The Prince's Pet (2 page)

As we moved through the city the
buildings became newer, bigger and richer, towering high above the streets. The
roads here were wide, paved with cobble or decorated in brick patterns, and
people rode on horses or in litters or carriages.

The air was hot, dry and dusty.
Everyone was dressed in brightly colored, draping fabrics. The women in this
part of the city covered the lower half of their faces with veils, leaving only
their eyes visible.

They wore rings on their
fingers, bracelets on their arms and golden hoops or chains in their ears. Groups
of them gathered, laughing and talking together on the street. I stared at them
in fascination as we passed.

In contrast, there weren’t many
men about. Those I saw were tall, their skin dark. They wore their black hair
long and braided or in clubs at the back of their necks.

Some of them walked about
shirtless, and I saw a few with tattoos covering large areas of their backs or
chests. They all carried swords on their belts. I saw armored guards stationed
here and there as well, standing tall, stoic and watchful.

I turned, kneeling on the
cushions to look through the tiny lattice window at the front of the litter.
The Palace loomed ahead. We crossed a bridge over a wide river, and I stared in
amazement at the giant statues standing sentinel either side of the bridge.

They were in the likenesses of
people: one a huge bearded man carrying a massive hammer, one a slender woman
with spreading wings. An effeminate man wearing an open robe and holding a staff.
A cloaked man with his face hidden in shadow, his hands claws. A curvaceous
naked woman with long flowing hair.

Before I could get a good look
at the rest, we were at the gates.

Ellys spoke to the guards and
was immediately admitted. He led the way and the litter-bearers followed,
carrying me into the palace grounds.

The rest of the day was a flurry
of activity. They took me to a back entrance to the servant's quarters, and
Ellys handed me over to a plainly dressed, authoritative older woman.

Several women servants attended
me. Slaves, I corrected myself. They are slaves. They wore iron collars,
lighter than the one the raiders had clamped on me, but slave collars still.

The women bathed me and combed
out my hair, then removed the heavy, rusted collar from around my neck. They
dressed me in a plain linen dress. I was given hard bread and cheese, and
gratefully devoured every morsel.

The women made no attempt to
communicate with me, but chatted among themselves in their own language,
gathering to marvel at my hair, and critically look over my body.

I was beyond caring. Lacking the
energy to be self-conscious, I simply enjoyed the feeling of being clean after
so long covered in grime.

Finally, I was brought to a tiny
cell and locked in. I was relieved to see a small bed with a straw mattress. I immediately
lay down to rest, too exhausted even for tears.

––––––––

I
t was morning when someone
knocked on the door. Sunlight streamed in through the tiny window above the
bed. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I had tossed and turned a lot,
and my neck and back ached.

I heard the lock click and the
door opened. To my surprise it wasn't one of the servants calling on me but a
richly dressed, dark-skinned woman of thirty or so. She wore a robe of deep
blue silk, with bracelets and golden bands all the way up her lovely arms, and
a ring of solid gold around her neck.

Her black hair was bound in a
long braid and fell over the front of her shoulder. She wore no veil – the only
adornment on her face the tiny golden ring in her nose and the kohl rimming her
eyes. Her lips were full and painted with red. I thought she was very
beautiful, and I wondered if she were royalty.

"My Lady?" I asked
blearily, sitting up straight but fighting a yawn. I was still so tired.

The woman stared at me for a
moment, standing very still while she looked me over. Then she seemed to gather
herself and gestured at me to follow, walking back through the doorway.

I followed, catching up in a few
steps. She looked sideways at me, a small smile on her lips.

"I am Atshye. I am to
prepare you." She told me, speaking in a thick accent. "What is your
name, girl?"

"Eveline... your
Highness." I ventured, relieved to find someone I could talk to, and eager
to please.

At that, she looked at me with
one delicate eyebrow raised. She raised a hand to her mouth and giggled. I
stopped, blushing furiously, and seeing my discomfort, Atshye touched my arm
sympathetically.

