by AJ Adams
I couldn’t think of anything, so after I licked the final bits of custard from the bowl, I washed again. The copper had been refilled and there was soap, too. I love being clean, so it was heaven to be fresh and sweetly scented.
Afterward I spent a happy hour trying on my new clothes. I tried not to be interested, to show Ware I’d not be manipulated, but I couldn’t help but be excited.
The tunics were beautiful, woven from the best Caern linen, one blue and one apple green. They were low cut, designed so that the shift underneath was visible. Caern girls are saucy, so their skirts are short to show off their ankles, and their shifts are frilly, not plain cut. My new shifts were cream, yellow, red and black.
Yes, I know. Four of them. I’d never had anything new before, and now I had all these treasures! Except, my head reminded me, they weren’t mine.
The clothes were props. Ware had a new acquisition, me, and as I looked like shit, and he had only good stuff, he was dressing me up. If he junked me tomorrow, my replacement would get my gear. The jongleur had done the same thing with my juggling and tightrope kit.
Still, it’s hard to be cynical when you’ve got pretty things, a super comfy room, a mirror and lots of free time. I tried everything on and apart from cursing the restraints I enjoyed myself. I pretended I was a princess, rich, powerful and pretty, and for a few glorious hours I really felt it.
Afterwards I went through Ware’s things. There was a small chest with a lock but the bigger chest that held his clothes was open. The shackles meant I couldn’t try the hose or breeches, but he had tunics, and I tried on all of them. It was glorious stuff, rich cloth and beautifully worked, so I had a blast.
However, at that point the heavy shackles were bruising my ankles and I had to stop moving around. I lay in front of the fire, feet well away from the heat, and considered how to get away. I fell asleep about two minutes later.
I woke up in the dark because there was a gust of cold air. The door opened and Ware came in. There was only the light of the fire, but even so, he looked dreadful.
He was carrying his tunic, dressed just in his shirt, and it was covered in muck. His breeches were smeared in it, too. His face was drawn, his brow furrowed and his cheekbones standing out like knives. His eyes looked black, soulless.
I’m telling you, the dark ones from Svartalfheim were nothing compared to the fletcher.
He stood there for a moment and then turned abruptly and marched out again. A few minutes later I heard the sound of the pump in the courtyard. Ware was scrubbing himself clean, and by the look of him, it would take a while.
I lay by the fire, wondering what on earth he’d been doing. Whatever it was, it looked nasty. When the pump stopped, I lay still, pretending to be asleep. I was hoping he’d go to bed and leave me alone. After all, I reasoned, he was pissed off with me, and thralls sleep on the floor.
But Ware was of course different. He marched in and then he was over, unlocking the shackles. He was shivering from the cold night’s air. He was white as milk, too. “Strip and get into bed.”
I got.
Ware added logs to the fire and slid under the covers. He was frozen to the bone. “Come here.” It was the first time I’d ever been used as a personal warming pan.
Ware wrapped himself around me, burying his face in my hair and just holding onto me. It was the oddest thing, but I suddenly had the feeling he wasn’t after heat as much as comfort.
Strange, huh? As if Ware Fletcher, master craftsman and master of pretty much everything, needed me. But I felt it, and so I found myself running my hands over his back, rubbing him warm.
His breath was gentle on my neck, and then his cock was digging into me. The muscles were flexing and his grip was relaxing. The delicious scent, clean and woody, was flowing over me again. It hadn’t been the bow; it was his own natural perfume.
He was moving his hands over my shoulder blades, fingers digging in and massaging. It was heaven. I was arching, moving along with the questing fingers. They moved up to my neck, working on the skin under my collar, and then over my shoulders. By that time, I had melted into a puddle.
I floated away, teased into heaven by those clever digits. I was vaguely aware of his cock between my legs, brushing over my clit. Heaven became damp. Pulses of bliss began travelling through me. My breath shortened and then I was gasping, holding on to Ware, writhing as that hard hotness stroked and those firm hands caressed.
