The Prince's Pet

  The Prince's Pet

  by Alexia Wiles

  Published by Alexia Wiles, 2013.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE PRINCE'S PET

  First edition. May 24, 2013.

  Copyright © 2013 Alexia Wiles.

  Written by Alexia Wiles.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 1

  "Lot Five!" The giant man shouted, his voice ringing out in the warm, misty air. He stood on the wooden platform, looming above where I huddled with other slaves. We were joined together by chains attached to our metal collars, each of us with our hands bound.

  There were six of us lined up, cowering in our dirty rags. I was in the back, so that meant I was next - but I barely registered the auctioneer's words until another slaver came up behind me and took hold of my chains.

  The slaver, a big, brutish man like all the rest of his kind, deftly disconnected me from the slave in front and yanked on my chain as a signal to follow.

  My bare feet stumbled and scuffed on the wooden steps as I was pulled up on to the platform. I was weak from hunger, tired to my core and completely devoid of spirit. The ride... I’d been packed into a wagon with the others and and we traveled for what may have been weeks on end – I lost track of time. It had sapped me of hope. I was far from home now, and there was no one to rescue me.

  The auctioneer took the end of my chain, shortening it so that I was forced to stumble up and stand beside him. He looked me up and down, and angled the chain higher - forcing my chin up and turning my head to the audience. I looked at the crowd for the first time.

  It looked like any other marketplace. There were food vendors at their carts and textile sellers with fine fabric. Jewelry merchants and spice sellers. Mothers laughing with their young children. Young men loudly hawking their wares. Street urchins running by. The slave market was right in the middle of it all, and had drawn a good portion of the crowd.

  I didn't recognize the manner of dress the people wore. To my eyes they looked wealthy - dressed in silk and fine linen, brightly dyed. Their hair, done in elaborate styles and caught up in head-dresses, ranged from light to black, and their skin was pale like mine, though their features were of a different cast. They were a sharp contrast to the swarthy, rough and vulgar raiders who had invaded my village – the ones who now sought to sell me.

  There were also merchants from other nations among the group. Easily distinguishable even to me, they wore bright colors and many jewels, and towed behind them servants or slaves, laden with their packs and goods.

  The auctioneer spoke to the audience, in first my language and then another, strange tongue. "Lot five!" he repeated at the top of his considerable lungs. "This girl, taken from Thessia. She is delicate and fair, and most obedient." I didn't know where he had got that last part. I had kicked and fought with all my will when I'd been taken.

  She will make a fine house slave..." he continued, prodding me hard to make me stand up straighter – "or bed-warmer." He said with an oily smile. He repeated it in the foreign tongue, drawing a few more laughs and jeers.

  "See her hair – golden-red like fire." The brute said, gesturing at me. I could see one golden tooth among others broken and rotted, revealed at the edge of his mouth when he spoke, and I shuddered.

  "And her soft, shapely body. Good for childbearing, if you wish to breed more exotic fire-haired slaves – or merely for pleasure."

  I swallowed hard, trying to shut out his words. I was well aware of the possibility of ending up as someone's bed slave. If someone wanted hard labor, they would buy one of the men. I was a young foreign girl. That alone was likely enough to determine what my purpose would be as chattel.

  "She is covered in dirt." A man's voice called out in the gutter language so many traveling merchants used - a mixture between Thessian, Geonaic and others. "I can not see this red hair you claim. Anyway. she does not look so beautiful to me."

  There was some sniggering at that. I tried to find the speaker, my eyes scanning the crowd. It was only when he spoke again that I identified him.

  He was an enormous, rotund man dressed in red and gold robes and wearing a turban on his head. He had dark hair, a long braided beard, and walked with a cane. His accent was thick and his skin brown behind an unhealthy sallow tinge. In my sheltered life, I had never seen anyone that looked like him.

  "Strip her." The fat man commanded, with a wave of his fingers. The crowd parted for his massive girth as he waddled a few steps forward, clearly waiting to be obeyed. I felt a wave of nausea at his words, and swallowed hard against my panic.

  The auctioneer took another look at me, perhaps regretting not cleaning me up a bit first. He hissed a curse low enough that only I could hear. Then he turned his greasy smile on the merchant.

  "At sir's command." He said, sketching a little bow.

  He snapped foreign words and one of the slavers came up behind me. I flinched as I felt his hands on my ragged clothing, and the auctioneer came to assist. They were sawing at my rags with a knife, ripping my filthy dress from my body.

  I would have liked to resist, but I was afraid. They had beaten me brutally the first time I'd fought them, and I still had the bruises on my back. I knew there was nothing I could do except close my eyes, accept the humiliation, and perhaps hope against hope that I would be purchased by someone relatively kind.

  The tattered cloth fell to the ground, pooling around my feet, and I held my bound wrists against my chest, shielding my breasts. The auctioneer jerked on the chain, pulling me so that I stood up straight, and returned to his spiel.

  I kept my eyes tightly shut, not wanting to watch as the crowd of potential buyers stared at my exposed body. The auctioneer poked and prodded me, speaking to the crowd in a language I couldn't understand.

