A movement, a rustle was what roused her. She started on her feet, not knowing where she was or what was she doing. The place, the room was strange to her and two people stood between her and the door, a woman and a boy.
‘Jumpy little sort it is. Look, look at that hair- mess! And how it glares from underneath it!’ said the woman. She wore heavy skirts that made her look like she would only be half her size without them. A stark white canvass apron tied up her front and a similarly made bonnet caged her grey hair. The other person, a boy, wore the livery of the embassy. His face was swollen and purple with bruises. It was James. At his sight Jay finally shook off the remnants of unquiet sleep. So that was her reality still, here, locked in this room.
Jay waited no longer. She leaped at James, twisting is arm in a grapple Lethe trained into her. The boy folded himself in half. She tore off the ‘keyring’ from under his tabard. As soon as she felt it in her hand, she made a dash to the door, striking the wood with the ‘keyring’ while the old woman shrieked in alarm behind her back. Jay wouldn’t listen. She threw the door open, determined to make the best of this chance. She would run. Run until she was far away from here! Blindly, she dove through the threshold only to hit something tall, heavy and metallic. She looked up, wanting to know what she bumped into, only to meet Captain Adhel’s dark gaze. A heavy gauntlet squeezed her arm.
‘Is she causing trouble?’
This wasn’t a question. It sounded more like threat meant both for her and the people in the room behind her.
‘No trouble’ said James. There was a hint of haste in his voice. ‘We can deal with her, right Martha?’
‘What? That would be the day, I’ll tells you, if we couldn’t deal with a dirty rat!’
Captain Adhel said nothing. The gauntleted hand over Jay’s shoulder tightened its grip, then pushed her back into the room and closed the door. She was back where she started.
Jay folded her hands around her abdomen and lowered her head. James came closer and stretched out his hand, palm up. Reluctantly she placed the ring into his hand, mumbling something that could be taken for an apology.
‘Now when you’re all done with your foolishness, come here.’ Martha’s voice was high-pitched and unpleasant.
‘Why?’
‘Why! Filthy mouth and filthy face! The Master wishes to see you and no one sees the Master looking like a cat’s dinner!’
Jay looked about herself. Yes, her clothes were splashed with mud and still damp, but that would to be expected after she spent half the night running in the darkness and rain.
‘Clean clothes’ said Martha. Just now Jay noticed that she was carrying a bundle under her arm, bottles, towels, clothes and various things Jay couldn’t recognize. ‘And a bath too, take that street filth off you, even though I swear to the Lord and Lady I don’t know why the Master would be even bothered with a filthy rat.’
A bath? Jay pursed her lips. She was in bathhouse this week, she was plenty clean.
‘Better do what she says’ said James ’Or she will call for Captain Adhel to help her.’
Jay reconsidered and then obediently followed the woman into the bathroom.
‘Grab it so I can get rid of those rags.’
Only when James pulled both of her arms behind Jay she realized that he went into the bathroom with them. Jay writhed.
‘Stop squirming gutterfilth or you end up stabbed by accident.’
Martha reached under her apron, revealing a steel chatelaine of massive proportions. From the assortment of implements she chose sharp and pointy shears and waved them way too close to Jay’s belly.
‘Just stay still’ said James into her ear. ‘I…I promise not to look.’
Jay wouldn’t care if he promised to make her the queen of the Nyrah, but the shears looked properly menacing, so she stood still. Placated by her stillness, Martha went to work. She worked bottom to top, the cold metal of the shears grazing Jay’s skin as she cut through the middle of her shirt. As she worked, Jay had a good view on her hands, wrinkled and spotted, made as rough as weathered brick with uncountable years of hard labour. On the top of her hand there was a pattern of spirals loops and hooks that circled around old woman’s wrist and reached to the knuckles. The tracer ink shimmered with cold blue from beneath her skin. Martha was a slave.
‘Lookie at that’ she said when Jay’s shirt was done and gone. The shears travelled back up to Jay’s throat, going under the chain on her neck. The tiny magic-pressed diamond twinkled over the sharp tip. ‘Lookie. Why such a street rat have that? Maybe it shouldn’t, I say. Maybe it should be someone’s who would give poor old Martha a good turn, hmmm?’
Jay tensed. She often thought that she should have got rid of it. Sell it into the many pawnbrokers of Arklington. Now that she was no longer living in the streets it would be easier to sell a story about why she had it. But she never got around to do it, to sell her first real loot that she ever got the first time her and Lethe went for a ‘walk’ over the Thieves’ Highway.
‘You might not want to touch that Martha.’
‘Hmm? And why is that, boy?’
‘Just look at it? Clearly magical. Maybe there is a curse on it? Do you want your fingers to fall off?’
Martha grunted with displeasure.
‘Maybe. Maybe. Maybe you’re not as stupid as you look, boy.’
The shears withdrew. Jay relaxed her muscles a bit.
