Teagan

by Sharilyn Skye

  I wondered if she knew this was a faithless land, a land without magic, a Goddess, or a soul. Kharis straightened her spine at the mentioned of The Goddess, watching the Thuinnian Queen more closely. I caught Galene’s eye and gave a faint shake of my head.

  “An alliance between Tir fo Thuinn and Eregion will benefit us both, and we look forward to seeing the fruits of it. We will begin to transport females of the highest quality for warrior training and our most desirable men to your trainers in three months. Your engineers will return with us to build the necessary docks and transport stations on the wild and unpredictable shores of our realm before the transport of our people can begin.”

  “In the meantime, we brought with us loads of oil, food, and coral as a show of good faith.” She smiled at the women below her, and I felt something else in her words. Magic.

  Her voice wove through the crowd, binding those around her. To what end, I did not know, but I felt the magic in my tattoos and my soul as surely as I felt my heartbeat. I arched an eyebrow at her, watching her intently. Her magic did not feel offensive, if anything, it felt like the soft hand of love caressed those it touched.

  She was planting another seed, and I felt it take root.

  “It is my honor to enter this alliance with the people of Eregion. Enjoy the gifts we brought and in three short months,” she said, staring pointedly at me, “You will enjoy the unique gifts Thuinnian men have to offer. At that time, we will begin the process of engineering our society to mirror yours,” she finished. She inclined her head to the crowd below and moved from the dais, her mates followed.

  She continued to roam the room, her mates trailing after her. They shook hands and accepted congratulations from warriors and slaves alike. I watched as Galene’s mates tried to engage Eruhini slaves in conversation and were blocked by their warriors in most cases, but not all.

  Three months. I sighed. That was her challenge to me. She did not wish to send her men to Eregion as slaves; she did not want Kharis to change her society to reflect ours. I felt the sweet softness of her magic and knew she did not want to harden her lands with the icy touch of Eregion. She might not want an alliance at all.

  A land of peaceful sea people would be no match for a force of Eruhini Warriors. Perhaps it was a case of align or fight, and she chose what she hoped was the lesser of the two evils, I did not know, but my supposition felt right to the core.

  As she spoke, she made her pact with the Eregion people, not Queen Kharis. I wondered if Kharis noticed the slight change in verbiage. If she had, she did not correct it. She might think she would rule this land forever, but her days just got markedly shortened to three months or less.

  The Goddess wouldn’t allow full-grown Thuinnian men to come here to die at the whims of this cold, unfeeling land. Neither would I.

  It was one thing to be born into this society but another to be thrown into it. Some might survive, but most would not. The other stolen that came before me and I, myself, are proof of that. It was coming anyway; it just needed to happen faster.

  I gripped the fingers of the men beside me and squeezed them. I felt Kar’s warm strength at my back as Syl and Lyros squeezed back. I hoped they understood what had just transpired.

  We mingled a bit more, talking to warriors who might be receptive to change. Pameline did the same; I watched as she worked the room. She had been here longer, knew more warriors, and would have a better feel for our position among them.

  I touched my men, a caress here and a glance there. We weren’t obvious enough to arouse anger; we did get many curious looks, and that’s what we wanted. I walked with sovereign grace through the crowd, keeping an aura of magic around me. I wanted them to feel my power.

  The more questions we raised, the better. Now that we had a timetable, we needed to step up our efforts to make people question what was going on around them. Not only that, but she also wanted them to question their Queen.

  After another pass through the Hall, I went to our rooms to change. The men were expected at work, and I had training with Pameline in advance of a mission scheduled for the week after.

  They waited while I changed into leather training pants and a matching sleeveless shirt, allowing my tattoos on my arm to show. Though the lands around were frozen, the palace was kept warm by the magic of electricity and the age-old method of burning wood and their precious black ore.

  We had not talked about the Queen’s statements, either of them. A sense of heaviness followed us as we moved through the palace on our way to start a revolution.

