Teagan

by Sharilyn Skye

  The men had grown up in this life. It was normal for them. Maybe pain was comfort because they understood it. They knew nothing else.

  If it were, indeed, my path to free this place, then that would have to change. Somehow, these men must see that they were men. Did I want them to rise and upend the scales? No. I wanted the scale balanced — light to dark, male to female, pleasure to pain. The world needs balance in all things.

  I touched them, giving the last of my strength toward relief from their pain. I spread my arms and hugged them to me, sad that my decision brought this upon them. Initially, their bodies were stiff, but as my warmth shifted to them, leaving me cold, they softened and held me back.

  A sense of camaraderie grew between us. We were in this together. It was us against this Goddess damned world, like it or not. Lyrolas had said that this was their last chance, the Queen had said they were challenging. If I failed with them, I sensed they would forfeit their lives as if they were untrainable beasts. No one said it in words, but I saw it in the Queen’s eyes.

  But they were not beasts. They were men, and if they didn’t see it, I would make them. Swiping at my eyes, I pulled away from them.

  “I apologize. My actions did this, and words cannot express how sorry I am for your pain. Forgive me.” I grasped their hands in mine and bowed at their feet.

  I heard their soft gasps and felt their surprise at my words.

  “Should we tend you, my lady?” Kar’s words were choked, and his voice strained. He spoke so sparingly that it was a surprise to hear them.

  “Uh. No, Thalakar,” I said, feeling his fear at my use of his name. My heart hardened against every warrior who had ever touched this quiet man before me. Hearing one’s name should never cause fear. I smiled up at them all through tear-soaked lashes. “No. I don’t need tending. I need men. Strong men who know their value, you are more than beatings and pain. Understand that.” Sniffling, I rose to dress. Enough time had passed that the Queen would think I did as she commanded.

  “Will you be okay here?” I asked, throwing on riding pants and buttoning my shirt.

  “Yes, we will have meals in the slaves’ hall and return here immediately after. It’s fine…Teagan,” Syl said, and my face erupted in a smile.

  My name sounded good on his tongue. “Very well, I’ll ride with haste.” I smiled at them again, then closed the door behind me.

  Chapter Eight

  Syl’ta

  We stood staring at one another long after our wild-eyed mistress left. “Something is happening here, and I’m not sure I can begin to understand it,” I broke the silence, then moved to start picking up her quarters. Our quarters, now, I supposed.

  “What’s happening is that she is going to get us killed,” Lyros growled, snatching up items of clothing and placing them on hangers in the closet.

  “We’ve worked hard at getting ourselves killed for longer than she’s been Eruhini. She’s merely going to speed up the process,” I said, quickly clearing my section of the sitting area.

  “You’ve done a good job, Syl. Not we. You.” Kar threw a shirt at me, and I caught it.

  “We’ve all contributed, Kar. Don’t play the victim now,” I said, tilting my head back in a laugh, causing the lash marks on my back to stretch. A groan slipped my lips before I could stop it. “How did she take the pain away?”

  “Magic. You heard her. She is from the Light Court. Those lands overflow with it,” he said, running his hands through his black hair.

  “Magic?” I asked, pinning his black eyes with mine.

  “Yes. There was a Trio of men taken from there decades ago. The tales they told were outlandish, but magic was at the heart of them all.”

  “And you believe that?” Lyros asked, turning to face us.

  “She walked into a mirror and came back. The glass was unbreakable, despite our best efforts. She used a lash expertly on your back, and not one of us felt pain from it. Your back is beautifully marked, and yet there was no sting. When the Queen wielded the whip, we all felt it, yet our dark Mistress took the discomfort away with a kiss. If not magic, then what?” Kar said, talking as he worked.

  “We’re going to die,” Lyros’ mater of fact statement was not wrong.

  “We were going to die anyway; maybe we can enjoy some of the time we have left,” I said with a sigh.