He shifted, moving over me, that iron-hard tower leaning against me. For a second I stiffened, and the impulse to shove him off me surged through me, but he dipped his head, his lips brushing my ear. “Lind, do what you did last night.”
It wasn’t a command; it was a whispered plea.
I hesitated and then my arms were sliding over his back, my nails gently raking his skin.
“Lind.”
He was shuddering, his lips brushing my neck, dipping to my collarbones. I moaned and he was flexing his hips, impaling me in one hard thrust. The feel of him inside me, the hard arms that cinched around me, pulling me close, shifting my body into overdrive.
He ground against me, driving the pulsing waves of bliss into earthquakes of rapture. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—my legs came up around his waist, my ankles crossing behind his back, and then I was wailing, shattering into pieces.
“Lind. Sweet Lind.”
I was vaguely aware of Ware powering into me, driving that hot cock in and out, clutching me closely as he fucked me. I clung to him, shimmering, writhing and thrusting to his rhythm in ecstatic harmony. I pulsed and writhed, moaned and sighed, and then my body was floating again, driven to the heights of wild desire.
“Don’t-stop-don’t-stop-don’t-stop!”
That was me, squealing as I came again. It drove him wild. He was pulling out and slamming back in, all the while those hands were gripping me tight, holding me against him. The sweat ran off him, mingling with mine, our bodies burning as they danced together.
“Lind!”
He came in shuddering waves, exploding inside me. As he came, he groaned, clutching at me while his hips thrust against me in sharp staccato bursts. He slowed, grinding against me in small circles. I was clenching, milking every last shiver of pleasure out of it.
When we finally slowed and stopped, our breaths were ragged as we sucked in air. Every inch of my skin felt electric, super sensitive to every motion so that the moisture dripping down my sides sent waves of pleasure washing through me.
“Tender beauty.”
I got a kiss and then he was sliding off me, hugging me closely. I folded into him, completely supine as my breath and brain dissolved. I wasn’t thinking about anything, except for being comfy. I burrowed, snug as a rabbit in a warren, and dozed off.
His hands were moving me, rolling me on my side. I half-woke and was about to nod off again when there was the clink of a chain. “Hey, wait.” Ware was reaching for the shackles. “No!”
The steel eyes were dark. “I want to wake up, Lind.”
That stopped me in my tracks. I’d forgotten I’d tried to kill him. The night before seemed a year ago. A cuff clicked home on an ankle, and then Ware was securing the other to a post at the end of the bed. I was still staring, trying to think, when he got up and put the key on his toolbox on the far side of the room.
“Think that will keep you safe?”
Tyr should send me a message to shut my big mouth maybe.
Anyone else would’ve belted me, but Ware climbed back into bed. “I guess I’ll know in the morning.”
He was totally calm, showing neither a bit of the rage from the afternoon nor the despair that had haunted him that night. It was totally baffling. I didn’t know what to make of it.
I was still wondering when he put a hand on my hip and rolled me onto my side. “Sweet dreams, Lind.”
Then he put his arm around me and went to sleep. Crazy, right?
I lay there, trying to figure out what game he was playing. Why did he wa
nt me? Dressing me up, feeding me and trying to mould me seemed too much effort for a man who could buy whatever he wanted. He had to be insane; any man in his senses would’ve sold me.
I couldn’t understand him, but what I did know was that we’d had the most incredible sex ever. Although the pig Jarvis had soured me, it wasn’t the first time I’d enjoyed myself in bed. The jongleur had taught me a lot about pleasure, and many of the soldiers and the smith had been okay, too. But the fletcher was in a different league. No-one had ever made me scream with delight before.
I was grateful, but then there was the chain. I’d take it as punishment except Ware wasn’t mad at me. That was reassuring.
Then again, he was still acting the classic master. He’d ordered me about, pushed me into bed and taken me. It made me mad at him except for the fact that it had been awesome.
So I went round and round, worrying without getting anywhere, until I fell into a dreamless sleep.
