Slave to the Empire (Elf Slave #1)

by Sarah Hawke

  “There’s not a man in the Empire who could resist you,” he breathed into my ear. “Or a woman, for that matter.”

  “My lord is most kind,” I said, smiling back. My heart begged me to spin back around and kiss him again, but I knew he wouldn’t approve.

  “Let me get your cuffs on and then we’ll head out. The guards should already be waiting for us outside.”

  As he shackled my wrists behind my back, my thoughts once again returned to that familiar dark place of fear and uncertainty. Soon I would be beyond his protection for the first time since he’d purchased me, and I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to handle it. Originally I had held out hope that he would escort me to the Arland mansion himself and perhaps even stay to observe…but of course that wasn’t how this was going to work. Arland wanted me alone for an evening, and Master was perfectly content to let this serve as my first real test without his supervision. If I succeeded here, then he would have the confidence to send me to Farrow or Darkstone or whoever else requested my services. I would become his perfect little spy.

  Assuming I didn’t get caught, of course. If that happened, this war and the recovery of Stormcrest would be the least of our worries.

  A few minutes later we stepped out into the courtyard, and a small squad of soldiers was indeed waiting for us next to the carriage. Larric, naturally, was among them.

  “Everything is ready, Your Excellency,” the bodyguard said with a half bow. “I took the liberty of sending a few men ahead to ensure that the route is clear.”

  “We’re in the imperial capital, not a warzone,” Master replied mildly. “You’re overreacting as usual.”

  Larric shrugged. “Experience has taught me to prepare for the worst. I’m only doing my job.”

  “Of course,” Master murmured as he offered the other man the control rod. The exchange was a show, of course, a feigned bit of nonchalance so the guards wouldn’t recognize just how important a mere slave was to him. Master had probably ordered Larric to send out those scouts and make sure the path was safe himself. “Now get moving.”

  “At once, Your Excellency.”

  Larric tilted towards me, and as usual I couldn’t help but wilt beneath his gaze. Not because he was loud or physically imposing like so many of the rank-and-file legionnaires—quite the opposite, in fact. He was relatively short and slender compared to most of the other house guards, and I had rarely ever heard him speak more than a few words at a time. No, he was terrifying precisely because he wasn’t a towering, screaming brute.

  I also had trouble ignoring the fact that he so obviously reviled me. He had never told me so openly, of course, but I was as much a master of body language as any erotic technique. From the fractional curling of the man’s lip to the occasional furtive glower I could tell that my very presence disgusted him. I knew he despised all elves—Master had told me as much—but he treated the other Faeyn servants well enough. It seemed like there was something about me specifically that sickened him, and I had no idea what that could be. I trembled to think what would happen if I was left alone with him for an extended period of time…but mercifully I wouldn’t have to find out today.

  I rode alone inside the carriage as we traveled across the city, and for once I didn’t spend the entire trip leering at the sights and sounds of Sanctum. Instead I closed my eyes and did everything I could to mentally prepare myself for the task at hand. In all likelihood, Duke Arland would be so enamored with me at this point that I probably wouldn’t have to do anything special to please him. His wife, unfortunately, would be different story. But once again the purpose of this trip wasn’t to merely satisfy a lust-filled duke; it was about worming into his mind and convincing him to risk his armies, his wealth, and possibly even his life to join the Master in the Quorum. Even with the aid of magic it wouldn’t be a trivial task, but Master had faith in me.

  And I was not going to let him down.

  We arrived at the Arland estate about an hour later, and once the carriage stopped I finally opened my eyes and took a quick peek. The central mansion was a bit smaller than Master’s, but the actual grounds were probably twice the size. The entire property looked like it had been plucked straight out of the forest; other than a pair of guard towers and the pristine cobblestone walkway winding its way up to the gate, all I could see were thick bushes, vibrant flowers, and a sprawling tree canopy that cast long shadows across the entire area. Master had told me that Arland’s home province of Sorthaal—once the ancestral home of the Faeyn—was essentially a giant forest, and for the first time in my life I desperately wanted to visit.

