“Yeah,” I say. “I'm definitely doing that by myself. No. Just... grab a towel or something.”
I'm not used to giving orders this way, though all my training as a sales assistant seems to come to some use. I'm accustomed to overriding situations and taking control when I feel it's needed. And I'm not letting someone else razor my legs and armpits.
With everything done, they help towel me off and dress me in fine, gray and silver robes, perfectly fitting about my form. A reddish scarf is wrapped around my neck, and I'm a little frazzled at the pampering I've gotten. Slaves looking after slaves.
Slaves that are more than happy to be slaves, and have specifically requested for me to keep them on. I wonder if any kind hearted humans in the past have tried to free them or something.
Ready at last, I'm escorted and have my arm locked in Alaric's. I'm followed by my handmaidens and his servants, and we're taken to a large, carved out room in the catacombs. It's a formal procession, and there's a few guards lined up by room entrances. None wear armor, but they do have formal black attire on their forms, and little green dragon insignias sewn onto their uniform.
I'm presented to Alaric's father and mother, a regal looking shifter sat upon a golden throne, and a human wife with thick, graying blonde hair. She sits there so full of purpose, that I wonder if she was ever raised up in normal human society at all, or whether she was born in the mountains. Treasures adorn the walls, and a notable heap of gold coins lies all around king Garron's opulent throne, as if just to show off exactly how much wealth he possesses. He's dismissive of me instantly, only choosing to address his son.
“I'm glad at last you've chosen a woman to be my your side. We have long waited for children to continue our legacy, though you've certainly taken your time about it.”
Alaric smiles nervously. He's faintly shaking his left leg as if warming it up, and I stand there in an awkward manner, unsure how to conduct myself, since I'm a little too used to slouching. Maybe I should have practised walking around with books stuck on my head or something. “I just wanted to find the right woman, father. See how fair her hair is? See the delicate curve of her lips? She's an exceptional beauty, father.”
“I heard,” his mother, queen Essan says, “that you had bought this woman with the intention of sharing her with prince Cael of the Spiden kingdom. That you both spent an obscene amount of money for someone who, as beautiful as they may be, don't warrant a cost of fifteen million drots.”
Garron acts unconcerned. They've both already been briefed on this. I notice that Alaric breaks out into a thin sheen of sweat, and he hides one trembling hand behind his back. He's scared of his family for some reason. Why?
“Yes, uh, well...”
I have absolutely no reason to stick up for Alaric. He means nothing to me. He's my master, same as Cael. I could happily sit here and watch him flounder in front of his parents. But I also have this irritating tendency to want to try and help people within my reach.
One of these days I'm going to fucking regret this.
“Prince Cael threatened war,” I say, inventing wildly, searching for something plausible for the king and queen to accept. Alaric glares at me sharply as I continue with, “He intended to outbid Alaric in every woman he went for. His sister suggested a more... amiable solution. And I was that solution. Maybe in time your son will get another woman, or Cael will buy a new one. But for now, I'm the reason for your peace.”
The king and queen examine me for a long moment. “I have not heard of this reason before,” Essan says, her mouth scrunching like a prune.
“It's true,” Alaric says, now shooting me a warning glance to say no more, “He wanted to cause strife between our clans. His sister helped heal the rift by way of a compromise. This is only temporary until a better solution is found. And I plan to use the woman as a reason to talk to Cael in a more civil light, and hopefully dissolve the conflict without need for violence.”
At these words, I start to suspect something else. That Alaric actually wants me for this reason. So he can continue to talk to Cael through the excuse of me. What Yuna offered is actually the best possible outcome for him. Especially... if they used to be former lovers. If Cael and Alaric once shared a relationship that went sour, and he wants a reason to bring them together again.
So not only am I a slave, but I'm an excuse as well. This just keeps getting better and better.
“I... see,” Essan says, greatly disturbed. “Then we have princess Yuna to thank for this auspicious arrangement. My sources did not realize this.”
Alaric nods. I lock my jaw in place, avoiding the impulse to talk and muddy the waters further. Seeing such riches in front actually disgusts me. I find myself vaguely plotting how I'm going to steal such treasures and take them home with me, because I'm pretty sure with a few of those items tucked away with me, I'm going to be a lot better off. Probably won't have to work for years. Still, it annoys me, because whilst you have people scrabbling in the food dumpsters outside our supermarket or in the backyards of our home, you have people openly displaying the kind of wealth that those poor souls can only dream of. It's like a fat person walking past someone dying of starvation in the gutter. And I hate it.
“Extend our well wishes to the Spiden clan,” Gorran says, before dismissing us. I'm taken back out again.
“You,” Alaric says, “Are either insane, or a genius. I wasn't sure what I wanted to suggest, but that... that helps solve some issues.” He has a rather admiring glint in his eyes, which buoys me up. “My father doesn't know I hooked up with Cael,” he confesses, frowning towards the castle door. Our servants trail behind. Are they within earshot? Are they the kind who would spread this juicy information to others? “He suspected I was spending too much time with Cael, and presented me with a pretty woman in the hope I'd be able to carry off the family legacy. She didn't last very long. Unfortunately. Or fortunately, depending on how you want to look at it.”