When I woke up, Ware was unchaining me. The flagpole was up again, too. There’s no point arguing with men suffering from morning glory. I was thinking that maybe it would be like the night before, but I got a bit of fingering and then it was heave-ho.
It was okay. I mean, pig Jarvis used to be fast and brutal, but Ware hugged and was careful. So it didn’t bother me, but I found myself a little disappointed. When he was done, rubbing a friendly hand in my hair, I was thinking that in the future he might be a little slower so I could have fun, too.
Of course that got me wondering again: if I was planning on running, why was I thinking about a future with Ware? It was extremely annoying.
Ware was smiling though. Relaxed from fucking. “Wear the apple green today.” That was no problem. It was lovely. “Breakfast and hot chocolate.” That sounded good, too. He was pushing me out of bed. “Wash first. I booked us the bath.”
That’s when I discovered the rich really do live differently. When you’re a thrall or a foot soldier, you jump in the river or take advantage of the rain. When you’re rolling in silver pennies, you can bathe indoors!
The big copper bath stood in a little closed room, fed by a pump and a rain barrel on the roof. There was soap, too. Ware just stripped and washed, immune to the luxury. Me, I was in complete heaven, splashing about in soapy suds.
I could’ve stayed for a year, but Ware eventually dragged me out. “You’re wrinkled like a raisin.”
“And just as sweet.”
I was happy and talking back without thinking. Ware didn’t mind, though. He just laughed. Rudely, I must say. There was a sarcastic edge to it. But I got breakfast, hot chocolate and bread, fresh from the oven. Totally delicious.
Ware was quiet, turning something over in his mind. I was wondering what he’d do next. Yesterday’s plan had been to woo me with riches and then scare me. It hadn’t worked, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try again. Frankly, the thought made me nervous. I was remembering how efficiently he’d beaten those thugs. They’d been armed, too, but all I had was attitude.
After breakfast we went back upstairs with Ware rummaging in the locked little box. He was mysterious about it so I didn’t see what he was taking out. He shoved whatever it was in a bag, and then we were moving again.
“Come on, let’s check on Wolf.”
The horse was fine. Being groomed and fed, he was looking perfectly content. Ware was talking to him as if he were human. “Our trip’s been delayed as I’ve a job to do first, Wolf. Enjoy the oats and rest while you can.”
So we weren’t staying in Caern forever. That was good news. Stuck in the city, I had eyes on me all the time, but once we left, freedom would be steps away. Caern’s perched on a mountain so it’s all rocks, but once you get down from there, the roads are surrounded by forest. All I’d need was Ware’s attention to be off me for an hour—less if I ran fast. I’d just disappear.
“Come, Lind.”
I followed Ware, a plan evolving as we walked. I’d stay nice and humble for the few days we were in the city, enjoying the amazing food, the soft feather four-poster and maybe having some more sex. Not the whammo kind but the good stuff. Then I’d trot alongside Ware, looking like a new thrall, leave the city behind and skedaddle. Yes, it would be perfect.
As we’d slept way past dawn and dawdled in the bath, time was getting on. The market was crowded, and Ware took me by the hand as soon as he spotted the press of people. His grip was like a vise.
“I can follow you, you know.”
“Aha.”
“You’re hurting.”
The grip loosened, but he didn’t let go. Ware didn’t trust me. That was okay. I’d lull him soon enough.
We were crossing town, the duke’s palace looming up in front of us, its shiny new tower glinting in the sun. We must be off visiting someone. The constable maybe. But we walked right past the front doors. Not his soldier friend then.
“Make way for the justiciar!”
The crowd surged as the duke’s men pushed through the crowd. They were dragging hurdles, three of them. Ware’s hand tightened again, but I hardly noticed because the hurdles carried the three thugs.
They were barely recognisable as the men who’d attacked us the day before. These men had been tortured. Pincers and burning brands had been the least of it. One of them had died, and the other two were being dragged to the scaffold because their bodies had been torn apart.
The crowd looked on the hurdles, tongues hushed in happy horror. The thugs had been stripped, probably so that everyone would see and fear justice. Nobles do that. They think it makes us afraid of rebelling. Actually, it was working. My stomach was turning and my knees were going weak.