  Over the years, I tried to spread dissent through the ranks of the slaves. I was a natural-born leader and succeeded in showing the other men that what we suffered was not normal. My grandfather was once King of this place. He ruled side by side with my grandmother. Still, my sister was ambitious from the beginning and overthrew him, killing them both in the process of staging a coup. She let our mother live as she did not oppose her rule.

  She only killed her after I was born. My mother refused to allow me to go to the slave pens when I weaned from her breast. Having a son made her see the error of her oldest daughter’s ways. Funny that losing her younger girls to the sword the oldest held wasn’t what that made her question the status quo. My birth did that.

  A mother’s love can change many things. It couldn’t change her fate or mine.

  I went to the pens with my mother’s blood on my skin, but Kharis, in some backhanded show of remorse, visited me and took an interest in my rearing. An odd affection sprang from her that I can only surmise meant she missed her mother.

  I missed her too.

  “Do you remember the time you put Troll lice on Ang’ali’ s pillow?” I asked Kar, laughing at the memory.

  “She scratched for weeks before she thought to tell us to change her sheets,” I laughed back.

  “Then Mori, she didn’t deserve that worm you fed her, but it was funny all the same,” Lyro added, catching my eye. His gray ones twinkled with devious delight.

  He was right; she hadn’t deserved it, but I saw the opportunity and took it.

  “It hasn’t always been bad, just mostly,” he finished, and the light moment passed.

  With three of us working, our quarters were clean and organized in a short time. Afterward, we made our way to the slaves’ dining hall for lunch. We are not supposed to travel unescorted, but as Teagan’s quarters lay in the rear of the palace where no one went, I had not thought to mention it. We slipped in unnoticed, easing into the food line so as not to attract attention.

  Warriors lined the walls watching, but they rarely interfered. Only if there was a fight did they approach us. The hall and the exercise yard were areas we could whisper and plan unnoticed.

  We ate in silence, catching the looks from surrounding Trios. They would think that our new mistress caused these wounds; only a few experienced men would recognize the intricate pattern the Queen places.

  We held our heads high and ignored the glances and whispers that raced like wildfires. Let them think what they wanted; we would do nothing to defend Teagan. Should word of her mercy get out, it would cause trouble on many fronts. Let them think she was irredeemable, just like the rest.

  We ate our fill and were headed to our rooms when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned into the angry face of Hel’r, the Queen’s favorite tender. She doesn’t have one Trio; she has many. She keeps pets in her quarters and makes use of the pens regularly. Our relationship is not as widely known as one might think. From time to time, it becomes common knowledge that I am her brother then seems to be forgotten again by the next turn of the wheel.

  “Why you, Syl’ta? What did that exotic beauty see in your sad, little Trio?” He said, glancing at my crotch at the word little.

  “What can I say, Hel’r? She must have felt something she liked,” I winked at him and moved to pass.

  He glared at my back. He would recognize those marks and be envious. Not all men hated their predicament. Hel’r loved the Queen’s punishments. That’s what made him her favorite. He took every bit of sadism she gave and begged for more, but she never took him into her rooms to make a pet of him. He was bitter, and everyone knew it; he would take i
t as an insult that all our backs were marked with the attention he felt should be reserved for him.

  He grabbed my shoulder, whipping me around to face him. His eyes were hard and face lined with anger. “Why you? Why is it always you, Syl’ta? I want to know what sway you have. You should have died long ago. All you cause is trouble.”

  Lyros moved to grab me before I could advance on my sister’s favorite whipping boy and pulled me back. “Maybe I’m just that much better than you, Hel’r. I’m sure you know what I mean,” I said, licking my lips suggestively.

  He swung at me, and I ducked, putting my shoulder into his gut and taking him down to the ground with my mass. Shouts erupted around us, and he landed a lucky punch, bloodying my lip. I got in several hits of my own before the guards rushed in, pulling us apart.

  They dragged us to the holding cells in the pit of the palace, and I instantly regretted letting him bait me. I knew. I knew what it meant. Slaves often fought in the relative privacy of the pens and were ignored, but not publicly in full view of the guards.

  “I think you’ve finally done it,” the guard said, pushing me to my knees. My brothers landed next to me in a heap, bloodied from the beating the guards gave them.

