[THIS STORY WILL BECOME FREE ON THE 5th OCTOBER 2023]
Fara's husband, the Prince of Azura, is murdered and she's enslaved by his killer, Theodan, a warrior fighting a war he doesn't believe in - until her.
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Staring at the sea with a thirst unlike any she had ever known seemed like a particularly cruel punishment.
As it was, the whore's touch had been light. Lighter than the Zybar's had been on the march. Lighter than Valdr's had been whenever he was angry with her and sought calm in his horsewhip. Yet, she burned. Her pride, her tongue, her wrists, her arms, the balls of her feet. In fact, the skin of her back was the least troublesome.
His woman had said nothing afterwards. She'd simply executed her duty and gone back to him as he had commanded. Leaving Fara alone with thoughts as dark as the night sky above.
As her thoughts had begun to twist and settle, she found that she held no resentment toward the whore for what she had done. The command, after all, was his. The desire, after all, was his. Men would always be those who commanded. Women merely chose whether or not to obey.
And, as Fara knew more than most, that this was often no choice at all. For as long as she had been of an age to understand, the consequences of disobedience were painful and often grave. It seemed this was the one lesson Fara was unable to learn.
As he had dragged her from the tent and marched her across the main camp, she had at first thought he meant to give her back to the Zybar he had wrestled her from. Then, as they neared the sea, she considered that perhaps he intended to drown her in it. Submerge her small, weak, useless body beneath the water and wait for her breath to leave it. She expected he'd push her out towards the horizon and never think upon her again.
It would have been a better end than the one she had foreseen herself, so why then had she begun to tremble with unwelcome relief when he pushed her against the post and tied her hands? Why then had she smiled a little when she'd heard him issue the command to his whore?
Six strikes from a light-handed woman trained in giving pleasure was nothing. She had endured worse. Far worse.
She did wonder why her insult against his whore had caused him such fury. Had she not called him a beast and a monster who was no better than a Zybar dog? Had she not disobeyed and insulted him over and over again this night? Why had that been the line she should not have crossed?
Fara could think of only one reason: he had feelings for this woman. Perhaps he loved her. Though she doubted a Leoth was capable of such feeling it was the only thing which made sense to her tired mind. In any case, it all but rendered her plan futile. Playacting or no she could not compete for his affection against some pleasure slave trained to please him. She would simply return to her original plan. She would find a way to escape.
As the night wore on and the moon gave way to the sun, she thought of Galyn. She thought back to the night of The Sorrow Feast where she had first laid eyes upon him. The Prince of Azura had been as beautiful as all had said he was. Hair of copper-gold and skin that glowed with health and vitality, and a pair of piercing blue eyes that displayed to all a life filled with happiness and joy. It mattered not that he was beautiful, it only made her promises to him easier to make, for Galyn was always going to be her saviour. She had no other choice. He was her escape.
