by Jane Henry
Decision made, I reach the dilapidated shack I once called home. After a rapid knock on the door, movement stirs inside, and the door opens to me.
“Svali!” my mother breathes, glancing behind me to be sure no wild creatures have followed me, or, worse, the loathsome bragni. The Kleedans are a fearful lot, trained to see danger and prepare for the worst. “Come in!” She ushers me in, quickly bolting the door behind me before pulling me in a tight embrace. “How are you?” she asks. “How did you get here?”
I hug her back, and, when she releases me, I sink into a chair to recount my travels. “I shouldn’t have come,” I say. Tomorrow, the circle of women approaches the Hisrach. I need to be back on Avalere. “I needed to see you again.” One last time before I marry. I needed motivation, a reminder of the need for my self-sacrifice. If I’m going to obey a man, then I must have a very good reason to do so.
A quick scan of the run-down home of my childhood reaffirms my decision. In one corner stands the cot my sister sleeps on, a threadbare drab blanket folded along the bottom. To the right, the tiny room where my mother sleeps, vacant but for the little cot in the corner. My father died years ago in the mines, and my mother has done her best to provide for her daughters with the limited income she earns. The remnants of their evening meal lie on the table: bread and water.
I long for the sweet fruit and creamy richness of kourabi from Avalere. I remove a pouch, pouring out the dried fruit and nuts I’ve brought with me. “Taste,” I say to my sister. Cambri is a few years younger than I, slight, petite, her blonde hair straggly not from dirt but from poor nutrition. I feel guilty my own shiny, golden-brown hair now gleams with health as I’ve thrived on Avalere. The rich nuts, fruits, and meats of Avalere make me feel better than I ever would’ve thought possible. I watched my limbs fill in, my cheeks flesh out, my eyes brighten and my skin glow. I reach to touch Cambri’s wrist, wishing her pale skin could be touched by the rays of the Avalerian sun.
“They’re delicious,” she says, taking another small handful.
I smile. “And there will be much more in due time.”
My mother sits on the worn bench next to me and sighs. “Are you sure you are making the right choice, Svali?” she begins, but I cut her off with a shake of my head.
“Not the right choice,” I correct. “The only choice.”
She frowns but doesn’t object again.
I keep my visit short. I must get back to Avalere soon, and by the time the portal closes behind me on Kleedan, dark murkiness giving way to the soft glow of the Avalerian moons, I am more convinced than ever of my purpose.
I must make myself look like a woman of Avalere. I must marry a warrior. I must bring light and joy to my family…even if that means relinquishing who I am to another.
CHAPTER THREE
Idan
I have no choice but to obey my king. But that does not mean I must do so happily.
I swing the ax down so hard that, after splintering the wood in front of me, the blade sinks deep into the large stump.
Take a woman from the circle. Aldric has not regretted his choice to wed Carina. They are happy together, or at least ostensibly. But does he expect I will find fulfillment in the weaker sex? I scoff, lifting the ax and bringing it down again with a swish and a thud. Sweat glistens on my bare chest, and I mop it away with a rag.
Despite Gregor’s mocking, I am no priest or monk, and I’ve bedded women before. Though I enjoy their curves, the thought of commitment to a stranger I will choose from the ring later today makes me swing the ax with vigor a third time. The log splits in two as if shattered by lightning, the pieces falling to the ground like matchsticks. I do it again, and again, until smooth white firewood and kindling litter the ground. My chest heaving, ignoring the pain from the blisters raised from the handle, I put the ax down and begin stacking the wood in a neat pile. It does not matter, though. This home, the one I have built with my own hands and lovingly crafted to perfection, will soon be a mere vacation home. Tomorrow, my bride and I will settle in our new palace.
I pause, wiping the sweat from my brow, my gaze riveted on the rising sun. At dusk, the rays assume a lavender glow, but, in early morning, pinks and reds light the sky, the blueness as fathomless as the ocean. I inhale the morning air. Avalere is home of the ancients, and there is no place I would rather be. I stretch, feeling the ache and pull along my back and neck muscles, then swipe the sweat from my brow and go to prepare my leaving. Tonight, I shall take a woman as my wife, leaving behind my solitude. I shall do my duty to Avalere.
