Teagan

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by Sharilyn Skye


  Not that Kar and I hadn’t had our moments.

  We were known as an incorrigible Trio. The only reason we still lived was that Syl’ta was the Queen’s younger brother, and she claimed to have a fondness for him. I had a feeling if we earned Teagan’s displeasure, then the Queen’s affection would reach its limit.

  This was the end of the line for us.

  “Kar works for the Smithy, Mistress,” I offered with that dark thought in my head. “He helps make the finest weapons in all the lands.

  “You mean he stokes the fires while the finest weapons in the land are made,” Syl laughed, punching Kar in the arm, and Kar took a swing at him, but he ducked in time to avoid it.

  Teagan chuckled, threw her boots near her riding pants, and sat on the bed. “I had brothers once that acted just like you,” she said, and her face fell.

  Quickly she rose and turned from us, digging through the clothes on the bed. I caught my brothers’ eyes and shrugged. They shrugged back, and we continued to attempt to organize her mess. It would take us days to wash, fold, and right the place.

  “Find what you need tonight, my Lady, we will organize your things tomorrow. You have all our time for a week before we return to our duties.” I said, handing her a black shirt that would go with her riding pants and boots.

  Grabbing it from my hands, she tossed it on top of the pants. Kar moved to smooth the fabric so she would not be such a mess in the morning as her appearance would now be a reflection of our usefulness.

  “You must remember to call me Teagan,” she said, turning back and catching us in the glare of her strange eyes.

  “Mistress,” Syl started. “Should we call you by your given name in front of anyone else, it would mean punishment. I would prefer not to make that slip.” He answered, clearing a corner of her room of debris and dragging a blanket onto the floor.

  I watched as he arranged it, so there were no wrinkles and then proceeded to find a few pillows from furniture and toss them onto the blanket. With a sideways glance at the woman, he lowered himself onto it, testing its softness.

  “What are you doing?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

  “Making our bed,” he answered.

  “I think not,” she growled. “You will not be sleeping on the floor in the corner of my room when there are five or six empty beds.”

  Syl dropped a pillow and stole a glance at me. I couldn’t help him understand because I didn’t understand either.

  With a sweep of her arms, the little devil cleared the clothing from her bed, grabbed a blanket from the pile, and eased onto the bed with a sigh. “Blow out the torches when you are done, please. I can’t keep my eyes open any longer.”

  “Uh, my Lady, there are no torches. It is a switch,” Syl started. “And, there is the matter of my beating that needs to be attended.”

  “I am not beating anyone,” she said, rising from under the blankets with a scowl.

  “You must,” I said. “You stopped the Queen from punishing him earlier. You said that you would place the marks on his skin. She will check,” I finished.

  We all turned to face her expectantly.

  Sighing, she got up. “I’m not beating you.”

  “I’ll do it, brother,” Kar said, picking up the whip the Queen gave our Mistress at the ceremony.

  “No,” Syl said, snatching the whip from his hand. “She must do it. She must learn, or we die. She must learn, or she dies, and I do not wish to start over. Not again.”

  “You know there is no starting over, Syl’ta. Not this time.” I walked to him and took the whip from his hands.

  For a moment, he looked defeated, for finally, I said aloud what we all knew in our hearts. This was most certainly our last chance. It passed quickly, and he squared his shoulders.

  Syl was responsible for our precarious position. Well, mostly anyway. His mouth and rash deeds paved the way for us as a Trio, but we loved him, and where he went, we followed.

  Were we in any other land, Syl would be a prince and someday a king, but here, where men are possessions, he will die by his sister’s hand for the traits his bloodline gave him.

  “What land do you come from, My Lady,” I said, stepping forward.

  “I come from Talamh na Sithe,” she said, her voice distant. I caught the faint tremor of her hand as she stood up by the bed, keeping it between us.

  “The Court of Light.” Kar’s words came out in hushed surprise. “Bringing a Fae here is dangerous.” He dropped his eyes and stepped back.