Several things click into place. “Ah. So you went with this former woman to appease your parents.”
“Yes.” Alaric nods. “I kind of had to. But I wanted to keep seeing Cael in secret. He didn't, ah, take to it kindly. As for the woman, she got abducted by a prince from the Sapphire clan instead. Likely she asked for it, because I all but neglected her.”
“Huh.” I don't find myself surprised to hear about dragons stealing each other's women, given that Alaric had already explained to me their scarcity so high up. I'm more interested to hear about their fractured relationship. “Didn't she like you much?”
At this, Alaric smiles wryly. “Oh, she thought I was okay. The other guy though looked like a Khal Drogo in human form. Big impressive black dragon. She prefers his type. They tell me she was standing on the landing platform, waving for him to come and take her.”
Despite my reservations about him, I imitate the smile. His eyes have a kind of sparkle to them, and there's a softness to his lips I didn't notice before. Also, there's a little mole just on the side of his chin, though blond stubble acts as a hiding place for it. My fingers itch to run a comb through his hair, because it's scruffy and unkempt.
Almost as soon as I imagine brushing his hair, I inhale the musky scent of brimstone and fire that emanates from his body. It carries a heat that makes him larger than life, as if he's a giant pheromone walking cloud. It's an... interesting aroma. Standing so close to him as we wait outside his cavern chambers, I can't help but lean closer.
My mind starts imagining him stripping me, forcing the clothes off my back, pinning me to the ground and taking me by force. I imagine any protests I make will die upon my lips, as he scratches his nails over my body.
Then, my imagination takes a step further, and imagines Cael watching from the sides, his eyes dilated in lust. His body poised like a predator waiting to strike.
I suppress the thoughts, a wave of heat going through me. No. No way. A part of me knows it'll be a lot easier if I allow myself to drown in those thoughts, and give int
o the darker desires that bubble under my skin. I certainly have them. And it's wrong for me to think such thoughts.
Yet, I do it anyway. My mind seems to delight in them, especially when I shouldn't have them in the first place. The allure of something forbidden. The lure of darkness spreading across my skin, pooling between my thighs, until nothing but pleasure and sweetness remain. What must it feel like to have the touch of lust across my skin, without any love behind it? There's a release in that, somewhere. A freeing of responsibility, if I can lie there with my legs spread and be taken, used like a rag doll by the two shifters in my life. It's horrible. It's degrading. And for some reason, I crave it more than I should.
I can't let them know. I can't let this darkness spill out and become obvious.
We enter the rooms again, and the servants spread out to do whatever tasks they feel necessary. Briefly, Alaric's fingers trail over my cheeks.
“You really are beautiful,” he says, voice as soft as his eyes. “I don't think you're a waste of drot after all. Sorry for implying that earlier. Not always something you want to hear.”
His smile then hardens. I wonder if he can smell the salacious thoughts in my skin. After all, I imagine he has better olfactory senses than a human. It might be closer to a dog's, which can smell thousands of different things at once and interpret them.
Obviously, the words I'd rather hear is “Sorry about all this, you're free to go home now,” but a compliment is something else I can go for as well.
I probably shouldn't have gone out of my way to help him, though. But I did all the same.
Chapter Four
I glare as Alaric's fingers dip into the gap in my neck, lightly scouring along my collarbone, before he lifts them back out. He takes an audible breath. “Mount me. I'm going to have to take you to Cael.”
Mount him? Of course I find that amusing on another level. I've barely grown past the age I'm supposed to be, after all. I've long since honed my reputation for moments of complete immaturity. Because why not, you know?
In a way, all this preparation for my booty is making me nervous. It's not enough I'm being pampered like, well, a princess, but I have to be presented to two different royal shifter families. I also doubt that Cael's Spiden clan will have mobile phones and internet any more than this one.
I suppose they have to discuss with Yuna what's happening as well, and arrange just how exactly I'm to be divided between the two.
Well, at least I'm wrapped up warmer this time. The brown fur robes and boots add a layer of cosy to my body, so I will no longer freeze to death when Alaric shifts. I like the way they look. I feel like a wildling or some kind of Nordic warrior trapped in the frozen forests of a beautiful home. It's the kind of thing I see people cosplay as, and we admire them when we go to conventions, but it's something else to wear it solely for the purpose of survival, rather than being pretty with Ikea rugs.
Soon we're back on the roosting platform and I'm on his back, flying to the other mountain. My handmaidens and his servants are left behind, watching us go. I don't see anything in their expressions that indicate if they're happy or sad to see us go. Now layered up more appropriately, the cold doesn't bite into my skin so much, and I'm able to appreciate the scenery better, instead of half shivering in my position behind the frill of his skull.