  After a brief exchange with Arland’s guards Larric helped me out of the carriage and escorted me up the long, winding walkway. A series of soft, Aether-powered lanterns lit up the path in front of us as we traveled, then slowly faded as we passed by. The effect was both majestic and soothing, and I wondered dimly if I could ever learn to enchant such an item myself. The guards let us inside without incident, and the concierge opened the door and led us into an expansive sitting room lined with paintings, sculptures, and tapestries from across the Empire.

  “Ah, good—you’ve finally arrived,” Duke Arland said as he sauntered down the staircase, drink in hand. “I was about to send a runner to remind Gabriel of our arrangement.”

  “Duke Kristoff sends his regards, Your Excellency,” Larric replied with a formal bow. He held out his hand and offered the other man my leash as well as the control rod for my collar. “He hopes that you will enjoy his gift.”

  “With a not-so-subtle reminder that if I damage his property, I’ll have an ex-Inquisitor to deal with,” the Arland murmured as he took the rod. “I should probably be insulted.”

  I reflexively glanced over to my escort. A former Inquisitor? I had no idea the Covenant even allowed its enforcers to retire. But it would explain Larric’s hatred for my elven blood…and why Master had worked so hard to keep my true nature secret from a man he otherwise trusted implicitly. It also meant that all my trepidations about spending time alone with the bodyguard were completely justified.

  “My lord did not mean to cause offense,” Larric soothed, “but he was concerned about the growing number of vagrants and dissidents on the streets.”

  “Naturally,” Arland muttered under his breath. “Still, I have heard rumors that Faedari agents might have infiltrated Sanctum, so perhaps a bit of extra caution is necessary. I’m sure the rebels would just love to free such an ‘abused and tormented’ creature as a trophy. Never mind the fact she’s been given free meals and a warm bed, not to mention an education and clothing worth more than half the villages in Veshar.” He scoffed. “Ungrateful pissants. They should be thanking us for introducing them to real civilization.”

  Larric smiled, and it was so cold it sent a shiver down my spine. “Indeed. Though I trust the praetorian and the Covenant will root them out soon enough.”

  “Yes, just like the Legion will drive back the Vaeyn,” Arland replied snidely. He finished his drink and set it down on a nearby table before sliding over to me and rubbing a hand across my cheek. “Anyway, thank you, Captain. My wife and I will make certain she earns her keep for one night at least.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Larric said. His eyes locked onto mine, and I could almost see the sadism smoldering behind them. “I shall return to retrieve her in the morning. Have an enjoyable evening, Your Excellency.”

  He stepped back out the door, and the moment he was gone the duke leaned in closer to me and gently ran his fingers through my hair. “You have no idea how much I’ve been looking forward to this, my dear,” he purred into my ear.

  “It is my pleasure to serve, Your Excellency,” I said. “Do you wish to have me now?”

  “More than you can imagine, but Luriel will be annoyed if I sample desert before dinner. Come, I might as well introduce you. She’s been looking forward to meeting you.”

  The lady of the house was waiting for us in an open chamber just outside the dining room
, but she wasn’t alone. A heavily tattooed, barrel-chested orc stood in front of her, and a pair of servants seemed to be measuring him for clothing…or more likely, armor.

  “Impressive, isn’t he?” Duchess Luriel asked without turning as we stepped into the room. “More than enough to embarrass whatever lout House Brigaere sends at us.”

  “I should hope so, considering how much we paid for him,” Arland said. “He’ll need to survive at least three matches just to break even.”

  “He will, don’t worry,” she said as she slapped her hand against the orc’s broad chest. “Isn’t that right, Gor…something. What’s your name again?

  “Gorbuk, my lady,” one of the servants prompted helpfully.

  “Yes, I knew it was something unpronounceable. You will make me proud, won’t you, Gorbuk?”

