8. LION
8
LION
Lion’s muscles froze in shock. He stood by the door, dumbfounded. He briefly wondered if he had opened the wrong door, but he recognised the room. This was the room assigned to him.
He remembered a famed storyteller visiting the King’s court last year. The storyteller had told the tale of Elrimandel and Galeahil in this very hall. It was a love tale. It described how time stopped for Elrimandel when he first saw Galeahil, and how he had felt like struck by lightning, which Lion didn’t understand its association with love, as it sounded extremely painful. Although he didn’t quite understand why the story had left half the guests in tears, the way he froze now at the sight of the girl reminded him of that story.
The girl retreated to the furthest corner, trying to cover her privates with her hands. Her red hair cascaded down her firm breasts. Soft curves of her body trapped Lion’s eyes. Her skin was milky-white; smooth and clean. She must have bathed recently, as her hair was still damp, and the room smelled of soap. The only imperfection on her body were the perfect freckles sprinkled over her nose and shoulders.
Lion snapped out of his shock. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. When he closed the door behind him, the girl flinched. Her sky-blue eyes widened with panic. Lion moved towards the washbasin and she took a step back, as if trying to merge with the wall or pass through it. She was still trying to cover her breasts with one hand and the ginger patch of hair between her legs with the other.
Careful not to strain his injured shoulder, Lion took his tunic off. He filled the basin with cold water from the pitcher, splashed some on his face, and quenched his thirst. The room was small, but luxurious when compared to the cramped rooms in the slave barracks where all the slaves slept together. The pitcher was always refilled with cold water. There was a soap and a towel to clean himself. The bed was a real bed, although small, and there was a pillow too!
He soaked the towel in the water and touched it gently against the searing brand on his chest. He let out a soft sigh, the coolness of the damp cloth offering a brief respite from the pain. He wondered how many more of these brands he would get before he had his Grand Blood.
The room was nearly dark. He wasn’t given any candle or a lantern, as he didn’t have any use for those. The room had a small window facing the courtyard, which was lit with torches. The flickering torchlight that seeped through the window was the only source of light, casting long shadows that danced across the stone walls. His eyes flicked to the corner of the room where the girl stood and watched him like watching a wild animal. She looked like a wild animal herself; one that was trapped. Her plump lips formed a firm line, her eyes gleaming with courage. She was holding her head high, like a free woman.
Her demeanour annoyed Lion. He rarely spent time with freeborn slaves and never enjoyed their company. They cried a lot, they always tried to talk, and they were obsessed with freedom. Lion shivered at the thought of freedom. Why would they even want that? He didn’t understand their fixation with it.
Freeborns were trouble. He eyed the healing skin on the girl’s neck, where her freeborn flame tattoo was inked. Too fresh, a couple of weeks at most. What was she even doing at Castle Brinescar? She was practically an untamed savage. Why would King Leonis purchase someone like her?
And why would they store her here?
Uncertainty gnawed at him. He thought maybe Raydon ran out of beds in the slave barracks and decided the girl could sleep here until they found her a bed. But it didn’t make sense. Did they run out of clothes too? Why hadn’t Raydon dressed the girl?
He shifted slightly when he thought of Caesh and how the trainer always boasted about celebrating Lion’s victories by sleeping with as many women as he could. Was this some sort of celebration reward? Putting the towel aside, Lion splashed the cold water directly at his chest. Purebreds didn’t need rewards, and King Leonis never offered Lion one. Besides, he was too tired and too sore for this. Despite Vanalten’s recommendations for rest, he still had to show up at training with the others, and he needed his sleep.
He kicked his shoes off, then dropped his pants down, as he was used to sleeping naked. When he moved to the bed, the girl jumped back and screamed, “Don’t touch me!”
Without thinking, Lion launched, clamping a hand over her mouth and pressing her against the wall. Cold sweat ran down his spine. Stupid freeborn brat! She hadn’t even bothered keeping her voice down! Her eyes widened as she struggled against him, but he held her firmly, his heart pounding.
He glanced nervously toward the thin wall separating the room from Badimar’s room. If Lion could hear whenever Badimar sneezed in his room, then Badimar could hear the girl’s voice.
The girl’s struggles intensified, but he kept her pinned. He held his breath, watching the door, expecting to see it burst open any time, and Badimar barge in. The memory of his Pain Word scorching him from inside out was still too fresh in his mind. If Badimar thought Lion was speaking to this freeborn, committing an Act of Defiance… He swallowed, his stomach twisting in fear. Long seconds passed as he expected to hear Badimar’s angry footsteps, but he heard nothing.