Martha’s work continued. The shears tore into the fabric of her breeches then bit into the straps of her shoes. Then there was nothing more to tear off of Jay. Martha turned around, letting the shears fall on its chain back under her apron. She pushed Jay’s clothes away with her foot and inspected the bath. The water started to steam slightly as she ran her hands over the rim. ‘Magic of course’ thought Jay as she spotted another one of those crystal-tipped rods swinging from Martha’s chatelaine.
‘Well what are you standing there for? In you go, filthy thing!’
James released his grip on her. Jay cast him a dirty glance, but he turned away, just as he promised.
Carefully, Jay lowered herself into the bath. She hissed as the warm water splashed over the scratches she got the night before, both from falling onto the tree branches and from the scuffles with the guards and the Alloy Man.
‘Lookie, afraid of some water!’ scoffed Martha. ‘Maybe it dislikes the soap too?’
As she talked, the old woman took to her work. She lathered a coarse-haired brush with liberal amount of suds and started scrubbing like Jay was at a blackened cauldron. When there was no more awkward places to scrub and Jay’s skin turned the colour of an unhealthy pig, she took to her hair. Jay’s hair was always like a colony of seaweed that grew undisturbed for decades. Lathering, pulling and scrubbing would not reverse the process no matter how much the old woman tried.
‘Enough, enough’ she said finally, clearly winded. ‘The Master can’t blame me for not trying. Even a hundred baths wouldn’t be enough. Here, dry yourself.’
She threw Jay a towel. Jay left the bath, splashing large puddles all over the moss-coloured tiles. She felt raw, like her very skin had been peeled off. Soon enough she was standing there dry and in new clothes. A single piece to be exact, a knee-length, short sleeved white chemise with a thin pattern of silver thread running along her neckline.
‘Uh…’Jay mumbled, looking at her bare feet and wiggling her toes over the tiled floor.
‘What now? Maybe it would want a ball gown? So much is wasted on a filthy rat.’
Jay shrugged. If it was their aim to make her feet cold, what could she do about it anyway?
‘Martha, you’re so busy. Now that she’s ready there is no need for you to be here is it? I can take her to the Master.’
‘Huh? Yes maybe you’re right, boy. Work won’t wait for me because there is a rat in the house hmmm.’
‘And there is Captain Adhel to help if she tries anything. I see no reason to trouble you anymore.’
‘Hm-hm, yes. That is true too.’ Martha leaned over what once was Jay’s clothes and gathered them all in a bundle. ‘Such filth…Alright, I’ll take those to be burned while you take it to the Master. But then be right back. Your work is not waiting either.’
‘Yes Martha.’
With a final shrug, the old woman left, leaving them alone in the bathroom.
James was silent for a moment.
‘We better go.’
‘No, wait!’ Jay grabbed him by the sleeve. ‘The diamond. It’s not cursed you know? You can have it, take it!’
Jay slipped the chain off her neck and pressed it into James’ palm.
‘Take it, just…Just get me out of here.’
‘Get you out? Like: how?’
‘I…I don’t know…’ stammered Jay. ‘Through the kitchens? A side door?’
‘You don’t get it.’ he pulled his sleeve off from her grip. ‘You don’t get it at all. I can do exactly nothing for you. What the Prince wants the Prince gets. And right now he wants to see you. And if he won’t, he will…’
He pulled his lips together, squinting his eyes, the dark bruises standing in sharp contrast to the washed-out pallor of his face.
‘Keep your diamond’ he pushed it back into Jay’s hand. ‘Wear as long as you’re allowed. I am done here.’
He pushed past her and left the bathroom. With no better ideas to follow, Jay went after him. James pounded on the door to the corridor. Immediately the door opened and Captain Adhel stood on the threshold.
’She’s ready now’ said James and the woman nodded.
They left the room and started to walk the corridors of the embassy. Jay expected that they will eventually come to the spiral staircase and go down to the offices. But instead they climbed up another floor and walked from there. After a short while they were standing in front of peculiar door. They were large and seemed to be made out of thick, opaque crystal inlaid with spiralling patterns of rose gold. There was a seal of oiled leather running alongside the doorframe and under the door itself making them airtight and most likely drowning any sound that would otherwise made its way into the corridor.
‘Stay here’ said Captain Adhel. She approached the door and pounded at it. The crystal vibrated under her gauntleted hand and the doors opened. She went in, closing the door behind her.
‘Listen’ said James suddenly. ’I want you to know that I’m sorry.’
‘Huh?’ Jay wrinkled her forehead. Sorry? Sorry for what? That she got caught? It’s not like it was his fault. He was locked in the cupboard through the whole thing anyway.
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!’ he kept mumbling. But before Jay could ask for explanation, Captain Adhel reappeared.
‘You’ she looked at Jay, her face with no expression whatsoever.’ Go in.’