The scenery of what will be my new home, far away from human civilization. It makes my heart heavy, somehow, to think that. Heavy because it's an alien place, with nothing familiar that I love in it. Everything feels much further away than usual, like the world is expanding away from me, and I'm that tiny point in the center which everything wants to escape from. I'm part of something scary and new, plunged into a world that feels somehow bigger and smaller at the same time.
Most girls dream of being princesses or being treated like them. Very few expect sudden princessdom to be thrust upon them. Though in my case, I'm more likely an unwilling concubine, rather than a princess who asked for the role. My mind replays the moment when I was kidnapped again. Thrown into the car with the chloroform slammed over my face, dragging me into unconsciousness. The last thing I ever saw of a normal world. And the last time I would ever stick to my routine.
How far away that all seems now. How bizarre that I'm sat on the back of a dragon instead of riding a car, like some great fantasy warrior princess, though in my case, I don't really have any control in where I'm going. And I don't think my dragons breathe fire. Which is super disappointing.
When we land on the opposing mountain just a few moments layer, we're greeted by members of the Spiden clan, all of them with similar amber eyes and dark hair colors like Cael – suggesting that dragons do indeed follow a theme with one another. Alaric and I walk up to the main section of caves for royalty. The Spidan clan actually seems to be the larger of the two clans. There's more buildings, and the Spidan seem to focus much more densely on a certain type of architecture. Though their caves and entrances are built of stone, I notice that the entrances have the outward appearance of a house, even if inside, it's a cave.
I'm talking front covers of caves that look like they're interwoven with tiny bricks, all of varying colors, and fiercely sloping roofs that wouldn't look out of place in a fairytale. They remind me of a building style I've seen before, actually. I had a friend who went on a Europe trip with her family, and she took hundreds of pictures of each major city she went through. She went to a country called Belgium which had latticed brickwork like this, and odd little house designs that might have been out of a children's book. I thought it an impractical style, if pretty. And the Spiden clan for whatever reason are imitating this look on the exterior of their caves.
I think about Cael, and his brooding features, his reluctance to deal with me, even though he viciously bid against Alaric, not wanting the blonde to claim me. Cael has some serious issues to deal with, it seems. Both of them do. And I'm stuck in the middle of this feud. The booty. The one who will bear children.
I still can't wrap my head around the fact that this will be my new role.
Cael himself waits in the main throne room with his father and mother, and when Alaric and I walk in, it's grandiose, though in a different style. Where Alaric's father draped everything in gaudy gold and scarlet colors, and had treasures lying decadently around the throne, Cael's father opts for military style patterns, with simple green and black tapestries, green carpets, and an burnished throne made out of redwood.
Cael's father, mother, and his younger sister Yuna seem pleased to see me. Yuna in fact walks up to me first, after politely bowing to Alaric.
“Greetings, human,” she says, giving me a hug, which I find surprising. “Depending on how my brother treats you, my cave will be open to you, since I'm still the one who technically owns you right now. You can meet with the human Melantha.” Something dances around Yuna's mouth, which tells me that the woman is intended to be slightly more than a simple servant.
Interesting. “Okay,” I say, because I figure it's best to keep as many options open as possible. “I'd like that.”
Yuna pats me on the head, her soft amber eyes approving of me. I'm a little sad, actually, that Melantha isn't here already, though I suspect it's to not create any confusion or potential embarrassment for her parents when I'm presented. I hastily tell Yuna about the shit I made up in Alaric's throne room, and she grins.
“You're not wrong, though. That's a lie based on logic. Something that my brother or cousin would feasibly do once they tire of this arrangement. Either way, I better say this to my brother as well. I doubt Alaric has the sense of mind to say anything, and Cael most likely won't listen to either of you. A moment.”
She strides over with determination to Cael, who has a face like a storm. I shiver slightly. He doesn't look happy with this at all. Alaric acted reasonable, actually. He's still my owner, but I did hold somewhat of a conversation with him. Cael on the other hand looks... pissed off. Twice he gives me a look like he wants me to drop dead and die, which
intensifies when he turns that gaze on Alaric.
I don't think anyone can hold a candle to his hatred of Alaric. Whatever happened before must have shattered all ties between them. I can vaguely guess at it, though. Alaric had to hook up with someone to appease his father. Maybe he did fully hook up with them, intending to make a go of the whole situation, but all Cael saw was someone stabbing him in the heart. And he doesn't look like the kind of person who takes shit lying down.
Maybe Alaric did that begging, pleading thing where he got on his knees and tried to explain things to his jilted lover, and Cael most likely would have slapped him back in the face.
When I think of it like that, I look at Cael again. Does he nurse a broken heart under that gruff exterior? Or is he just an asshole, inside and out?
Yuna explains to Cael, who seems to get more and more pissed off the more she explains. When he opens his mouth to say something, Yuna appears to shoot him down. I can see how they're related. Both are stubborn mules. One's just a little more forceful of it than the other.
Sold To The Dragon Princes: The Novel Page 6
