by C. Swallow
I wait to breathe easy only when the guards have left completely.
With caution, I now watch the starved prisoner who faces his cell’s open bars but refuses to look at me.
“The King arrives tonight,” he speaks suddenly; in a little rasp, I barely hear him.
“…who are you?” I ask, hoping not to offend.
He finally turns his head to glance at me, the hazel eyes blazing even though the rest of him was so weak. He looks like the kind of man that was very handsome a long, long time ago. Now, he was old and deranged. A crazy look was burning in that gaze.
“Do I look that distasteful?” he asks, tightly, almost as if he might cry with rage but has no extra hydration to waste.
I say nothing for a while but eventually I feel the need to say, “Distasteful is the wrong word. Hungry and thirsty. I would complain of such things but now I can’t because of you,” I try to joke and he looks a little shocked by my attempt at humour. He looks away from me finally and I relax, “Did Zarcar do this to you?” My question gets a smirk out of him but nothing more.
“I see why they moved me in here,” the man speaks, finally, but now for some reason, he is offended, “They put you in a cell next to me to try and get me to open up.”
“What are you talking –”
“I only have reasons upon thousands of other reasons to kill a traitorous bitch like yourself,” I had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe he was delusional – he didn’t know me, so why did he assume my crimes?
Not only that, but he was wrong.
“You don’t even know my name,” I point out, “Before you call me a bitch, perhaps try and be acquainted to me first? You have no reason to judge me. What have I done to you? You are from their lands – you have a tattoo on your neck of a scaled mythological beast.”
“…myth-?” the prisoner chokes on the word and snaps his head to me, “What kind of Draconess are you?”
I shut my mouth.
Draconess?
What the hell was he talking about now, and why did the word sound so familiar?
“Do you have to ruin the surprise?” I hear Zarcar speak just as he appears from literally nowhere.
“Traitor!” the prisoner next to me snarls it out, scrambling to his feet he rushes the bars of the cell and glares down Zarcar.
“Bastard!” I scream out next, my face boiling red when I see my captor push his hood back. He raises a brow at me in question.
“I thought you quite enjoyed yourself last night,” Zarcar mentions while ignoring the delusional, crazy captive beside me. Clearly they knew each other, although aside from the tattoo I doubt they were related.
“You coerced my consent and then didn’t even delight in finishing me!” I stand up also and walk to the cell bars, “I will burn those daises when I see them next!”
“No need, I lifted the curse from them,” Zarcar holds up a hand and watches me intently, only gazing briefly at the angry captive beside us who has released the bars and has started to pace while listening.
“Why are you here, to gloat?” I ask.
“Change of plans, my King is arriving soon–”
“Your King?” the rasp of the captive next to me is in utter disgust of Zarcar’s chosen words.
“Yes. My King,” Zarcar finally turns to the prisoner next to me and they lock each other’s eyes, “Have you acknowledged the change or have you still refused a single meal, after all these years?”
“Why ask?” the starved man tries to chuckle but it sounds like it hurts to even try, “Every year you visit and my answer is the same. Enough about me. Interesting how it only took you 7 years to find one…” the man beside me tilts his head at me.
“There are more but they are smart enough to stay in the forests or the mountains in isolation,” Zarcar is flippant and I’m shocked when they both look at me.
“I suppose because I am a woman of magic and a mere pathetic slave, I shouldn’t bother to expect an answer about what in the Moon you’re speaking about?” I inquire, expecting Zarcar to dismiss me.
The man beside me looks utterly shocked.
“What did you just say?” he rasps, coming up to the bars separating us, looking wild eyed yet again, “…slave…” he turns to Zarcar, who smirks, “You made her your slave?”
“You’re not asking the right questions, cousin.”
“Cousin?” I catch onto that one word in haste, glaring at Zarcar, “He is your relative? You degraded your cousin… to imprisonment and starvation… for 7 years?” I almost yell.
“She knows nothing,” Zarcar adds, ignoring me and looking at his flipping cousin, “Not a single thing about it.”
“…I’m glad…” the hazel eyes turn to me, running over me to my feet, “You think you’re a witch.”
“Priestess of the Moon,” I growl, “Actually.”
“And I suppose Zar told you he steals the virginities of priestesses for power?” the cousin asks with humour, but when he sees my face pale – he glares at Zarcar, “…tell me you did not… you did… you fool… you fucking hypocritical fool – you haven’t even told her. What is your name?” he turns to me in a panic, “You need to know –”
The captive catches his breath… his eyes widen… and then he collapses in a heap as if hit by a force of nature. When I turn to Zarcar, he is holding up his hand from a silent spell.
“The King arrives tonight and officially announces his arrival tomorrow,” Zarcar speaks casually, “You’ll accompany me to a welcoming ball tonight, without complaint – won’t you, sweetheart?”
“But, you… you just,” I point to the collapsed cousin, “Why did you –?”