Jay reached out for the crystal door. They weren’t locked and as soon as she touched them, they opened. A gust of hot air enveloped her, carrying the scent of orchids and jasmine and other flowers Jay had no name for. She stepped through the threshold and into the clouds of billowing steam. The room beyond was all stone, marble that was of the colour of sun-kissed days, carved intricately in patterns of vines and round flowers. Up from the ceiling, the morning light fell to the floor, enhanced by the thick crystal glass of the transparent roof. All along the walls, stone planters held succulently-green plants that seemed to soak both the heat and the sunrays, many in full bloom. The furniture was all stone too, wide reclining benches and low tables with rounded corners. Under one wall, there was a basin filled with flat stones. A magical heater shone dimly underneath the basin, keeping the stones as hot as if they were lying under a desert sun. A statue was leaning over the basin and, from time to time, a spray of water would gush from its outstretched hand. The moment water would hit the stones a cloud of steam would rise from them, giving the place its misty ambience. In no time Jay’s chemise became drenched with the moisture that hung in the air, making it cling to her back and her thighs. But she had no time to pay any mind to it. Something else drew her attention.
It was Prince Aimar. He was languishing over one of the reclining benches, on colourfully embroidered towels to protect his skin from the hot stone. Next to him, on a silver tray, there was a round bottle with golden liquor and a small goblet from which he was sipping from time to time. He wore no clothes. His waist was wrapped with a long strip of gold-hemmed cloth, wound back around his shoulders and thrown leisurely around his forearm. A few thin, decorative chains adorned his bare forearms and chest, matching a single green stone mounted in a diadem on his forehead. His silvery skin glistened with beads of moisture. He looked at her still sipping from his goblet, his navy-coloured eyes regarding her with mild interest, half-hidden under the waves of dark hair.
Jay stared, suddenly unable to tear her gaze away from his shape. His body was a body of someone who has enough wealth to sculpt themselves in any form they chose. And the form he had chosen was reasonably muscular, although slender, and well-proportioned, like a statue meant to be all around aesthetically pleasing.
A moment of silence passed between them. A moment in which Jay managed to stop herself from staring.
‘I won’t tell you anything’ she blurted out, unable to bear the languishing silence.
Aimar smiled slightly.
‘I had not posed any query to you yet.’
Jay shifted her body weight from one foot to another. The silence persisted.
‘Are the guards on their way now?’
The Prince sat up and leaned towards her. If there was something of a mild interest in his gaze before now it was an undivided attention.
‘Impertinent’ he said. ‘Not favouring the use of proper titles, are you? I think I might appreciate that.’
Jay tried to shrug nonchalantly but in the end she knew that he was right. Not very often in her life she had an occasion to speak to somebody that would insist on being titled. Not very many ‘sirs’ or ‘madams’ in the Drowns or in the Three Knocks area. And she thought that she spoke to a milord once in her life but couldn’t tell for sure. He, however, was a prince. He was a better to almost everyone in the entire Kingdom and beyond it too. She was obligated by law to title him and he would be justified to strike her if she refused. Yet there was something in her that felt revulsion to call him ‘my prince’ or ‘your highness’ as the others did. She folded her arms around herself and lowered her head, glancing sideways at the Prince.
He leaned back again but the keen interest did not leave his flawlessly-shaped features.
‘What do they call you?’
‘Jay.’
‘Jay? As in, the bird?’
Jay didn’t answer. What else there was that carried that name? And why did it matter to this man, someone that was given a name alongside a title since the moment he was born?
‘Are you going to send me to Ostrah Gate?’
‘Ostrah Gate? Ah yes, the gaol. This country sends its malefactors, most notably the burglars and stealers that had themselves apprehended. An interesting notion, even though cloddish. Adania has such primitive concept of law.’
Jay raised her head. There was a hint of an amusement in his pleasant voice as if she just told him a mildly interesting anecdote.
‘Yet this is not the Kingdom of Adania‘ he continued. ‘The ungainly laws of the Adanish do not reach here.’
Jay cocked her head. She knew of course that all them rich and high-born folk were more often touched in the head than not, but was this handsome man so delusional that he had no idea where he was? How he could be an official and at the same time so off his rocker was quite beyond her.
‘This place is my now-abode’ continued Prince Aimar. ‘And it is over and above this, it is an Abrecari Embassy. And each embassy is a part of the Abrecari Empire itself. The stones under your feet are as indivisible from the Empire as the stones of Elorai Peak, the place of my birth.’
Jay stood silent, listening to Aimar with no idea what he was getting at. It’s just that there was a certain quality to his tone now, as if he took much pleasure in telling her that.
‘In my homeland, we do not commit the malefactors that trespass our abodes to expire in a dungeon.’
‘You…don’t?’
‘Of course not. What would be the purpose? I was dismayed to behold the law in Adania, so brutish and unjust.’
Jay’s heart beat faster for a moment. The dreaded shadow of the prison pushed away from her.
‘In the Empire a malefactor caught on someone’s premises, that would be you, is turned to atone for their trespassing by serving with their life to the one they had wronged, that would be me. You wronged me Jay, thus you belong to me by law of the Abrecari. I own you.
The heat in the room did not cool down even for a brief second, but to Jay it felt like the temperature plunged rapidly, making her feel like it was about to snow at any second.
‘Own…me?’
‘That is correct. Later on I shall make your bond to me official. I will have the document drafted and the tracer stamp machine brought. Or shall I take my own hand to it? Plenty among my household to give witness of your last night’s wrongdoing to confirm my rights in this matter.’
