by Xenia Melzer
After those words of warning, Renaldo opened the collar around Casto’s neck. “To mark the occasion, you’ll get a different collar for this evening. Frankus.”
He nodded toward the master of the sauna before turning away, glad to escape the accusatory glare of his slave.
Frankus gestured Casto to follow him into the building. Silent, with his brows still furrowed in anger, Casto followed the man at whose mercy he would be for the rest of the day.
Frankus wasn’t unfriendly, he kept on talking as if he was afraid Casto would vanish into thin air should he stop speaking for even a second. “You’ll be on your own during the preparations. This year there’s only Lady Noemi and Daran as personal companions, so we have plenty of room.”
“Lady Noemi is a companion?” Casto was surprised. He would never have thought the proud witch would humiliate herself like that.
“But of course. She loves her husband and enjoys being at his service.”
It was obvious that Frankus was trying to give Casto a hint, but Casto had no inclination to start a discussion about his qualities as a slave with somebody like Frankus. Apparently Frankus failed to get the cue—or, as was more likely—chose to ignore it, because he kept on blabbering happily.
“It really is a great honor to be chosen as a personal companion by one of the lords. Every slave in the Valley would kill to be in your place.”
“Committing murder isn’t necessary. I’m more than willing to leave this privileged status of mine to anybody who wants to have it.”
“Casto!” Frankus was so horrified he slapped a hand over his mouth. “What if your master hears you talking like that?”
“The Barbarian knows what I think of this. I’ve told him in detail.”
Frankus felt his eyes bulging in terror. He already knew that the Angel of Death’s slave wasn’t one to respect social conventions, but that he was challenging the powerful warlord without a care was too much for a man whose life was entirely at the mercy of his masters.
Casto sighed. “But I’ve given my word to be good. So yes, it’s an unimaginable honor, and I really don’t know how I deserve it. Satisfied?”
Frankus had gotten a grip on himself; his voice was calm again. “One day your big mouth will cause you real trouble. I don’t have to be a seer to know that.”
Casto only shrugged in a dismissive gesture. He didn’t seem to be too worried about his fate. “So, what’s going to happen to me?”
ONLY A short time later, Casto was cursing the Barbarian with every swear word he knew, and that particular part of his vocabulary was vast. Frankus had brought him into a well-heated room where he helped Casto undress. After that, Casto had to lie down on a wooden bench where Frankus started to epilate all his body hair with a sticky mixture of honey and sugar. When he ripped off Casto’s pubic hair, Casto had almost screamed at the pain. Even being whipped seemed tolerable compared to that.
Frankus had smiled maliciously. It hadn’t escaped him how hard Casto had to fight not to show his agony. “I’m sorry, but the lord prefers smooth skin. Besides, the gold will stick better like this.” The swear words with which Casto answered made Frankus laugh. “You know some nasty expressions. Is that what you learned as a merchant?”
There was no answer to that, and Casto was glad that Frankus didn’t realize his sudden tension. When it came to the lies about his past, Casto always got nervous. He detested the sham he had to put on, but his and Lys’s lives depended on how well he could act. Up until then, everything had gone smoothly; nevertheless, one day he would have to tell the truth to the Barbarian, and probably sooner than later. Since that would also be the day he spoke his own death sentence, he preferred not to think too intensively about it.
After the epilation he was sent to the sauna to sweat out the residue on his skin. He did several rounds before Frankus washed him with scented soaps in one of the pools. Casto was gloriously relaxed by then. His anger had not dissipated but had cooled considerably in the wet, hot air, and he felt a strange, undirected lust awakening inside him like he’d never experienced before. To his never-ending shame, even Frankus’s gentle touch aroused him.
Frankus, on the other hand, was pleased. “This is a good thing, Casto. It’s exactly what I was aiming for. You’ll get a massage with nerula oil now. After that I’ll finish your preparations. And Casto, the reason for this massage is to get you sexually aroused, so don’t try to fight it. Lord Renaldo has expressed the wish that you should find your release at least twice before he picks you up, so please cooperate.”
