Sold to Serve: The Dark Brothers Book 1

by Kyra Alessy

  When she looked up, he was lighting a fire in the middle of the clearing. She inched closer to it. Her skin still felt hot, but her teeth chattered. Soon he had a small blaze going, and he turned his attention to her. He didn’t speak, just watched her as she sat. She stared back at him, drawing her knees up so he couldn’t see her nakedness. He’d had all afternoon to look at her breasts, of course, but he hadn’t. To sit in front of him now like this made her feel helpless, and she didn’t like it one bit.

  He leant back against the tree behind him. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Kora. What’s yours?’ she fired back.

  His lip twitched. ‘Master, I suppose.’

  She tried to keep the sneer off her face, but she knew she’d failed when he raised an eyebrow at her. She wrapped her arms around herself, still shivering despite being quite close to the fire.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘How long did he have you staked out in the sun?’

  ‘All morning until the … the auction.’

  He was silent, as if waiting for something more.

  She gritted her teeth. ‘Master,’ she choked out.

  He snorted. ‘My name is Mace.’ He grabbed one of his bags and dug around inside for a moment. Then he tossed her a small pot. She fumbled, only just catching it. ‘Your skin is burnt. Use the salve and drink more water or you’ll get sun sick.’

  ‘Why do you care?’, she snapped and wondered where she’d found the gall to speak to him in such a way.

  She saw his jaw clench. ‘You were expensive,’ he said coldly. Then he stood and walked over to where she sat, towering over her like a giant. She swallowed hard and made herself crane her neck to look him in the eye. She would not be cowed.

  He leant down and she couldn’t help but flinch. Would he beat her for her insolence? But instead he seemed to be inspecting the marks the slaver had given her earlier in the day. ‘Use the salve on those lashes too,’ he muttered, untying her wrists. When she was free, he straightened and marched into the undergrowth. She stared after him as he melted into the twilight.

  For a while she watched the forest where he’d disappeared, wondering if this was a trick of some sort, but he didn’t return. She used up the small pot of salve over the worst of her burnt skin and the ridges the lash had made and found that her body immediately began to feel better. There was none left for her feet though and she belatedly realised she should have tended to those first.

  She went back to the stream, biting her lip as she looked out into the night beyond the dancing shadows cast by the fire. She should run now while he was gone, she knew, but the more she gazed into the darkness, the more she feared. There were noises coming from beyond the clearing and she didn’t know enough to identify what animals made them. There were wolves out there at the very least. She went back to the fire, stoked it and fed it with some sticks the mercenary had left before lying on the soft moss and closing her eyes.

  She woke groggy the next day. The fire smouldered next to her and she was covered in a blanket she hadn’t had the night before. She sat up and looked around the clearing. The mercenary – Mace – was standing with his horse.

  ‘Get up. It’s almost time to go.’

  A thick, dry biscuit landed in the moss in front of her. It wasn’t much, but she hadn’t eaten in two days, so it was a veritable feast as far as she was concerned. She gobbled it quickly and stood, keeping the blanket carefully around her. He turned away from her as he smothered the fire, so she quickly saw to her morning needs while he wasn’t watching. Then she drank deeply from the stream again. She did feel better today despite sleeping on the ground. The salve he’d given her had done wonders. Her skin was still a bit red, but it didn’t hurt anymore. Even the welts from the slaver’s lash no longer felt swollen.

  Her bare feet were a different story, however. They already hurt, though she was only walking on the soft moss of the clearing, and she knew that if she looked, they’d be a mess of cuts and blisters from the day before. She hoped they didn’t have far to go today.

  She clasped the blanket around her shoulders tightly as he beckoned her – as if that would offer her any real protection. ‘Where are we going?’

  Mace said nothing at first, and she thought perhaps he wasn’t going to tell her. He gave one of his sighs.

  ‘To the keep,’ he said finally as he snatched the blanket from her.