‘I have heard it to be painful, you know, to have the slave-emblem stamped upon your skin’ he extended his hand, the long fingers pointing ahead and traced a complicated pattern around his wrist and over the top of the palm, stopping just short of the knuckles. ‘But it is all just and proper, wouldn’t you think so?’
Jay didn’t think so. She didn’t think so about that at all. Frost rose in her belly. She could recall clearly the Labour Exchange, the long chains bound to other chains, the ledgers and crowds of sellers and buyers. But most of all, she remembered the eyes that followed her as she passed. She clasped her fingers around her wrist, almost feeling the searing pain that will soon inscribe a slave mark on her body, a sign that she is a property. The property of this Abrecari man in front of her. She looked at him, lounging over his luxurious towels, sipping his expensive liquor from a silver goblet, his flawless shape unmarred by any blemishes. It was a picture of a man that had everything, money and power and unimaginable amount of bodily comforts. ‘Why?’ she thought to herself. ‘Why does he have to have me too?’
No. She wouldn’t let him! She would not let him have the only thing that she had. The only thing that she didn’t have to steal for herself! And she knew it had to be now, before the magical tracer ink would be pushed under her skin, making her a target wherever she went. She felt her palm curling into a fist, the muscles in her body tensing in preparation for a leap. How fast she could close the distance between herself and him? A second? A split of one? She measured him for weaknesses. His body was muscular and strong, but he was used to luxuries and that would make him soft. He spent his life surrounded by guards and not having to fight tooth-and-nail for his life. He was also so much taller than her, but so were almost everybody else. If Lethe had taught her anything, then it would be how to deal with taller opponents. To use their height and overconfidence to her advantage.
The Prince was now paying attention to her. His gaze shifted from a mild amusement to alert. ‘He noticed’ she thought. He must have noticed the change in her stance, the tensing of the muscles and her probing gaze. Slowly, she made herself relax her shoulders. She averted her gaze, she saw everything that there was to see anyway. She unfolded her fists and let her hands fall to her side. She watched as the Prince, after the initial alertness, returned to his relaxed state.
That was the moment when she struck.
She leaped forward, closing the gap between them, her bare feet pounding the hot wet stone. She grabbed his arm and pulled forward, unbalancing him from his seat. Split second later she twisted his wrist, covered it with her palm intending to use it as a leaver. The pressure on the wrist would be enormous, the pain-unbearable. The only thing a person caught like that would be to submit or to have their wrist shattered under the pressure. She’ll get him! She’ll subdue him! She’ll make him let her go free!
The moment her fingers touched Prince Aimar’s skin, she knew that she miscalculated. He sprang to his feet, pushing his body forward, disallowing her to unbalance him. He folded his arm, the wrist upwards and pulled, instantly releasing her grasp over his joint. He swept widely with his other arm, pushing her into hold with his forearm. She felt the crook of his elbow wrapping around her neck, pressing on her windpipe. He pulled himself straight, using his height to haul her up onto her toes. Balancing and slipping on the wet stones, she pushed her fingers between his arm and her throat, trying to wrestle enough space to be able to breathe. She felt his other hand travelling deep into her hair, stroking and tracing the shape of her head.
‘Ahhh delicious, delicious!’ he murmured into her ear, bending his head to reach her ear. ‘You thought me feeble. Spoiled and delicate, you thought, did you not?’
‘Little bird, little jay. Assassins had followed me closely since my boyhood, ready to strike. Would you not think that I learned, and learned hard, to know how to defend my person? I had slain many who tried, many of those scarred men and women that would call themselves the Assassins of Kings. I can stand against a little bird like you.’ He kept running his fingers through her hair, his voice soft and slow, but measured just enough to hear a promise of hardness in it, like a glove with a hidden stone.
‘It is delicious though. Our time together shall be enjoyable, I can make a promise right here. I knew from the first moment I had laid my eyes on you. We could spar and you shall demonstrate all your dirty little thief tricks. All the little ruses and deceits that the streets of this city have to offer. ’
As she struggled in his grasp, wriggling and twitching for every gulp of air he removed his hand from her hair. His fingers travelled down alongside the drenched fabric of her chemise.
‘But for now, let me see what other exciting things we could do together.’
His fingers slipped under the hem and went onward, striking between the legs and pushing inside her. Jay threw her head back, opened her mouth and let out a strained croak. Pain flooded her lower half, paralyzing and invading, shooting upwards her spine to the tips of her fingers. She stuck her nails into his forearm, trying to wrestle herself out, struggling to get a grip over his slippery skin. For agonizing moments his fingers prodded her, scratching and bruising.
Finally, after what hat felt like forever, he withdrew his fingers. The pressure on her throat lessened too and at last she could draw a breath. He unwound his arm from around her neck and pushed her away. She skidded on the wet floor barely able to keep her balance. She could still feel the shadow of his touch upon and within herself. The muscles in her lower abdomen were cramping painfully as if in silent protest at this treatment. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively, trying to subdue the pain inside her.
