Blinded by the Sun (Erythleh Chronicles Book 4) (12 page)

Despite her determination to be strong, as soon as Shinu had stepped across the threshold, she started to cry again. Her embarrassment at the way the others treated her, and at her own weakness and inability to explain herself, only made it worse, so that she was struggling to draw breath between hiccupping sobs.

"There, there, child." Shinu folded her into his comforting embrace and let her soak the shoulder of his tunic.

"They hate me." Her voice was little more than a whimper. She disgusted herself with her feebleness.

"They are jealous, that is all."

"It's the same thing."

"I know."

Lyssia lifted her head. "Did this happen to Lathriss, too?"

Shinu's pause was all the answer she needed, but he voiced his response anyway. "No. Lathriss was accepted amongst the others as one of them."

"What have I done wrong?"

"Nothing, child, except be the strong, intelligent, beautiful woman that you are. Even without the king showing preference for you, they have much to be jealous of."

"I don't want his preference."

"You would prefer his anger?"

"I would prefer to be left alone."

"I know, child." Shinu rubbed her back in soothing circles, "But because of all the qualities I just listed, that will never happen; whether you are here, or anywhere else in the realms."

"It isn't fair." She knew she was whining like a petulant toddler, and she did not care.

"It rarely is, child. But this heartache will be worth it, I promise."

"How? How can it possibly be worth it?"

"The king is a good man. He bought the others so that they would have a place of safety, a place in which they could recover and would be cared for. True, he might instruct me to sell them on - we have so many more than we need - but I know he will pay attention to the character of their purchasers. In time, they will come to realise that they are fortunate, that you are the one who brought them to a place of peace and comfort, then it will be worth it."

Lyssia could not argue that the castle had proved to be a place of refuge and solace for the women. Their wounds had been treated, they had been cleansed, fed, and clothed. They were treated with respect, if you discounted their duties at mealtimes. Still, she didn't think they would ever see any of that as her doing. She didn't think they would ever see past the nightmare time when they were abused and she was not. "You're absurdly optimistic," she sniffed.

"Maybe," Shinu admitted with a dry chuckle. "Only a little."

~o0o~

She no longer needed Shinu to guide her to the door of the dining room, but she almost wished that he still would. She drew a measure of fortitude from the old man, strength she needed when she was due to face the king. On this evening, more than any other since, she needed that strength. She was feeling uncomfortably vulnerable, even though she had taken care to ensure that no evidence of her crying fit remained.

Lyssia took a moment to berate herself for a weak fool before pushing the door open. As always the immense room was somewhat dim. There was plenty of light to see by, but only maybe half the candles in the sconces added to the glow of the fire. Apparently someone still had a degree of common sense and was prepared to use it, even when it came to the king. Girogis winked at her as she walked past him, and she gave him a half smile in return, before schooling her features into bored indifference. It was enough that the king took her blood; he would have none of what little good humour she could muster.

Lyssia pulled her spine a little straighter, and tilted her chin a little higher.

A man sitting in a chair, alone, at the end of such a massive table in such a cavernous room should look insignificant; it should have been a ridiculous sight. The king was no giant, although he was tall, as tall as Girogis, but he was still an ant in proportion to this room. And yet the aura of his power made him seem larger than he was, and perfectly at ease. The sight that should have been laughable always caused her breath to hitch in her throat. Lyssia was determined not to show that she was affected in any way as she took her place by his seat.

"How are you tonight?" His voice was so solicitous one might be forgiven for thinking he was actually interested in her well-being.

"I am well, your Majesty." Her voice was stiff with the effort of being in her owner's presence, and still rough from the strain of sobbing so hard.

Since the king was not a stupid man, he noticed that something was amiss. He looked at her, his head at a curious tilt, as if trying to see more behind her curt answer. He regarded her for long moments, but Lyssia schooled her features to betray nothing of her mind. Eventually Kavrazel relented in his scrutiny and reached for his blade. At least he kept it sharp; it would have been an unbearable insult if he allowed it to go dull.

The king's long, strong fingers wrapped around her naked wrist. The room was not cool, but it was very large and open. His grip seemed to be much warmer than the tepid air. Kavrazel placed his knife, aligning it amongst the growing collection of scabs and scars that formed a tracery of violent lace. He drew the blade in a sharp, swift movement. He was always precise with the length and the depth of the cut.

The line of fire left in the wake of the blade burned appropriately as he intoned, "May Taan's fire burn forever."

His mouth closed over her wrist, all warm, wet silk and soft lips. His velvet tongue caused a small, rough pain as it swept over the wound. He sucked lightly, although there was little need; the wound bled enough, and no more. That sensation caused an uncomfortable answering twitch low in Lyssia's belly, a stirring that she didn't want to be thinking about, not here in a strange country, not in Vulc, and certainly not with Kavrazel's mouth fastened to her wrist.

He released his physical hold on her as he drew back from the toast, but his voice kept her pinned in place. "Will you join me?"