  She gasped, but he ignored her, rolling it up and stowing it on the horse without another word. He tied her hands as he had the day before and lashed her to his horse. He took them back to the road.

  ‘Is it far?’

  He muttered something about indulged house slaves. ‘Walk quickly and we’ll get there faster.’

  She stared at his back with a frown as he mounted his horse and they began the trek anew. Before long, her feet were in agony as they travelled over the rough stones and sand of the thoroughfare. She took to trying to walk on the edge in the grass and moss whenever she could. She also began to pick at the knot in the rope. She knew something about knots; not the names or anything so involved, but her seafaring Uncle Royce had taught her some, and Mace had used one that was similar. She’d be able to get it undone eventually.

  She didn’t make a sound as they travelled and, again, he never once looked back. After a while, her deft fingers slowly but surely began loosening the rope around her wrists, but when it suddenly and very abruptly fell to the ground, she tensed, sure he would notice. She’d meant to hold on until the last moment, but now the rope was being dragged along the ground sans prisoner.

  Her eyes darted to him, but he hadn’t looked away from the road ahead. Without a second thought, she dashed into the undergrowth, trying to be as quiet but as quick as she could be. Ignoring the pain in her feet, she dodged trees and stumps.

  MACE

  Mace wasn’t sure what prompted him to look back when he hadn’t all morning. Perhaps he heard something and his finely tuned senses put him on alert, or perhaps it was just luck that he turned his head at just the right moment to see his newly bought and very expensive slave running into the undergrowth and the end of the rope trailing along the ground behind the horse. He gave an annoyed, rasping groan from deep in his throat. He should have known after what the slaver had said that she’d be trouble. And how had she gotten his knot undone so quickly?

  He leapt from his mount and sprinted quickly through the trees, the horse’s easy canter ceasing immediately. He knew this stretch of road well. The river wasn’t far and it would slow her down. He moved much faster than her. There was no need for him to rush, though for some reason he did.

  He hadn’t been himself since Kingway when he’d seen her bound in the sun, skin burning, covered in mud. Ordinarily he wouldn’t have looked twice, but instead he found himself staring at her, unable to tear his gaze away. Her bearing was not that of an owned girl. It made more sense when the slaver said she was a house slave, but he’d have known it at once by the lilt of her voice as soon as he’d heard it on the road. They always sounded like they were part of the noble families they served and were typically a bit above their station because of it, in his experience.

  So he’d paid a ridiculous amount of coin for a potentially useless slave girl; one so intractable that, though he’d been a picture of respectability last evening despite wanting to give her a good hard fucking to put her in her place, she still ran at the first opportunity. She’d learn soon enough that he and the others were not like the noble family her kin served. Thieving and any other mischiefs would be punished harshly.

  At least she’d be well-versed from birth in the needs of a large estate though. A house slave’s domestic skills were valuable, after all. He grinned suddenly, remembering other female house slaves he’d come into contact with. Such helpful little things usually and always up for a bit of bed play in exchange for less work. Kora could try to seduce them if she liked. Gods, she’d probably succeed, but she’d get no special treatment for the effort.

  His brow fu
rrowed as he remembered how she’d felt in his arms when he’d caught her after the slaver had thrown her off the dais. Warm and perfect as if she fit him somehow, as if something was moving into place. It had been a curious sensation and not something he’d felt before. Perhaps … No. He steeled himself against these odd thoughts. She was an untrustworthy house slave that would be useful in their endeavours with the estate they’d bought after leaving the Dark Army – well, as long as they kept her on a short leash anyway. She would be useful to them and the keep so long as she was watched closely. That was all.

  He caught sight of her up ahead, her shorter legs no match for his. He let out a slow breath. Gods, even now he was tempted. He shook his head as he got closer and reminded himself that she was a slave who had been cast out. She would be devious and disloyal. They couldn’t let their guard down around her. He had to remember that a slave who stole could never be reliable no matter where she came from and the only way he’d earn back even half of what she’d cost him was by ensuring well that she was never idle.

