16. LION
16
LION
“Why are you being stubborn about this?” the girl whose name was not Saradra hissed. “My name is Saradra. Just call me Saradra.”
Lion heaved, taking deep breaths to settle his stomach. He was slumped against the wall. He forced his rigid muscles to relax as he fought to shake that suffocating fear and sickness.
“Because it’s not your name,” he growled.
“I was born with that name.”
“And you lost it when you were enslaved.”
She made an angry noise that sounded more cute than intimidating. “Then look at me again.”
Lion groaned, his shoulders sagging with dread. “Will you stop this if I call you that name?”
“Will you actually do it if I say yes?”
Lion made a noise that was half sigh, half growl. He breathed through the knot in his stomach, bracing himself for the discomfort, and looked up to meet her gaze. Just before he doubled over with a bout of nausea, he saw tears in her eyes.
Why was she crying over this? It was so stupid!
But shaking with the memory of a pain that wasn’t really there was stupid, too. He swam through it and emerged on the other side, slowly regaining control of his trembling muscles. When he searched her face with a quick glance, he saw no trace of tears.
“Okay.” She offered him a casual smile. She sat facing him, her knee touching his. She tilted her head, drawing Lion’s gaze to the bruise he had left on her shoulder the previous night. “Tell me something about yourself.”
Lion rolled his eyes. He rested his head back and stared at the wall. “What?”
“Tell me about the map.”
Lion glanced at the bed like he wanted to bludgeon it with a war hammer. He cursed the day he first saw the map.
“Why did you draw it?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “There is no reason.”
“Which one is it? There is no reason, or you don’t know the reason.”
Lion let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know.”
She chewed her hair, staring at him like he was a puzzle to figure out, so she could smash it into pieces. “That’s the map from the Throne Room, isn't it? The one on the floor?”
He nodded.
“When did you first see it?”
Lion shrugged. “A few years ago.”
“What did you think when you first looked at it?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you think it was beautiful? I mean, it really was exquisite.”
“I didn’t think anything.”
“What did you feel…”
“Nothing.”
She crossed her arms, one hand moving the rest on her chin. Her brows furrowed, and a frown played on her lips. “I’m just trying to understand why you drew it.”
Lion didn’t bother repeating himself, he had already told her he didn’t know why he drew the map. Her relentless questioning wasn’t going to suddenly make him realise the answer. He scratched his brand on his chest distractedly. It was still itching, though he hardly felt the ache anymore. And his shoulder, still bandaged snugly, only hurt if he strained it.
The girl was quiet again, her fingers drumming on her lips. Moonlight highlighted her features with a soft glow. Outside, the summer wind rustled the leaves, creating a lulling background noise. Lion eyed the bed eagerly. It was getting late. But the girl was still having fun with her odd little interrogation.
“Do you want to travel Chinderia one day?”
“I don’t want anything,” he said quickly.
“You’re right, there’s not much to travel. Just the same cesspit all around.” She paused. “Maybe except Northern Chinderia. Especially West Kilrer. I’ve heard most people there don’t keep slaves.”
Lion didn’t reply. There wasn’t any question for him, so he was content letting her resume the conversation on her own.
“I’ve heard some countries don’t keep slaves at all. Slavery is banned in the entire country. Can you imagine that?”
Lion shook his head. It sounded like a myth freeborns would trick themselves into believing. Like how their rhoas could still one day travel to Farhome and be free. Or how the Twelve Riders still watched over them if they prayed in secret.
“Do you want to travel to those countries one day?”
Lion shook his head again.
“Why not?”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Wouldn't you want to live a better life?”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Right.” The girl paused, her eyebrows lifting with amusement. She smirked and rolled her eyes. “I forgot about that. Wanting is an Act of Defiance, isn’t it? And it’s the silliest amongst them.” She chuckled.
Lion shot a glance at the door, clenching his fists. Was she trying to be heard? If Badimar or someone else walked in and started beating the girl… His throat tightened. At least she had the sense to cover her mouth and keep it down.