⊱⟢⋯⟣⊰
The buzz of excitement on Avalere seems to have settled in my gut. Thousands upon thousands of people have come to see the choosing ritual. Dozens of women have studied and invested time in all manner of subjects — foreign languages, the arts, and mathematics—but they’ve also been trained in the art of servitude. Tonight, we will see the most beautiful, the most intelligent, and the most accomplished women Avalere has to offer. Of all who have trained, only a small number have been chosen for tonight.
It is an honor and a privilege to be chosen by a member of the Hisrach. These arranged marriages have suited Avalere well. Aldric and Carina present no exception, though her story is quite unique. She infiltrated the circle as a foreigner. Now, however, steps have been taken so only the most worthy women submit to the Hisrach. She must be of sound mind and spirit, in good health, and well educated. Those chosen will live a life of luxury. Subservience to the Hisrach holds many advantages.
I dined with Aldric earlier, and now sit upon my chair, among my brothers, in front of the circle. I look no farther than the women in front of me, ignoring the music and dance around us. One of these women will be my lifelong companion. One of them will learn to do my bidding, will give birth to our children. One of them will lie beneath me tonight.
Despite my misgivings, my cock hardens at the thought. There will be a decided benefit from the choosing this evening.
“Are you ready, Idan?” Gregor asks. A large, dark warrior with brooding eyes and a shock of black hair, Gregor is one of my closest friends. He has preened for the choosing, his hair combed, his beard braided. Like all of us, he is bare-chested, displaying the black markings of the Hisrach along his shoulders, the trademark permanent tattoos given to those of highest order.
I shrug. “Of course I am ready,” I scoff. “Always ready to do the bidding of the king.”
Gregor snorts, leaning in. “I bet you are ready to bury your cock in the gorgeous pussy you will bed tonight.”
I shrug but do not respond.
He shakes his head. “I am more than ready to choose a woman.” Gregor squares his shoulders and faces the crowd. Large of stature and sure of himself, Gregor exemplifies Avalerian virility and strength.
“You choose first, then,” I say. As Aldric has chosen me to be Duke, I could have first pick, but I’d like to observe a bit longer before I choose. Gregor grins.
“Remember.” Aldric rounds the corner and assumes his throne. “Though you’ll choose a woman tonight, it will be your duty and honor not only to train her but to treat her with kindness. Yes, she will be subservient to you, and you will command your beds and homes. However, these women forfeit family and freedom to pledge obedience to you.” He pauses, allowing his words to settle. “You must treat their submission and obedience with care.”
I nod. My servants are loyal and attentive, and I treat them fairly. I will not treat my wife any differently.
The beating of drums signifies the choosing ceremony is at hand. Torches flicker in the night sky, and children dance in circles on the outskirts of the center ring. The warriors of Avalere, one dozen hardened men, large of stature and stern, the fiercest warriors Avalere has to offer among the droves of soldiers, assume their thrones.
And now, as the choosing is imminent, anticipation curls in my stomach. Though Gregor mocks— tonight I will bed one of those beautiful women in front of me. What will her name be? What will
her voice sound like? Will she be a pliable, compliant woman, or a feisty one who needs a firm hand? I will do my best to choose a docile woman. I have no time or patience for training a quarrelsome or headstrong woman. Her needs will be met, as will mine. Our arrangement will serve a utilitarian purpose.
The beautiful women dance, dressed in short tunics, their hair adorned with golden trinkets and jewels, so lovely I wonder how I will choose. One graceful, slender blonde, her hair piled high upon her head, casts her eyes down in submission to the Hisrach. Her shoulders are slim and tanned, her body fluid as she partakes in the dance. I wonder if she would be a fitting mate.