Maybe he was out for the night, as he would occasionally do with other trainers.
The girl’s fists pounded against his chest and shoulders. One of her blows landed squarely on his sore, branded skin, sending a jolt of pain through his body. He winced, but didn’t release his grip. When she tried to punch his bandaged shoulder, Lion grabbed her wrist with his other hand. She was trying to talk and yell, but her voice was muffled under Lion’s palm.
He glanced at the door again, convinced that Badimar was out, but still not relaxed. What was he going to do with the girl? As she thrashed to free herself, her naked limbs kept brushing against his bare skin. Lion bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t stay pressed against her like this all night. He had to find a way to keep her quiet.
He considered squeezing her slender neck until she passed out, but that wouldn’t keep her quiet all night. She could wake up when he was sleeping and start screaming. He looked around the room for something he could cover her mouth with, but then he would have to tie her hands too.
There was one more thing he could try before he resorted to tying her up, though he wasn’t confident if it would work. He released her wrist. She immediately resumed punching him with those harmless fists. Still muffling her defiant screams with one hand, Lion pressed his finger to his lips. He fixed his eyes on a spot on the wall above her head. He was careful not to look her directly in the eyes, as eye contact was another Act of Defiance, though she didn’t seem to care about that one either. Freeborns were so relaxed with eye contact. It was different for purebreds.
The girl narrowed her eyes and stared at Lion’s face. She took quick and shallow breaths through her nose, exhaling warm air on Lion’s hand, her breasts heaving. Slowly, her resistance weakened. She stopped hitting him and stood still, though she shivered. Her body was warm against his. She put both her hands on Lion’s wrist and pushed, not forcefully, but persistently.
Hoping she wouldn’t scream, Lion eased his grip but kept her pinned against the wall. His hand hovered near her face, ready to silence her again if she so much as whispered. She took a deep breath and pressed her lips shut, her eyes wide with fear. They stood still for a few heartbeats, Lion’s body, nearly double her size, trapping her shivering form against the cold stone.
Her chest heaved with each shaky breath, but she made no sound. Lion watched out of the corner of his eyes, careful not to look directly. His own breathing was ragged from the effort of maintaining control. He could feel the tension in her small frame, the fear radiating from her in waves.
Moving slowly and carefully, as if he would become aggressive at any sudden movement, the girl put her hands on his chest and pushed. Lion slowly backed away, his eyes still fixed on the wall, ready to react if she showed any sign of breaking the silence. She remained still, her eyes following his every move. Seconds passed by in tense silence. Finally, Lion lowered his hand and relaxed his shoulders.
Without a second glance, Lion turned and dropped himself on the bed. He pulled the blanket up to his waist, slid his hand under the pillow, and turned his back to the girl.
Falling asleep had never been a problem for him before; he could shut his eyes and drift within fifteen minutes. However, sleep didn’t come as easily tonight as it usually did. His ears were too alert to her presence in the room. His body was too alert too; the memory of her soft skin brushing against him was still too fresh. He stifled a frustrated groan and tried to relax.
He could hear her ragged breathing, interrupted by sniffs and sobs. His ears pricked when she moved, her bare feet padding on the stone floor. Before he could stop himself, he was imagining how her hips would look like when she walked. He resisted the urge to lift his head and look. She settled on the furthest corner of the room, which was still within arm’s reach from the bed. If he wanted to take her, she had nowhere to run or hide.
She was lucky he was a purebred, and he didn’t want things.
Lion swallowed. His throat was parched again, but he didn’t dare get up for a drink. If the girl was startled, she would squeal again. He noticed that his shoulder and burnt chest hadn't been bothering him for the last few minutes. The girl had been a distraction from his pain, but now he needed a distraction to take his mind off the girl. So he rolled facedown, letting the coarse sheets irritate the raw wound on his chest. He clenched his teeth, soaking in the sharp sting. The pain surged through him. It was a crude way to refocus, but it worked, drawing his attention away from the unsettling presence of the girl.
Not my body, it’s their property , he repeated the soothing statement in his head. Within seconds, he had dissociated from his battered body. His mind drifted into that place , and he experienced a sense of floating free, as if he was looking at his body from above.
He crawled deeper into that place , and everything numbed. He felt nothing. Just an empty void. Even the details of the room seemed to blur into indistinct shades of grey as the colours drained away.
He ignored the tiny haze of red in the far corner of that dull, grey void.