Teagan

by Sharilyn Skye

  The Queen chuckled low as did several women lining the walls. “Ah, Teagan, you will need this more than I.” She passed me her whip, and I took it, knowing I couldn’t do anything else.

  “Thank you,” I said, moving in beside the men. I walked forward, they followed. I did not look down to check, it was expected, and they would do it.

  Kharis taught me that all men are slaves from birth. I didn’t like it, but it wasn’t my culture, and it wasn’t my place to change it. As long as these men did not get me whipped for their mistakes, I would treat them like the people they were.

  “And now we eat and dance!” Kharis raised her arms and swept them wide.

  Strange music played, accented by the sound of many drums and the echoes of something ancient and primal. Tables laden with rich and fragrant food wheeled into the room, their domed lids removed to reveal dishes the likes I had never seen.

  The men rose, retreating to the walls while the women came forward, taking drinks off of trays being passed around the room by men dressed in little more than short skirts, the piercings in their oiled bodies glinting in the room’s light. I stood unsure, not moving forward and not moving back.

  “Go eat or they’ll notice,” I looked down and found that the Trio of men still knelt at my feet, one of them having spoken the words quietly so as not to attract attention. Which one I could not tell.

  “Well then go stand with the others, I guess. I won’t be long,” I answered, looking at their bent heads and trying to decide who had spoken.

  “We cannot. Not until after this night can we stand.” My eyes found the black-eyed man’s, and I nodded in understanding.

  “This place is odd; I don’t know that I’ll ever understand the finer points of it. Very well,” I sighed. “I’ll go. Stay away from the others if you will. I don’t want to see whip marks when I come back.” I gave them a stern look. I didn’t want to own men, but I had learned how things ran here well enough to know I had to say something to them.

  The blue-eyed one chuckled, drawing stern looks from a warrior near enough to hear. I stalked away, heading to the heavy tables and drink servers.

  Chapter Two

  Syl’ta

  We watched her weave through the crowd of starkly beautiful women. Only beauty can trick you. Just because a thing is pleasing to the eye does not mean it is welcoming to the heart. I know these women. There is no kindness here, no beauty beyond the depth of skin. The strange woman with skin like hot tea and cinnamon walked through them, and the fiercest Erhu warriors made way for her.

  She was electric. Heat surrounded her as if she were a hearth filled with hardwoods and soft pine. She was foreign, one of the Queen’s stolen ones, yet she did not quake and tremble the way most of them did. I have never seen anything like her.

  Our last mistress died in battle far from here, or so Kharis said. We went to the pens where I had hoped to remain for the rest of this wretched life, but now, I was rethinking that hope. This new mistress was unlike anything around her, and I wondered if I was the only one who could see it. A glance at my brothers showed me they saw it too.

  A dragon among wolves is what she is, and they don’t appreciate the danger that ripples tantalizingly from her. From my vantage point, I can see the tattoos on her leg, and I wonder what manner of creature she is and from where she was stolen. My sister would have been better to leave her.

  She reached for the drink a kitchen slave offered, sparing him no glance though he looked at her longer than he should. Her gaze swept over the women around her and lit on her Trio, catching us watching. She moved on as if she found us uninteresting before glimpsing the giant throne of ice that resided at the front of the room. She stared at it far longer than was usual, and I stared at her.

  “Eyes down Slave,” A sharp crack to my ribs had me lowering my eyes, but not before I caught the flush of anger that crossed our new mistress’s young face. She moved our way, but before she could reach us, the offending warrior moved on, losing herself in the crowd.

  We are like children. A village raises us, and a village can break us. I stilled, keeping my eyes on the floor in front of me. I would not put this new one in a situation she does not fully comprehend. They may have taught her the customs of this place, but they did not teach her the intricacies, I have no doubt. The slaves aren’t the only things these warriors try to break.