It was phrased as a question, but it wasn't, not really. She was a slave, she could not refuse. As much as she wanted to run from the room, she pulled a chair out from the table and sat. Kavrazel handed her a napkin, which he likely meant for her to press against her wrist. She took it, but left it absently on the table. Instead she let her forearm rest on the pristine table cloth. The thin trail of blood from her wrist painted droplets of crimson on the immaculate white material. If the king was affronted by the waste, he made no mention of it.

As he had on other occasions when he had requested her company, the king filled his plate with food, and then placed it in front of her. As before, Lyssia picked at it vacantly; her appetite always retreated in the face of her discomfort. The aromas that rose from the laden dishes and platters should have been mouth-watering, but Lyssia could not appreciate them; she could still only smell the tangy spiced musk of the oil that the king used on his skin.

"You say you are well, but I think you are telling me an untruth," Kavrazel asserted as he took a sip of wine.

Lyssia shrugged; there was little point in denying his accurate observation. She didn't have the energy to even begin to try to make him understand why a slave should be depressed at being owned, not on this night. She certainly didn't want to tattle on the behaviour of the other slaves, to whinge about her perceived mistreatment; she was stronger than that, a better person. Rather than respond, she asked a question of her own. "Why do you tolerate my attitude?"

The king smiled, and she had the sense that perhaps he was laughing at her a little. There was a hint of indulgence, or maybe condescension to his demeanour. "You interest me."

"That is your only answer?"

Kavrazel shrugged. "I'm feeling magnanimous. I want you to feel free, within reason."

Lyssia scowled at the absurd sentiment. "I will never be free while I am in Vuthron."

"That isn't true. You've met Lathriss, you've seen how it can be."

"I will only be free when I am safely home in Sken."

"You intend to try and escape, then?" Kavrazel was regarding her with that curious expression again.

"Probably." At his raised eyebrows, Lyssia explained, "Why should I lie? You would know something was amiss if I suddenly capitulated."

Kavrazel laughed, a full-throated sound of enjoyment. "Indeed I would." He sobered suddenly. The laughter faded as though it had never been. "You know that you would be caught, and that you would be brought back."

"And punished."

"That depends. It's not good for the others to see one of their own treated too favourably."

Lyssia couldn't help the derisive sound that escaped. "I've been punished for being favoured since Seff took me. I think it might be better if I were to be made an example of."

Kavrazel stole a slice of lamb from the plate he had prepared for her. "Yet there is good reason to favour you. You have a real chance to help others, if you stay willingly."

"Shinu shares something of the same opinion. I fail to understand that paradox."

"If you stay by my side and accept your duties, if you do not try to escape, it will show everyone beyond these walls that slaves do not have to be broken and abused in order to become a part of our society. The blood toast is not so very bad for you, is it?"

It took a moment for Lyssia to rein in her temper before she could answer. Her first instinct was to spew profanity and ask if the king had perhaps taken a blow to his head. Surely all the sense had been knocked out of him. "It is an affront. It is violence done to my body and I do not, I cannot, condone it." Her words were clipped by the rage that was causing her to flush.

"Your body is looking remarkably well, considering."

"Thanks to Girogis." At the mention of her trainer, sparring partner, and perhaps friend, Lyssia glanced over to the bodyguard and smiled. Strangely, Girogis would not catch her eye now. He was staring impassively into nothing. Lyssia felt a pang that he would deny her after the hours they had spent making fun of each other. When she turned back to Kavrazel, she saw that his eyes were tight and his mouth set in grim line. He couldn't possibly be... no... he could not be jealous of her affinity with the bodyguard; it simply could not be.

"He seems to be paying plenty of attention to his task." It seemed that the words were uttered from between clenched teeth.

"As much as he can." Lyssia gave a half shrug, and attempted to eat a baton of some vegetable that had been added to the plate. It was bright orange, and if memory served, quite sweet. Whatever it was, it wasn't something that was found in Sannarrell or Sken.

"You feel you are neglected somehow?" Kavrazel asked. His tone was still frosty.

"My days are interminably long."

"You're bored?" Kavrazel sounded incredulous, as if he did not believe such a thing could be possible.

"Yes." Lyssia sat back in her chair, ignoring the plate of food. "Girogis can't train me all the time. I'm coddled, and denied every other opportunity to be helpful. I'm used to being useful. I'm used to fighting, and building, and mending. There was always something to do in Sken. It wasn't all raiding and warring. Sken is a city, a growing city, there was always work and not enough hands for it."

"You wish to sweat and exhaust yourself each day?" The cast of curiosity had returned to Kavrazel's expression.

"Just because you are content to sit on your throne does not mean I am as indolent. You might suck the blood from my veins three times a day, but I am still my own person."

"That you are."

She was surprised that Kavrazel was not offended by her choice of words. He had been almost palpably angry when discussing Girogis, but now, when she had accused him of laziness, he took no insult. He was relaxed, seemingly friendly, and apparently interested in what she had to say.