Slave to the Empire (Elf Slave #1)

by Sarah Hawke

  “Tomorrow, my dear,” he promised. “It’s been a long day, and I no longer have the energy.”

  “You don’t need any,” I soothed as I pivoted around in front of him and slowly sank to my knees. For an instant it seemed as though he might protest or even push me away, but once I took him into my mouth his cock swelled in appreciation…and then the last of his resistance melted away.

  “Well, if you put it that way,” he said as I swallowed him deep, “who am I to argue?”

  Chapter Two

  The sun had melted into a crimson smear along the horizon by the time Master escorted me out into the courtyard, and the house guards were already waiting for us. Beyond the estate’s walls I could already hear the growing bustle as nobles from the far corners of the Empire poured into the city to attend the Winter’s End Gala. The time for my first public appearance was fast approaching, and it took every scrap of willpower I could muster to keep my legs from openly quivering.

  “Your carriage is ready, Your Excellency,” Larric said as the horses came to a halt in front of us. As usual, the bodyguard didn’t even acknowledge my presence. He just stood there stiffly, his pale blue eyes taking in everything at once. His sleek but muscular form had always reminded me of a great hunting cat lying in the weeds and waiting to pounce on potential prey. “Are you certain I can’t convince you to bring along a larger escort?”

  Master turned and flashed a bemused smile at the younger man. “Half the Emperor’s Praetorian is out patrolling the city today. Do you really believe we need to worry about thugs and pickpockets?”

  “Criminals don’t always think rationally,” Larric replied. “Some will be willing to take greater risks knowing the potential prize awaiting them. And with the rest of the Third Army departing the city yesterday, the streets are—”

  “We will be fine,” Master assured him with a wave of his hand. “Come along, dear.”

  I took his arm as he helped me step up into the carriage. Once we were settled, Larric barked out orders to the other guardsmen and then climbed inside with us. His armor and scabbard clattered against the wooden bench, and I sunk deeper into Master’s shoulder as if it would somehow protect me.

  “Let’s go,” Master ordered, wrapping his knuckles against the door. Outside, several of the mounted guards fell into formation around us as we rolled across the courtyard, and soon the full might and grandeur of Sanctum sprawled out before us. From the first time we had entered the city’s main gates I’d felt as out of place as a minotaur in a ballroom, and even now, two months later, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were about to step into a different world. In many ways, we were.

  I had grown up in Mavarinth, a large but cozy port city in northwestern Glorinfel, and I had so rarely left my first owner’s home that I’d never really grown comfortable with crowds. After Master Kristoff had purchased me at auction and taken me back to his castle, my horizons had been broadened…if only just. Stormcrest might have been the capital of Glorinfel, and its silver-plated spires might have been the envy of most of the north, but standing here amidst the wealth and decadence of the imperial capital made everything else seem like a hamlet by comparison.

  Master had told me once that half a million people called Sanctum home, and that numbered tripled if one counted all the slaves. An army of nearly fifty thousand legionaries protected the main gates at all times, and every noble family with a modicum of influence maintained an estate within the towering walls. Sanctum was more than just the capital in name; it was the cultural and political heart of the Empire.

  “You know what the real problem is?” Master asked as he squinted out the carriage window. “You can’t even tell there’s a war going on. Everything looks the same as last year and the year before that.”

  “I suspect that’s the point,” Larric said. “The Emperor and his pet generals have spent the last two months trying to convince the court that the loss of Stormcrest is just a temporary setback. He insists time and again that the Vaeyn aren’t a real threat. Filling the streets with legionnaires would only call his bluff.” The bodyguard shuffled beneath his armor. “That’s exactly why I wanted to bring more men. The cartels and gangs have been growing bolder by the day, and rumor has it the Faedari rebels freed several of their people from the prison earlier this week.”

  “You know what they say about rumors,” Master muttered.

  “Listen; don’t believe. Yes, I’m well aware. Still, I wouldn’t anything past the Faedari at this point. Watching their gray-skinned cousins sack our cities has undoubtedly emboldened them.”