“I’ll need to tell you a few things about our future,” Zarcar starts to open the cell door, holding out a hand as if I’m a friend who’ll just take it.
All flirty, lusty interactions gone in this moment; I realise he is a man of business after he’s successfully defiled me.
“Aren’t I a slave?” I try to slide past him but he holds out an arm to bar me back in.
“Shoes,” he murmurs, quietly while looking over my shoulder at the sandals.
“I prefer nothing.”
“I don’t particularly care what you prefer, Chyronex.”
“A remarkably kind usurper you are,” I turn to my sandals and put them on before stalking to Zarcar again and slipping past him. He grabs my elbow and takes me from the dungeons with a neutral, plain expression. He gives nothing away.
Aside from the fact I am grateful I am being escorted out of the dungeons a bit earlier, I am curious about all this political nonsense I didn’t understand. Namely because no one would tell me anything and when the nameless cousin of Zarcar was about to speak truth – Zarcar knocked him out.
As Zarcar walks me back to the Moon Tower, I link my arm through his so he doesn’t have to handle my elbow so roughly in public. I lean into him and wait for him to acknowledge me. Eventually as we are walking through the crowds of Swendula, he does glance down for a moment; smirking.
“I am one very important slave, aren’t I?” I ask, sickly sweet to the vicious man who would imprison his own cousin for 7 years without a single meal. Clearly, we were talking about another sorcerer here, “What is a Draconess, Zarcar?”
“Later,” Zarcar growls, “I will explain at the ball.”
“It won’t end in another bath, will it?” I ask nonchalantly.
He says nothing except for a small laugh and his arm pulls me in a bit closer. It is a gentle pull, another lick of pretend kindness. Although my soul would shun the idea of pretend as Zarcar, so far, had been nothing but honest… other than secretive.
One could be a truth teller and still be full of secrets. Hence, he chose to speak such limited words in most instances.
“I can conclude from my dungeon stay that I learned patience,” I explain, coy as we near the tower after a few intense silent minutes of walking through the crowded city, “But I don’t know if obedience was made any
more appealing.”
“It was a punishment plain and simple, to spurn you from the idea of murder – you are not allowed to entertain such thoughts as my… wife-slave,” he seems to find this very amusing as he broadly smiles, the tower now in sight as we head towards the garden at the base of it.
“You are awfully happy after visiting your cousin, I suppose you enjoy him contained in a cell?” I ask.
“It’s a game. You wouldn’t understand,” Zarcar shrugs off my mention of his cousin, in the oddest way…
“Tell me one thing I do not know.”
“It’ll cost you something,” Zarcar lets out a hint of sexuality as we pass the garden and enter the Library of Green.
“A taste of rain?” I ask, sour, “Perhaps you’ll want to rutt me again before the ball – I won’t allow it to happen twice, usurper. Your balls will be my earrings before I let you rutt me again.”
“Such a foul mouth,” Zarcar is playful with that statement as he pulls me up the spiral stair case, seemingly… happy.
I pry away from his arms as we reach the top floor of my tower and then I head to the bed chamber.
“A kiss,” Zarcar walks to the window we first met instead and I turn from the bedchamber door without opening it.
I see him watching the city with his back to me.
“For information?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Fine. Something about your cousin? I want to know who he is.”
“How disappointing, I thought you’d want to ask something about me,” Zarcar finally turns to face me with a slightly annoyed smile, “His name is Lixar.”
“…such a handsome name,” I smirk and Zarcar’s annoyed smile deepens.
“I won’t share, Chyronex,” Zarcar murmurs, reaching up a hand he curls his fingers, “That’s two things. I suppose you owe me two kisses now.”
“I do, I do,” I straighten my back and lift my chin, before prancing to him. Zarcar seems surprised by my eagerness as I jump onto my tip toes and I grab his neck.
I kiss one cheek and then the other before I try to pull back, but his arm slings around my waist.
“…the cheek of you,” Zarcar growls but doesn’t dive in for what he really expected, “I suppose I disappointed you last night.”
“You cursed me,” I mention, in a questioning whisper.
“It was a curse on truth,” Zarcar murmurs back, “I heightened yours. I knew you wanted me. I needed your power sooner.”
“You won’t get another kiss for telling me that,” I warn him, keeping a hand on his chest, “So you defiled me for your own selfish, impatient gain. I expected you to be one who takes all.”
“I know my worth,” Zarcar raises a brow, “I’m worth your worship. I know your kind, anyway… you love to worship,” he smirks at his play on words.
“So, am I your wife tonight or your pet?” I ask lightly, to avoid his words, as he often avoids mine.
“You are obsessed with titles, aren’t you, Chyronex?”
“I love to know my place,” I lie, because I didn’t believe I had a place but within nature and indeed – worshipping the moon. But to be truthful I wanted to know more about my place in Zarcar’s eyes.