  Kar turned his back to me as the barred door slammed shut. “Why? Why Syl’ta?” His sigh was so deep it ended in a sob.

  “Don’t say anything; not this time,” Lyros paced the wall furthest from me, a low growl escaping his lips.

  They were right. I had done it this time. I scrambled, putting my back against the cold stone wall, waiting for the Queen to get back and decide to take my head, but only after our mistress paid for my crimes.

  Chapter Nine

  Teagan

  I leaned down, pretending to lace my boots tighter. Taking advantage of the commotion as warriors prepared to ride out, I placed my hands on the cold ground. Summer is brief in Eregion. A warm sun and soft breeze last weeks, not months. Already snow flurried around us, and the Eregion version of fall set in. There was only one season in the land of ice and snow. Aside from a few short weeks that would be spring anywhere else, there was only winter.

  At this elevation, coniferous trees and small bushes were the only vegetation that grew. Vast highland plains with sparse, quick growing grasses that were harvested during the warm weeks and used to feed livestock during the long, cold months that followed. As with everything here, the animals were hardy and used to getting by with much less.

  I let heat and power from the earth that was not yet buried deep within the snow travel through my tattoos, and I felt rejuvenated. There is beauty in the stark, cold face of winter. It’s not an empty thing at all. It’s as if the earth sighs as she rests, and winter is the result. Winter is truth, for nothing can hide. Like an old woman who has lost the plump blush of youth, there is beauty and honesty in her bones.

  “Mount up,” The Queen cried as she pulled her sword from its sheath and reined her white mare to stand. “Second Blade with me,” she shouted, and I scurried into my saddle, pulling my mare beside hers.

  Every Fae that saw her wondered about Ari’s mare, Solas. She was so out of place in Talamh na Sithe with her pure white coat, long, tall body, black eyes, and delicate face. Now I knew from where she came. Whether she was a gift from Queen to Queen or an escapee through the land of Trolls, Solas belonged here.

  My mare was slightly taller than Ari’s, and her deep, black eyes were kind. No white showed in them when I pulled her around and kicked her into a run to follow Kharis. The others pounded behind us in a cacophony of horses’ hooves.

  I knew nothing of our mission; I had not been briefed. I only knew that we rode to a neighboring village under the Queen’s rule. As I had not yet been out of the city proper, I did not know what to expect.

  What I did not expect were quaint rows of houses lining a wide, slow-moving river. Women dressed in brightly colored skirts walked through cobbled streets swept clear of snow. Men walked with them in groups or alone. They carried baskets and jugs; one carried a small deer draped across his shoulders. They froze when they saw us, bending their knee where they stood. I saw fear in their eyes before they lowered them to the ground, and I felt terrible. Never before had I been looked upon that way.

  While the look of people in the city is black, white, or silver, this town was colorful and bright. The men wore clothes instead of leather harnesses and skirts. They walked with the women. This could have been Talamh na Sithe, and I was more confused than ever.

  The Queen wasted no time. “Have the wagons brought out and ready the infants,” she spoke, scanning across the villagers.

  “You’re early, my Queen. We were not expecting you for another fortnight; the infants are still at the breast.” A tall woman stepped forward, dressed in a deep green gown. Her long, silver hair lay braided around the side of her head, falling past the curve of her hip.

  “Our arrival is fluid within the moon of this month. You should have weaned them in preparation.” Queen Kharis watched as wagons laden with vegetables, fruit, caged livestock, flour, and sugar we brought around the corner by large, black mules. Her eyes were cold, and there was nothing behind them but death.

  “Your wagons look light, Faldwyn.” Kharis turned her glare to the woman.

  “The warm season was short, Milady, as agreed; this is eighty percent of our harvest.” The woman rose, inclining her head.

  She saw me staring at her and caught my eye; confusion rippled across her face as she scanned my unusual coloration. Her eyes flickered nervously to Ang’ali as she kicked her horse and rode around the kneeling crowd, keeping her sword out. My horse shifted below me, uneasy. I felt the same way.

