The Price of Power

by L A Warren

  Sarah screamed, “I knew nothing of any of this. My lord, I would have told you. You know I would.” Sarah broke ranks and ran to her lord, High Councilor Lord vlor’Altus. Sarah wept at his feet and he reached down to pet the top of her head.

  High Tender Marcus spoke. “My lords. Your charges will receive Tender Training to address this disobedience. Five days have been given by the High Tenders. If you agree, stand by your s’vlor now. If not, then remove your s’vlor to her rooms. She will receive a single Tender Training session but no more.”

  The lords moved toward the women. “Understand lords, the full five sessions will be dealt. If too many of you remove your s’vlor, the others will take up the slack.”

  Sobs echoed his pronouncement. Gregor, still holding Elise’s chin in his grip, did not move. The vlor’ lords came to their s’vlor. High Councilor Lord vlor’Altus pulled Sarah off to her rooms. She glanced at Elise in triumph and followed her master. None of the other lords pulled their charges away.

  Tears streamed down Elise’s face. “Give me their punishment. Please I beg of you. Gregor, please. They have no idea what’s in store.”

  The High Tender came to stand beside Gregor. “Are you satisfied, Emperor?”

  “No.” He frowned. “I need more if I am to control this one.”

  High Tender Marcus raised his eyebrows in interest. “What more do you want?”

  Gregor spoke so his voice carried across the room. “Five days is a lot to endure. As Emperor, I request a reduction to three sessions for the rest so they might return to WOR-skill training as quickly as possible. For this one, you will administer triple sessions. I need her crushed.”

  “Yes, Sire.” His voice boomed, “High Tenders, you have heard your emperor.”

  Gregor turned to the High Tender and said, “One more thing, Lord vlor’Vardhal?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “This one needs a greater degree of control. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “Release me from my oath. She must be bound!”

  Elise’s throat hitched. Her heart hiccupped and then raced in a mad flutter. Please, High Tender, she begged and squeezed her eyes shut. Do not allow this. Her hands clenched and slickened with sweat. That would be worse than Tender Training.

  “You take a great risk, my lord, especially with her not yet trained. But, you made that oath as emperor, not as a vlor’ lord. I can’t release you from your oath. Only the High Council can.”

  Elise had been holding her breath and let it out with these words of reprieve. She took a breath and then another.

  Gregor’s hand squeezed her jaw and he glared at her. “Then I will bring it to the High Council. Will I receive your support?”

  High Tender Marcus pursed his lips. “It is dangerous to bind an untrained s’vlor, but I agree. It must be done. I support you.”

  “Thank you, Master Tender.”

  Elise faded to darkness as Shriek stepped into the light, stretching and preparing for the ordeal ahead. Whimper wrapped an arm around Elise’s shoulder while Malice grumbled about Tenders and their braklavs. The silent sister was nowhere to be found.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The WOR-skill training room had been reconfigured for Tender Training during the confrontation with the lords in the common room. The tables had been removed and long silver rods had been secured to the ceiling. Elise knew immediately what they were for. The other girls figured it out when they saw the shackles dangling from the dull, gleaming metal.

  High Tender Marcus began with Elise. The fourteen other High Tenders strung up their charges. Gregor pulled up a seat and made himself comfortable for the two-hour Tender Training session. The women’s vlor’ masters followed suit and pulled up chairs to observe the punishment alongside their emperor.

  It was harder to endure with Gregor watching. She wondered what she must look like. Soon, however, she wasn’t thinking about much other than the High Tender. Gregor faded from her thoughts while Shriek soaked up the pain.

  At the end of the first session, the High Tender released her and placed her along the wall to huddle her sweat soaked body until the second session began. He moved on to his next charge. Paula was a strong woman in her mid-twenties. The lines of her body were sculpted and hard, but her expression betrayed fear.

  The High Tender laid into her with his dispassionate calm and Paula cracked in under ten minutes, gasping for breath. She begged for a forgiveness that would never come. The High Tender calmly told her what would happen the next time she begged. Paula did not speak other than to scream.