  As he neared, he heard her laboured breathing and sneered cruelly. Pampered little thing. They’d enjoy putting her to work in the keep; show her what it was to be a true slave.

  Kora had been running for ages, branches tearing at her arms and legs, when suddenly the trees gave way to open space. A river. She skidded to a halt at the edge of a short stone cliff, wondering if she should run along it or jump in. But before she was able to decide, much less act, something hit her hard between her shoulders, plunging her into the surging water. Her cry was cut short as she went under. She flailed and kicked in the current, her head breaking the surface as she finally remembered to keep her fingers together as she paddled. She coughed and spluttered, trying to get her bearings. Then she heard someone clear their throat and looked up. Mace stood where she had been. She thought he looked amused at first, but his expression rapidly darkened and she cursed inwardly. She wouldn’t get another chance before they arrived at this keep, wherever it was.

  He pointed downstream, his order clear, though he said nothing, and she made her way to a shallow bank. He was waiting there, and as she clambered out of the water, he took hold of her dark, tangled hair and dragged her up onto the shore. Still he said nothing, but pushed her through the forest, using his grip to steer her in the direction he wanted her to go. She clenched her jaw and let him simply because there was nothing else she could do, but she hated every moment of it.

  When they arrived at the road, he practically threw her onto the ground beside his horse that seemed to be awaiting him patiently. Her knees and hands slid agonisingly on the gravel. She turned over to find his hulking form a hair’s breadth away, a length of knotted rope in his hand.

  ‘My patience is at an end. You’ll get no more kindness from me,’ he growled, and she scrambled back in fear. Quick as a snake, he grabbed her ankles and, when she kicked out at him, he swung the rope. One of the knots hit her hard in the thigh and she cried out.

  ‘You need a good whipping, slave. Shall I do it here in the road?’

  Kora shook her head and ceased her struggle, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  He made a sound of anger that had her shuffling away clumsily, afraid he’d make good on his threat, but he merely grabbed one of her injured feet and peered down at the mess of cuts and scrapes.

  ‘You foolish girl!’ he growled. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  She didn’t answer him, unsure of what to say that wouldn’t get her a cuff on the ear at the very least. Had he not realised she wore no shoes? Why did he even care?

  With a shake of his head, he tied her ankles and wrists together quickly and swung her like a sack of grain over his horse’s back. She landed with a grunt and they started on their way once more, his arm reaching behind to grab hold of her so she wouldn’t slide off.

  They travelled like this until the sun was high, the mercenary and his horse plodding along while she bounced around upon the demon beast’s back, her stomach rolling despite its emptiness. At least her feet were being spared. Small mercies.

  She was just beginning to wonder if he was going to keep her like this the whole way when they passed under something. She twisted her neck to see what was happening. It was a great stone archway and beyond it was a large and imposing fortress. The keep. It was grey and stark against the green of the valley behind. There were two towers and a moat as well as a thick defensive outer wall complete with ramparts, though parts looked as if they were crumbling from years of neglect.

  They went over a bridge and under a raised portcullis into a bustling courtyard. She could hear the blacksmith’s hammer close by and a thousand other sounds that reminded her of home. She wondered if her mother even knew she was gone and felt a sudden pang of sadness that brought tears to her eyes. Mama was probably sitting in her chair looking at nothing, as she did every waking moment. She never spoke, never did anything except stare at the wall and occasionally wander off. She’d been that way as long as she could remember.

  She turned her thoughts away from before and steeled herself. It wasn’t over. She would find a way to escape. She had to. She had less than six days, but she could still become a priest and, once she had pledged herself to the gods, neither her father nor Blackhale could gainsay it. She could visit her home without fear if she ever wished to. Provided she could find a way out of here within four nights, she could make it back to the Temple before it was too late.

  Chapter 2

  The mercenary took hold of her and swung her to the ground.