Gregor and I, the two who will choose from the circle first, stand, Aldric between us. “Mind your intuition,” he murmurs. “When I chose Carina, her prana vitae spoke to me. Your instincts will alert you. Once you choose, your binding will begin.” Out of respect for the king, I stifle the desire to scoff. I am aware of the Avalerian’s ties to nature and intuition. As a warrior of the Highest Order, I cannot help but be mindful of the fact some of our leaders, including Aldric, have trained their natural instincts so they rely on more than reason. But I was raised with pragmatic intellect.
I watch the women approach Gregor, the blonde moving in time to the music. Gregor remains impassive until a petite, curvy brunette, with curls piled atop her head, approaches. Shy and a bit awkward, she stumbles in front of him. He reaches to steady her so she does not fall, and when he does, they both freeze. She raises her gaze to his, and I see it then — something has shifted.
“Come with me,” Gregor commands. I blink. They seem as if they have always been together. She fits under his arm, and I feel as if I have seen them together before. I shake my head. Perhaps the wine has affected me more than I realize. I am dimly aware of Gregor and his woman walking away from the circle. Aldric’s arm encircles me, and he pulls me closer to the ring.
“Be alert,” he whispers in my ear. “You will know.”
The thin, graceful blonde curtsies in front of me. Not the woman I will choose. I look at the others still present, six in all, and though lovely, none has garnered my attention. Perhaps I overthink this. Yes, my future wife will accompany me to my new destination, but I am not fool enough to think love or anything so ephemeral will impact me in the least.
A woman with auburn hair twirls in front of me and again, I feel impassive, not attracted in the least to her curves or beauty. A third approaches, and then a fourth.
Though I respect Aldric, he was wrong. None moves me.
Aldric raises a brow. “Well? All have approached? Do you have a decision?” I go through one at a time again, looking for something, anything that might spark my interest. I assumed this would be an easy task. Surely, a little time with each woman might have helped? Are they all literate? Skilled? What if I choose one with a high-pitched voice that sets my nerves on edge?
All these thoughts and more swirl through my head, as I postpone the inevitable. “No, my lord. But I will choose.”
“The night grows cold, Idan,” Aldric warns. “Trust your intuition.” The repeated admonition to trust my instincts aggravates me. My fists clench, my jaw tightens, and though I say nothing in response, Aldric notices.
“Be angry if you like,” he murmurs, tapping his foot in time to the music. “But if you do not choose, I shall do so for you.”
I try to catch the eye of the auburn-haired beauty. If I can meet her gaze, perhaps I will know — and when I take a step toward the ring, I feel it, the pull in my gut, my warrior instincts on high alert.
When in battle, I can see all with perfect clarity and vision, every hair on the head of my enemy, my peripheral vision noting every move and pulse throbbing in the veins of my foes, my senses hyper-focused. It is the same now.
Suddenly, I do not stand merely in front of a circle of dancing women. Now, there is only one.
Raven hair crowns her head, her eyes a dark-chocolate brown. Something tells me I know her, but I do not. I would not have forgotten her. Long waves of midnight hair, unadorned like the others, flow to her waist. I would have remembered her full, lush body and creamy thighs, bare as she dances like an enchantress, small feet moving in time to the music.
Aldric speaks beside me. “There were six. And now there are seven. The perfect number. When did the seventh enter? I did not see.”
Centuries of tradition have taught us nothing more than superstition? There is no perfect number. But perhaps there is a perfect woman, and she stands before me.
His words and the crowd fade away as the raven-haired woman draws near.
I have lost control of my senses. The music seems louder, the lights brighter, as she stands in front of me. Her eyes are bright, not submissive like those of the women who approached before, but vibrant and defiant. She does not welcome me to take her. She does not offer herself to me. She challenges me to do so.
When she bows her head, I detect mockery. Her lips curl up ever so slightly at the edges. My palm itches to tame her, to connect with her curvy backside, to teach her manners. I want to bury my cock in her and prove I am her master.
Beside me, Aldric chuckles. Why does he laugh? There is nothing amusing about the vixen who taunts me to tame her. She takes one more step, comes within my reach. I grasp her, my fingers wrapping around her wrists, pulling her to me, her warmth against my skin, her breath mingling with mine. She blinks, startled, as my arm encircles her waist.