  I whimpered as he pushed my arms away and squeezed my right breast roughly then tweaked my nipples until they hardened painfully. Tears squeezed out of the corners of my eyes as he grabbed my behind with his rough hands, mauling the flesh on my hips and ass for the benefit of the audience.

  After that, I withdrew into myself, no longer caring what was happening. I paid little attention as the haggling commenced. Bids were made, arguments started and were settled, and finally, my new master came to claim me.

  No... not him. I looked up as the grotesque merchant was handed my chain and the keys to my lock. He passed over a sizable purse and the auctioneer tested the gold between his teeth.

  The deal was done, and the merchant pulled me down off the platform, still naked. I could see the sweat dripping off the back of his neck as I followed behind him, and smell his sour stench.

  All I could think of was this hideous man touching me – doing unspeakable things to my unspoiled body. No. No. I will find a way to kill myself before that happens, I promised myself.

  He didn't say a word to me, just pulled me along behind him through the crowd as the next slave was led up onto the block. I felt so many eyes on me, boring into me, sliding all over my naked body. Once, a hand even pinched me hard on the hip – but I was being led by the collar and couldn't turn my head well enough to see my assailant.

  The tears flowed unchecked down my face. I shuffled behind the merchant, his servant leading the way, for a few minutes.

  We were out of the main crowd when an ornate curtained litter, carried by four strong men, came up alongside us. At first the merchant – my new master – paid
no mind, maintaining his slow waddle.

  The litter kept pace, its curtains parting.

  "Merchant!" Came the deep shout.

  Finally, my captor turned, a look somehow both confused and bored on his wide, sweaty face.

  Leaning out of the litter was a bald man. He wore fine trousers of cotton and was shirtless, and his eyes were lined with some dark cosmetic, shadowing them so that it was hard to see his expression from where I stood.

  "What is it?" The merchant snapped.

  "How much do you want for that slave?" Was the reply.

  The fat man raised an eyebrow, coming to a stop. I didn't miss the sharp gleam of greed in his eye. "This one?" He asked, yanking on my chain. "Delicious, isn't she? I just bought her. She is not for sale."

  "Come now." The bald man said, a knowing look in his eye. "You know as well as I that everything has its price."

  The bald man was a eunuch, I later came to know - named Ellys. I immediately preferred him very much more than the fat merchant, and was not sorry when they struck a deal – for double what the merchant had paid.

  He allowed me to get into his litter, helping me up by the hand and settling me on the seat opposite. He untied my hands and wrapped a cloak over me, covering my nakedness. I felt like crying all over again, just from that small mercy.

  Mine was not his native language, but he spoke it, and many others, well – which was why he was tasked with the handling of slaves and trade for his master. I was shocked when he revealed this master was the king of Cimbra over the sea.

  We spent weeks sailing. The collar remained fastened around my neck, but I was unchained, allowed to move around the ship. I was given men's clothing to wear and was able to bathe in salt water.

  Ellys stayed near, watching me tirelessly – evidently keeping me safe from the eyes and hands of the crew, who had not been expecting a slave on board. This was a trade run, and the ship was laden with cargo. I had been, the eunuch said, a fortunate find.

  Luckily for me, Ellys was large and intimidating, and the crew seemed to respect or fear him. I wondered about the Cimbrites - people who would evidently make a man into a eunuch. What kind of life would such a man lead? I couldn’t help but pity Ellys, though I never mentioned it and he never brought it up.

  He did not speak to me much, and I sensed he was keeping a distance between us. He was, after all, the king's chief eunuch, and I was merely a slave. He never even asked for my name. Nonetheless, he wasn't cruel, and I was grateful for even his silent company.

  The plain food on the ship was far better than the meager scraps I'd had under the raiders' care. I gained strength and put weight back on. Of course, this meant I had more energy to devote to worrying.

  Every night, I lay in the strangely comfortable hanging bed they called a hammock - staring at the wooden walls and rocking with the movement of the ship, and I silently cried.

  During the days I mostly stared out over the ocean. Sometimes I tried to talk to Ellys – to ask him questions without provoking his ire, but it was skirting a fine line. If I pushed my luck too often, he would scold me and send me below.

  The Cimbrite King was a frail man in his later years. He was known for being just to his subjects and ruthless in war. That was the extent of my knowledge, sheltered farm girl that I was.

  I dared to ask Ellys the one question that was weighing most on my mind. "Why did you take me? Am I to be the king's..." I looked away from him, hiding my distaste. "Bed slave?"

  Ellys turned his gaze on me and I looked back at him. His broad placid face was unreadable. I was scared he would erupt with anger, but finally, his mouth twitched at the corner. "No, child, you are not for the king." He said. "You are to be presented to his son and heir, Prince Issander.”

  Chapter 2

  Ellys had brought his luxurious litter with him on the ship, and now he had it unloaded, along with the men who served as litter-bearers.

  "Stay within. Do not part the curtains." The eunuch instructed as he helped me enter. He walked alongside as the bearers made their way easily through the crowded streets, the people of Cimbra hastening to make way.

  I did as he bade, but angled myself to look through the layered drapes that closed me in. Through the thin gap I saw dirty children playing, ragged men carrying heavy loads and animals running free in the roads.

  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.

  It 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.