Adeno

by Gabrina Garza

  "You've—you've lied to her."

  "I told her what I saw."

  "You saw nothing. We haven't done anything."

  "I witnessed enough.” He chuckled again. “While Adeno dies before a crowd, I swear to you, Nasora, I shall be the first to throw a stone at your skull."

  "My energy remains. I am still ... able,” she finished lamely, her voice hushed and filled with pain.

  "Not for long, slave,” Turvo replied.

  "I'll kill you,” Adeno said, his voice strengthened by anger. “I'll kill you if you touch her.” He slammed his fist into the iron bar and heard the door open and slam shut.

  Only rats remained.

  * * * *

  Nasora didn't bother to heal herself of the bloodied nose Turvo had given her. She wiped her face with her sleeve as she walked to her station, numb and terrified, and found her assignment still as stone upon her table. His skin appeared green with death, his body already showing signs of decay.

  An ax stood propped up against the table's leg on its wedge-shaped blade, and a sword sheathed in gauze lay against the nameless man's chest. Two guards lingered near the door, their heads bowed, bodies bent.

  "I cannot raise the dead. Remove him at once."

  She watched them lift the gurney, and before she thought to follow them, the heavy wooden door slammed shut, the bolt locked into place.

  A trap. She searched her confines and noticed shackles hung from the wall and a strip of cloth beside it, the tools to leave her bound and gagged.

  Panicked, she threw herself against the barrier and hit her fists hard against the sound-proof wood. Twice she rammed her shoulder into the hard surface. Twice she delivered herself to the brink of tears.

  Slumped on the ground, she caught sight of the ax and forced herself to stand. If she could lift the weapon, she could break the lock.

  "I am not a slave,” she told the rats as she wrapped her hands around the crudely hewn ax. Anger fueled strength, and her first blow missed the lock and lodged the blade into the wood. Teeth gritted, she strained until she pulled it free. The iron blade clattered to the ground and chipped a piece of the stone floor, but she hefted it again and grunted beneath its weight. With her shoulders burning in fatigue, she tried again.

  Metal hit metal, and a spark of fire hissed from the colliding surfaces. Not broken completely, but damaged. She smiled and dropped the ax in favor of the sword, which she used to pry at the lock until it twisted and gave with a creak protest.

  Sweat beaded on her forehead as she clutched the sword tightly for protection and kept her body low, defensive. Every sound within the prison now seemed foreign and threatening. She paused before doorways before at last bolting forward, heart in her throat, feet barely touching the ground.

  For a brief moment she lost her way and lingered in the middle of an empty corridor. With the aid of torchlight she allowed her gaze to dart left and right until she heard the distant call of birds and knew she'd nearly reached the tunnel leading to the arena.

  Frantically, she doubled back the way she'd come and darted through corridors, making her way south and east until the air smelled more of male than of beasts. The weight of the sword threatened to drag her down, but she refused to abandon her only defense. The moment Turvo realized she had escaped, he'd send guards to fetch her. With reason enough to kill her, they would not hesitated to rape her repeatedly before slitting her throat or tossing her into a pit.

  At last she found her way to Adeno's corner of the prison. She walked past cell after cell, hands groping for the slightest touch of her gown and hair. Already her first venture into the arena's underbelly escaped her mind, and she wondered if she'd walked too far.

  "Adeno?” she questioned.

  None of the dirty faces answered her. She continued until the meager light revealed a cage door ajar at the end of the hall. Her pace stuttered, heart tattooed a wary rhythm in her chest.

  They could have taken him already, sent him to fight the birds in order to test their strength.

  "No,” she begged the darkness. “Oh, please, no."

  The sword's blade scraped the ground, dragged behind her as she forced herself to trudge forward. A rat scurried over her foot, which she ignored once she noticed the dark spots leading out the hall door. For a moment she considered following the trail, but she noticed his weapons remained on the peg.

  "Deno?” she whispered, creeping steadily forward.