Casto furrowed his brows. He’d heard about the effects of nerula oil from stories. It was a mixture of different herbs blended with pure blacknut oil and then left to mature for at least half a year. The end product sold for horrendous prices and was mainly manufactured in the borderlands of the Eastern Kingdoms where most of the required herbs grew. The recipe was a well-guarded secret, and quite a number of people had died trying to steal it. Using it as a mere massage tool was akin to sacrilege for most people and showed once more how rich and carefree the barbarians truly were.
It irritated Casto to no end that he of all people should be treated with this precious oil after he’d already endured the surprised stares of others because of the jewels shining from his flesh. “Why would he want that all of a sudden? The Barbarian has expressed his displeasure on more than one occasion should I turn to somebody else. His jealousy borders on the ridiculous.”
Frankus beheld the young man for a long moment. He wasn’t as experienced as Hulda when it came to reading people, but it wasn’t difficult to guess Casto’s thoughts at the moment. “This is the Spring Ceremony, where different rules apply. You’re going to have sex the whole night, and I can assure you, Lord Renaldo won’t hold back. The feast in honor of the Mothers is an orgy of the wildest kind. You have to be prepared so that the Angel of Death cannot hurt you.”
Casto gulped. Frankus’s words made sense. From everything he’d heard, things got down to business during the Ceremony. In past years the Barbarian had always come to him after midnight and then taken him until the sun came up. Since Casto liked it rough and had always been angry at himself as well as at Renaldo, he hadn’t minded the violence of those games. But when he imagined doing the whole night what they had done in much shorter time in the past, he couldn’t suppress a shudder. He wasn’t even sure if he had the stamina required to endure the whole feast.
Without further resistance he allowed Frankus to march him to a massage bench where two slaves started kneading his muscles. The nerula oil performed its duty; Casto came three times under the ministrations of the two seasoned women without feeling the slightest scrap of shame. After that, Frankus collected him again. In yet another room, Frankus opened a box filled with gold dust and took a brush in his hands to transform Casto into a living statue to honor the masters of the Valley. To crown his work, he highlighted Casto’s eyes with kohl and dipped the ends of his hair first into a bowl of oil and then dusted them with gold. Then he stepped back and checked the outcome of his efforts with a satisfied air.
“I can understand why the lord is so lenient toward you. You truly are breathtaking. I could fall in love with you this very moment.”
Casto pursed his lips. He’d heard that sentence once too often to believe it. “Beauty is only an illusion.”
He sounded so derisive that Frankus looked up. His gaze bore into Casto’s eyes. Finally realization dawned on him. “So that’s why you can oppose him so easily. You’re not affected by his beauty.”
Casto preferred not to answer that, because the insight was too close to the secrets of his own past.
He was taken into the waiting room where the Barbarian would pick him up. Daran, the ex-thief, was already there. He wasn’t covered in gold dust, but with silver, and wore the golden upper-arm bracelets he’d gotten from Renaldo and a collar made of pure gold with an emerald in the middle. The jewelry stood out even more because of his shining, silvery skin, which ma
de Daran seem like a creature from a fairy tale. For the first time since Casto had met the young man, he understood why the two desert warriors, Kalad and Aegid, were so infatuated with Daran. Apart from his agreeable personality, Daran was stunning in his own special way.
He approached Casto with a friendly smile. “I’d have never expected to see you here! Isn’t it fantastic?”
“What exactly should be fantastic?”
Casto’s cold answer startled Daran a little bit. Imploringly he looked at his teacher. “I’m very happy that my masters have chosen me. What about you?”
“But of course. It’s an honor.”
The words were said without emphasis, but Daran was determined to not let it spoil his good mood. He was too excited that his masters had decided to let him participate in the feast. The past years they had gone without him, saying they wanted to protect him. Daran had been sad that he wasn’t allowed to give them this special service, and it had also hurt him. Now he was truly happy, although his masters had warned him that the Ceremony would be tiring for him.