  Master grunted but didn’t reply. I knew for a fact he was far more afraid of the Covenant than he was of the Faedari. The rebels—mostly Faeyn like myself—had been a thorn in the Empire’s side for many decades, but they were few in number, especially after the Legion had tracked down and destroyed one of their hidden settlements just last year. In essence, the Faedari were the last remnants of my people’s long-forgotten kingdom, and while they still occasionally managed to raid a caravan or “liberate” a group of slaves here and there, in general their influence had waned almost to the point of obscurity. The Covenant, on the other hand, had grown more powerful than ever…especially here in Sanctum.

  I glanced out the carriage window as we passed by the Aetherium, the center of Covenant authority in the region. It was the only officially sanctioned college of magic in the city, and as usual I had to suppress a cold shiver at the sight of the massive, gold-encrusted dome and accompanying spires. The buildings themselves didn’t terrify me, of course, but the dozens upon dozens of Covenant priests living inside them did. The priesthood controlled and regulated every college of magic in the Empire, just like they controlled and regular every channeler—even socially powerful ones like Master Kristoff.

  The reason was simple enough: the Covenant held the only key to unlocking the power of the Aether, and they forced every would-be channeler to swear allegiance to their gods—known colloquially as the Triad—in order to get it. It was why the Covenant was arguably more influential than the Legion…and it was why the Hierophant might have been even more powerful that the Emperor himself.

  “It would seem that the prelacy didn’t want to feel left out of the celebration,” Larric commented as we passed by a veritable parade of crimson-cloaked men and women marching along the streets outside. “They must have summoned every Inquisitor in the duchy for this.”

  “Or brought in some from Abenwreath or Rivani,” Master agreed. “The Prelates aren’t stupid—they understand the value of pomp every bit as much as the Imperial Court. And I’m sure they’re happy to remind the Emperor that even his vaunted Praetorian can’t shield him from the Inquisitors.”

  “As if anyone could forget,” the bodyguard murmured.

  I glanced past Master’s shoulder until I caught a glimpse of the procession, and suddenly the cold shiver tingling down my spine transformed into a full-blown knot in my stomach. The priests were terrifying enough, but the Inquisitors were the men and women I truly needed to fear. Their entire purpose was to prowl the Empire in search of renegade channelers like myself who didn’t need the Triad’s blessings to touch the Aether. They branded us as heathens and heretics and demon-touched monsters…but to everyone else, we were known simply as Unbound.

  To this day the Hierophant insisted that we were the only true threat to imperial sovereignty, and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Magic was power, the old saying went, and the Unbound were the only source they couldn’t control. In a sense, I was the ultimate manifestation of their darkest fears. A slave channeling Aether violated imperial law; an Unbound channeling Aether violated the law of the gods. And I was both at once.

  If the Covenant ever learned of my true nature, Master would be stripped of his office and cast into the palace dungeon. I would likely be burned alive in the public square for all to see. The thought seared into my mind, and it suddenly felt like everyone we passed was staring straight at me. Not becaus
e of the extravagant, thousand-coin imported dress Master had wrapped me in, but because they were just waiting for the smallest slip-up so they could turn me over to the nearest Inquisitor…

  “Arland and wife aren’t interested in meek little girls,” Master whispered into my ear. “Submissive? Yes. But not meek. You need to get ahold of yourself.”

  I closed my eyes and forced myself to take in a deep breath. I must have been trembling more than I thought, and with my arm locked around his he could probably feel every twitch and tremor. “I’m sorry, Master. I just don’t…”

  I trailed off as my eyes flicked over to Larric. He wasn’t looking at me at the moment—he seemed to be fixated on the Inquisitors marching outside—but I still had to be careful of what I said around him. He didn’t know my true nature, and I had to make certain it stayed that way. No matter how loyal he seemed, I doubted anyone would be willing to shield a heretic from the wrath of the Triad.

  Master squeezed my hand. “I’ve taught you everything you need to know. Just remember that.”

  “Yes,” I breathed. “Yes, of course.”

  “You’ll do fine, Elara. I have faith in you.”