  A lump lay in the back of the cell, its breaths wet and shallow. The form trembled, the only movement of crumpled darkness. Her eyes strained to pull the shadows away, and as she widened her eyes, another figure became discernable in the gloom.

  A pudgy hand raised and crashed down. The lump quivered, the hidden chains at both ends pulled taut.

  "Do you feel it burn in your lungs or shall I stab you again? She was to be mine, but you've used her up. Rest assured I am not concerned. Now I will take her and rip her inside and out while you bleed to death here, in your cell. Think of me as your life slips away, think of everything you wanted to do to her and how I'll do it harder, without a shred of mercy. Think of how she'll cry against her binds and beg for you to save her. Think of it, Adeno, think of how worthless and pathetic you've become."

  Adeno grunted, voice muted by the Yarin root. He raised his bound hands as though to shield himself from another blow, but the knife in Turvo's hands came down and jabbed at him. Cloth provided no barrier to iron, and with a strangled scream he violently wrenched back and forth.

  Eyes burning with unshed tears, Nasora stalked forward, the heavy blade no longer a burden in her grasp. She drew it up above her head, determined to end this once and for all.

  "I am no slave,” she said, her voice low and control. She waited, her patience waning as he turned to face her. Piggy eyes bulged, thin lips formed a crooked expression of surprise before the sword's tip thrust deep into his neck. “And neither is Adeno."

  She didn't watch his body tumble or hands grasp the hilt in a worthless attempt to free himself from certain death. Falling to her knees, she rubbed her palms together. Sparks of blue-white light shot from her fingers and the sides of her hands. She groped for Adeno's blood-soaked shirt, ran her hands desperately over his slick chest.

  He struggled to sit up against his bindings, fought to breathe despite the hole ripped into his lungs.

  "Deno, don't move,” she pleaded. Bent at the waist, she kissed his cheeks, touched her mouth to his damp brow. “Conserve your strength."

  "Leave me,” he murmured.

  "I promised I would heal you."

  "It's too late. Go, Nas, before they find you here."

  At first she didn't know what he meant. The static energy in her hands snapped and pulsed, but as she grew weaker, she heard footsteps and loud voices. Men shouted, metal scraped metal, and bright torchlight filled the cage.

  A line of men entered and fanned out, their unfamiliar faces grim. Nasora pressed harder to Adeno's chest, leaked the rest of her strength into the deep, unclean wounds. A woman pushed past the throng of men and stood before Nasora, her flawless skin flushed.

  "Nasora?” her governess gasped.

  Energy sputtered through her fingertips, the last drops of healing failed to close the wound to his neck.

  "Iriana,” Nasora cried. “Please, please don't take me until I know if he's saved."

  Her governess ignored her words. “Step aside, child. Your work here is done."

  "No,” she begged, shielding Adeno's dying body. “No, I won't leave him. I promised him."

  "I said step aside,” Iriana commanded. Full skirts glided across stone and rustled through straw.

  Two men forced Nasora to her feet and dragged her dead weight through the open cell door. She fought until it hurt to breathe and her energy fizzled in her fingertips. She barely noticed the carriage and horses outside the arena entrance, barely realized the men slapped the horses and returned her to the ivy-covered estate. The dawn stained her memory, b
lazing red like the blood on her gown and beneath her fingernails. With nothing else to do, she wept, grieved for herself and her loneliness, and celebrated the dreams Adeno would have again.

  "Dream,” she said as her face sank into her silken pillow. Tears damped her matted hair and the soft, cool bedding. Outside the winds turned cold, the scent hinting at a storm she hoped would churn the sky with violence. “If you're gone, then dream, but I beg of you not to dream of me."

  * * * *

  Steam rose from the perfect, glassy surface of an overfilled bath. The early morning sun shimmered, a warm breeze scenting the room with hints of lavender.

  Nasora cast her gaze around her chamber, knowing she would never see this place again. By nightfall, Iriana's coachmen would deliver her north, over the great pass and out of South Clenath's strangling grasp.