  Elise watched the other girls with cool detachment and wondered if she looked the same, or if her screams sounded so forlorn. Whimper kept her company while Shriek made ready for the next round. Malice growled and prowled in the darkness.

  Gregor secured Elise back to the rod and observed the next session. Wave after wave of s’vlor entered the chamber. It filled with quietly apprehensive women as they wondered how bad it could really be. The chamber emptied as they left knowing all too well the answer to that question. High Tenders had no mercy and the braklavs allowed them to dispense great pain without inflicting permanent damage to a body.

  The room filled and emptied several times. The other two s’vlor, who High Tender Marcus trained, took their turns while Elise recovered and waited for her next session.

  Elise watched the women for four and a half hours before her next, and last, turn of the day. It gave Whimper time to contemplate the first two sessions while Shriek prepared for the last. High Tender Marcus took breaks for food. Elise was not fed.

  Gregor attended all of Elise’s sessions. When her turn came back around, the third and last for the first day, Gregor dragged her off her feet without a word. He placed her at the bar and shackled her wrists in place. It was very considerate of him to help. She didn’t think she could have stood, let alone lift her arms to the shackles.

  “Opés,” he said with a smile, although his eyes danced with fury. The tattoo above his brow she ignored. It promised pain.

  “Gregor,” she answered, automatically.

  “I have placed my request before the High Council. I’m anxious for them to meet.” He placed a finger under her chin and traced a cool line down her throat and between her breasts. The smile fixed on his lips held pure malice. His eyes twinkled with unspoken promises. He traced a circle around her left breast and then moved his hand around her back. He cupped her bare bottom and yanked her forcibly against his body. Her shoulders wrenched with the strength of his pull, and he brought her painfully to her tiptoes and gave a chaste kiss.

  “Yes, Gregor.”

  “Once you are bound to me, it will be impossible for you to resist, or lie to me, ever again. It’s a quirk of the bond.”

  Day after day, the scene repeated.

  The conversation was the same each time and ended with the same slow kiss on her lips. The fact that she was naked, and he brushed his fingers across her breasts, simply didn’t matter anymore. The kiss was Shriek’s signal to come out and play, while Elise faded into oblivion. Malice became more and more feral as the days progressed. Whimper struggled to please a Tender who simply did not care.

  The High Tenders remained busy. Each man took care of his group of five to ten s’vlor. At two hours per session, it made for a long day for the High Tenders, so they split the women into groups and conducted Tender Training on alternating days.

  Six days later, Tender Training ended, except for Elise, Shriek and Whimper. Malice was missing. Elise didn’t know where that sister had gone.

  The mood on the Fifth Deck was subdued, but not a single woman complained to Elise, or blamed her for Tender Training. The opposite occurred. Nearly everyone made an effort to comfort Elise and wish her strength for what she must still endure.

  Gregor moved the remainder of her Tender Training sessions to her suite so that WOR-skill training might continue in the classroom. The bars were left in place as a reminder
, so that the s’vlor would have every opportunity to contemplate the price of disobedience throughout their day.

  Each night Elise fell into bed. When her body stopped twitching, sleep shrouded her mind. In the sweet release of her dreams, she dreamed of jump-jet training, silver rings, and escape.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gambit, Day 222

  Elise attached her wrists to the bar Gregor placed in her suite for Tender Training. Her roommates, forbidden to speak to her, went about their morning routine in silence, except Alice, who became Elise’s sole link to her friends. Their private code endured; a secret known only by two. With a flicker or a glance, Alice lent Elise the strength she needed to survive another day.

  Shriek gazed up at the cuffs. I can’t do this.

  Whimper’s tears emptied. I too, am done. We are beaten.

  Malice hissed and retreated somewhere in the dark. It had been days since she'd said a word.

  This left Elise alone in her body.

  Nor can I.

  And that was it. She was done. With a shrug, she left the body to endure by itself. Her consciousness separated from the flesh and floated away.