  They followed behind me, not because that’s where they belonged but because heavy thoughts distracted them. It’s one thing to talk revolution in the safety of our rooms and another to breathe oxygen on the spark of fire like a bellows.

  It was my duty as my Trio’s owner to drop them off and pick them up from their ascribed duties. Regretting each stop more, I first left Kar in the smithy where ten other men already shoveled wood and black ore into the massive furnace. The heat was unbearable, and I wondered how they tolerated it. Warriors and a few trusted men pounded metals into weapons. I touched his face, pleading him with my eyes to be safe as I left him, drawing stares from the other men and curious glances from the women.

  Next, I walked Lyros to the stables, Syl’ta ghosting behind us with watchful eyes. The stables were one floor above the slave pens and furnace rooms. Suffocating heat radiated off of the stones in waves. I felt terrible for the men and beasts alike.

  Horses snorted at the sight of him, and I laughed when he rolled his eyes. It made sense that they hated him, a wolf in the prey’s den. At least now, he knew the reason for their displeasure. Over his shoulder, I watched men shovel stalls clean and pile in new bedding. Hundreds of horses stalled on this level, and half that many men worked to make them comfortable, their backs marked with wounds old and new. Sweat glistened off them, but they made no notice of it.

  The animals enjoyed more comfort than most of these men ever had, and the thought broke my heart. As I gripped his fingers tightly, I offered a smile. This was why we would fight to change this place. Win or lose; this land would change. Should we fail, another would pick up the mantle and fight on as the seeds of change were being sown, and there was no way to cut them down.

  I watched him walk away, his own scars glistening in the sweat that beaded on his back, and my heart grew heavier. They had not asked for this, and I had not given them a choice.

  “Syl,” I said when we were alone in the halls of the palace again. “You don’t have to follow me. If you want, I can let you go. It may be safer than being by my side when the swords start swinging.” I gripped his arm, stopping him, my eyes boring into his. “I’m no better than them; I haven’t even asked what you wanted.”

  He crushed me against the wall, his hot tongue parting my lips and forcefully twining with mine. He kissed me hard, hands clamped onto either side of my face, so all I could do was allow it. I went limp, caged between him and the cold stone wall.

  “Never offer that again, Teagan. We’ve made our choice. We chose you before you placed your hand on my spine and felt the first sparks of magic linking us together. I believe that. Your Goddess chose us for you, and with you, we will stand. I believe this too. Together we win, and together we lose. There is no afterward if we fail; we understand this,” he said, following his words with another crushing kiss, and I felt him rise and part the leather of his war skirt.

  “I need to feel you inside of me,” I said, running my hand down the planes of his chest. “I need to feel something more than fear,” I said, my voice shaking.

  He pulled my shoulders around and pushed my face into the stone wall, ripping my leather pants to my knees in one, practiced swipe. Gripping my hips, he bent me over and pushed into me quickly, his bar hitting my cervix and slipping into the space behind it. I cried out, unable to stop myself.

  I needed this. During the celebration with two Queens, fear and doubt had planted itself in my mind. Fear
of the future and doubt about dragging anyone into this fight with me. I did not doubt that the cause was just; I doubted that I could win and feared that I would take three lives needlessly into hell with me. The pressure was too much, and I lost sight of the fact that I had the backing of a Goddess. The Goddess.

  With each snap of Syl’s hips, I achieved clarity. Pressure built in my womb and Syl ripped an orgasm out of me with his skill. I braced against the wall, and on my forearms and cried out again as his strokes lengthened and came harder. The slap of flesh echoed through the halls, and I didn’t care if one hundred warriors witnessed this beating I took.

  He jerked me up to him, wrapping his forearm around my throat to restrain me while thrumming his fingers over the core of me. I came apart, shattering the fear and doubt, replacing it with something more substantial and fitting of a warrior woman.

  Releasing my throat, he pushed me over into the wall. I caught myself on my hands as he pounded into me with enough force to lift my feet from the ground. A final thrust and he came with a shout, burying deep inside of me as he spent himself. He trailed his hands down my spine, his head thrown back while he struggled to catch his breath. He pulled away, and hot, thick semen ran down my thighs.