  “I fight for glory of Arland,” the orc said in a broken, thickly-accented version of the imperial tongue. “Kill all enemies.”

  “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

  The duke cleared his throat. “If you’re quite done, darling, your other present has arrived.”

  Luriel finally turned toward us, and her eyebrow cocked as she noticed me for the first time. “This is her? This is the one that made you split your trousers?”

  “She’s everything you want, love,” Arland replied patiently. “There’s no need to be tart.”

  The duchess grunted as she inspected me more closely. She was younger than I expected and prettier too; her long dark hair and glimmering amber eyes were a perfect complement to her russet skin. Talshites had been rare in Stormcrest—or anywhere in Glorinfel, for that matter—but I had always found them exotic and mysterious. Luriel was no different. She towered over me despite my heels, and her glimmering silver dress showed off her toned arms and impossibly long legs.

  But behind her beauty I could see a cold, ruthless hatred smoldering inside her…a hatred that was now directed squarely at me.

  “It’s just that you’ve spent so much time fawning over her that it’s hard to be impressed by the real thing,” Luriel said as she roughly grabbed ahold of my chin and twisted my head back and forth. “And what’s your name, girl?”

  “Elara, my lady,” I managed.

  “Well, at least it’s pronounceable,” Luriel muttered as she let go. “I do like her eyes, at least. I suppose that’s better than nothing.”

  “You will be satisfied, I promise,” Arland insisted. “Gabriel has fine taste.”

  “We’ll see. If she doesn’t hold our interest we can always give her to Gorbuk for the night.” The duchess glanced back over her shoulder to the orc. “What do you think? You want to fuck her?”

  The gladiator’s mouth twisted into a sickening smile as he looked at me. “Pretty elf.”

  “I assume that means yes,” Luriel murmured. “Well, go and win me three matches and we’ll see what I can do. If not her we can probably find some cheaper ones at market next week.”

  By some miracle I managed to keep the terror off my face, and a few moments later another servant peeked his head out from the kitchen.

  “Dinner is ready, Your Excellencies,” he said.

  Luriel nodded. “Good. Take Gorbuk back out to the pen with the others, and make certain no one else bothers us for the night.” She smiled as she looked upon me again, and a nervous shiver rippled down my spine. “We’re going to be quite busy.”

  Chapter Five

  Having spent most of my life inside the modest estate of a minor noble in Mavarinth, I had always been fascinated and a little terrified by the tales of the Grand Dukes’ and their wanton excesses and debauched parties. And so when Master Kristoff had first purchased me and taken me back to Stormcrest Castle, I had anticipated a never-ending spree of elaborate dinners, festive galas, and even depraved orgies. The reality couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

  Master was a private and contemplative man, and he rarely hosted individual guests, let alone an entire gathering of them. He went to parties on occasion, of course, but he never organized one himself. He preferred to dine simply and in solitude, which even at the time I had recognized as an odd habit for any imperial noble, let alone a Grand Duke. Occasionally he even did the unthinkable and invited me, one of his slaves, to dine with him. It was a rare event and one I always relished.

  The Arlands, I quickly learned, fit the decadent noble stereotype much more closely. They enjoyed a magnificent feast despite the fact they had no other company, and every course of their meal, from the aged Rivani cheeses to the imported Numenese kada berries to the spiced Talishite wine, probably cost as much as one of their house servants made in months. And unsurprisingly, they didn’t include me in their conversation at all. For the first several courses I was essentially invisible as Lady Luriel recounted the story of her trip to Riverboro and blamed the Empire’s woes on indolent laborers, unappreciative slaves, and incompetent soldiers. It was only after the main course that she finally seemed to remember I was still present.

  “You were at Stormcrest when the Vaeyn attacked, weren’t you, girl?” she asked me as she speared the last bite of fish off her plate.

  “Yes, my lady,” I said, clearing my throat.

  “We heard that the battle was short, but Gabriel never mentioned exactly how the defenses were overwhelmed so quickly.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not aware of the details, my lady,” I replied carefully. “All I know is that they attacked at night and we were forced to flee by dawn.”