“On my arm tonight,” Zarcar nods at me, “An escort again. This time we’re celebrating in the town square – outside under the moonlight. I don’t suppose that will satisfy you?”
“Maybe. But are you satisfied with last night?” I ask, “Are you empowered for sheathing your sword within me? I want to repeat clearly, I wasn’t finished when you were.”
“In time, I’ll reward you. Another thing, my beauty,” Zarcar leans in slowly now, until his lips breathe past my cheek and then rest on my ear, “We have some training to attend to after we’re done tonight,” Zarcar moves over to lightly kiss my cheek, then the tip of my nose.
“For?” I try not to grimace.
“Training on how you’ll kneel before the King tomorrow with me standing at your side as your Master and Keeper,” Zarcar pulls me in closer and I run my eyes over his serious lips and then his pulsing neck… perhaps if worse came to worse I could just rip his throat out with my teeth?
“My, my, I am important,” I whisper, “Tell me. What is a Draconess?”
“Later.”
“Now,” I beg, ignoring his narrowing eyes, “Please, tell me. What does time matter?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re ready,” Zarcar raises a brow, “I only reward good behaviour, don’t forget.”
“Rewards… huh… you didn’t have to curse me, you know,” I snap, “All you had to do was this,” I try to rub it in by leaning up and forcing my lips on his, leaving a hard, quick, pointless kiss. I move back and shrug roughly, “Easy, see?”
Zarcar’s eyes flash – animalistic and distracted by my lips on his.
He stares at my mouth and slowly moves in.
I expect him to kiss me and my breath catches. I hold his black gaze and hate myself for anticipating this moment to continue after I was thrown in a dungeon all day.
I was probably more insane than Lixar.
“In my land,” Zarcar murmurs, without kissing me, only to shock me with another debt paid for my quick kiss just before, so he now tells me, “A Draconess isn’t just a mythological creature; she’s a Queen, Chyronex. You never knew you were born one, but my kind can smell it,” he watches my eyes widen and he seals the empowering information with a degrading fact, “Now, you’re a Slave Queen and I’m training you to serve the King as his personal, owned and enslaved Draconess. My task is simply to teach you how to serve. I have my work cut out for me, that is for sure.”
“A Queen,” I am left breathless. I want to laugh in his face but my heart feels his truth.
“A Slave Queen,” he repeats.
“What happens to disobedient Slave Queens?” I whisper back, with barely any sound.
“They’re killed,” Zarcar’s tone catches and I see his eyes show an emotion I’ve never caught before.
He releases me a little roughly and walks around me to open the door to the bedchamber. I feel him pause as if he will say more, but then he walks into the chamber and I’m left staring out the window at the cloudless sky.
His admission shocks me but my mind fixates on one thought… one truth.
I was never a slave, not really. No matter how many times he tried to rub it in… it was a façade. It wasn’t real. It was a game of Master and Slave… correlating to my chance at life and death.
This whole time, Zarcar was training me to survive.
Chapter 15
I leave Zarcar to get dressed into formal attire and then as he waits for me outside the chamber, I choose to wear a beautiful midnight blue gown that covers my skin and wraps around me like my usurper’s black robe. I paint on the four black dots at the corner of each eye and then I surprise Zarcar with my conservative robe.
He is sitting on my favourite window sill, wearing another royal purple suit with black polished shoes. His hair is tied back and it’s the first time I’ve seen him tie it out of the way.
“A robe?” Zarcar asks, raising a brow in surprise when he sees my choice, “Are you not feeling well, Chyronex?”
“I wish to obey you tonight,” I admit, openly as I close the bedchamber door, “I am meeting your King who kills Queens like me so I think I should learn how to submit… first to you, Master of Witches.”
Zarcar smirks a bit but it doesn’t hide the underlying sadness from his eyes.
“I am glad you understand your place tonight, beside me,” Zarcar stands up and holds out his hand. I take a graceful step forward and slip my palm into his before sliding my arm through his elbow.
“Is your King cruel?” I ask, in a whisper.
“He is kind to all who obey,” Zarcar admits, “Which is why you must obey my direction at all times. Whatever he asks – obey him too. Gain his trust and he’ll never harm you.”
“Are you speaking of yourself or your King?” I joke as he pu
lls me forward and starts leading me towards the stair case so we can be on the way to the unofficial welcome for the King tonight.
“Tonight is not a game between us, Chyronex. I speak of how you must act to the King. Listen intently,” Zarcar murmurs, “I must warn you that if you do disobey me in front of my King, he will expect that I punish you harshly. He knows me as a Master of Fear more than a Master of Witches.”
“I know you hide secrets from me, but the more you speak, the more secrets I know you hold,” I squeeze his palm, but he doesn’t glance at me, avoiding my questioning gaze. I sigh and add, “I suppose I should know his name.”