  I rested my heated face against the cool stones while the pounding in my chest fought to ease. Slow, loud clapping pulled me from the peace drifting over me, and I straightened.

  “Interesting, Teagan. Very interesting.” Ang’ali moved from the bend in the passageway that served to conceal her. She was with another woman whose face I knew, but whose name I did not. “On your knees, slave,” Ang’ali demanded, snapping her fingers at Syl’ta.

  He did not immediately fall to his knees. Instead, he met her eyes, quirked a smile, and fixed the panels of his skirt to cover himself before slowing dropping down, using me as a brace.

  I straightened, taking the time to stretch my back like a pleased cat before pulling my pants slowly over the swell of my hips. Her face reddened with anger at my show of satiation. “I thought it was interesting as well, Ang,” I purred, shortening her name, knowing she hated it.

  “I’ll see you whipped again for the laws you broke, Teagan. Allowing him to come in you, how base,” she sneered. “And to let him take you in that manner, very unbecoming of a warrior, Teagan, to allow him to have a position of power over you.” Her cold laughter echoed through the stone passage.

  “Ang,” I whispered, so she had to listen to hear. “I begged him to come in me, to fill me with all the amazing seed he has. Maybe he’ll give me a baby. I hope so. And that position, Goddess, that piercing hits all the spots. I’ll have them all take me like that tonight, I mean, they reach so deeply inside of you and the pleasure? Amazing. That you limit yourself is sad. If you ask me, maybe a good fuck against the wall would get that oversized stick out of your ass. I broke no laws. Everything Syl’ta does to me, I beg him for, plead for. Not my fault that when you had them, you squandered the opportunity to discover all the pleasures they have to offer.” I curled my lip and scanned her square body in disgust. “Up Syl’ta,” I said, “We have work to do.”

  My black-haired king rose to my side, his blue eyes flashing, and Ang’ali drew her sword, barring my way with it. I had my sword at her throat before she could draw her next breath. “If you draw your weapon against me again, it’ll be the last action you take.” My sharp blade drew a thin line of blood across her neck, and she stepped back, allowing us to pass.

  Turning my back on her, I walked away, holding Syl’s fingers in mine as I went. I could feel her eyes boring into my back as we went, and I didn’t care. Not even a little bit.

  Ang’ali was one warrior I would never win to my side and to show her anything, but brute strength would invite trouble. She was a bully, and the worst thing you can do with a bully is back down.

  She went through Trio’s like cordwood, and most of them did not survive her. She will talk. Word will spread. And none of that mattered because what one warrior heard another would hear differently.

  One warrior might hear that I held Syl’s hand or that he brought me such incredible pleasure my knees shook. Another might hear that he touched me reverently and not out of fear. Those are the women I wanted this quick mating in the hallway to affect, not that we planned it that way. It could work in our favor.

  I did not miss the high blush and soft ‘O’ on the face of the warrior next to Ang. Her story would be different, and I hope she told it well.

  I left Syl at the Boucherie and made my way to the training gym where Pameline waited, the sweet smell of spice and heather that marked me as Syl’s mate trailing behind me.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Syl’ta

  I went into the storeroom to wash up and grab an apron; my hands shook as I reached for it. I clamped them together to stop the tremors. It didn’t help, and they wormed their way through my body until I sank against the wall, a trembling, shaking mess. I fought to control the spasms that shook my body and failed.

  I knew Teagan was a warrior, most Erhu women are, but she is not Eruhini. She is filled with so much light and heat that it is easy to forget she has a fighter’s soul. After that moment, I would always remember that Teagan is a warrior.

  Ang’ali is twice her size and a hundred times more brutal, but Teagan marked her throat with her sword that moved faster than the eye could track, daring Ang’ali to challenge her further. Ang’ali backed down. I will remember that moment forever. The only reason Teagan is not First Sword is that the Queen does not fight newcomers. I’ve seen my sister fight; she is no match for Teagan in speed or strength. I saw that now.