“Come, Lind.”
Ware was pulling me along. Unlike the day before when he’d tried to scare me, this time he was trying to move away from the scene, but the press of people had us pinned. The hurdles came nearer. They moved past, just inches away from us.
“Don’t look, Lind.”
It was too late. I’d already seen. I felt sick, my insides heaving. I shut my eyes, determined not to look. Rage was flooding through me. The thugs were bad men, but this was simply sickening. I wanted to burn down the palace, to kill the torturer who’d done this and the nobles who’d ordered it.
The fury was hot and bright, kindling my courage. I opened my eyes and looked straight at the hurdles.
One of the thugs had opened his eyes. He looked at me, I looked at him, and then he spotted Ware. Instantly he stiffened. His eyes bulged in fear, and then he was screaming.
The raw shrill wail signalled complete and total panic. It tore through the crowd like a wolf among a flock of sheep. People began crying, shoving at each other in a primal spurt for survival. They didn’t know why they were afraid; they just knew they had to get away.
If there had been fewer people, there would have been deaths from a stampede. Thankfully the crush was tremendous, so much so that we were trapped. Ware’s iron embrace kept me safe. He pushed a little space around us, lifted me up, turned me around and pushed my face into his cloak. “We’re stuck for a while. Don’t look, Lind.”
I didn’t see but I heard every bit of the execution. They were hanged, which should’ve been fast but as neither man could stand, they had to be held up.
There was a drum roll. “For ten counts of robbery, and one of destruction of property, to wit, one thrall, you are hereby sentenced to death by slow hanging.”
Slow hanging, oh fuck. Usually the hangman strings you up and drops you fast so your neck snaps. It takes just a second. With slow hanging they put the noose around your neck and lift you off the ground. If you’re lucky, you pass out two minutes later and suffocate. If you’re unlucky, they lower you to your feet, let you catch your breath and you get to do it all over again.
The thugs had been brave in the alley, but at the prospect of death they were wrecks.
“No-no-no! I don’t want to die!”
“Ohmigod-ohmigod, make them stop!”
“Wota
n save me!”
The screams went straight through me. I was shaking, wanting to yell, but the horror made me feel faint and sick, too. Ware’s arms were around me, hugging me tightly, but there was no way he could make me deaf.
The hanging took an hour, the men crying the entire time.
“Ohmigod-ohmigod, for mercy’s sake stop!”
“Wotan help me!”
When it was finally over, the justiciar was shouting again. “See and learn from the duke’s example. Obey the law! And may Wotan have mercy on the souls of those who break it.”
It was over. The crowd began to move, the press loosening.
“With me, Lind.”
Ware scooped me up, moving slickly through the press. I was numb, horrified by sick knowledge. The muck on his clothes the night before had been blood. It hadn’t been the duke’s men working in the torture chamber. It had been Ware.
I fell into a faint, my mind shutting down to avoid the horror. When I came to, we were in the smith’s forge. Ware was talking, holding something in his hands. “Yes, this is perfect. A very neat job.”
“It’s lovely to work with. Good quality metal.”
“All eastern nobles have a silver teacup.”
“Ah, I wondered where it came from. Spoils of war?”
“Yes,” Ware nodded.
“Would this be from the Serif of Flamestead?”
“It was his,” Ware agreed. “Now, I want you to be careful.”
“Of course.” The smith sounded affronted. “It’s a work of beauty.”
“I meant be careful with the girl.” Ware stepped over, his eyes the same colour as the smith’s pincers. “Lift your chin, Lind.”
I was still blurred, not quite realising what was going on. Ware’s finger was pushing up my chin. I felt a slight jarring and there was the sound of snapping metal. For a moment the pressure that was always on my neck vanished.
Before I realised what had happened, there was a cool encircling touch. “Look left, Lind.” He was turning my head, lifting my hair to the side. There was a brief tapping, reverberating through my jaw and teeth.