‘Hmmm, your maidenhood gone already. Sold? Traded away?’ he said. There was a clear note of a disappointment in his voice. ‘Ah well, I serves me well to expect anything of a vermin like yourself. It matters not. I have other interests, namely: how soon I can make you scream?’
Jay sucked in the steamy air, her breath trapped within her chest. She stole a glance at the Prince, trying to freeze her face into a mask, not betraying anything she felt now. In contrast, his face was lit up with a brilliant smile, making his silver face akin to a calm surface of a sunlit lake. It was an expression of somebody that tries to plan a day of complete relaxation. He raised his hand and folded his fingers in a strange gesture, then another one, rotating his index finger and tracing a shape into the steam. The steam swirled then shimmered, coiling around his wrist. The swirls flowed lazily and became more and more opaque, just to solidify in thick coils of a whip in his palm. ‘Of course, he’s an Abrecari’ she thought. The mages at the magicworks can generate enough energy to power huge engines and make fuel. Conjuring an object out of thin air wouldn’t be a problem for one.
Still, the first blow caught her by surprise. The tip of the whip struck her in the side of the head and she reeled under that blow. Half-blinded with the pain she reached out to steady herself against the wall. Her ears were still ringing when another blow landed, cutting the skin on her cheek. She tasted blood. Jay tucked her head between her arms and covered her head. The next blow stung her forearm, leaving a long tongue of pain in its wake. Then, the blows rained down on her, the whip whistling and cracking the air as if singing a twisted song. She was taking her breaths in short gulps now, between each strike, letting it out as the tip bit into her flesh. The lashes landed over her ribs and thighs, winding around her calves and leaving marks on her skin.
She didn’t know when her legs buckled under her and she went down. She felt the warm wet stones pushing against her knees. She lowered her head to see a trickle of blood seeping from the cuts, staining the torn chemise and mixing with the water on the floor. ‘Scream’ she thought to herself. ‘He wants to hear you scream. He’ll stop when he gets what he wants…’
She took a deep breath and opened her mouth wide. She tried to push the air out again, hoping to let out one, long scram. But no matter how she tried, nothing but a thin hiss left her throat. She tried again and then again, opening her mouth trying to scram the moment another blow seared her skin. Still no sound came out. She pressed her chest to her knees and moved her mouth, but managed nothing but coughs and wheezes. She barely noticed when the blows ceased.
‘So silent. Are not jays songbirds? Perhaps not. Or perhaps this bird has something in its beak?’
There was something in his voice that made her raise her eyes. He was standing over her, the whip coiled back into a loop in his hand. But if he was smiling before, now he was almost beaming. His lips were parted, showing a row of white teeth, his navy eyes- shining with excitement. He reached behind his neck and unclasped one of the chains he wore, then dropped it to the ground. He pointed a finger at it and the air shuddered slightly. The chain trembled, as if moved by invisible fingers, one end rose into the air, balancing and swaying like a snake. Prince Aimar traced a circle with his finger and the chain moved. It slithered over the ground, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Finally it sprang forward towards Jay, and wound itself around her wrist. Jay gasped with revulsion. The clammy metal resembled the skin of an insect warmed by the sun. She tried to shake it off and then scrape it off, but to no avail. Directed by the Prince, the chain leaped, pulling her arm behind the back. The other end whipped around and wound itself around her other wrist. Jay rattled and shook it, but it wouldn’t budge. No matter how hard she tried, both her hands were bound behind her back. The Prince laughed at her efforts, delighted as if he was witnessing a fine spectacle.
‘How do you find it? It is a spell I devised myself. It comes very convenient at times like these.’
‘I do apologize for the discomfort, but I you do not have my trust. Not yet at least’ he came closer to her, so close that she could feel the heat of his body. If her hands were free she would have been able to touch the fabric wound around his hips. He leaned over her and squeezed her cheeks with one hand making her open the mouth. Then he drove the handle of his whip deep between her teeth. She tried to spit it out, but he pressed it down, immobilising her tongue. The wet leather tasted awful.
‘No’ she thought. The moment the handle of the whip touched the roof of her mouth, she knew what he was planning to do next. ‘No…’
With a wide swipe, he raised the fabric surrounding his hips and tucked the hem behind his waist, baring his crotch. Jay didn’t want to look. She tried to push herself away but he was ready for it. Before she could make a move, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head backwards, forcing to witness both his smile and his erect flesh. Her throat spasmed as he forced himself into her mouth. She writhed and squirmed, feeling bile rising in her throat, but the moment she saw how much her discomfort excited him, she forced herself to be still, rolling her hands into balls so hard her nails sank deeply into her palms.
He sighed, partially from the perverse pleasure he was taking and partially from disappointment that her distress will no longer supply it on its own. He pulled her hair even harder until her arched neck would not go any further. He thrust and pushed himself even deeper, crushing her lips against his pelvic bone. She was forced to listen to the loud sighs that spilled from between his mouth. The seconds dragged into eternity as she took just the smallest of breaths, fighting the visceral panic of being almost choked. And when she though that she will no longer be able to stay still, when the ache in the muscles of her neck became fire, when the taste of leather and flesh became unbearable-, it was over. A vicious expression came over the constantly smiling face above her. A his muscles rippled under his silver skin and hot, sticky mess flooded her mouth. She gagged as the taste spread in her mouth.