“When I first heard this one,” she continued, whispering, but still with a mocking smile at the corners of her lips, “I thought they were joking . Like they can actually stop a person from wanting things. From feeling desire.”
Lion clenched his jaw, staring at his lap. He didn’t bother educating the girl about the training methods slave breeders used on young purebreds at the ranches. He knew for certain that they could scrape every drop of desire out of anyone.
“Even purebreds want things,” she continued wryly.
“Not purebreds.”
“No amount of beating can stop a person from wanting things. It’s in our nature.”
Beating. She thought, that’s all they did. She had never been to a ranch. She was enslaved, and then probably only spent a few weeks tops at a slave merchant’s warehouse. That wasn’t the same.
Remembering Faychill Ranch invited that cold, hollow void inside Lion’s chest. The gravity pulled him down into the harsh stone floor beneath him. “I don’t. Want . Anything,” he said flatly.
The girl quietened, noticing the change in his tone. She searched his face, her hands on her lap, and her head slightly tilted. That smug, confident grin vanished from her face, replaced by pity. She opened and closed her mouth several times before she spoke. “What about food? Drink? You want to eat when you’re hungry, don’t you?”
“I live to serve, I breathe to please.”
“So?”
“I live to serve, I breathe to please.”
She nodded slowly. “You eat and drink because you have to live . Okay, fine. What about survival? You want to survive. Why else would you fight and work so hard to be a good, obedient slave?”
“ I live to serve, I breathe to please .”
“You want me to keep your secret, to stay quiet about the map…”
“I need you to stay quiet, so I can continue to live to serve and breathe to please .”
Her scowl deepened. “Don’t you want a life without pain? Without chains?” Her voice dropped, quieter than a whisper. “Freedom?”
“No.”
The stone wall behind him sent a chill through his clothes and into his bones. His eyes were still unfocused on his lap. His thoughts briefly drifted to the arenas, specifically to the moment when he wakes up from his Rage, victorious. The empowering weight of his weapon in his hand as he salutes his Owner on one knee.
“I live to serve, I breathe to please,” he said numbly.
“What about last night?” she whispered. “And the night before?”
Lion shrugged. “I follow my orders.”
“Your orders are to bed me. Not to make me moan and leave me spent and trembling with such intense pleasure that I almost forgot my name.” She spoke in a hushed tone, and she bit her lower lip, as if barely keeping herself from saying more. Her cheeks flushed as she watched him with hunger. “You want that again.”
Lion shook his head, but she shuffled closer. Her eyes were intense as they perused him from head to toe, lingering in places, not hiding her lust. “Go ahead and deny. You can’t lie to yourself.”
She reached and touched his chest, her palm flat over his heart. A thrill went through Lion’s body. His heart raced and his breath hitched. She felt the strength of his heartbeat and smiled as if she had just proved a point. “You want it, don’t you?” she whispered. “I know I do.”
Her admission ignited a primal emotion inside his chest. He stamped it down. He grabbed her wrist and pushed it away. “I follow my orders.”
“I think we already established what your orders are and aren’t.” She gathered his hand between hers and brought it to her mouth. She kissed his palm softly, her breath caressing his skin. Her soft lips brushed past his forearm and planted another kiss on his elbow. She continued up his arm and kissed an old knife scar from a fight several years ago. She kissed his bandaged shoulder.
Lion grabbed her arm to push her away, but couldn’t. The girl’s lips were gentle on his chest, almost hesitant, like savouring a new experience. Lion’s eyes rolled back in his skull, his head resting against the hard stone behind him. She kissed her way up his chest, her mouth becoming bolder with each kiss. Her lips traced the line of his collarbone. Lion’s throat bobbed. His fingers still trapped her arm, but he didn’t push her.
Finally, her lips reached his neck, and Lion let out a soft groan. Her warm breath sent shivers through his body. She moaned quietly as she kissed his jaw, her lips brushing against his beard. She cupped his cheek, guiding him to face her. Lion closed his eyes, though he couldn’t unsee the desperate thirst and desire he glimpsed on her face.
“Do you want to kiss me?” she whispered. Her face was so close to his, her breath caressed his lips when she talked.