He didn’t have to endure Casto’s gloomy presence any longer because Kalad and Aegid came to pick him up. His masters were dressed in identical dark green tunics edged with the white fur of snow rabbits. Seeing their regal figures, Daran’s knees went soft.
The warriors smiled at their slave endearingly.
“You look splendid, little thief.”
Kalad’s voice was so suggestive that Daran felt the blood rushing to his cheeks—and someplace else. “Thank you, Master. Frankus is very skilled.”
“I imagine that he didn’t have much work with you, Daran.” Aegid, too, was full of hunger. He took out a length of golden chain, linked it to Daran’s collar, and then the three men left the room, but not before Kalad gave Casto a lusty examination.
“You, too, look stunning, Casto. Renaldo should be pleased.”
Stubbornly Casto extended his chin, pretending he hadn’t noticed the hunger in the warrior’s eyes and that it didn’t terrify him to be this naked and vulnerable in front of them.
Kalad laughed happily. He didn’t often manage to get the better of the blond. He enjoyed this unexpected advantage and allowed his gaze to travel once more over the naked body in a blatant manner.
Casto’s eyes sparked in anger.
“Kalad!” With a reproachful look, Aegid pulled his desert brother along.
The mocking laughter still resounded in Casto’s ears long after the three men left.
IN HIS chambers, Renaldo was listening to his brother’s reprimands.
“I know I told you to find a solution, but I didn’t tell you to force him to take part in the Ceremony. You know damn well that is forbidden!”
“And what else should I have done? You were the one who said he had to learn his place.”
“But not during the Spring Ceremony! Damn it, Renaldo, there’ll be an aftermath to this! He won’t forget such a humiliation in a hurry.”
“Then I should cancel his participation?”
Renaldo was furious. He knew how dangerous this game was, but getting it confirmed by somebody else was downright uncomfortable. By forcing Casto to take part in the Ceremony, he violated the very rules he’d sworn to defend. Should his slave view the evening as rape, Renaldo would be punished accordingly. Despite knowing all that, Renaldo had decided to take these measures, trusting his intuition about Casto and accepting the consequences should he be wrong.
Imploringly he looked at his brother. Canubis alone was allowed to witness Renaldo’s weakness.
The amber gaze of the Wolf of War wandered around the room. Canubis was well aware of the predicament Renaldo was suffering and how difficult it was to assess the situation correctly and react accordingly. “No, I’m not saying that. It’ll do him good to bow to your power for one night. But you have to be aware that this won’t be without consequences. Under no circumstances.”
“I’m aware, brother.”
The two men shared a long look that contained an entire discussion.
All of a sudden, a huge grin spread over Canubis’s face. “I’m curious what your slave will look like. He’ll certainly be stunning.”
Renaldo, too, was grinning like a wolf. “Let’s go and find out.”
“IT’S REALLY not as bad as you think.”
Noemi’s voice was soft; she placed a hand on Casto’s wrist to placate him. “You’ll see, as soon as Renaldo is here, you’ll have different things to worry about than what might happen during the feast.”
“Why’s he doing this to me?”
The witch sighed. Noemi really liked Casto, but she could also understand her brother-in-law. “Because you’re a stubborn, arrogant prick who challenges him in ways not even I would dare. Did you really think he’d let you proceed like that?”
The shining eyes sparked to furious life. “He could just whip me!”
Now Noemi laughed openly. “Because that would impress you so much! I’m sorry, Casto, but no matter how you think about this, you really deserve all of it. And the studs are truly beautiful.”
The young man was about to give a vitriolic answer when he suddenly felt the presence of the Barbarian. He didn’t understand why, but he always knew when Renaldo was close. A feeling of peace came over him, followed by a prickling along his spine. He turned his gaze toward the door.