But it was over. He withdrew from her hair and mouth, pulling out the handle of his whip too. She felt the chain that bound her wrist loosening, slipping off one hand and laying limp on the floor. She went down on all fours, leaning as far out as she could, supporting herself with her now-free hands. She opened her mouth, sputtering and spitting. ‘I’m not his slave. Not yet. Not yet…he can’t make me swallow…’ were her only thoughts.
She was so busy trying to remove all traces of his taste from her mouth, she didn’t even notice what he was doing. Something soft landed in the puddle of water in front of her. It was one of those colourful towels that he seemed to have in abundance.
‘Here you are. Let it never be said I treat my guests poorly.’
As much as she loathed touching anything he touched previously, her fingers snatched the fabric greedily. She pressed the damp fabric into her mouth, scraping her tongue and wiping furiously. With the corner of her eye, she saw the Prince looking at her from the bench, his breath still quickened, his hair tussled. He was sipping from his small goblet again. Jay had to put all her strength into stopping herself from making a mad dash at the bottle on the silver tray, from downing everything it held in one go in a desperate attempt to wash away the memory of his touch and his taste. It was then Jay heard a sound. She cast a glance from under her tangled hair only to see the crystal glass door open. She froze.
Somebody entered the room. It was a woman. The first thing that Jay noticed about her, what anyone would notice at the first glance- just how beautiful she was. She was an Abrecari, as tall as the Prince, her skin was the same shade of silver. Her eyes were the colour of the coldest blue, the shade that only the deep mountain lakes take on when they’re bound with everlasting frost. Her hair was the palest shade of blond, the one that is almost as soft as cold ashes. Most of her hair was hidden under a veil of blue silk, hemmed with black pearls, whose iridescent sheen was almost perfectly matching her eyes. The rest of her body was mostly covered with long and flowing blouse of silk and a skirt underneath it, leaving only her arms bare and draped with dainty chains of silver.
Without hesitating, the woman stepped into the room, the silk slippers on her feet immediately becoming drenched with water that pooled on the warm stones. But the woman paid no attention to that. Her cool-blue eyes taking-in the scene in the room at one glance, the steamy interior, the Prince stretched comfortably on the bench and clearly enjoying his amusements. And Jay. Yes. Jay, kneeling on the floor in torn and blood-stained chemise, trying her damn best to wipe her mouth in a crumpled up towel.
The woman paused for a second, then turned to the Prince. She spoke a couple melodic syllables, but the Prince interrupted her.
‘Ah Osindra! You are my darling wife and I adore you. But I am appalled with your absolute lack of manners! Can you not see I am entertaining a guest? Please, make your acquaintance with Jay. Jay would not have the chance in her life to learn Abrecari I assume. It is only courteous that you speak Adanish in the presence of our guest, my wife.’
The woman stopped speaking. Jay thought that the expression on her face was that of someone who tries very hard not to look disgusted. She barely spared a glance for Jay before speaking again.
‘Very well. I am here simply to remind you that the day had been progressing steadily and the hour is running late. There are duties that demand your attention as an Ambassador.’
‘Ah yes the duties, always the duties’ sighed Aimar. ‘Never a moment to spare, ceaseless work is my fate. Just once I would like to be unburdened from the duties that never end. How does it feel to be free to do as you please, Jay? Or perhaps, I should not be asking that considering the circumstances?’ he laughed merrily. Jay thought that it would be her dearest wish never having to speak to that man ever again. A nausea rose in her stomach at the thought of the certainty of the future days that she would be forced to do so. In fact, she hoped that she could at one point find a way to cut her tongue out so he would never be able to use it for his entertainment ever again.
‘But I am in my heart just a humble servant of the Empire. Thank you my dearest for that reminder’
Osindra bowed her head to him.
‘We’re all but servants of the Empress, you and me, my husband’ she said without any change to her expression.
‘Yes, yes indeed’ he waved his hand, the chains on his forearm clinking slightly as he moved. ‘Leave me be for now, I shall not be long. I am almost finished with entreating our ‘night guest’ here.’
Without a word more, she turned around, her wide skirt sweeping through the water on the floor and went towards the door. She stopped briefly before passing the threshold. ‘Don’t go!’ Jay wanted to call out to her, not wanting to be alone with Aimar again, never again. But the expression Osindra wore spoke it all. An Abrecari Princess would not lower herself to even spoke to someone like Jay: a thief, a street rat and soon to be nothing more than a plaything for her husband.