  How did you do that? Shriek craned her neck.

  Why didn’t we do this sooner? Whimper wriggled free of their body and hovered beside Elise.

  Shriek detached as well, and joined them.

  I didn’t know I could.

  Whimper pointed. The High Tender has arrived.

  Where's Malice? Elise peered at the body, but didn't see signs of Malice.

  I should have been stronger. Shriek’s disgruntled frown spoke of her frustration.

  The High Tender walked up to Elise, and without a word pressed the braklav to her spine.

  Oh, Shriek said, Usually that makes me twitch. Do you think he’ll do the fire thing next? It makes the skin feel like it’s blistering and bubbling.

  Shriek, stop, Whimper said with a moan. You don’t have to tell me how it feels.

  The High Tender’s lips pressed into a firm line. He touched the braklav to the base of her skull. Nothing happened. He moved it down, tracing each vertebrae as he went.

  Nothing.

  Without them inside to feel the agony, the body hung limp and unresponsive.

  He stepped back, a deep crease furrowed on his brow.

  “S’vlor?”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t, because she wasn’t inside the body. Elise watched, curious as to what would happen next.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall and a new presence arrived. Elise turned, but there was only one person it could be.

  Gregor has arrived. Do you think he’ll kiss me today?

  I don’t like his kisses, Malice hissed. What are all of you doing out there? She poked her head out from the dark, but then disappeared again.

  Elise shook her head. Malice, come back. Join us.

  No! I don’t like it when they’re together. She scuttled into a darker corner, disappearing from the conversation.

  Don’t you think we should twitch a little? Shriek asked in a quiet voice.

  Elise glanced at the unmoving body, watching it hang from the shackles. High Tender Marcus pressed the braklav to the skin over and over again but nothing happened.

  I’m scared. It feels wrong being out here. Whimper hugged herself as Gregor approached the body.

  “Opés?” His eyes narrowed and his hand reached out.

  They didn’t answer.

  He brushed her hair aside. “My request goes before the High Council. We will become one, bonded together.” His brows drew down in concern as her body failed to respond to his touch. He glanced toward the High Tender. “Lord vlor’Vardhal, something is wrong.”

  “A word, if you please, my lord.” High Tender Marcus gestured with a jerk of his head for Gregor to join him at the far end of the room.

  Now, this is interesting. The body hung from the shackles, forgotten, as Elise brought the girls over to hover above the men’s heads.

  Whimper babbled. This feels wrong.

  Shriek moaned. I'm scared.

  Malice hissed.

  Shh...we need to listen. Everyone quiet!

  “My lord, she’s not responding.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I press the braklav to her skin and I get nothing.”

  “Not possible.” Gregor glanced across the room at their body.

  “And yet it is.” The High Tender’s lips puffed out with his breath.

  “No s’vlor can resist the braklav. Explain.” Gregor’s dark brows drew down.

  “There’s no doubt she’s feeling every bit of what I’m giving. The nerves are firing, but she's gone.”

  Gregor kept his face blank. “How is that possible?”

  They watched the High Tender scratch his head. “I may have broken her beyond repair.”

  Gregor scowled. “Hell, she had us fooled. Is she faking this now, to avoid the punishment?”

  “I wouldn’t put it past her, but I don’t believe so. I can’t explain this withdrawal, but I do have an idea to pull her back out.”

  Whimper cried. I don’t like it when they get ideas!

  The High Tender walked back to her body. Gregor watched as the High Tender pressed the braklav to her skin. Again, there was no response.

  “If she no longer responds to the braklav, perhaps watching her friends endure its touch will bring her around? We can start with her suite-mates.”

  No! No! No! All three of them wailed.

  Gregor paused. He walked back over to their body. He tapped his index finger on his chin, and appeared to be deep in thought. “I won’t ask their lords to consent to more just because I can’t control my s’vlor.” He traced a finger down her back, to her hips, and then back up her side.

  She felt nothing.