  Ang’ali has twice the mass Teagan does, and it matters not. Teagan’s power choked the air from the tunnel and danced down her sword. She is fierce. She will be Queen; I saw it as plainly as I see that her eyes are golden, and her skin is brown. She will be Queen. She gives not one fuck about the rest of it.

  I sat in the dark as my racing heart calmed. I wasn’t expected today. The butcher was a kind, old woman with knowing eyes and a decent heart. Stolen long ago from a softer place, she never made warrior rank, but her skill with meat kept her in the capital.

  “Trouble, Syl’ta?” she asked, using my name as only one other female does.

  “No, Madame,” I said with a sigh, fighting for composure. Ang’ali could make our lives miserable. A word from her could end not only Teagan but the rest of us as well before we had a chance to grow a revolution.

  “A lie,” she said. Whatever place Madame Zaya came from had magic. She could sense a lie and a truth the moment words left the speaker’s mouth. “You have lady troubles. Is your new Mistress unkind?” she asked.

  “No, my lady,” I said, knowing I have already said too much.

  “Not a lie. Your new Mistress is kind to you. I know not her face, but I hear her name. She comes to me in visions, and I know what she’s about. You too, Syl’ta. I know your heart, and it is good. The risks are high, but the reward is greater. I believe,” she said, turning a rheumy eye my way. “Spread your tales here; you are safe. I have faith,” she said, giving me a salty wink.

  She closed the door and left me. I took a stuttering breath and got up from the floor, fastening my apron around my leather studded skirt. Opening the door, I picked up a knife and went to carve into the side of horned Cervidae before me. Zaya referenced faith and belief in much the same way I had with Teagan and my brothers. Maybe she did see. Perhaps she spoke the truth.

  “Hold your knife this way, boy, and thrust up into the vital organs of the thing here, and here,” she said, taking the knife from me and expertly sliding it between the ribs of the beast. “The heart is at the fourth rib space and the lungs the fifth. For the heart, you must slide under and toward the middle, and for the lungs, you must slide straight in. Both can be reached from the back as well.” Deftly, she put my hand over the knife and guided my hand in quick thrusts through firm flesh.

  “The liver is on the right, tucked squarely un
der the ribcage. Stab through any of the lower ribs or up through the diaphragm,” she said, guiding my hand upward through the meat of the thing. “Any of those strikes are fatal, Syl’ta. Remember that. Your mistress’s heart is pure, and should this knife disappear and be sewn into one of the panels on your skirt, I will not miss it.” She turned and walked to the front of the store where other slaves worked piling cut meat into the display case.

  I stabbed into the carcass over and over, experimenting with the force needed to cut through flesh and bone. Surely Eruhini bodies with beating hearts were softer than the dead flesh of an animal, but possibly not. I used as much force as necessary and then some so that it felt natural. Then I delicately cut the ruined meat away and sliced the rest into steaks, chops, and the other cuts warrior women loved. The leftovers I ground into what we slaves ate daily, for we did eat well. A starved slave cannot meet the expectations of their warriors.

  I packaged the meat and placed it onto the cart for the others to unload. Oddly, I was the only one trusted with a knife. My grasp of the rules was stellar; it was the follow-through that got me every time. But Zaya had different ideas, and Kharis had long ago given up on taming the old woman. As her skills were valuable, she was left mostly alone.

  “I heard your new mistress follows The Goddess and has magic,” Zaya said during our afternoon break. She said it loudly enough to cause the other men to turn their heads.

  “She does,” I answered, turning to catch her eye.

  “I hear she has great magic,” she continued. “Healed herself from the lashes she took, so she did.”

  I laughed at the overt way she was pretending to have a casual conversation. The slaves here were used to her eccentricity and enjoyed it, or they didn’t last in her service. “That’s true, madame,” I answered. “Not a mark on her.”