  He squeezed me again, and for one fleeting instant his smile was as warm and caring as before we had fled Stormcrest. Back when I had been his servant rather than his weapon—back when his schemes and machinations had seemed so distant I could pretend they would never come to fruition.

  But then the moment passed, and the shadow fell across his features once more. “Time to get ready,” he said as he unlinked our arms and reached down into his satchel. Inside were my enchanted obedience cuffs and collar. He rarely bothered with them while we were alone inside the mansion, but in public he knew that the sight of an unchained Faeyn slave would raise too many eyebrows. I lifted my long hair out of his way as he fastened the collar securely around my throat and attached the matching leather leash. Once they were fitted snugly in place, I swiveled to the side so he could lock my hands behind my back. He didn’t bother with ankle chains; few owners worried about their slaves running off when all they had to do was touch a button on a control rod to shock them into submission.

  I couldn’t explain why, but for some reason the restraints actually helped settle my stomach. Perhaps I was comforted by the fact they made me appear less threatening and thus shifted attention away from my dark secret…or perhaps being helpless simply appealed to my Faeyn nature as the imperial scholars claimed. Either way, the worst of my anxiety drained away, and I closed my eyes and did my best to mentally prepare myself for what was to come.

  Eventually our carriage passed through the main gates, and once we were about halfway through the courtyard the driver stopped as a horde of supplicants rushed forward to fawn over one of the Grand Dukes.

  “I’ll keep them busy,” Larric said as he pushed open the door. “Have a pleasant evening, Your Excellency.”

  He stepped down and joined with the palace guardsmen to keep the area clear. Master Kristoff waited a few seconds before following, just as protocol dictated, then tugged on my leash and dragged me forward until I was standing behind him. Normally, such a simple display of domination would have been sufficient, but given the grandeur the evening’s festivities Master evidently decided he needed to make a more dramatic statement. He lifted the control rod to my collar and flicked it on…and I instantly dropped to my knees in front of him as a jolt of Aetheric energy shot through my leg muscles. I lowered my eyes and waited just as he’d taught me, and a few moments later he tugged on my leash again and hoisted me back to my feet.

  “Breaking in a new pet, Your Excellency?” one of the nearby Praetorians asked as he and a partner stepped forward from the rabble to greet us.

  “She’s fully trained, but it’s always good to remind them of their place now and again,” Master replied. “Take us to the palace.”

  “Of course, Your Excellency. Right this way.”

  We traveled across the courtyard, and no one else troubled us along the way. Once we drew close, I noticed that the line of nobles and petitioners outside the main hall already stretched halfway across the courtyard, but thankfully the Grand Dukes didn’t have to bother with such formalities. At Master’s request, the praetorians led us through a second gate on the western side of the building, and soon we were inside and making our way across the upper balcony towards the ballroom floor.

  I had never actually been inside the Imperial Palace before, and despite Master’s warnings that I keep my eyes low at all times, I couldn’t help but sneak the occasional furtive glance at our surroundings. I had heard so much about the decadence of the Royal Court that I felt like I just had to see it for myself…and it took only a few moments to realize the stories had been completely true.

  Aside from the impossibly tall walls, the splendorous golden statues, and the pristine marble walkways, the palace was also filled with a veritable army of servants that was nearly as impressive as the army of Praetorians outside. Master had once said that the Emperor kept nearly two thousand slaves on hand at any time, and on special nights like tonight every one of them was out catering to the whims and fancies of the guests. The majority of them were human, naturally, captured foreigners from one of the many godless nations across the sea that refused to worship the Triad. But there were also plenty of orcs, groll, and even a few minotaur lurking about. Most were gladiators who had survived at least one blood-soaked encounter in Sanctum’s famous battle pits, but a few were simple laborers. The most striking thing to me, however, was how many of my own kind were present—not as cooks or maids or butlers, but as avenari like myself. And nearly all of them were already hard at work.

