Savage Kingdom

by Deanna Ashford

  Dedication

  To Steve, Kate and James for their love and encouragement.

  Chapter One

  The last golden rays of the setting sun dipped below the high crenellated stone walls of the huge fortress, leaving the bailey of the castle bathed in the gloom of approaching night. This was usually Nerya’s favorite part of the day. Often she would just stand here and look up at the glorious sunset, watching the play of light and colors across the sky, but she had no time to admire the beauty of nature this evening. She barely noticed the flock of small birds flying low across the bailey and soaring high above the walls, making their way toward the thick forest which snaked along the western borders of Freygard. Nerya’s mind was focused on more troubling matters as she walked toward the squat stone building attached to the slave quarters.

  She was no innocent. Nerya had been to the coupling chambers on two previous occasions. Both times she’d found it an awkward and rather embarrassing experience. Nevertheless, duty came before personal feelings. All the women of Freygard, on reaching the age of maturity, were required to visit the coupling chambers on a regular basis until they’d conceived at least one child. It was just the way of things, she reminded herself. The custom had continued for centuries, and no doubt it would continue for many centuries more.

  Bracing herself, Nerya pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  “There you are.” The slave mistress Murana spoke rather curtly.

  Nerya pulled the door shut behind her. “I’m not late.”

  “You have been late before.” Murana frowned.

  “I was busy,” Nerya replied. Murana was unpopular with all the warriors as she was an ill-tempered woman who overreached her authority whenever she could. “Just like everyone else, I have other duties to perform.”

  “No doubt you have, Captain Nerya. After all, you’re one of our most renowned warriors. I shouldn’t forget that, now, should I?”

  Ignoring the sarcasm tinting Murana’s words, Nerya withdrew her sword and dagger and laid them on a wooden table. “I’m certain you do not forget who I am for one moment.”

  Murana picked up the weapons and placed them in a sturdy cupboard. “I have a special surprise for you this evening.” She smiled rather too smugly as she locked the cupboard door and tucked the key in a leather pouch fixed to her belt.

  “Surprise?” Nerya’s heart sank.

  “Yes, fresh meat.”

  Murana must have allocated her one of the new captives. Nerya managed to display no concern, even though Murana’s words unsettled her. Queen Danara had recently decreed they were to use these recently captured warriors in the coupling chambers, even before they’d been properly broken into slavery. The men of Freygard had been slaves for many generations and were by nature obedient and compliant. Freygard’s future could well depend on breeding stronger and more determined warriors to help defend the kingdom. The queen was convinced the seed of these captives would improve and strengthen their bloodline.

  Their borders had been closed to outsiders for many generations. It was a policy that had helped their race and their customs survive. In the past they’d been untroubled by the lands surrounding Freygard, but in the last year or so there’d been a worrying number of incursions into their territories by bands of heavily armed raiders. They appeared to bear no allegiance to any particular country, but Queen Danara suspected one of their neighbors might have some involvement in these incursions. They had to be prepared, just in case.

  “I’m no expert at breaking captives.”

  “He’s disobedient.” Murana shrugged her skinny shoulders. “And he has a lot to learn about being a slave, so I’ve had him chained. I’m certain an acclaimed warrior such as you, Nerya, will be able to handle him with little difficulty.”

  Nerya undid the leather straps holding her chased metal breastplate together. “I have no doubt I will,” she replied, tartness concealing her unease. After placing the breastplate on the table, she removed her short leather skirt. Nerya had just spent a couple of hours in the practice arena instructing the young warrior recruits. Perspiration molded the thin linen undertunic to her body, and most likely she didn’t smell so sweet. Why should she worry? The man Murana had chosen might be a new captive but he was still a slave and they didn’t dare complain. Slaves just did as they were told.

  “I’ve left wine in the room for you.” Narrowing her eyes, Murana stared at Nerya. “As you know, some of our visitors choose to give a little to the new slaves, to relax them. Remember, not too much, though. It can stop them getting an erection.”

  “We wouldn’t want him to be unable to perform, now would we?” She managed to hide her true feelings, although it wasn’t easy. She would not display weakness in front of Murana. It was, after all, her duty to do this—a duty she of all people could not avoid. “Which room? I cannot remain here for long. I have a number of reports to write.”

  “In there.” Murana pointed toward the last door on the right.

  Nerya strode forward, slid back the bolt and pushed open the door. Her previous two experiences had been awkward and not at all enjoyable. Coupling with male slaves was not meant to be enjoyed. It was just one of those strange anomalies of nature that one needed male seed to become pregnant. Some of her warrior comrades claimed the act could be quite pleasant, even physically satisfying on occasion. Nerya couldn’t bring herself to believe them. All the women of Freygard had been taught from early childhood that sexual congress between females was where the true pleasure lay.

  Nerya pushed the door shut and glanced toward the bed. By the gods! She’d expected a warrior, but not this. Chained to the bed was the most threateningly masculine creature she’d ever laid eyes on in her entire life.