They were alone again. Jay straightened herself, wondering if she had enough strength to stand. Her body ached. Some cuts were still bleeding, her muscles were trembling. Just to be safe, she remained close to the floor. In the meantime, Aimar flipped his fingers and the whip disappeared with a small flash. He was folding and unfolding his fingers, tracing runes in the air. An assortment of object came into being under his hand: a cane ending with a vicious spike, a thin blade, a collar with thorns on the inside, a wand crackling with magical energy. He was conjuring one after another and pondered each for a brief moment before dissolving each in thin air and making another one appear. For Jay it was a gallery of pain that would wait in her future, each exhibit more grisly than the previous one.
‘Why won’t you just kill me?’ she broke the silence she so much craved.
‘Kill you?’ Aimar stopped the procession of the instruments of pain, vanishing the last one with a wave of the hand. ‘Oh no, why would I ever desire to slay you? Now that we are just starting to get acquainted better?’
Jay suddenly regretted her words.
‘You must think me a cruel man. Perhaps even someone who had connived for you to be here? I guess that would be a flattery. But no, it was not in my designs for you to be here, quite the opposite in fact. I believed that you shall both abscond with the documents. Your presence is just a happy turns of events. I had worked tirelessly, for the good of the Empire of course. Is it not that marvellous that I had been additionally rewarded?’
Jay picked her ears. She thought that she heard wrong. Or that she understood wrong. The pain might have clouded her mind. There was no way to tell if she could think clearly with the piece of ice she felt lodged her chest each time she caught a glimpse of her future in the hands of that man.
‘Designs?’
He looked straight at her; there was almost glee in his eyes and all over his face.
‘Oh that is correct, you would not know anything about that, my little bird. I should probably refrain from telling you, you are just a windfall that is a stroke of diplomatic genus on my part. But it is too delightful to keep to myself. ‘
He became animated, speaking faster and making sweeping gestures.
‘The embassy is a place of safety. All this here, all of it is guaranteed to be secure for a representative of the Empire. The King himself watches over the safety of the embassy, it is how it always have been. And tell me, what happens if I prove the embassy burglarized? Vandalized and violated? A box of sensitive parchments, stolen brazenly by burglars in the middle of the night?’
Jay shrugged. At the mountain peak of her worries was precious little space to put anything political.
‘I shall tell you what! A scandal! A scandal it is, a dishonour and a disgrace! How can the Empress trust Adanish King who is so feeble he is unable to guarantee the safety of foreign dignitaries?’
‘There you have it, little bird. All it has to be done is for me to cry outrage in front of your King. It will allow me to demanding anything I please. Anything to keep this terrible scandal away from the ears of the Empress. Anything! Wealth? Or political favours? Or maybe something to prove myself in the eyes of the Empress. Something deeming me a boon to the Empire, wrestling something precious from the Adanish savages? Perhaps better conditions upon the Magic Usage Terms and Leases Treaty? What would your factories and airships do if we discontinue the supply of magical energy I wonder?’
Jay listened to him, only half-understanding what he was trying to say. The labyrinths of political power were meant to stay forever a deep dark secret to her; the diplomatic relations would never make any sense in her mind. But one thing she thought that she understood clearly.
‘This job…it was you that placed the commission. You were Mister Jarrod?’
‘Not as dim-witted as all judge you, my little thief? Yes. I needed for a dastardly deed, someone to be witnessed while stealing the parchments- quite worthless by themselves, but that is knowledge no one needs to possess. As for ‘Mister Jarrod’- no, an agent of mine had played that part- splendidly I must concur.’
Jay felt deflated. This job, the one that was supposed to put them in line for even more lucrative work was nothing but cog in this man’s plans, a move in a game played over their heads.
‘The parchments have been purloined; the burglary witnessed by many, your accomplice will be paid and shouldn’t ask questions. Then it leaves you, my wonderful windfall. Soon enough I will present you to the King as additional evidence. You are of consequence now. How does it feel to be risen up from the sludge of the streets of this deplorable city, all the way up to be of political importance?’
Jay didn’t answer. Was he really expecting her to say that this was an honour? She thought of all those years on the streets of Arklington. Of all those hungry, cold years. Of the years spent digging through the debris and rubbish, of the times she spent fending off rats and watching the shadows of Kou passing over the rooflines in pouring rain. She thought of all that times she skulked under the soot-blackened bricks of crumbling houses, trying not to trip over whatever the high muds vomited over the cobblestones during last night’s inundation. And yet each day filled with pain of hunger twisting her gut, each one when it was too cold for her to feel her fingers, each of those days was better than today. And there was also the past months that she spent reasonably warm and fed thanks to her meeting Lethe. Lethe…Jay shut her eyes. Up until now she made a fine work of trying to forget about him. When she tried to push him as far away from her thoughts as possible, she failed to notice something. When she finally managed to open her eyes again, confident that she can keep her face straight for a little bit more, she saw Aimar kneeling right next to her. She flinched.
‘Are you sorrowful, little bird? Don’t be’ he reached out and grabbed her hand before she could snatch it away. His long graceful fingers started to trace a symbol on the top of her palm. She felt a shudder of revulsion running up her spine caused by his touch. She tried to pull it away, but he held it firmly, ignoring her feeble attempts to break his grip.