Lion pressed his lips tight and swallowed. The girl’s mouth was right there, almost touching his. He wondered how she would taste. The memory of the other night, how those lips wrapped around his fingers, filled his mind. It was hard to distract himself from those images, especially with his eyes closed. But he couldn’t dare open them, because the girl’s eyes were right in front of his face. He felt vulnerable and powerless, despite still holding the girl’s arm in his grip.
“Do you want to kiss me?” she repeated, her voice laced with need, and a hint of plead.
“I don’t… want anything.”
“Prove it,” she whispered. “Prove it to yourself.” Her lips brushed against his when she spoke, teasing him, sending a jolt of thrill down his core. Struck by lightning. He understood that lover's tale now, how Elrimandel felt when he first saw Galeahil. He inhaled a deep breath to steady himself, which turned out to be a mistake, because now the girl’s scent left him teetering on the brink. With his eyes closed, his sense of smell was sharpened, much harder to ignore. Her sweet aroma, a mixture of soap and something uniquely her own, intoxicated him.
“Do you want to kiss me?” The girl’s voice trembled slightly as she asked again, almost begging.
The vulnerability in her tone pierced through Lion’s defences. Every inhale drew him deeper into the scent of her, making it harder to remember why he was resisting in the first place. He focused on his grip, willing his hand to push her away just enough so he could turn his head, open his eyes, and breathe air that wasn’t tainted with her captivating scent.
She felt the weak but determined pressure of Lion’s hand pressing against her, pushing her away. “Look at me,” she said sharply.
Lion felt the desperate fear and nausea rising again. Then he decided maybe this was a good thing. The pain could help snap him out of this spell she put him under, remind him who he was, and why he had to resist. He opened his eyes.
The girl’s eyes were filled with longing and disappointment. And their colour was such a bright blue, it made the rest of the room seem grey and dull. Lion’s stomach churned, and his muscles cramped with pain.
The girl leaned in and crushed her lips against his.
A warm wave washed over him, countering that icy fear and pain. For a moment, Lion remained rigid, his hands still on her arms as if to push her away. He tasted the heat of her desire, so hot it melted his resistance. The thrill she ignited in him collided against the haunting memories of pain, not strong enough to completely wash them away, but enough to keep them from claiming him.
She kept the pain at bay!
When Lion leaned into the kiss, his resolve shattering to pieces, the warmth in his chest grew stronger. It was as if her kiss had reached into the darkest corners of his mind, pulling him out of the shadows and into the light. He pulled her in closer, deepening the kiss, and allowed himself to be carried away, like surrendering to a torrent. And the pain, and dread, and numbness, and fear… they were all left behind on the shore, unable to follow him.
She broke the kiss to gasp for air, her lips red and swollen, her cheeks flushed. She had somehow ended up on his lap, her legs straddling him. His arms wrapped around her, cradling her against his chest. Holding her like she belonged there.
“I want you to want me,” she whispered, out of breath. She started landing small, hungry kisses all over his face, mouthing, sucking, nibbling. “I need you to want me.” She hardly broke her kisses as she spoke. “Let yourself want me. Just for tonight. Allow yourself. Free yourself.”
Lion groaned hungrily. His hands slipped down her back, trailing down her legs. They snaked under her dress, journeying up her smooth thighs. His fingers found her core, bare and drenched.
“Do you want me?” she whispered in his ear.
He stood up with her still on his lap. She clung to his shoulders and locked her legs around his waist. Lion spun and pressed her against the wall.
As he looked up and met her eyes, his stomach twisted, anticipating the familiar pain. That dread and discomfort would always be there; he doubted it would ever get easier. But he maintained her gaze, engraving that bright blue colour into his memory as the pain drew nearer, surging closer.
Lion leaned in and answered her question with a long, consuming kiss that left them both gasping for more. He let the desire in, freeing himself from the restraints. Ignoring the broken voice in his head screaming that this was bad, that this would be his demise, he surrendered to the moment.
And that little voice was right, because the next day at training, Lion started making mistakes.