  Though they need the new blood stolen ones bring, they do not enjoy being bested by them, and rumors run like wild things through the slave pens. The new stolen one is fierce. But she is something else too, something other. Magic drips from her like heart blood. Funny that these warriors around her can’t sense it. Superiority has a price, and it is one they don’t know they are paying.

  She circled back, casting sidelong glares at the warrior who hit me on the side. I caught her eyes and saw her fire. In a battle between fire and ice, there can be no winner. Fire melts the ice, but given time, ice turns to water and extinguishes the fire. This odd warrior was full of flames and encased in a frozen land. It flared in her amber eyes, the black ring around them growing thicker or thinner with emotion. It flamed in her wild hair as she moved and breathed. She was a firestorm brought to life.

  She is regal.

  Seasoned warriors moved from her path instinctively, then grew furious at the force she exuded over them.

  They were fools. Whatever conveyance used to get this wild thing here should be used post haste to take her back. She would break this world, and only the voiceless among us could see it.

  I caught the eyes on the Trio of men next to us and saw the same realization on their faces. Looks flew like snow on a breeze around the room, from slave to slave, Trio to Trio, we communicated a warning about this new warrior.

  Where she went, blood would follow.

  Chapter Three

  Teagan

  “Anxious to play with your new toys?” A warrior named Ang’ali slipped from the crowd, stopping by my side.

  “They are stunning. Why shouldn’t I be?” I said, sparing the Trio a glance and keeping my eyes on the woman beside me. I had won the place as Second Sword from her, and she had not been pleased by the loss.

  “Fuck them often, as it keeps them docile. The blue-eyed one is trouble as he is unbroken, although many warriors have tried. The silver-haired one has a strong will and a wicked tongue,” she stopped with a chuckle. “In many ways, his tongue is wicked. The dark one is bland and boring. At least you’ll have one male you won’t take the lash for,” she finished, bringing me into an awkward side hug that made me want to kill her. They were men, not horses. It was disgusting to speak of them this way.

  “Thank you for the advice, Ang,” I replied, knowing she hated it when I shortened her name.

  I walked away from, giving her my back and feeling her hard stare on it. At the table, I piled a plate high with some roasted meat and used my fingers to shove it into my mouth.

  For all their strength and technology, they are but savages. I watched as the Queen made rounds through the throngs of her warriors. Their eyes glittered, and fingers tensed. These people had built a culture around war and, now that there was no war, they chafed. This place was a match ready to light. It wouldn’t take much to set it on fire.

  I finished my meat and piled another plate full, pretending to pick at it. Then I added some delicate-looking pastries to the side and hoped they were like Ari’s. Prayed, they were like Ari’s. “You there,” I said, calling to the Trio and pointing at the blue-eyed one. “Stand and take this, I don’t wish to carry it.”

  A chuckle sounded behind me, “Leaving already?” I turned to find Kharis watching me with narrowed eyes.

  “Yes,” I said, adding nothing more.

  “Which one are you taking first?” she asked, surprising me. “You’re not a virgin, are you? If so, you need to see one of the warriors before you allow them to serve you.”

  The lie flowed smoothly on my tongue, “Of course not,” I said, tilting my head
feigning thought, “I think I’ll have him first.” Something strange happened when I left Talamh na Sithe; I learned that I could lie. In my homeland, only a few can outright lie. Aramea and Ari lie seamlessly. Now, so can I.

  I trailed my hands across the muscled planes of the blue-eyed man’s stomach, feeling the electric spark between us again.

  “Interesting choice. The dark one would be better, though. That one serves well and rarely speaks, making it a more enjoyable experience. Remember not to confuse them with other Erhus; you don’t want them to get ideas about their station. They are here to serve our needs and no more,” she said, her gaze sliding over the men in front of me, pausing on the man I had claimed as my first.

  “Yes, of course,” I said, bowing my head at the Queen in apology. “Take it.” I thrust my plate at him and walked away, not sparing them a glance because I knew they were behind me.