  “Why would they do that?” I asked, turning to my brothers, we shared rapid fire thoughts between us as we often did in times of stress, forgoing words as they were too slow. And Teagan watched it all, saying nothing.

  Syl moved with blinding speed and snatched the whip from Kar, stalking forward. The warrior did not cower from him. He was one and half times her size, and she stood her ground in the face of the violence that emanated out of him.

  “Syl’ta,” I yelled, trying to stop his forward progression. For as he stalked our new Master, death stalked him.

  “No. She must understand this.” He stopped, pushing the whip into her chest, forcing her to take it.

  “You came from the Court of Light; never forget that. Never forget you are in the Court of Darkness. Those labels are more than literal; they are figurative as well. You will die if you do not understand that,” he growled at her.

  “You have no friends here,” he continued, enunciating every word. “They will hate you for your beauty. They will hate you for your strength. They will hate you for the way you speak your thoughts. They will kill you for your conviction and burn you for your sense of right and wrong. And if you are Fae, truly Fae, they will kill you for your magic, for no magic lives here.”

  “Stop,” I yelled, trying to pull him from her. He had crossed a line even a lenient warrior would not allow.

  “They will kill you for the light inside of you they can never hope to have,” he said, ignoring my pleas for restraint. “For the light fled this hell centuries ago. Trust no one, and if the Queen moves to beat me, never again stay her hand. Never. She will not kill me, and I can survive her better than you. Why they brought the Light Court here, I do not know, but their intentions are not good, Teagan Rilynoquar,” he said, pushing her into the wall with his mass.

  “Who are you?” she whispered, staring up at him with molten amber eyes.

  “Who I am matters not.” He leaned into her, crushing her mouth with his and causing her to give a startled cry. I strained to pull him off, already seeing my head on a pike by the palace gates.

  He pulled away. Her chest rose and fell as she fought for breath. “Now, you must use that whip as the Queen will check my marks. If I don’t feel the lash now, we will all suffer later.” He walked to the center of the large main room and knelt with his back to her. He pulled the thin straps of leather down his shoulders so there would be no protection for his skin. “As the skin on my back is scarred, you must use your strength.” He placed his knuckles on the marble floor to brace himself.

  Kar and I knelt next to him as is our way. The lady’s sharp intake of breath came out as a whimper, but despite her fear, she walked our way.

  Chapter Seven

  Teagan

  The most beautiful man I’d ever seen gave me the kiss of a lifetime, my first kiss ever, and now kneels at my feet, waiting for me to wield the whip in my hand against him.

  I hate this place. I want to curl up in bed and cry. I want him to kiss me again. I want any and everything but to cover his deeply scarred back with more scars. The dim light of the room illuminates them, so they glow silver. There is nothing soft about them. They weave his back like a tale and crisscross the tops of his thighs in a gruesome kiss.

  One tear falls from my eyes as I glide to him on silent feet, then another falls. I remember what the Goddess told me. She said that any magic I need is at my disposal. I need this man to feel no pain as I mark his back. He did nothing to deserve p
unishment. He met my eyes, and that is all. There is no crime in that. Not anywhere normal anyway. This place is not normal.

  The other men drop to their knees and stretch their backs in the same manner that Syl’ta did, and the whimper I tried to hold in escaped. He was right. I recognized my mistake with the Queen as soon as I made it, but it was too late. I could do this. If he could do it, I could do it. It only hurt my sensibility to punish him; it hurt his body.

  At his side, I placed my hand on his strange hair, noting the purple highlights among the black strands. The white streak so clean that it shone. His hair felt like silk under my hands. I let my hand trail down his back; the scars felt like rope beneath it. Taking a deep breath, I infused every bit of sunshine and warmth I felt by the lake in the mirror, every moment of peace I found there, I pushed into him. I felt his muscles relax, and a soft sigh escaped him.