  Her governess had a brother who would see Nasora safely aboard one of his ships. From there, she dictated her own path and consequences, though Iriana promised her dear brother would encourage her toward Coraan, the land ruled by Fae.

  "The Lady of the Fae will welcome your energy there,” Iriana had promised.

  But hesitation continued to tug at her. In body she remained whole, but part of her had withered, and she didn't think she'd survive anywhere. It seemed so long since she'd known anything but the arena that the thought of venturing even into a peaceful land frightened her.

  "It was not your fault,” her governess said softly, her voice an unexpected but welcomed distraction.

  Nasora didn't bother to turn and face the former Healer. With her robe slipping from her shoulders, she dropped flower petals into her bath and disturbed the water's surface. She grimaced, her fingertips still tender from her sapped strength.

  Five nights ago, she'd pushed herself harder than ever before, put all of her life into Adeno's until the guards had dragged her away in a heap of sobs and screams. Driven by passion, she had not prepared herself for the lightning force of her energy, which had left her branded with bone-deep burns.

  "I should have found him sooner,” she said under her breath.

  "You should not have been in the arena at all."

  "Perhaps then I would have allowed him the death he wanted for years."

  "Give yourself time, Nasora,” Iriana gently instructed. “He was property, but even the masters are required to care for their slaves. That is the sole purpose behind Healers, to keep the slaves healthy."

  "But we don't. We bring them suffering."

  "There is no need to argue. Sometimes I wake in the middle of night and swear I smell blood on my bed sheets."

  With a shudder, Nasora merely nodded.

  "You were brave, my dear. If you had not stolen away to find him, no one would have known that Quist Turvo killed Adeno himself. And if you hadn't put a sword through him, he would have been stoned for the mistreatment of his property."

  Nasora burned with anger despite the truth in Iriana's words. No matter what, Adeno bore the title of a slave, not a man. His life held as much worth as a calf meant for slaughter, and just as a farmer held responsibility to nourish his stock, a slave master was required to feed and care for his slaves.

  "That brings me no consolation,” she muttered.

  "And it shouldn't, but that is the nature of the Clenathians. What you did was foolish, but commendable. Most acts of bravery are, Nasora. You are fortunate I have lived here all my life and have earned the respect of this community. No other governess could have pleaded on your behalf with success of earning your pardon."

  No other governess had the funds to speak on her behalf, Nasora thought ruefully.

  From the mirror hung on the wall over the bath, she watched Iriana. Her governess stood almost unnoticed in the arch doorway; a blue-black bird perched on a stand as it pecked seeds and dried fruit from her palm.

  "In time,” Iriana continued, “you will find peace."

  "I do not need time,” she answered morosely. Time equaled opportunities to think of how she should have run faster, how she shouldn't have lost her way. Time proved an enemy, a lingering assailant that chopped through her with every slice of the pendulum.

  "His name was Edion and he died in a fight against two men almost thirty-six years ago. When my governess realized my feelings for him, she refused to let me wander from her gaze. I heard him die while I sat in my chamber. With his last cries I swore no girl beneath my roof would suffer as I did. If I had known..."

  Nasora pressed her eyes shut, heart breaking for her governess. “I had no idea, Governess. I'm sorry."

  "So am I,” Iriana replied. “You have a long journey ahead of you. Enjoy your bath and do try to rest. It does you little good to push yourself."

  The door rustled over a thick woolen carpet and clicked shut. Nasora took a breath.

  "She's right, you know."

  Her eyes fluttered open and found Adeno awake in her bed, long legs stretched out, head resting on a decorative silk pillow. He smiled, his skin still pale with physical pain, but his eyes appeared more alive than she'd ever seen before.

  "You shouldn't push yourself,” he continued. “I'd rather you gave me the privilege of harassing you."

  "As you're good at.” Her smile widened. She skittered toward him and perched herself on the edge of the bed. “When did you wake?"

  "Apparently just in time to watch you bathe,” he answered, his fingers lacing with hers. Surprisingly, his touch proved tolerable, the pads of her fingers resting comfortably against his knuckles.