  In the chamber directly to our left, a blond Faeyn woman no older than myself busily worked to please a pair of youngish looking lords from her knees; to our right, a red-haired woman was bent over a table as a nobleman took her roughly from behind while his companions cheered on his efforts. And straight ahead, elevated slightly in a semi-circular nook cut out from the wall, a trio of noblewoman sipped at their wine and gossiped as young Faeyn males knelt beneath their skirts.

  “Darian is already here, good,” Master murmured as he swept his eyes over the crowd. “And I don’t see his wife around, either. This should work perfectly. Be ready.”

  My stomach fluttered as I risked a furtive glance across the room. It was easy enough to pick out Grand Duke Arland from Master’s earlier descriptions. Middle-aged and slender, he sported a neatly-trimmed red beard and a pleasant smile, and unlike most of the other nobles in attendance his skin was tanned from many hours spent beneath the sun. According to rumor he fancied himself quite the hunter, and his duchy, the Sorthaal Highlands, was allegedly rife with game.

  “Hello, Darian,” Master greeted once we drew close. “It’s been a long time.”

  Arland glanced back over his shoulder and smiled. “Gabriel! It’s good to see that you’re safe.” He reached out and vigorously shook Master’s hand before shooing away the lesser nobles swarming over him. “When I heard about Stormcrest, I feared the worst. Thank the Triad you were able to escape in time.”

  “I mostly thank my grandfather’s obsession with escape routes. I was halfway to Sanctum before they even knew I was gone.”

  “Wily old bastard. And to think, the other dukes used to call him a coward.”

  “Among other things,” Master replied dryly. “Did you have any trouble on your own trip?

  “The roads from Sorthaal are safe enough,” Arland said. “No elves wandering about pillaging everything in sight in the west.” He paused, and I could feel his eyes shift to me. “Not yet, anyway.”

  Master’s hand brushed reassuringly against my back before he stepped over to the nearby balcony railing. “Well, hopefully we’ll be able to prevent that. Assuming we work together.”

  “Mm,” Arland murmured, and I could tell from his tone and the subtle shuffling of his feet that he was studying me carefully…and that he liked what they saw. “This mu
st be the prize you mentioned in your letter.”

  “Yes, her name is Elara. Some fool from Mavarinth had apparently been using her as a cook and got tired of her burning his roast. He sold her for just fifty sovereigns, if you can believe it.”

  “What fool would waste such a delicate creature in his kitchen?” Arland asked as he meandered behind me like a collector appraising a rare vase. “You should have had him executed for treason on the spot.”

  Master chuckled. “The thought did cross my mind.”

  Arland dragged the back of his hand across my cheek. “Have you considered breeding her? I hear that healthy Faeyn babies are selling for almost five hundred down south in Rivani. More overseas in Torsia, if you can believe it.”

  “I might eventually, but right now she has better uses, I think.”

  “Yes,” Arland said, his eyes glimmering hungrily. “I suppose that’s true. How about selling her, then?”

  “I’m afraid not. She’s the best investment I’ve made in years, really.” Master snapped his fingers to the side, and one of the palace slaves rushed over and handed him a glass of wine. “Still…just because I won’t sell my toys doesn’t mean I’m averse to sharing them with friends. You can take her right here, if you wish.”

  “Very tempting, but I’m not sure how long we have until His Majesty arrives. I’d rather not been interrupted.” The duke’s fingers settled on my lips, and with my eyes lowered I could see the swelling bulge in the front of his trousers. “Still, it would be a tragic waste to pass up such an exquisite beauty…”

  “A compromise, perhaps?”

  “Yes…yes, I think so.” Arland lifted up my chin and smiled devilishly. “On your knees, girl. Let’s see what you can do.”

  My heart raced as I obediently dropped down before him. He unclasped the front of his trousers, and I could tell he was rock hard long before he sprung himself free. I was tempted to lean forward and swallow him deep just to see how quickly I could make him finish, but of course that would defeat the entire purpose of this encounter. I needed to do more than simply take him into my throat and drink his seed like a common harlot; I needed to prove to him that I was special enough to warrant a private visit to his estate later. And with my hands restrained behind my back, that left me with only one real option.