  Luriel grunted. “Well, at least General Matavius was kind enough to be there during the assault so he could die for his incompetence. If General Tervane ever made such a mistake in the defense of Sorthaal, I would have her flogged and fed to the pigs.”

  “Somehow I doubt that Torelius would shed a tear,” her husband murmured. “He’s already consolidated enough power without his comrades falling onto spears. The only real question is why Emperor Lucian seems to place so much trust in him. Torelius is obviously overmatched—the Vaeyn are cunning and ruthless, and the Legion is old, tired, and fat.”

  “I’m not sure our beloved Emperor thought that far ahead when he ordered the invasion,” the duchess replied snidely. “He really should have sent the legionnaires to slaughter some groll in the mountains before throwing them at a real enemy.”

  “Or he could have just ignored the Covenant and left the elves alone. Gabriel is right about that.”

  Luriel scoffed. “Gabriel wants his land back, nothing more. And he expects us to put our necks on the block to help him. But what do we get out of it? One little elf whore?”

  “The survival of the Empire,” Arland countered. “The Vaeyn won’t stop with Glorinfel. Once the frost has melted, who knows what they’ll do?”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “I knew I should have been here for the Gala. He’s already filled your head with his panicked nonsense. The Legion might have has its nose bloodied, but we still outnumber the heretics at least three to one. Even an incompetent tit like Torelius will eventually win with sheer numbers.”

  “Maybe, but that won’t be enough for Lucian or the Covenant. They’ll demand a full-scale invasion, and we could lose everything.”

  “Perhaps,” she murmured as she turned to face me. “So what are your thoughts on the war, girl? Are you secretly hoping your gray-skinned cousins will kill us all and set you free?”

  “Of course not, my lady,” I assured her. “They are barbarians and heretics. The Empire will prevail, as always.”

  Luriel cocked a curious eyebrow. “You almost sound like one of the Inquisitors. But do you actually believe it, I wonder?”

  I glanced between them as I struggled to contain my growing anxiety. Was she testing me? What was she expecting me to say? As experienced as I was at reading body language, her face was a closed book to me.

  “I believe my Master has given me a good life,” I said eventually. “He provides for me and he asks little in return.”

  “Well, at least ther
e’s one slave who understands how good she has it,” the duchess commented. “The Vaeyn wouldn’t free you, anyway. From what I’ve heard they’d be more likely to sacrifice you in one of their blasphemous rituals…” She finished off her wine but kept her eyes on me. “When did Gabriel purchase you, anyway?”

  “Two years ago, my lady.”

  “So recently? Did you offend your previous owner somehow?”

  “Apparently he was a spent wick who just wanted a cook,” Arland chortled as he slid an arm around my waist and pulled me in close. “Gave her up for only fifty sovereigns, according to Gabriel. The fool must have been blind.”

  “Yes,” Luriel said quietly as she dragged her finger along the edge of her empty glass. Something dark glinted in her amber eyes, and a bemused smile tugged at her lips. “Still, Gabriel had quite the reputation for using up his slaves during his younger years. I’m surprised you’ve been able to hold his attention for so long.”

  I remained silent, and despite her feigned nonchalance I could tell she was evaluating my responses—or non-responses—very carefully. Her husband, for his part, had begun exploring my thighs with his left hand.

  “I’ve always wanted to get to know Gabriel better,” Luriel went on after a moment. “He’s such a private man and something of a curiosity among the Court. He almost never attends the seasonal events, and I doubt he would have come to the Winter Gala this year had Stormcrest not fallen.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her long legs. “And of course he has his father’s smile and a legionnaire’s body. You’re lucky, you know. You could be spreading your legs for a fat wretch like Torelius.”

  “I am very grateful, my lady,” I replied as her husband’s hand slid into the folds of my dress. He gently pushed my thighs apart and settled his fingers against my sex, and I half-gasped, half-whimpered in response.