Fifteen
Alara
“Sit,” the king orders as we enter the dining room, pointing to two chairs over from his left before taking a seat at the head of the table.
“What’s she doing here?” a man across from me asks.
That must be Ivor, the king’s brother who Rohan told me about, and his wife sitting next to him.
His children are here again, as well as another man next to Violetta.
I’m assuming he’s Ivor’s son with the familiar features to his face.
“The other day, she refused to do as asked, today, she’ll learn to do as she’s told.” Halen turns to me. “Thoroughly.”
I swallow roughly and curl my fingers in my lap. They’re shaking, but I try to hide the fear.
“I’m sure there’s no need for excessive… persuasions,” Ivor says.
“Of course there is, uncle,” Nathanial adds, taking a drink. “How did the barbarian look when you took her, father?”
King Halen sniffs. “Acting like an animal as usual.”
They all laugh, and I look away from him, spotting the guards around the room. Their faces are covered, swords at their hips. Still, observant, ready for their king’s instructions.
“Serve,” the king commands.
Women and men enter the room with dishes of all sizes, placing them down on the table.
They keep their heads down, avoiding eye contact, and when I see the collars around their throats, my heart drops.
More slaves.
My fingers unconsciously graze the base of my throat, drifting over the bumps of scarring there before I drop my hand.
I don’t miss the way the king tracks one of them, a woman, and when she bows and walks past, he isn’t subtle about the way he grabs her ass, squeezing roughly.
“Eat,” he demands, and the others start to plate their food while I stare at it.
There’s an overabundance of it, far too much for just us.
There’s even a whole pig in the center, an apple in its mouth. Root vegetables fill in the empty spaces on the table, and a fish with cloudy eyes is plated in front of me and I swear it wriggles.
I shiver, looking away, feeling queasy.
“Now, Alara, have you decided to change your mind regarding the task I’ve issued you?” Halen asks, biting into what I think is a chicken leg.
I bite my lip.
Be brave, Alara.
“I don’t think I am the right person to-to do as you’ve asked,” I say, stumbling over my words.
“You hear that,” Halen taunts. “She thinks she can refuse.”
“You will be having more than just her in Lothmere soon,” Ivor chimes in. “Maybe you can ask the others?”
“No,” Alexandar says, his tone firm, and my eyes go to him.
“And why not, boy?” Halen demands.
He shrugs, those mismatched eyes on his father. “I don’t think they have an affinity for that.”
Halen eyes him. “And tell me, son, how would you know that?”
“I’ve been your correspondence with them, been on the front lines as army commander, I’ve studied and watched them from across the bridge since I was a child when you left me there to train.”
“That does not mean you can know if they can speak with dragons.”
I glance around the table at that.
Do they all know he has dragons beneath us?
“No,” he agrees, shrugging. “But I’m almost certain.” His eyes come to me then. “I think she’s a rarity, and I would be careful how you… damage her, father.”
“I see,” Halen muses, getting back to his meal as I take in a stuttering breath. “I’ll think about it.”
“Just lock her down there, tell her she can only leave when she’s done,” Violetta says, and I blink across the table at her.
“How wicked,” the man next to her says. “I like it.”
“Savron, don’t encourage her,” Ivor admonishes.
Savron huffs. “Yes, father.”
“He only said it in jest,” his wife says.
“I won’t have it, Laylah.”
“Alright, darling.” Laylah pats his shoulder, and he rolls his eyes.
“If I were to keep her down there, daughter, how can I make the barbarian hurt more?” Halen smirks. “My people would want to see her, anyway. They haven’t seen one up close before.”
“Would they pay to see her up close?” Nathanial muses, while sweat beads the back of my neck.
“That’s a good point,” Halen praises, and Nathanial sits up straighter at the praise.
“You could ask Lord Redwick to put her on display,” Violetta says. “He’s doing well with the bets in the Enclave. It would bring in more coin.”
“Isn’t he supposed to be here today?” Savron asks.
Halen hums. “He’ll be here, he’s running a little behind according to Declan.”
“He’s probably in the tavern again,” Alexandar mutters.
The king scowls. “Why would he go there when there’s perfectly good wine here?”
“He won’t be there for the wine, father, but for the whores.” Nathanial smirks. “That’s the only thing worth heading out that way for.”
Halen frowns. “We have those in the castle.”
“They’re not as… feisty, father,” Nathanial says, and I suck in a sharp breath.
Does he mean that they aren’t afraid to be feisty with the royal family… or does he mean something much more sinister?
“He’ll be here shortly, I’m sure. But for now.” The king grabs a girl as she passes by, the same age as me and she tenses in his grip as he palms her backside. “Serve more wine.”