  She stepped over to the table and poured herself a large goblet of wine. After drinking it down in a couple of swallows, Nerya pulled herself together and turned to examine him again. The slave lounged against the pillows, seeming untroubled by his plight. He was totally naked apart from a blue linen tunic draped across his groin, and his obsidian eyes stared at her in a disdainful, almost predatory manner that angered her and yet oddly enough stimulated her at the same time.

  This one would be a challenge—there was no doubt about that.

  Nerya never underestimated her opponents in battle, and she had no intention of underestimating this slave. He was dangerous. She wanted to face a man like this fully armored and with a sword in her hand, not in the coupling chamber skimpily clad in only a thin linen tunic.

  It was difficult to gauge his height when he was sitting on the bed, legs outstretched, but he appeared to be at least a head or so taller than her. His skin had a dusky tint, looking even darker compared to the pristine whiteness of the linen sheet. She supposed if she were to consider him objectively, he was in fact a fine specimen. His body was a mass of corded muscle, with a wide, well-defined chest, narrow waist and lean hips. She had to admit she was somewhat relieved to see his arms were held fast above his head by chains.

  She took another sip of wine, trying to ignore the fact he was curiously examining her as she examined him. She felt an unwanted warmth color her cheeks. Why was she letting this situation trouble her so much? The slave’s appearance had no bearing on this coupling. All she should be concerned about was that he had a good physique and was most likely a formidable warrior; therefore his seed should be powerful.

  Yet he had the gall to lounge there staring insolently at her, displaying none of the expected demeanor of a slave, and her cheeks became even warmer as she realized he stared intently at her breasts. The damp linen tunic stuck to her full curves and, under the thin covering, her nipples hardened into firm peaks. “Don’t stare at me, slave,” she snapped.

  Oddly enough, fo
r a man he was remarkably pleasing to the eye. His features were strong and symmetrical, his cheekbones high and well-defined, while his nose was straight and aquiline. His mouth was maybe a little too wide, but not girlishly full, and his long, raven-black hair fell in a silky mass around his shoulders. It was his eyes that troubled her most as he stared at her with such insolence it almost took her breath away.

  He was bold and appeared unafraid, something she wasn’t accustomed to in a slave. Nerya was suddenly tempted to run her fingers over his dusky skin and gauge the strength of his muscles that appeared to be carved from something far harder than living flesh. She’d never seen a slave as magnificent as this creature and now, for some inexplicable reason, the blood began to sing wildly through her veins.

  He smiled at her: a bold expression of wry amusement that irritated her intensely. “I told you not to look at me like that. Do you understand what I say?”

  “Of course,” he replied in a deep voice. He glanced at the goblet she held. “Is there any wine for me?”

  “Wine for you?” She took another long, very deliberate swallow as she paused a pace or so from the bed. “Should there be?”

  “I heard you feed your slaves nothing but bread and water.” He shrugged. “Perhaps that’s true. Most of the slaves I’ve seen here so far have been pitiful creatures.”

  “They are well fed. We don’t starve slaves.” Nerya stalked back to the table and slopped more wine into her goblet. Ignoring the puddle she’d spilt on the table, she took a couple more fortifying gulps of the rich red liquid. She’d had little to do with new prisoners before. Nerya had captured a number of intruders, but once they were brought back to the castle, they were handed over to Murana, who dealt with them as she thought fit. It was part of the slave mistress’s duties to teach them to be compliant slaves.

  “In that case, do I get offered wine?”

  She saw no harm in allowing him a little. “You may try some.” Nerya stepped closer to the bed.

  “I cannot take the goblet from you with my arms fastened above my head like this. Perhaps you would unchain me?”

  “I would not be so foolish.” Nerya held the goblet to his lips. “Drink.” Tipping it, she allowed him to take a couple of long gulps.

  “Not bad,” he admitted with a wry smile. “But I’ve tasted finer in Percheron.”

  Percheron was a land to the southwest of Freygard. Judging by his dusky skin, she’d thought he came from somewhere much farther south. But what did it matter to her where this man came from? She had a task to perform, and she had to carry it out. “Have more.” She pressed the goblet to his lips again.

  His arrogance unsettled her, and the thought of having to couple with him troubled her more than she cared to admit. Perhaps, if he drank enough, he might become incapable of completing his task. Then she could retire without losing face.

  “No.” He eased his head back a shade. “I think it wiser to keep my wits about me in the circumstances.”

  “Wits?” She straightened. “I’ve found that most males are stupid compared to women.” It struck her that his eyelashes were far too long and luxuriant for a man. And the spicy masculine odor that exuded from his warm flesh attracted her. This man was an inferior being. What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t find him so appealing.

  “If I’m as stupid as you say I am, then should I not ask why I’m here?”

  “Were you not told?”

  “No. Should I have been?” His expression was troublingly innocent. “I’ve been kept in isolation ever since I was captured. An ugly, skinny female had her slaves bring me here, and it struck me they were all terrified of her.” He shrugged. “I don’t recall her giving me any instructions.”

  Had Murana not even bothered to explain what was expected of him? That was her job. What was the woman thinking? “The slaves were right to be terrified,” Nerya said. “We hold the power of life and death over all men in Freygard, slave.”

  “Jaden,” he said. “My name is Jaden.”