‘Of course it shall be painful when your hand is stamped with my mark. But then you shall be always close to me, risen from the streets and into my service. As long as you please me you shall live your best life. But your silence, your silence needs to be assured as well, so no one shall ever know of the masterstroke designs that took place. Such a shame to cut your lovely tongue. Maybe just a spell then?’ he laughed softly and stroke her cheek. She tried to turn her head, but he wouldn’t let that happen either. He leaned even closer. She could feel the tips of his hair falling over her shoulder, his breath passing close to her farce and travelling towards her ear.
‘But before all that’ he whispered, his voice suddenly husky. ’ You shall scream for me.’
Jay jerked her body, the cuts and bruises instantly responding with a fresh wave of pain. She wrenched herself away, trying to create at least some distance between her and the Prince. She crawled, wishing she could turn into a rat and scurry along the wall, into a corner and slink through narrowest chink between the slabs of stone. But the only thing she could do was to cling to the smooth stone of the wall, unable to crawl any further. She couldn’t escape the pain or this room.
The sight of her clinging to the wall seemed to be amusing to him. There was more laughter, breathy and soft. It would have been so pleasant if she didn’t already know what it meant. She felt the now familiar shudder in the air. Summoning the rest of her strength, she turned around, propping her back against the wall. The prince stood a few paces away from her, one hand outstretched to the side. She expected him to conjure another tool of pain, but it was empty. The spread fingers surrounded with a shimmer, a swirl of air and steam. For a brief second nothing happened. He stood there, his eyes shining with excitement, his chest heaving as his breathing became faster.
Slowly from the now thickening clouds of steam, two chains emerged, slithering like giant snakes, their coils rising up to his shoulders. They hovered there, the links shining dully, swaying like predators ready to strike. He raised his hand and the chains leaped forward, striking Jay’s flesh, winding themselves around her wrists and pulling both her arms up as far as they would go, hauling her forward and away from the wall. Jay opened her mouth to scream, but only managed a groan as the pain flooded her, radiating from her overstressed joints. She tried to struggle, but only managed to wriggle her fingers. Any more than that and there would be more agony coursing through her hands and shoulders. She could only remain as still as possible as the chains above her head tied themselves into a steel knot. The Prince closed his raised hand in a first, the shudder in the air suddenly extinguished as he locked the spell in place. Jay could only watch as he shrugged the gold-hemmed cloth from his shoulders and released the knot that kept it in place around his waist. It slipped off his body and piled on the floor, leaving only his armlets, chains and the gemstone on his forehead as the only attire.
Something in Jay’s face had to betray her feelings, as the smile widened to overtake his entire face- an expression of self-satisfied amusement. Just standing in front of her, naked and aroused, ready to deliver more pain and looking at her powerless to run or fight, brought him enough pleasure to pause and savour it in the moment.
Leisurely, he took the few paces that separated them and kneeled close to her, his flesh brushing against her feet. She curled her toes, in vain trying to move away. He reached over her head and touched the knot of chains that hovered suspended in the air. The part of the spell that made them weightless dissolved under his fingers and Jay felt the weight of the steel pulling her arms causing her to topple backwards. The impact pushed out the air from her lungs and she was now only able to take short breaths, each of them like prick of an awl between her shoulder blades.
But even that sensation was drowned when he put his hands on her, pressing her flesh through the torn chemise, hiking it up above her waist. His nails were sharp, heedless to the scratches and swellings on her skin. She tried to curl her foot and kick, but that only elicit a short, quiet laugh from him. He pushed her thighs apart with his knees, crushing her flesh in the process. She had his face just above hers now, looking down on her with those dark, navy eyes that had nothing but cruel enjoyment behind them. He traced his finger between her breasts and pushed in the soft spot below her sternum. Jay squirmed and whined hoarsely.
‘Can you scream now?’ he asked. ‘No? And how about now?’
He grabbed her hips and shoved himself inside her. Tearing pain exploded between her legs, veiling her vision in crimson red. Her entire body spasmed violently, making her hit her head against the floor. ‘Why can’t I scream?!’ she wailed inside her mind. She wanted to, to release the agony into the air but her own silence deafened her, muffling the sounds he made as he built his pleasure over her suffering. He took his fill as she could only lie there, bound and half-paralyzed. The pain still coursing in her body as he withdrew.
‘Still no screaming then?’ he purred into her ear. ‘It matters not. There shall be time. And more time after that.’
She heard a click and the chains binding her wrists dissolved into nothing, but even that brought her no relief. She was too hurt to move. She didn’t notice when he left. Only when the door opened again and a pair of steel-lined boots showed next to her head. A gauntleted hand picked her up from the floor, hurling her flesh into a wave of fresh pain. Since she was unable to stand, the guard dragged her out of the steam-filled room and into the corridor. She was too weak to even raise her head, able only to stare at the ground while she was half-carried, half-dragged along. Small whimpers spilled from her mouth with every jolt, her cuts dripping blood along the corridors. Finally she was thrown into a room. She remained where she fell, crumpled up and unmoving, drifting in and out of consciousness for a short while before submerging into nothingness.
