean contradicting, and she couldn’t bear to do that either.

  So she followed Olivar in her new boots and her new clothes, hoping that someday she could become worthy of their kindness—that she could become who they thought her to be.

  But not knowing in the least how she might begin.

  9. Burn

  Ness couldn’t imagine why any person would need so many things, let alone her.

  Olivar’s pouch of the shiny things he called coins was much lighter by the time they returned to his home, and though guilt still gnawed at her stomach for the extravagance, there was no ignoring the wide smile on his face at each of the purchases.

  He wanted these things for her, and there wasn’t any point in denying it.

  “I should have seen about commissioning another wardrobe,” he mused while depositing her many things onto his bed. She didn’t mean to blanch, but she couldn’t help it. Not when he was suggesting that an entire piece of furniture be made simply to house her new things.