  “Names of slaves do not concern me.”

  “Then it must be very difficult when you issue commands and there is more than one slave around.” He grinned.

  “Flippancy will not make me more lenient with you.” She frowned. “You deserve a whipping for your insolence.” It was a threat she would not carry out. She’d never been a supporter of such extreme punishments, and she thought it a pity to even consider despoiling such pleasing looks. “I should warn you we do not ransom prisoners in Freygard.” Jaden’s arrogance led her to believe she was dealing with no common bandit here, but a man of some importance. “Even those of noble blood.”

  “Don’t you think that rather foolish?”

  “Queen Danara refuses to ransom prisoners. It has never been our custom to do so. The moment you crossed into our land, you became a slave.”

  “But I did not cross your border. My men and I were in territory belonging to Percheron when we were attacked.”

  “I didn’t come here for a discussion on why or where you were captured.” His attitude frustrated her, making her feel she was not fully in control of this situation, when she knew she should be.

  “Then why did you come?”

  Nerya’s stomach tightened, forming a knot deep in her groin, and her breasts tingled while, to her consternation, her nipples stiffened even more. She swallowed, her mouth gone dry. “If you do what is required of you, then your situation could become more comfortable,” Nerya said, having no wish to explain this to him in exact detail.

  Those compelling dark eyes fastened on her breasts again. “And what exactly is required of me?”

  She repressed a slight shiver as she found her gaze instinctively sliding down over his imposing chest to his belly and the crumpled blue linen covering his groin. Were his sexual organs half as impressive as his body? It was said that a goodly sized organ guaranteed even more fertile seed. She’d come here fully expecting to be given a submissive slave who would carry out his duties by coupling with her briefly and efficiently, and now she was faced with this conundrum!

  “You are here in the coupling…” She faltered as he gave a throaty chuckle.

  “I’m not that uninformed. You force your male slaves to copulate with you in order to provide your race with offspring? If you give birth to a boy child, you send him off almost at once to be raised apart from his mother. Eventually he will become a slave just like his father. What I cannot understand is how you women can be so heartless as to reject and then enslave your own offspring.”

  “Our customs are not your concern.”

  “It is barbaric. Yet you call us barbarians.”

  “All men outside Freygard are barbarians.”

  “Yet you also couple with these so-called barbarians and are happy enough to let them provide the seed you need to father your children.”

  “If you want to survive for long here, I suggest you watch your tongue.” In a strange way, she respected him for not appearing subservient. If she were in his place, she would do the same. She wasn’t in his place, she reminded herself. By now she should have ordered some sort of punishment for his continued insolence. She was being unnecessarily weak in her dealings with him, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. There was something about Jaden that fascinated her.

  Nerya had never had the opportunity to speak with a captive for any length of time before. Even though it was frowned upon, she’d always been curious about the world beyond the borders of Freygard. She hoped one day she might even get the chance to see these other lands for herself. Although she knew it was highly unlikely that Queen Danara would ever allow her to leave Freygard. “We only use barbarians because it is said the seed of a warrior is stronger, and our men are not warriors.”

  “They could be, if you let them. Could they not?”

  “Be silent!” She’d had enough of this useless banter. He was no fool; he had an answer for everything she said. She’d never come across a man like him before and, in a strange way, sh
e found his arrogant nature stimulating.

  Nerya sat on a three-legged stool and pulled off her long boots. She might as well get on with the coupling. There was no chance of finding a way to avoid this unpleasant experience. She stood with her back to him and lifted the front of her thigh-length tunic to discreetly remove her breechclout.

  As she turned toward him again, Jaden pulled against the chains that held his arms stretched tight above his head. “It won’t be so easy to have sex with me confined.”

  “Why not? It simplifies matters to keep you shackled, especially as you fail to act submissively as a slave should.”

  “Better dead than a submissive slave.” His eyes narrowed. “I do believe that you, one of the famed warriors of Freygard, are scared of me. While I’m chained, you know I can’t wrap my hands round your throat in the throes of lust and strangle you.” He shook his head, and his long dark hair fell in disarray over his broad shoulders, while his eyes darkened into black, unfathomable pools of mystery.

  “I’m not scared of you.” The thought of having part of that unsettling creature’s body penetrating hers made her knees go weak, while her sex had begun to feel warm and uncommonly moist. “Neither am I foolish enough to even think of releasing you from your chains.”

  The two other slaves she’d coupled with had prepared themselves by rubbing their male organs until they hardened. Then, before they’d entered her, they’d anointed their shafts with oil. If she recalled correctly, their appendages hadn’t been very large; thus the experience had not been entirely uncomfortable. It had been so unmemorable she couldn’t even recall what the two slaves had looked like. She might well have seen them in the castle since then, but she wouldn’t have recognized them; however, she had the uneasy feeling Jaden would prove to be much harder to forget. What did she do now? Jaden couldn’t touch himself, but his shaft needed to be hard to slide smoothly inside her.

  “You know a man has to feel sexual desire to penetrate a woman.” His deep voice intruded on her troubled thoughts. “He has to be aroused in order to carry out the act.”