Aldric raises my fist in the air.
“He has chosen!” The cheers of the crowd, loud and tumultuous, rise in the darkness as the warmth of the woman in my arms seeps through me. Aldric escorts us, the woman tucked up against me. My senses are overwhelmed by the warmth of her skin and the fragrance of her hair. I long to have her alone.
The choosing is the first part of the ceremony. She becomes my wife when I bed her.
We are escorted to the carriage that awaits us. Tonight, we will be brought to our new home and servants. Aldric stands aside my horse, and bows his head. “Congratulations, my friend.” He takes the hand of my woman and kisses the back. “I bid you well.” He looks back to me. “Tonight, you have your space and privacy. Tomorrow you two will join me and Carina at our home, and you and I will discuss what we must do next.”
“Yes, my lord.” I hoist my woman up to sit and join her. With a snap of the reins, our driver has us bustling out of the marketplace of Avalere and toward the woods, past the crowds and lights and away into the night, to our new home. Our future.
My woman sits upright next to me, hands folded upon her lap, the night enveloped in stillness and quiet. I take her small palm in mine. Hers is damp. Was her bravado a front? Though I face a new throne and duties, she has given herself over to a warrior of the highest order. Does she fear me? I hope she does. A little fear would be beneficial.
“Your name?”
Her impish face smiles at me, her eyes wary and a bit sad. “My name?” she asks.
“Yes, woman,” I say, my impatience growing. “Your name, please.”
Her eyes flit from mine as she looks toward the forest. Her reluctance to tell me her name rouses my suspicion. What is she hiding? Have I been enchanted?
When she answers, her eyes do not meet mine. “Trina.”
The woman lies.
My grip on her hand tightens, and she will not look at me when I but ask her name? Her voice falters a bit when she speaks. I will find out her name, and she will learn I value both obedience and honesty. I yearn to grip her dark hair and pull, eliciting truth from her. How dare she lie to me? But I must maintain my composure.
For now.
“And yours?”
I wait until she looks at me, allowing her to see my displeasure before I reply. “My name is Idan,” I tell her. “But you will call me ‘my lord’ unless bidden to do otherwise.”
She blinks, then acquiesces with the faintest nod. “Yes, my lord.”
She will learn I am her master before daybreak.
⊱�
�⋯⟣⊰
Aldric has readied our new home, but I have not yet even seen the inside, much less the lands comprising my dominion. Though I will be under the overlordship of Aldric and his throne in central Avalere, here I will see to the needs of those who have settled to the east of the main city. I will think of that tomorrow, however.
Tonight, I must consummate our marriage. When my new wife learns the way I will lead, she will submit to my authority. Though we have no formal ceremony, I will make her mine.
“Are you hungry?” I ask. She looks away as the forest flits past the swiftly-moving carriage.
“A bit,” she says, her hands resting on her lap.
“When we arrive at our new home, I will see to it we eat before we get to know each other further.” She shifts on her seat and nods.
She will learn to obey me.
“Woman, when I address you, you will refer to me as ‘my lord.’ Do you understand?”
I detect more than curiosity in her dark eyes. Resentment? Anger? Something unsettling lies beneath her calm facade. “Yes, my lord,” she says, her tone spiteful.
She has much to learn.
“Are you aware of your duty to me?”
“Yes, my lord.” A smile plays on her lips. “I’m to allow you to bed me.” She pauses, an impish smile playing at her lips. “I must do your bidding, and serve you as your submissive wife. Have I summed it up correctly?” Her teeth gleam in the light of the moons, perfectly straight, her rose-red lips full and luscious.
“Yes,” I insist. “My duty is to King Aldric, and your duty is to me. I will see to your needs, and reward you for giving yourself to me. But I will expect nothing short of complete obedience and servitude. Do you know the story of the night King Aldric chose Carina from the circle?” It was a night Avalerians remember. Perhaps being reminded of Carina’s ignominious entry to Avalere will serve the little vixen well.
Her gaze shifts to the forest again before returning to me. “No, my lord.”