  Chapter Four

  Kar

  Great Gods above what has happened to us now? I watched as Syl rose to take this new terror’s plate and pad behind her like a gentle lamb. Lyrolas and I stood to follow, shooting worried glances at one another.

  They used to make us crawl on our knees, but that caused too much damage to the joints, keeping us from being optimal performers and shortening our work span. Syl doesn’t so much as cut his eyes at her, and I worry what has happened to him.

  She is beautiful, but he is not one to be swayed by looks. There is something about her I have not encountered before. She radiates warmth, where the others have none. Her face glowed, and her dark cheeks burned at the apple where the pink shined through. Her crazy hair moved around her face on its own accord, and I sensed that she is wild, feral, and alien.

  I wonder where they stole her.

  She moves with deadly grace, and thick muscles in her legs show their definition through the slit in her dress, and her strange tattoos peek out as she strode with purpose away from us.

  We rounded the corner away from the eyes of others, and she stopped. Her shoulders slumped, her head tilted back, and she took a deep breath before continuing at a slower pace. Syl keeps perfect pace behind her. Lyrolas says nothing; he just takes it all in.

  A day Lyros is speechless is not a good day. It might be a safe day, but it is not a good day.

  Sighing, I followed the silent figure down mirrored halls and through silvered doors. For one so new to this massive maze of a place, she knows her way around. I caught the scent of her like some strange flower mixed with an undertone of iron or maybe the sharp tang of New World steel.

  Perhaps she would change her mind and pick me first, as the Queen suggested. I wondered if she was as hot on the inside as the waves coming off of her suggested.

  We were in the furthest reaches of the palace now, down unused halls and passed long-empty rooms. I wonder if our Mistress knew that she’d been placed in an area long forgotten and if she cared about what that might imply. A little-known fact about slaves is that just because we aren’t permitted to speak, doesn’t mean we can’t hear. We had all heard of our Mistress’s prowess with her fists and a sword.

  Other males in the pens begged to be chosen by her, thinking that perhaps her strength equated to their safety. They forget that the Queen goes through the pens like mad and discards more slaves than the land can replace, and she is the strongest of them all. Strength does not equal safety. Not for males. Not in this land.

  I wondered if we would survive the night.

  Technically, it is a crime to kill one’s slaves but that technicality matters not when the punishment is so minor that the crime happens regularly.

  At the end of the hall was a great door, and she pushed through it without thought and care. I knew these quarters. They belonged to a long-dead King, and I wondered anew as to what the presence of this molten warrior might mean.

  Things weren’t always this way.

  She sighed, kicking her spiked shoes off and letting them fly into the wall beyond. Her quarters were a mess, clothes piled on the floor, and mismatched shoes lay along the base of every wall as if it were her habit to come in and kick them off in such a manner. The entry led to an ornate, well-furnished sitting area. Every surface was draped with discarded clothes like she enters the place and can no longer stand to be dressed.

  Closed doors shielded other rooms from view, and I knew from old books that the ancient king had multiple sleeping areas for his concubines. These areas were explored by many an unguarded slave, and rumors of the opulence of them passed from mouth to ear over time, as the dream of ever being free men again died.

  French doors into the main sleeping area were open, and the giant-sized bed was piled high with blankets, furs, and other cast-off from this strange woman.

  “Thank the Goddess that’s over.” She moved behind us, shutting the door and barring it.

  We three stared at each other with unconcealed shock.

  “You can eat that; sorry, I didn’t get more, but I was trying to be inconspicuous. There is some dried meat, nuts, bread, and water on the sideboard, help yourselves. I’m going to get out of this Goddess damned dress and wash this day off because it sucked.” She stopped, laughing and tossing her head so that her wild curls bounced with a life of their own.

  “I can run you a bath, milady,” Lyros said, finding his voice but using it oddly. I turned to him so sharply my neck hurt. Lyros is not known for his gentle words, and it stunned me to hear his speak them. He rarely offers anything and makes whatever warrior who owns us work for his compliance.