"I am no Highness. Only...
Lady's maid." She explained, searching for the right words. "Handmaiden."

"Which... which Lady?"

Her mouth made another amused
quirk. "Queen Indari, of course! She wishes to see you before she presents
you to the Prince. And I speak your language best."

"Oh."

I followed her through twisting
hallways, the stone floor cold on my bare feet. As we climbed a long spiraling
staircase and entered a richer part of the palace, I was suddenly full of
foreboding.

I was about to go directly
before royalty, it seemed. I'd never even laid eyes on the like before. I had
never even thought about how they lived back at home – let alone in Cimbra,
which was as foreign to me as anything could be.

We came to what Atshye called the
Harem - the "women's quarters". There was a broad arching double door
beautifully etched with climbing vines and flowers. Atshye knocked and a dark
eye peered out through a slatted window, and then the door was opened.

An adolescent girl stood holding
the door for us and bowed low as we entered. She locked it carefully behind us
as Atshye led me through.

There were three women dressed
much as Atshye was, in fine silk and embroidery, though they did not wear as
much jewelry. They rested in an alcove together, eating from fruit platters as
they talked and laughed among themselves. They did not wear the collars of
slaves.

The handmaiden must have seen
the question on my face. "The king's concubines," she explained,
leaning toward me and speaking quietly.

“What is a concubine? Are
they... like wives?” I asked.

She shook her head, hurrying me
along. “Not the same as wives. The king hoped they would give him more sons.
But the gods did not bless him. They provided only daughters.” She took my hand
then, and pulled me through a door into the bathing room.

"I bathed only a few hours
ago," I said, as Atshye closed the door. I couldn't imagine why I would
need to wash again so soon.

She smiled. "Yes. But I
must prepare you properly."

I had no idea what she meant,
but I shrugged, resigned.

The bath was a large pool
recessed in the floor, already filled with steaming water. Atshye gestured for
me to get in, and I pulled my rough shift over my head and let it fall to the
floor.

The cool air pricked my skin,
causing my nipples to harden and goose-pimples to form on my arms. I could feel
the heat rising to my face as Atshye watched, staring openly at my body as
though critically examining a piece of art or a dress that needed mending.

I hurried to get into the water,
gasping as the sudden heat enveloped me. To my surprise Atshye stripped off her
clothing as well, folding her robes and placing them on a bench.

She took her time unbraiding her
hair, letting it fall in a dark curtain down her back. I saw that her body was
completely hairless, and I couldn't help but gasp when I noticed her dark
nipples were pierced with small golden hoops.

She didn't notice me looking, or
didn't care - walking unashamed across the room to fetch some items, then
returning and stepping gracefully into the pool with me.

There were so many questions
burning in my mind, and as we sat silently in the steaming water, the heat
relaxing my tired flesh, I worked up my courage to ask. "My L –" I
corrected myself - "Atshye... I don't know anything about this Prince.
Please will you tell me about him?" I was being forward, but this woman
seemed gentle enough.

She looked at me with a critical
eye, then sighed, lowering herself into the water until she was completely
submerged. As I watched she shook out her hair, letting it float in a dark
cloud around her, then came back up with water pouring off her head.

"Prince Issander
is..." she looked as though she were choosing her words carefully.
"Difficult."

I waited for her to say more,
taking the soap from her and rubbing it over my arms and shoulders. It had a
sweet smell I wasn't familiar with, and lathered into thick foam.

"He has refused every wife
offered him," she said, wiping water from her eyes. "And cares only
for battle. He does not wish to rule, but he is the king's only son, so he
must."

"Is he..." I swallowed
hard. "Kind?"

Atshye looked at me for a long
moment, her hand pausing on the front of her neck. "I... I do not
know." She said. "He is charming enough, when he wants to be. What he
is like beyond closed doors, I can not say."

Was she being honest or
diplomatic? "Am I to be a... concubine?" I asked, unable to keep the
dread from my voice. A shiver ran through me despite the hot water. I'd never
so much as touched a man before, and the idea of a total stranger having their
way with me was terrifying.