She bows her head. “Yes, my king.”
I stare at the fish in front of me, thinking about how Melle was learning how to catch them back in the Wilds.
“Eat,” the king says, pointing a fork at me.
I duck my head. “I… I’m not very hungry.”
There’s a pause. “It wasn’t a question. Is my food not good enough for you, Elven one?”
“I—”
“Are you so used to barbarian scraps that you don’t even know what’s in front of you?”
I frown. “That’s not what I meant.”
He slams his hand down on the table, and I jump, the cutlery rattling.
“Then. Eat.”
I take my fork and grab a few carrots, then some small potatoes.
“Do you not eat meat or something?” Nathanial scoffs.
“Why does it matter what she eats?” Alexandar grunts.
I stare down at my plate and take a subtle, deep breath.
I don’t want to eat because I’m certain I’ll throw it up.
I spear a carrot and lift it to my mouth, nibbling at the end. Saliva builds, but I swallow over it, choking it down.
“Now, Elf,” the king begins, meat juices dripping down his chin. “Are you officially refusing to do the task I have ordered you to?”
I gulp, biting into the carrot again. “I-I haven’t changed my mind.”
“Huh,” Nathanial says, eyeing me. “Is she brave or stupid?”
“Probably stupid,” Violetta laughs, digging into some fish, being careful not to get anything on her dress.
“Interesting,” Alexandar mutters, and my eyes lift to his.
His gaze roams my face too closely, curiosity in his stare.
“She thinks she has a choice, which is laughable considering she was a slave.” Nathanial laughs.
“How do you know that?” Violetta asks.
“Someone called Darcia told father. You can see her neck though. The scarring shows who she is.”
“Oh,” she says, and her eyes feel like knives on my skin when she stares at my throat. “Well then, just command her, put another collar on.”
My blood turns to ice.
King Halen waves the suggestion off. “No, she’s rather unpleasant as it is, a collar will mar her more. Either way, she’ll soon realize her place.”
He stands, clicking his fingers.
“Guards, take her below. Ivor, when Lord Redwick comes, send him down to me. He’s been asking to see the elf.”
“Is that wise?” Ivor replies hesitantly. “He shouldn’t be down there, he isn’t family.”
Halen halts, glaring.
“He has accompanied me many times down there,” he says, an edge to his tone. “He’s been a good friend for many years. Stop questioning me, brother.”
Tension rises in the air, but eventually, Ivor replies, “As you wish.”
Footsteps approach from behind, and I tense when the chair is pulled backward. Hands grab my arms as I’m dragged from the seat.
“Now then,” Halen says as he walks ahead of me, the guards dragging me after him. “Let me show you just where your place is.”
I’m taken back down to the dungeons, only this time, I’m dragged into a room that smells of copper and dread.
I’m shoved harshly into a chair, the guards tying rope around my wrists as I wriggle, trying to get free from their grasp.
But they’re much stronger than I am.
“Stop struggling, you’re only prolonging the inevitable. All this is doing is making me angrier,” Halen says, as he enters.
My heart crashes against my chest painfully as my wild and panicked stare flits around the room.
There’s a table off to the side, chains attached to the far wall, a hook above me. More chains, and instruments on another table.
Blood stains the ground in here, sporadically, like it’s tried to be cleaned many times but with the amount that’s been spilled, is engrained into the stone.
I whimper, hands fisting when the guards tighten the knots. The rope is coarse around my wrists, so tight that my fingers start to tingle.
They leave my legs free, and I curl them back around the legs of the chair, like it can keep me away from whatever is to come.
“Did you know that there is a saying in the lands,” Halen begins, waving a hand at a guard.
He comes over and places a chair in front of me, which Halen sits down in.
“They say elves would rather kill themselves than be in my possession. Do you know why?”
I shake my head, tears already stinging my eyes.
Halen crosses his legs and leans back, hands folded on his belly.
“I like to make things bleed,” he says, and fear slithers down my spine.
“More importantly, I like to make them last.” He smiles, his gaze roaming over me.
“I had the pleasure of coming across an elf once. I was only a young boy back then, but I had it for two months. It was a wonderful two months,” he mutters, almost to himself.
“I made him bleed. A lot, and he took it so well.”
I breathe through my nose, glancing around the room once more.
“He was a fine specimen, and I knew I wanted more of them. Unfortunately, the family cabin I kept him in burned down. If I’d known such a thing could happen, I would’ve taken him within the castle, but I like to have things of my own, and my brother was always in my business, even then.”
He leans forward, reaching a hand out and stroking it down my cheek.
I flinch away from his touch. He laughs.