Armana's Gift

VERA

     "Hello," she whispered to the fierce male who now stood in the room with her. Fierce was the only way she could truly think to describe him except for exceptionally handsome.

     He didn't respond so, out of the eyes of the awful man who had her naked for viewing, she looked over this male.

     Deep blue gray hair that was long and pulled back. It fell in waves from the ponytail, like dark waters. He had chiseled cheekbones and stunning gold eyes framed by dark lashed. His skin was darker then she thought was his natural, tanned from the sun. And he was shiftless, so she could see his body. Muscles, refined from true hard work and toil. Scars from the lash and beatings he'd probably received over his years as a slave. His wings, that of a peregrine falcon, were dry, and brittle, as if they were covered in dust and needed a good long cleaning but they were still glorious, begging to take to the skies and spread wide in the sun.

     "Hello, lady Vera," he finally whispered, stomping across the room to a dresser. He pulled out a pair of breeches and threw them at her. "Wear those."

     She barely caught them, stumbling a little in the effort and quickly pulled them on. Her chest was still exposed but she had noticed every Avium male was also shirtless. She hadn't seen any females yet, so she didn't know what her attire should have been.

     "Thank you..." She frowned. "I'm not a lady, sir. You do-"

     "You are a Priestess and even here I will afford you the courtesies of such." He snapped and she saw in him an uncomfortable feeling. As a Priestess of Armana, she been well trained in reading the body language and emotions of those in front of her. It was needed to understand those who came to the temples who were unsure of what they needed. It was her sworn duty to her goddess to understand how to read and give proper service to those who wandered to them, looking for something more.

     He was wary of her, she saw, scared even in a small way. It was because she was female, that much was certain. He also had something else, something more then just the last piece of pride he could have as a slave. Something about the way he stood and carried himself, they way he walked told her something about him that she couldn't quite place.

     "Thank you, sir Zevan," she finally nodded to him. "May... May I ask about a shirt?"

     "I'll have to ask the Housekeeper if they can spare some time to make you some. They aren't what is worn in Mon' Avium, but we make sue here and at least will see you covered." He was stiff. "He really did give us a bigger bed at least. If you wish, you can have it for yourself and I will sleep on the couch with a pillow. It's no harm."

     She looked at the bed with a serious frown and shook her head. It was a very big bed.

     "We can both us it, we'll just keep to our own sides."

     "Fine." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

     "For?" She tilted her head gently at him. "None of this is your fault. Truthfully I'm here be-" She stopped and held back tears, shaking her head. "Doesn't matter, it's not your fault."

     He watched her, sorrow in his eyes as well. She blushed gently and stepped further away to look around the room they were given. She felt his eyes boring into the back of her.

     It was all stone, much like a mountain home the Aviums had but bigger, taller. It had a simple fire place with one couch, two wooden dressers, and a door to a bathroom, which she later learned only chamber pot.and a tub that could be filled for a bath.

     "No running water?"

     "No, they don't have it here. We're lucky to have the bathtub honestly. Most slaves only can bathe in the stream that runs outside near the slave's quarters." Zevan had snorted. "As Butler, all the male servants answer to me and I work closely with the Housekeeper, who has her own room. So a couple of slaves are assigned to me to handle my and her quarters'. Normally it's young females who are terrified of working around the dragons and other Krilosi. So, if you want a bath, you are free to ask them. I will be using the stream."

     "I-I was just wondering, I didn't mean any offense." She stuttered.

     "I know. I just felt I should explain." He was still so stiff, she wanted to shake him.

     "We should at least try to be friends," she turned to him and ignored her nude chest, which had been granted a blessing more men would have been staring at. He only met her eyes, seemingly completely uninterested. She was sure she should be glad or wildly offended. She was a Priestess of Armana and she was proud of those gifts Armana had given her and he ignored them.

     "Sure." He bit out. "After that, will you be crawling into my bed trying to bless me?"

     She rocked her head back like she'd been slapped. Where did that come form? She took a deep breath, bit back more tears and shook her head.

     "I give Armana's blessing and relief to those deemed worthy of it, Zevan. Not a male who lashed out in anger and pain at a female who's done nothing to him."

     At that, he broke eye contact and growled.

     "I don't make friends here, lady Vera. Would you like to know why?" He growled.

     "Yes."

     "Lornak uses them against us. He will use you against me, me against you. Sure, he truly does want me to keep the other slaves in line for him, keep them working hard. I will, since it will keep them alive but I am still also a slave." He looked back up at her and pointed at her. "You are still a slave, whether you are here or any other place. That silver collar never goes away. And he will eventually use it against you. And me."

      "You don't mean to say that would... torture one of us to get something from the other..." She opened and closed her mouth. She didn't like the awful man in the office but he didn't seem like a torturer.

     "Yes, and he's done it before. It's a game he plays with us. Learns about us, learns what we lost and gives us something to replace the hole in our hearts from this. Then he will take it away, either in a fit of rage or just to remind us that we are beholden to him." He stepped closer to her, and she swallowed, fighting the urge to step back. "These collars, they can shock us, you know that right?"

     "Yes and they also block our magyck. I concealed mine before I was taken and haven't been brave enough to drop the concealment in case I can't hide it again."

     "Well, let's focus on the shock for a moment," he whispered, suddenly more gentle. "Most of the non-Avium slaves are just shocked instead of beaten. But they save the shocks for us if we try to fly. He will let us fly, you know. Sometimes he will ask us too. And if we soar just high enough, he'll shock us and we'll-"

     "Stop." She whimpered.

     "We'll fall. And if our wings are too injured, he takes those from us too." He didn't stop, and she sobbed. Who would be so cruel? How could they do this to her people? How could her father betray her to this?

     She couldn't stop the tears, the total sorrow entering her soul as she realized her fate. She felt his arms could around her and then lift her. She felt the pillows come beneath her head when he laid her down.

     "Rest. And I'll try to be kind and your friend." He whispered as sleep took her.