  “I've felt this before, a dissonance in her, but this detachment shouldn't be possible. Opés, where have you gone?” he whispered in her ear. “The High Tender wants to bring your friends into this. I don’t think that will solve our problems.”

  He pulled her hair to the side, exposing her neck. Strong hands touched her skin. He rubbed the tight cords in her neck, lightly at first and then a little deeper.

  “I never wished this on you, but my hands were tied. Your disobedience had to be dealt with. Tender Training is a singularly effective means of control and a useful reminder of your place…at least until we can be Bonded.” His fingers moved to her shoulders.

  “This is what I’d rather do for you. It feels good, does it not, opés?” Gregor moved his massage to her arms and up to her hands. He unshackled her wrists and massaged her fingers.

  She looked at him, but did not respond.

  What is he doing? Shriek screamed. I don’t like this.

  What would it cost us to just give this man what he wants? Whimper spoke softly and began to drift back into the body.

  It costs us everything! Shriek screamed. Have you forgotten about the jump-jet? Jeena? Dove? Earth?

  Earth is dead to us! Malice hissed out of the darkness. No longer our home! Dead! Dead! Dead!

  There was some truth to what Malice said.

  What do we do? Elise turned to her sisters, seeking guidance.

  No one answered.

  Gregor lifted the body and carried it in his arms. He headed to the bedroom. Whimper stomped into the darkness in a huff, not speaking to Shriek. Shriek followed, her shoulders hunched in defeat.

  Where are you going? Elise asked.

  I…I am too tired. You need to deal with this. I’m done. Shriek faded away.

  Elise stretched out her hand to catch her sister, to bring her back. She came back with nothing.

  Gregor laid her body on the bed and rolled her over to her stomach. The High Tender watched from the doorway, and the braklav dangled impotently from his wrist. Gregor continued his massage and worked down her back, taking his time, soothing her body.

  Clenched muscles released and the tension in her body evaporated. Sh
e shouldn't feel anything, but Gregor's touch crossed the chasm from her body to her mind, pulling at her and drawing her back.

  He moved to her buttocks and down the backs of her thighs. He spent an eternity on her calves. They bucked and went into spasm at his touch. Gregor worked out the cramps with a deliberate touch. He finished at her feet.

  Elise shuddered as warmth flooded her body and a release from pain suffused her soul.

  Gregor lifted her and carried her into the bathroom. He turned on the shower, until a warm mist filled the air.

  The High Tender followed.

  “Come, hold her while I strip out of my clothes.”

  “What are you doing?” Suspicion clouded the High Tender's words.

  “I’m going to wash her hair, and I’d prefer not to get my clothes wet.”

  “And you think a massage and shower are the answers to our problem?” High Tender Marcus jerked his chin. He sounded dubious.

  “Her body has shut down. It can’t take anymore. Her mind…I don’t know what’s up with her mind. I sense her, but she is not in here." He pointed to her body. "I can't explain what I'm feeling, except I feel her presence. A massage and a warm shower might go a long way toward bringing her back. Maybe even a little forgiveness and leniency? Do you have any better ideas?”

  Gregor pulled his boots off and stripped out of his clothes. He gestured for the High Tender to hand over the body.

  “You still feel her? That's good, but is Binding the solution? She’s nowhere near ready for a proper ritual and you’re not fully prepared to accept the Bond. It’s too risky.”

  “What else do we have? Tender Training has no effect. I must have control over her. I can think of nothing more absolute than Binding.”

  “It’s too soon after the Blood Rite.” The High Tender scuffed his boot on the floor and sat at the bench. “Is there even enough of her essence grafted inside of you to perform the Binding Ritual?”

  “The changes are unfinished, but I am sensing her. Not to the degree of Lord vlor’Delatris. I certainly couldn’t sense this secret code they kept from us. But I’m beginning to feel the swirling of her thoughts. I can almost feel her presence now. Reading her mind is beyond me at this point, but it’s not unusual to proceed with Binding before that is established. Her strength of mind is intense. I can feel a little of her passion in my blood. It will only get stronger with time.”