  “Bring the infants; they will wean,” Kharis said, her eyes sweeping the crowd.

  Sobs broke out from women scattered through the crowd. Men grumbled, and angry eyes cast glances at the Queen, and as I was next to her, me. I didn’t understand what was going on, but it most certainly wasn’t right. Eighty percent of these peoples’ harvest would leave them with little to survive on.

  Women carried babies forward, and my stomach sank. If they intended to sacrifice these children, I would die here defending them. One hundred to one were terrible odds, but no child’s blood would spill as long as I breathed.

  “There are too many, My Queen. Can you not leave a few for us to raise?” Faldwyn stepped forward, her dark eyes beseeching.

  “Do you wish to renegotiate your freedom?” Kharis said, her voice dripping with ice. She put her free hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword.

  “No, Milady. I ask for a small concession as we had so many babes born this turn of the wheel,” she said, her voice steady, but her eyes shining with unshed tears.

  “And the crown rewards you for your sacrifice. You live freely. You pay your tithe once yearly. We return those children unfit to serve. You live in peace, able to make your own daily choices. I will make no such concession, especially when your harvest carts are light. Should they be light again, I will increase the percentage I take. The city must be maintained.” The Queen’s hand relaxed when the other woman dropped her head.

  “Bring them forward, and their sire as well.”

  I fought to keep my face neutral and cover the shock I felt. Faldwyn’s eyes flicked to me again. I shifted in my saddle, struggling to show nothing.

  Fourteen women stepped forward, clutching babes on hips or nestled in arms. I’d never seen an infant before and had no reference on how to age them, but most looked able to walk, if just barely. Some were smaller, round things with bright eyes and chubby cheeks, only two seemed so new as to appear wrinkled and still wet.

  Kharis dismounted from her horse, handing the reins to me. She strolled the line of mothers, gazing into the faces of the babes they held. “These two may stay until next year,” she said, touching the heads of the smallest bundles. “They are far too young for training.” The rest will do. Excellent crop this year.” She turned from them, walking toward a strong, muscular man with
black hair and eyes so light blue they appeared white. “You did your job well.” She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss upon his lips. Stepping back, she pulled her sword and took his head before I could register the action.

  My hand shot to my mouth, stifling a cry. Faldwyn looked at me again, tears streaming from her eyes. She held my gaze for a long moment before rushing to the dead man’s side. She sobbed over his body, clutching his torso to her. None of the other women reacted, and I knew that he had been hers, even though he fathered many children. He had belonged to her, and I wondered again about this strange place.

  The Queen turned from them, holding my shocked stare. “Take them,” she said, grabbing the nearest infant from its mother and tossing it to me. Warriors around me dismounted, snatching babies from wailing mothers. Cries erupted from the townsfolk, and I chilled to the bone despite my warm cloak. I never saw such a look on anyone’s face; it made my soul shrivel from the chill of it.

  I caught the babe with one hand, pulling it tight to me. A cry so sharp came from the thing that I almost dropped it. I’d never seen a baby, let alone held one. My hands shook, and my eyes filled with tears when I looked down and saw the pitiful thing I held. It looked female. She was female.

  They didn’t just take the males, as I initially suspected; they took all the children. As gently as I could, I wrapped the baby in my fur cloak and placed it under my arm, thinking this could not be allowed to stand.

  I looked across the sea of warriors and saw that the children were at least protected and warm; the bundles positioned as they readied to ride. Women dismounted, tied their horses to the carts the mules pulled and started back the way we came. In silence, the townsfolk stared lifelessly as we moved out.

  I watched as Kharis mounted her horse, pulling her reins from me. They said nothing as they turned their horses around, kicking them into a gallop. The sound of wailing infants and mothers shattered the air around me.

  I hesitated for a moment, wheeling my horse in a circle one-handed, I caught Faldwyn’s eyes once more, and something important passed between us. I nodded my head once at her then kicked my horse into a gallop, following the others away. This battle would be fought, but it would not be fought today. I needed to understand what happened here first.