Rune and Ruin

Seeds of the Gods - 23 - Irrigate

395 B.C.E. - The Fyrrin Villa, City of Rune, Capital of the Tasuri, Center of the Tasurian Peninsula, Early Summer, Month of Quintilis

From Her Memory

"I'm going back, Falx," Lord Tems spoke from the foot of the bed where Thania was half-tucked under the Warlord, their nude limbs entwined.

The Warlord grunted. For such a successful man, he was a grump in the mornings.

"Goodbye, pretty thing," Lord Tems knelt next to Thania and rubbed his thumb along her lower lip. "Make sure he bathes you, feeds you. And, drink. You need to replenish after last night."

Thania fell back into her sleepy doze with wandering thoughts about whether Lord Tems was as kind to all the females he had relations with.

When she awoke again, the Warlord was gone, and his place beside her was cold. Marcus bustled around the room, placing a tray of food and a large jug of water next to the elevated platform Thania slept on.

It was a struggle to rise. The warlord's lust had been insatiable last night; even as he carried on conversations with his friends, he hadn't stopped playing with Thania's body. As a consequence, she was sore and bruised this morning.

Once she had eaten and Marcus had carefully dressed her in a fine, dark green dress, Thania began to wander the villa. There was little for her to do. She wasn't given any duties beyond warming the Warlord's bed, and unlike the warmarch there was no movement, nothing to pack, and no starving, thirsty slaves to provide for.

"Marcus?" Thania found the man busying himself with directing the cooks preparing for the cena. "Where is Yanna? I haven't seen her in days."

The man's hands, waving in agitation as he examined a dessert made of nuts and some sort of thick cream, stopped short. Marcus turned to Thania and, with a frown, said, "She was deemed unacceptable to accompany you, Lady." There wasn't a speck of snideness in Marcus's voice, despite referring to his master's bedslave as 'Lady.'

"Unacceptable?" Thania questioned. A foreboding feeling rose in her.

"She can not serve you properly in her condition," Marcus pointed out almost gently.

Thania frowned, resisting the urge to fidget restlessly. Every eye in the kitchen rested on her, even if the servants of the villa pretended otherwise. "Where is she?" she asked.

"She is at the sanatorium to deliver her child," Marcus explained. "It's the safest place for her."

"Why is the villa unsafe?" Thania asked slowly. She glanced around at the opulence of the massive kitchen. The space was three times as large as the cottage she grew up in with her family of four. Large enough for several cooks to work all at once, and it didn't include the outdoor cooking facilities and ovens just beyond the large archway. There was even a large bowl in the corner with water fed from a cistern on the roof and four fireplaces, only two for cooking. How could a place like this be hazardous?

"Why don't you go to the gardens, Thania?" Marcus dodged her question. "There are several flowers that are ready to be picked."

Thania knew she had been dismissed, albeit in a far more polite, reserved way than Marcus had ever shown her. With a soft sigh, she accepted the small knife and basket from a silent slavegirl and wandered out of the kitchens, not missing the quick look of relief on Marcus's face when she dropped the subject of Yanna.

"Flowers," Thania muttered as she knelt beside a large, purple bloom. With a huff, she snipped the stem and placed the bloom carefully in the basket.

"The warlord can't bring a pregnant slave into the villa," the snide, feminine voice came from behind Thania.