  I raised the whip, bringing it down sharply on his back. He did not flinch, but the two men next to him did. I reared back in horror. Is that what a bonded Trio meant? That they shared pain? I thought it meant they were friends, and they got along, but judging by the reaction to my first lash, it went deeper than that. Much deeper.

  Focusing on my tattoos as the Goddess instructed, I pulled power from them and pushed it into Syl’ta and brought the whip down again. None of them flinched this time. I worked quickly while the magic lasted. They shot confused glances at one another, and I pushed speed into my arm and marked him well. Tears fell down my cheeks, joining the blood my hand raised, and I cried.

  I took for granted my safety. My peace. I thought that since the Queen had not harmed me upon my arrival, this place might be home to me. I was wrong. The bold man in the land of enslaved men was right. How could he not be? He’d lived this life far longer than I.

  With a shuddered breath, I stopped. The marks on his back were bloody and deep. Should the Queen check, she’d see proof of his punishment. My lashes were no kinder or gentler than the myriad others that came before them.

  I dropped the bloodied whip at his side and backed away. Blood speckled my hands, and drops of it dried on my face.

  “It will get easier, Teagan. I swear it will,” Syl told me, keeping his face turned from mine.

  “I hope it will not, Syl’ta, for if it does, I am lost.” Locking myself in the bathroom, I stripped off the once white shift and threw it into the corner. Sobbing quietly, I washed the blood from my arms, watching the water run pink down the drain.

  I couldn’t stay here. Somehow, I had to get home. This place, their customs, I could not stay. I knew. I did. I’d seen enough in my short time here to understand that this was their way, but it wasn’t mine. The Goddess said I would fix this land, but she was wrong, it is beyond redemption. I didn’t want to fix it; I wanted to go home.

  But then what.

  Go back to a place where the Queen consorted with her sister to have Trolls take her daughter? Go back to my homeland, where women pass from house to house at the pleasure of a blood tainted Queen? Go home to bear a son that would be killed before his body could grow any hair? That wasn't an option either. Sighing, I turned the water off, grabbed a towel, and went to face my waiting Trio.

  The lights were off, and they lay curled at the foot of my bed. They were asleep, piled like kittens. The immediate area around the bed platform was clean and neatly folded clothes sat in stacks along the wall. Shoes were paired, and towels hung. I stood for a moment and watched the slow, even rise and fall of their chests, wondering what sort of creature gets the skin stripped off their back then lies on the bed of the monster that held the whip. Leading me to ponder what sort of monster I was that I participated in their sick customs. I looked at the angry red flesh on Syl’s back. The blood had dried, and they hadn’t bothered to wipe it off. I did that. Me.

  The monster within is often scarier than the one roaming free.

  Magic coursed through my tattoos, begging me to heal what I had harmed, but that wasn’t an option. Slumping in my skin, I dropped my towel and crawled into bed. Pulling my knees tight to my chest, I burrowed under the covers and fell into a fitful sleep.

  When I awoke, the men had showered and dressed, wearing the same leather studded skirts they had worn the day before. The straps crisscrossing their chests highlighted their pale skin and hard muscles. My eyes skimmed down their bodies to their legs and, finally, their bare feet.

  They stood with their hands behind their backs and eyes down. Where was the fire I saw in them last night? I slid from the bed and watched as, one by one, their eyes found my body. They roamed freely. Goddess, they were beautiful, and I wanted them. How I had been in three homes with eleven men and still not explored the pleasures strong bodies can give was beyond me. But I wanted sex with men, not slaves. I wanted it badly; my body had been on fire for years with no relief but my own hand.

  Sleep is the brain’s time to reorganize and restructure. While I slept, resolve settled into every thought and corner of my mind. There was no going back to Talamh na Sithe. I needed to survive here. If the Goddess was right, and I had no cause to question a Goddess, then I needed to work to change this place.

  A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. How long I stood there naked, I do not know, but the men still drank in my body with their eyes, and I smiled, moving toward them.