The raiders, while they had
beaten me, had never violated any of the Thessian slaves. Even if it was only
because they found us repulsive. And before that - well, I’d been working on my
father’s farm since I was big enough to hold a pitchfork, and never had time
for dallying with boys.

"Concubines are not slaves.
They are free women, even if of low birth.” Atshye's voice was suddenly hard.
“As for you, you will be whatever he asks you to be. If he wants you to bring
his meals and clean his clothes, you will do that. If he simply wants you to
look pretty, you will. If he wants you to clean his chamber pot, you will do
that too." She stared at me, raising her perfect brows. "You will
belong to him wholly and completely. Ask him for permission before you sleep,
before you eat, before you breathe unless he tells you otherwise. Do you
understand?"

I quickly lowered my eyes.
"Yes, Atshye."

"And if he wants to fuck
you, he will.” The word sounded harsh from her lips and my face began to heat
with embarrassment all over again.

“Make no mistake, Eveline.” She
had to work to pronounce the foreign name, and it sounded strange. “If you
displease the Prince you are sold at the auction again. So be obedient. Make
him happy."

I stared down at the soap
bubbles floating on the still surface of the water. I was desolate, uncertain
of what would happen to me. And the very mention of the slave markets filled me
with paralyzing fear.

I remembered the leering crowds,
the pawing hands, and shuddered. If I’d ever believed in a god, I might have
prayed.
If I can’t go home, at least don’t let me go there.

Suddenly Atshye sighed heavily,
and leaned forward. She reached out and gently tilted my chin, looking into my
brimming eyes.

"If you
can
please
him," she said quietly, "it is not such a bad life. Once, I was in
the same position as you. I had many masters and traveled much before coming to
the queen in chains. I am only her bed-warmer, true, but I have many freedoms,
and she is good to me."

She released my chin but I just
stared at her, my mouth falling open. The queen's bed-warmer? “I... I didn't
know such a thing was possible... two women together, I mean.”

Atshye's expression had
softened, and now she giggled. "You are so
innocent
!” She sounded
delighted at this development. “The old king is not able to satisfy her Majesty
these days. She is the queen, and entitled to her own slaves and servants just
as he is."

I noticed she fingered the band about
her neck, where it rested against her collarbone. Now it dawned on me what it
actually was – a golden collar. Privileged though she may be, she was still a
slave just as I was.

Her answers had only raised more
questions, but I had no time to ask. Atshye took charge, taking me out of the
bath and pouring tepid water over me, then using a sharp knife to shave away
every hair below my neck.

It took a long time. I shivered
as the blade scraped over my skin, taking away the hair under my arms, on my
legs, and finally clearing the light covering of hair from my mound. It felt
strange to be so bare. My skin was overly sensitive and I was somehow even more
exposed, but I had to admit I liked it when I looked down over my body.

I had to forget my modesty and
tolerate Atshye's touch as she oiled and perfumed every inch of my skin. She
was matter-of-fact, her hands gentle and efficient.

As she massaged the oil into my
breasts, I looked at her.
I wonder if I will be
pierced like she was. It must have hurt terribly
. I shivered. I’d
never heard of such a thing. Was it done in punishment? What other tortures do
they inflict on their slaves?

When she was finished she opened
the door and called to a maid, barking orders in Cimbrai. The maid brought a
huge bundle of clothing. Atshye closed the doors again, and began to dress me
before a large gilt-framed mirror.

It took her many tries to find
the best outfit for me. “You must be perfect.” She said, holding dress after
dress against my body. For me, it was impossible to judge. I had never seen
anything so fine as the clothing she held before me, and when I tried them on,
I looked like a different person.

Finally my critical dresser
settled on a favorite. It was a mere slip of translucent cloth, in a light
green shade that complimented my hair. The neckline plunged low between my
breasts and I could see the shadows of my nipples through the fabric. Gathered
at the waist with a wide embossed leather belt, it left the sides of my hips
and legs bare, and little to the imagination.