  She followed his gaze, which had settled on her partially exposed breasts. Through the sheer silk he could easily see each curve of her body from the swell of her hips to the pebbled outline of her full breasts, which was exactly what she wanted him to see the moment he woke.

  "When will you leave?” he questioned.

  "Before nightfall."

  He grunted. They both knew he was in no condition to leave South Clenath for several more days. Perhaps he would follow her when he'd recovered, or perhaps he'd search for his family and hope that a cousin or brother would welcome him home. Iriana had bought his freedom. He could travel as he wished without the worry of another master enslaving him.

  "I thought you were bathing,” he said.

  "I was."

  He lifted a brow as though in question of her robe.

  "Adeno,” she admonished.

  "You should not have offered me the intimacy of your chamber if you didn't want me to watch you."

  She cocked her head to the side and folded her arms, purposely hiding her breasts from his sight. “You need your rest in order to recover,” she murmured, her voice silky and soft.

  "Rest has sustained me, Nas,” he said, his tone a feral growl of need. “I want you to do more than sustain me."

  Her forearms grazed her nipples, but she didn't know if the light friction or his words turned them into tight knots. Unfolding her arms, she knelt over him, brushed her lips to his and ran her fingers through the dark waves of his hair.

  "Tell me what you want,” she breathed in his ear.

  His cock jumped up instantly, the length of him hard against her hand. She caressed him through the soft linen of his loose-fitting trousers. With a trembling hand, he stroked her thigh, long fingers stretching to cover more flesh as he rounded the cleft of her buttocks and found her already damp with expectation.

  Together they moaned and shifted, both relying on their instincts to guide them through the awkwardness of an unfamiliar lover.

  "I'm sorry,” he said between kisses, his hips moving urgently with each stroke of her hand.

  "Me, too.” She chuckled.

  He circled around her tight opening, teased her with his fingers. She groaned, finally able to voice her pleasure without fear of being caught in his arms. He smiled up at her, brought his hand to his mouth and sucked her essence from his finger. “I want to drink from you."

  They exchanged positions and he moved her robe aside in order to see her fully. She watched
the fire in his dark eyes roil, watched him lick his lips in expectation. Her worries for his health immediately vanished once he touched his hot, damp lips to her inner thigh and sucked. At once her back arched to his caresses, her feet planted on the bed to draw her hips up.

  "Tell me you want me to touch you,” he said, his breath hot between her legs.

  "I want you to touch me,” she murmured.

  "How?"

  Her fingers grasped a handful of his hair. “In whatever way makes you need me most, Deno."

  At her words, he laved her thigh in dizzying ecstasy. “I don't think I could want you more than I do right now."

  Every nerve tingled, and she writhed as he kissed the cleft between her legs and rubbed her first with his fingers, then with his tongue. A whimper escaped, an encouraging, small sound of complete pleasure. He inhaled, drawing the scent of her arousal into his lungs before he tasted her.

  She moaned louder than before, her hands finding his shoulders. She kneaded his taut muscles, wanted to beg him to enter her, but she couldn't utter more than a mewing sound of pleasure.

  His lips found her clitoris, tongue circled smooth, hard flesh. Her belly grew tight, the pleasure building from gentle waves to a stronger, more fulfilling throb. His thick fingers teased her swollen labia, and she bore down until the tips filled her.

  "Oh, Deno. Please."

  "You're greedy,” he murmured, kissing, tasting her with each flick of his tongue.

  "I need you.” She pushed his fingers deeper, felt him twist slightly to give her even greater sensation. A moan became a cry of needed release. “I need you inside of me. Now."

  He thrust harder, faster until she could no longer hold back. Another cry filled the room and she convulsed with release, her hips quivering, her clitoris pulsing in swift rhythm to his touch.

  Together they stilled and he kissed the inside of her thigh while his hand stroked her belly. Waves still filled her for long moments until she regained her senses and pulled him close. Her hand reached between their bodies, sliding past his waistband. Fingers tangled in the dark hair surrounding his stiff cock, she grasped him.