The Slave (Free Men, #1) (Completed)

Part 4

                 

Despite my sumptuous bed and soft furnishings, I did not sleep well. I woke with something more insistent than my usual morning erection and could do nothing other than dip a flannel in the cold water of my basin and place it on my penis to cool my ardour. It shrivelled pitifully.

Kai accepted his loincloth uniform with ill grace, and refused point-blank to surrender the robe I had given him at the slavemarket. Only the memory of the thin, keening wail that had intruded on my already disturbed sleep prevented me from arguing the matter. Kai had passed a worse night than me.

I led him through the corridors to the dining hall to await our master. His eyes flickered at every window and door we passed, the thought of escape clearly weighing on his mind. I said nothing. I had already warned him what would happen should he attempt it, and the sight of the guards through the windows confirmed I'd spoken the truth.

We were early enough that I had time to explain to him how Master dined and how he was expected to perform. Breakfast was a simple meal in our household: Master ate only a light porridge, and our presence was more ceremonial than functional. There was also a complete absence of knives or other weapons to tempt Kai into doing something foolish.

I made him present in place at the foot of the table and spent a few moments critically assessing his pose, making small alterations. He surprised me a little by admitting the posture was almost identical to that his army had drilled into him, surprised not by the similarity but by him acknowledging it. Perhaps, as Master had suggested, he would take to this easier than I'd first thought.

Master arrived punctually as the eighth hour struck and took his place at the head of the table. Kai sucked in a breath, and I smiled a little to myself. Already handsome—in my eyes at least, heartbreakingly so—Master had made a particular effort with his appearance that morning. His dark hair was brushed and curled neatly around his ears, his face was closely shaven, and the brilliant blue robes he wore emphasised his broad shoulders, the slashed neck displaying the first swell of his strong chest. Whatever ogre Kai had been expecting, it was not this.

He ate in silence, not looking at us, the sound of his spoon scraping against the sides of the bowl filling the room. Kai remained transfixed beside me, as still as a statue, and I found myself feeling proud of him. This was only his first day, and for a man accustomed to his freedom, it was a lot to take in.

Suddenly I felt guilty for being so short with him the night before. My first night, I remembered, I had howled inconsolably, scared and alone in a strange room, on my own for the first time in my life. Nothing had appeased me, neither threats nor fussing from the other slaves, not my mistress's sharp words—not even the stinging slap she gave me when I failed to heed her orders. I'd bellowed with all the selfish inconsideration and boundless energy of a wronged child who didn't understand where he was, or what was happening to him, or why.

I'd only stopped when Master entered my room, picked me up, and carried me to his bed. Nestled against his strong chest, swaddled in his blankets, I felt secure in a way I hadn't since I had last been safe with my family. My cries died down to a soft snuffling and eventually, despite the bitter remonstrations of Mistress in the background, I fell asleep.

He finished his meal and placed his spoon neatly in the bowl, the handle at right angles to his body. He rested his elbows on the tabletop and smiled at us both over the tips of steepled fingers. "Your papers say your name is Kai," he addressed my companion. "Is that your real name?"

Kai nodded. "It is."

Master's eyebrow rose. "It is, what?"

I winced at his mistake.