The Prince's Pet Read online

  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.

  It was beautiful. But it would look more appropriate on someone like Atshye, I thought, looking at her. I was not tall, and I had round hips and full breasts, where Atshye was lithe and long-legged.

  I’d never had so much of me exposed before anyone else's eyes. The thought of the queen – let alone the Prince – seeing me dressed thus was mortifying. But I had no choice in the matter.

  Atshy
e sensed my uncertainty and smiled knowingly. “Trust me.” She said, as she bent and slipped delicate leather sandals on my feet.

  She brushed my hair until it shone, curling it gently with her fingers and leaving it falling over my shoulders. “I will not put it up,” she explained. “I want them to see.”

  “I'm not to wear jewelry?” I asked her, as she slipped her own bracelets back on. Perhaps she’d forgotten.

  She furrowed her brow as though confused, and pulled her robe around her, settling it over her shoulders. “No...” she said, stretching out her arms to display her golden bands. “These are all gifts. All given to me by my Mistress. This is how we display our status in the Palace. Your Prince must gift you such things, if he approves of you.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  I looked at myself in the mirror one final time as Atshye took my arm, and led me from the room. Even to my own eyes, I looked lost and terrified.

  The queen sat on a cushioned daybed in her receiving room, taking food from a young slave girl who held out a platter. A young woman sat on the marble step of the dais working on an embroidery hoop. She was not dressed quite as richly as Atshye, with none of the jewelry, and wore a silver collar. Two guards stood unobtrusively against the wall behind them, one on either side, staring straight ahead.

  Queen Indari was a handsome woman of forty-some years, with an olive complexion and dark hair just beginning to gray, caught up in a jeweled hair-net and topped with a thin golden circlet. In her blood-red gown, with jeweled rings on every finger and only her eyes visible above an opaque red veil, she was just as intimidating as I had imagined.

  Atshye bowed low and spoke to her in Cimbrai, without waiting to be addressed. Then she looked at me, and put her hand on the small of my back, pushing me forward. I let out a little gasp as I stumbled, unprepared for the rough treatment.

  “Kneel before the queen, slave!” Atshye barked at me. Shocked, I quickly did so, sinking to my knees and bowing my head. After a long moment of silence, I grew anxious, and couldn't resist raising my eyes.

  The queen was staring at me. She took a bite out of the berry she held delicately between her fingers, and took her time to chew and swallow. “Ah, eai,” she said, after she had finished. Yes.

  I didn't comprehend the exchange that followed as they spoke too quickly, but caught the word Thessian, and Ellys' name. The queen then turned a withering gaze on me, and spoke slowly and deliberately. This time, I understood. “A peasant, by her manner.”

  I swallowed hard, my heart hammering in my chest. Was I doing something wrong? I didn't know how you were supposed to bow to royalty – I'd never done it before.

  “Will she suffice, my Lady?” Atshye asked.

  The queen gave an order and Atshye touched my shoulder. "The queen bids you stand, girl.” She translated. “Let's have a look at you.”

  I couldn’t stop my legs from trembling, but I tried to stand gracefully, keeping my eyes lowered.

  Whatever she saw, it must have satisfied her because the queen quickly made a noise of assent. “Fine.” She said, in a dismissive tone. I looked up, unsure whether or not to be relieved. She waved at one of the guards, who nodded brusquely and approached. She gave him orders and he bowed and unhooked an object from his belt.

  The guard approached me with what I now saw was a golden collar – like the one Atshye wore, except there was a fine coil of chain attached. His face was expressionless as he fitted it around my neck, the metal cold when it fell against my skin. He quickly locked it in place, then took the chain and yanked on it, pulling me after him as he approached Indari’s dais and sank to one knee. He held the end of my chain up before him, presenting it to the woman.

  Up close, I could smell her flowery perfume. I avoided her gaze as she took the chain and shortened it in her hands, pulling me closer as she looked at me carefully.

  The feeling of being led by the throat as though I were a dog on a leash was humiliating - as was obviously the intention. Tears stung my eyes and not for the first time I fervently wished I were anywhere else but here. This woman, Queen Indari, was vicious. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name, and I couldn't wait to be away from her.

  As I reached the edge of the dais she tugged sharply, pulling me up the step so that I stood right in front of her. She gave me an order.

  Atshye walked up beside the queen, leaning a hand on the arm of her couch. “Kneel and await your Prince.” She translated, pointing at the floor.

  I did so, sinking to my knees. Atshye clicked her tongue at me, and told me to face her, to bow my head, and rest my hands on my lap palms down. I corrected my position at each order, trying to force myself into the numbness I'd embraced earlier and not quite managing. I was trembling, terrified for myself and the unknown of what was about to happen to me.

  As Queen Indari and her maids talked among themselves, I waited. And waited.