  She lay there for a moment, dazed, before the bile rose and she sat up to retch into the dirt beside her. What her body could possibly be trying to expel she couldn’t fathom. The biscuit had been hours ago.

  She was left there in the dirt while Mace took his horse into the stable on the other side of the yard. She curled her legs beneath her and used her arms to shield her chest before she dared look. The yard had gone silent and she could guess what had hushed them. She glanced around and found she was right. There were at least twenty men in the vicinity, and all of them were staring at her. She swallowed hard.

  ‘What is this?’ asked an indolent voice.

  Her head swivelled to look at the speaker. He was dressed in the same black clothes Mace wore though he wasn’t as broad nor so tall. His hair was long and so blond it looked almost silver. She tried not to gape as he smiled. He was beautiful, but the look in his eyes was so full of disdain that she shivered.

  ‘We needed a slave.’ Mace shrugged. ‘I got one.’

  The new one, this second master, raised an eyebrow as he surveyed her. ‘A slave girl?’

  ‘A house slave,’ Mace corrected. ‘Kora, this is Lucian.’

  ‘A house slave?’ he echoed. ‘Where did you get one of those?’ Lucian eyed her with interest and looked taken aback by her answering stare. ‘My lord to you, slave.’ He took in the ropes binding her hands and feet and raised a questioning eyebrow.

  Mace stared hard at her. ‘She tried to run.’

  Lucian sneered at Mace. ‘How far did she get?’

  ‘Far enough to be bothersome,’ Mace answered, his tone bored.

  Lucian continued to watch her, his eyes widening slightly as if only just noticing her state of undress. ‘Did you take her clothes as punishment?’ He chuckled. ‘You always were imaginative. Where are your clothes, girl?’ His tone turned taunting.

  Kora wanted to sneer at him in return and dress him down as she would have if she was still … but I’m not, she reminded herself. Not anymore. She had to be humble as a slave if she wanted to survive. She let out a breath and successfully kept her face blank.

  But she found she couldn’t entirely keep the defiance out of her tone as she looked down at herself and then at him. ‘Must have lost them,’ she said brazenly.

  The men around them chuckled and Lucian scowled at her, not getting the reaction he’d clearly hoped for. He waved a hand at their audience, smirking. ‘Get the fuck back to wo
rk.’

  Kora’s eyes widened at his language as the men shuffled away. He eyed her with derision, and she wondered how she could ever have thought this cruel man handsome. His hand darted out and grabbed her by the neck. He dragged her easily to her feet. She winced but met his eyes, and for a moment he froze as if surprised. He finally looked away from her and back to Mace, who was standing not far away.

  ‘Where did you even find a house slave? They’re never sold. Their families stay with the same noble bloodlines for generations.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘She must have done something.’

  ‘A thief.’

  Kora held her tongue as Mace repeated the slaver’s lie. It didn’t matter what they thought, she reminded herself. She would be gone from here soon.

  ‘Not a small crime where a house slave is concerned,’ Lucian mused aloud, looking even more repulsed, if that was possible, and something else – vengeful – as if he took her alleged thievery personally. ‘Watch and learn well, girl.’ His lip curled haughtily and he barked an order. ‘Begin!’

  There was a crack and a yell of pain and Kora’s gaze was suddenly riveted on a large wooden X she hadn’t noticed. A man was tied to it, his back bared. He hanged like a corpse already, though the lashing had only just begun, and Kora could see other bruises on his torso from previous beatings.

  The whip cracked again and he let out a hoarse cry. Blood flowed freely down his back, soaking into his light-brown breeches. Again and again the lash whistled through the air and landed on his flesh. She couldn’t tear her eyes away however much she wanted to.

  She lost count of the lashes after fifteen, but still they went on long after the man was slumped and his inhuman sounds had ebbed. His back was a mass of blood and flaps of loose skin. It made her traitorous stomach roll, but when she did turn her head away from the scene, Lucian grabbed her chin roughly and made her keep watching.