  Shaking his head, Lyros handed me a long silken robe from under his feet. After everything they have been through, that a woman’s body could still tempt them was beyond my understanding. But judging by the subtle rise of their leather skirts, they were tempted.

  “My lady, the door,” Lyros said, catching my eyes with his, the gray of his iris almost obliterated by the black of his pupil,

  “I don’t care about the door,” I whispered, dropping the robe and trailing my fingers down his chest. It was expected that I keep them docile; it was the Queen’s order after all. I chuckled, tilting my face to his.

  Another knock came, sharper than the first. Sighing, I snatched up the robe and moved to answer it. As I cracked the door open, the men dropped to their knees.

  “Ah, Teagan, I thought I would come early and see how your first night with your new Trio went.” Queen Kharis stepped through the door, pushing it open wider. I said nothing as I belted my robe.

  She walked behind my men, trailing her fingers along their shoulders. She stopped at Syl. Taking a nail, she dug it into one of the scabs my whip had caused. His body stiffened, and so did his brothers’. Fresh blood trickled from the wound, and I wanted to kill her where she stood.

  “Nice work, Teagan, I doubted you could follow through with your word.” Her finger dug deeper, popping open the scab, causing the wound to bleed freely.

  I remembered what he said last night and measured my words carefully. “The scars were so thick that it was harder work than I imagined. Do be mindful of the pattern I laid out, it took planning and thought. I would hate to have it ruined.

  “Very well,” she sighed. “I can appreciate that. Did you fuck him?” she asked, coming to face him. She took a long, pointed nail and dug it into the soft tissue under his chin, forcing his face up. She met his eyes and gave him a crooked grin. How a smile can be devoid of warmth, I don’t know, but it was. I wondered, again, who he was. Seeing them side by side, royal eyes to royal eyes, I thought I knew.

  “I did not, to be honest, the day was long. By the time it was over, I just wanted to sleep,” I answered, immediately knowing it was the wrong thing to say. By the look on the Queen’s face, I knew I should have used my new ability to lie.

  “What a shame, you must let them serve you. It won’t do to have your body untended. We can’t afford distractions. They know well how to serve a warrior; you must encourage them to do it.” She turned Syl’s face from side to side and watched his eyes spark with anger.

  “Don’t worry, Kharis, I plan on being well-tended once we return from our ride.

  “Remember they enjoy pain; it pleases them. A healthy dose of pain doled out du
ring your pleasure, heightens their orgasms, and helps their seed settle your womb. It’s a proven breeding strategy. Our birthrate increased after we began employing it,” She pulled Syl’s hair back, arching his neck away from her, and my hands itched to grab my sword.

  Goddess, how could a place be so broken.

  “Of course, my Queen,” I said, swallowing the bile that rose in my throat. I tilted my head to him, kissing his lips lightly. I infused my kiss with warmth and felt him relax. “Allow me to dress, and I’ll meet you for breakfast. Perhaps I’ll have them attend me quickly, so the ride is more relaxed,” I whispered against his lips.

  “Excellent idea. They are skilled. It won’t delay our departure. Do not allow them release as punishment for not tending to you last night. Let them think about it. They know their duties and likely didn’t offer. She picked up the bloody, discarded whip and hummed appreciatively over it. “You fit so nicely here, Teagan, your work at his back put many lesser warriors to shame. Taking the whip, she brought it down on Syl’s back, striking him expertly and efficiently again and again, then she moved to Kar. Before she left, every man in my Trio bled by her hand.

  I sobbed at their feet when the door closed behind Kharis. I hoped to save them from this, and this was my punishment, not theirs. This was my punishment for stopping her last night.

  The sound of Syl’s first shocked whimper went through my heart like a blade. I could do nothing to help him with the pain, and it would be that much worse as his wounds were fresh. I fucking hated this place and these people.

  Men were stronger physically, and I had no doubt they had at least a rudimentary knowledge of weapons; why did they not rise against this strange tyranny? But I knew the answer. The Queen told me herself. She cautioned me against using pronouns lest they get the idea they were people.

 

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