  My knees began to ache from the cold marble of the floor and my neck hurt from my bowed position. I tried to listen to their conversation and pick up what I could from it, in an attempt to distract myself. Cimbrai wasn't hard to learn - it had similarities with Thessian, and the neighboring Geonaic, of which I knew enough to barter at market. But the speed at which they conversed caused me to quickly become lost.

  As time went on I had to fight the urge to move. I peeked up through my lashes, raising my head the tiniest amount, and saw Atshye staring at me. Her eyes widened just a little, and she shook her head, silently warning. A tiny sense of relief - she was still my ally. I let my head bow once more, trying to relax.

  I began to count to myself, trying to distract from my aching, twitching muscles and my urge to stretch. A thousand itchy places had suddenly cropped up on my body. A strand of hair had fallen over my eye and tickled my eyelashes, and I had to resist the desire to brush it out of my face.

  The doors were flung open, and the women fell silent. The maid on the dais rose to her feet and scampered off, and Atshye moved to stand out of the way.

  With difficulty I kept my eyes on my hands, listening as what sounded like a great many men entered the hall. They approached and I could see them at the edge of my vision. I could tell they were armored and carried weapons, but more than that I couldn’t make out.

  Indari got slowly to her feet and stood on the edge of her platform, holding her arms outstretched. She spoke a greeting in Cimbrai though her tone wasn't particularly warm. I felt the tug on my chain as she stepped down from the dais and turned my head, wondering if I should stand - but she wasn't paying any attention to me. I stayed where I was, but now that my head was turned I couldn't resist looking at the newcomers.

  They were about fifteen men, led by a tall, imposing man with a long dark beard. He was well-groomed, his long hair clean and restrained at the nape of his neck. He was dressed in iron armor while the rest of the men wore predominantly leather, and he held his helmet under his arm. I guessed that he was the leader of these soldiers.

  The man strode forward and took the queen's hands, bowing briefly to kiss her long fingers. Was this the Prince? He looked older than I'd expected - but perhaps his mother had birthed him young, or I'd misjudged her age. I surreptitiously gazed at him. He was handsome enough, and he looked like her - even down to the staid, expressionless demeanor.

  The two spoke, too quickly for me to understand, but suddenly another voice interrupted. As I turned my head slightly to watch, another, younger man pushed through the soldiers. He was not quite as tall as the towering captain, but still impressive - as were all of them.

  He stood before the queen, ignoring the captain, and sketched a bow which was either greatly reverent or sarcastic - I couldn't quite tell. Then he took off his helmet. "Step-Mother," he said by way of greeting.

  This made me pay attention. My eyes widened as I looked at him. Was this then, my new master - or some half-brother?

  This man had golden-brown skin where the queen was paler, and his eyes were a lighter brown, set in a strong,
angular face. He was disheveled, covered in travel-dirt, and his jaw was covered in the stubble of many days on the road. His black hair fell just below his shoulders, a few strands escaping from its leather tie to fall in front of his face.

  My breath quickened and my lips parted as I watched him. I was quite sure I'd never seen anyone so exotic and handsome. As surely as I had hated the queen on meeting her, I was drawn to him. He stayed in his bowed position until the queen sighed heavily and acknowledged him, then he stood with a wry grin.

  I didn’t follow their conversation, only watched Prince Issander as they talked. There seemed to be little warmth between them. In fact, as they continued their voices became more strained, until I could practically feel the venom radiating down the chain between me and the queen’s perfectly manicured hand.

  At last, they stopped talking and merely stared at one another. After a long moment she waved at the captain, dismissing him and his men.

  As soon as the door had closed behind the last of them, she gave a sharp jerk on my leash, snapping me out of my daze. I immediately averted my eyes from the pair, staring instead at my hands where they rested in my lap. My heart skipped a beat then settled into a fluttering rhythm, and I tried not to tremble as their attention turned on me.

  “I have a gift for you.” The queen said, her tone turning syrupy-sweet.

  I caught my breath. Yes - this was him. I knew he was looking - I imagined I could feel the Prince’s eyes as they bore into me, and felt my face grow hot as I flushed.

  “What is this?” He said after a long moment.

  She answered with an explanation; the only part I caught was Thessian slave. And she handed over my leash, placing it in his hands. I felt the movement of it tugging on my collar, and resisted the urge to raise my hand to the metal ring. “Stand, slave,” Queen Indari said, and Atshye repeated it in my language, though I had understood.

  My breath caught, a shock of anxiety coursing through me, and I hastened to obey. I had to work hard to get my stiff legs to move, the pain of my cramped muscles making me bite my lip. I almost thought I might faint from fear and weakness, and I was less than graceful as I rose. I stood with my hands clasped before me, fingers locked so tightly I could feel them losing circulation.