  “Thank you, but that will be unnecessary, make yourselves comfortable.” She flipped a hand in the general direction of the room and walked away.

  We knelt with our heads bowed when she shut the door to the bathing room.

  “What kind of creature is she?” Lyros asked, hissing through clenched teeth.

  “How am I supposed to know?” I answered, my voice shaking from fear. If she heard our soft words, she could punish us.

  “I’m telling you; she is something new; I feel the power coming from her. She is not like the other stolen ones. She might survive,” Syl said, his voice a steel knife penetrating my heart with hope.

  I was tired of weakness.

  I was also tired of hope, it hurts far more than despair.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, Syl. She could be like all the others,” I cautioned, keeping my eyes on the closed door between our Mistress and us. We could hear her swearing incessantly at the ‘motherfucking dress.’ “Should we do something? She seems unable to get undressed.”

  “No. It could be a test. We wait,” Lyros said, watching the door as if it might explode outward at him.

  We heard the sounds of fabric tearing and crystals and glass hitting the floor. A chuckle followed, then the sound of water falling. On our knees, we waited to see what manner of creature owned us now.

  Chapter Five

  Teagan

  Wrapped in a soft dressing gown, I came out of the bathing room to find the Trio on their knees with heads bent. “I told you to be comfortable, that does not look comfortable. For Goddess’s sake, get up, eat, relax, whatever. None of this on your knees business, not here.”

  I watched as they rose, keeping their eyes down.

  “What are your names?” I asked. The darker one’s breath hitched, and he took a pained gasp, his black eyes flew to mine, momentarily holding my gaze. They are given names at birth, I know this, even if it’s only, so their wardens have some way to yell at them.

  They looked at one another, and I rolled my eyes. “It’s a simple question,” I said. “You may speak freely.”

  “Mistress…” the silver-haired one started, but I refused to start out hearing an explanation from them.

  “My name is Teagan; you will call me by my name. Whatever you need to do out there,” I paused, waving a hand in irritated defiance at the door, “do it. Here, I am Teagan. I think it’s repugnant to own slaves so I will not own you. Here, you are men. Your names, please?”
Their heads whipped around so quickly I worried they might fly off. If entire conversations could be shared with just looks, they shared them. I waited as they stared at one another but said nothing. I had all night.

  I went to the dresser in the corner of the largest bedroom, eyeing them through the open French doors as they stayed locked in silent conversation. I dropped my robe and felt their eyes turn to me. I didn’t care about nudity, not even a little bit. I know how I look. I’ve always been muscular. I’ve often complained to my sisters that so many muscles shouldn’t be on so small a body, but there’s nothing to be done for it. The months I spent here have only increased the size and definition of them. My tattoos accentuate their curves and edges, swirling, and highlighting the strength in my body. If anyone had ever noticed, they might think it sexy. The Trio behind me noticed.

  I moved around the room naked, picking through clothes and vowing silently to straighten up. Pulling a short chemise over my head, I straightened my mass of errant curls in the mirror before they would force me to turn back to them and order them to tell me their names.

  Movement in the mirror caused me to freeze. I leaned forward, no longer seeing myself but a verdant path ahead. I heard my name and glanced over my shoulder, knowing the sweet voice in my ear did not come from one of the Trio. They watched me but seemed to hear nothing. I heard my name again. Raising my hand to the mirror, I touched the cool surface and was pulled through.

  I watched in horror as the men rushed to the mirror and began pounding on it. I beat back, but they didn’t see me. I hit the glass with all my might, and it didn’t so much as shimmer. Turning, I placed my back to the mirror so as not to leave it unguarded. I had no weapons other than my fists and was barely dressed. Barefoot and wary, I slid down the path on silent feet.

  The air was warm and sweet-smelling. I took a minute to breathe it. Though the snow may melt for a few cycles of the moon, it never gets truly warm in Eregion. There is always a hint of a chill. This place is the winter court in more than just name.