The Angel of Death and the Wolf of War looked truly divine when they entered the waiting room and filled it with their overwhelming presence. Both wore identically trimmed clothes made of the finest silk. Canubis’s outfit was black; Renaldo’s such a dark blue it almost seemed black as well. Both men had broad golden belts slung twice around their hips. A ceremonial sword and a dagger completed the outfit. Their feet were clad in boots made of the soft leather of mountain chamois, that reached up to their calves. With exception of the swords, the warriors’ clothing was plain; the value of the materials spoke for itself.
Seeing the formal attire made Casto realize his own nudity even more. He understood that he was part of the decoration to Renaldo’s outfit, reduced to being there simply for his impact on bystanders. The thought made him angry but aroused him at the same time. Never before had anybody dared to treat him like that.
Canubis now went to his wife, pressed a kiss to her cheek, and then put a collar on her that was as high as a handbreadth and made from countless miniscule golden eyelets. Embedded in the middle was a black diamond as big as a walnut. On each side three more diamonds, the size of hazelnuts, bordered it. Casto worked out the value of the jewelry in his mind and decided that with the diamonds alone he would be able to buy half the harbor of Ummana.
Just like him, Noemi was reduced to being a mere decoration on this evening, but she didn’t seem to mind. The Wolf of War linked a golden chain into an unobtrusive eyelet at the bottom of the collar before he turned to his brother with a questioning look. “You better hurry. We’re running late.”
Renaldo regarded Casto, full of hungry anticipation. “You look well, slave.”
Casto made a face but refused to answer. Instead he stared daringly at his master. He felt a strange heat surge through his body, which reminded him of Frankus’s and Noemi’s words—that he would desire the Barbarian. He hated himself for it.
Renaldo came closer; his masculine scent seemed to caress Casto like a soft feather. In his hands Renaldo carried something glittering and heavy. Casto gasped in surprise. The collar was identical to the one Noemi was wearing, only the diamonds were blue, not black. It felt cool on his skin when the Barbarian put it on him, and when the fastener clicked into place, to Casto’s ears it sounded like a dungeon door closing.
Renaldo’s sensual lips widened in a satisfied smile. “Very well.” He turned to his brother. “Let’s go.”
Canubis headed for the door, with his wife following him two steps behind, her gaze cast down demurely as if she really were only a slave.
Renaldo chained Casto with a similar shackle and dragged him into the ni
ght.
Although he was naked, Casto didn’t mind the cold while they headed toward the main hall. He was too busy hating himself for the lust he felt toward Renaldo. Everything inside him longed to belong to the Angel of Death, and should Renaldo keep him at arm’s length much longer, he would beg to be taken by him. The entire situation was so humiliating, so infuriating that Casto didn’t register his master leading him through the rows of waiting mercenaries to the head of the table.
Although this was supposed to be an orgy, all the warriors were clad in their finest. On both sides of the hall stood tables that pointed toward the gallery at the front of the room. Situated there was another table where the Emeris, the counselors of Canubis and Renaldo, had taken their places. Except for Cornelia, the Emeris who had suffered so badly at the hands of a bunch of marauders, all of them were present, but only Kalad and Aegid had a personal companion with them.
In front of the gallery, Canubis turned left with Noemi in tow while his brother took the right-hand route. They reached the middle of the table at the same time, accompanied by the respectful bows of the Emeris. Noemi and Casto stopped behind the high chairs, their gazes trained on the backs of their masters. Casto was glad for having a spot he could concentrate on since he felt no inclination to confront the assembled warriors.
Canubis and Renaldo opened the festivities by pleading for the blessing of the Holy Mothers. They did so in a language Casto recognized as that of the Ancients. He only understood part of it and made a mental note to intensify his studies. It always paid off to be fluent in as many languages as possible, and this special dialect, outdated as it may seem, could help him to understand his captor better and might even provide some kind of leverage.
When the brothers were done with the surprisingly short ceremony—Casto had expected something more elaborate—they gave the signal for the orgy to start. Everybody sat down, and the naked, dolled-up slaves started serving the food. The mood was playful from the beginning; nobody seemed inclined to wait for the alcohol to do its magic and relax the mood. Eating and intercourse melted into a lustful, inseparable union.
