Beast of Zarall Page 3

  The slave returned his gaze to the ground. Olira couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d almost caught him looking at them. Anger, sourced by fear, flared up inside her. The idea of the purebred beast standing there, listening to their conversation, watching them, learning about them, disturbed her. She stalked towards him.

  The man -not a man- kept his stare on the ground. His hands were clasped in front of him and his face was flat. Lowering his head and hunching his shoulders didn’t really diminish his size.

  Olira swallowed, reminding herself for the tenth time that she knew the Words to control him. He couldn’t harm her or her brothers, no matter how much he’d listened.

  Breathing through her nose, she rummaged the saddle bags and pulled out a blanket. It was winter and the wind was going to pick up shortly. Olira was wearing her winter dress and a thick, woollen, travel cloak. She didn’t have any cloak to fit the slave’s size, who wore nothing but a shirt, a pair of pants, and shoes against the cold weather. She hadn’t missed how he’d shuddered a few times already.

  She held the blanket at him. The slave took it without looking up, and wrapped it around his shoulders. He didn’t even say thank you.

  Olira rolled her eyes. The slave had never thanked her; not even when she’d spent a fortune worth of herbs to save his life. It didn’t matter. The purebred’s lack good manners were the least of Olira’s concerns about him.

  She grabbed Warriors reins and started walking towards the footpath leading to the road to Oxreach. Gilann escorted them until they walked past the garden.

  “Keep an eye on Torren,” Olira said distractedly. “He’s been smuggling food out of the pantry and hiding it in the woods.”

  Gilann rolled his head back and grimaced. “Widow’s Spirit?”

  “Yes,” Olira sighed. “He thinks I wouldn’t notice what time of the year it is.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll find him.” Gilann trailed back towards the farm, heading in the direction of the pantry. He waved a hand at Olira. “Be safe and say hi to Uncle Jygan for me,” he said teasingly.

  Olira glared at him, but returned his wave.

  When they climbed up the hill overlooking the farm, Olira paused long enough to spare one last glance at her farm.

  In the distance, she could pick out the small figures of Andar and Kowas bickering at each other at the meadows, the herd grazing lazily behind them. She saw Gilann walking out of the pantry, with his hand clamped tightly over Torren’s ear. Their ten-year-old brother’s mouth was moving rapidly, no doubt denying how he’d already started stashing food in the woods. Olira could even see how red his ear had already turned. She laughed, despite shaking her head tiredly.

  She glimpsed another subtle movement of the slave’s head, though she found him looking blankly at the ground when she turned.

  She gritted her teeth. Ever since she met him, the slave brought nothing but trouble and stress in her life. She was looking forward to get rid of him. She tugged Warrior to walk. Hunched under the blanked and lead by the chain attached to the saddle, the slave followed.

  4

  DIENUS

  He always knew when the need was coming. It was a craving like hunger, but did not originate from his stomach. It also resembled thirst, but not for water. It occupied his mind, poisoned his thoughts, and did not go away until he gratified it.

  He was never quite sure how to do that; sometimes it felt like the need spoke another language. But he knew it had something to do with their eyes.

  “Oh boy,” Lotheris said, as he reached for his wine glass. “You’ll do it again, won’t you?”

  Dienus was ashamed of how powerless he could be against the need. So, he had become better at concealing it from others. Yet, he could never hide it from his brother.

  Lotheris watched him with a smirk and a patronizing glare that was his signature. Dienus had to fight the blood rushing to his face.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The Great Hall was one of the largest rooms in Castle Brinescar. The walls soared high, making anyone feel small, and looking at the vast ceiling would make women feel dizzy. Four tables, long and solid wood, ran the length of the room, and a smaller fifth one was placed overlooking the others.

  It was slightly chilly; the two large fireplaces at opposite walls did a poor job at heating the room, although a hearty fire blazed in both and slaves kept feeding them with more wood. Despite its the vastness, the Hall was illuminated generously.

  The chandelier that hung over the tables commanded attention from anyone who entered the Hall. It was designed and made in Stoneheart Mountains, almost a world away. The metal was rumoured to be mined by dwarves, though Dienus had never seen one. Each metal hand was holding ten candles and there were fifty of them. Dienus had counted it on the first evening his family spent as the rulers of Castle Brinescar.

  Queen Inoeveth had ordered the chandelier to be cleaned and lighted every single evening. Just as she instructed there’d be forty-one kinds of dishes displayed at the tables each night, and all the house slaves to be present in well-maintained uniforms. She also requested a form of entertainment be arranged for every evening. This evening’s entertainment, occupying the empty space between the two tables in the middle, was a dance show by half-dressed purebred flames.

  Dienus couldn’t take his eyes off of one of the slaves with the flame tattoo on her neck. She was at the centre of the dancing slaves, raising her arms and swinging her hips to the rhythm of the light drums and flute. Her honey-coloured hair fell down her shoulders in a wild mess. Her body was almost sculpted by Aeyar himself, the God of Art and Passion.

  “Why can’t you just fuck them like a normal man?” Lotheris asked. There was a hint of disgust in his otherwise-witty voice. At least he had the courtesy to keep it down.

  “Why can’t you mind your own business?” Dienus held his empty glass up and a house slave appeared behind him to fill it with more wine. He took a sip while his eyes consumed every movement of the pleasure slave’s body. She was a purebred, as all the best ones were. She swung her hair back, thrusting her chest out. Her eyes were closed. She bit her lower lip as her hands caressed her face and drifted down her neck, her breasts, her flat stomach, and below.

  Lotheris pushed his half-full plate away. His features were a poor copy of their mother’s; his hair a darker chestnut and his eyes close to the colour of onyx. Dienus resembled more their father; in appearance and in temperament. The only thing the brothers both had in common was their height, which allowed them to look down on most people. Lotheris’s ability to make others feel inferior rarely worked on Dienus. This was one of those rare occasions.

  “Mother doesn’t like disappearing purebreds,” Lotheris said, giving his brother a hard stare.

  “She won’t disappear,” Dienus scoffed. He hated how his face flushed. “I’ll be careful.”

  “You will. Because she already has enough on her plate.” Lotheris lowered his voice down until it was no louder than a breath. “Lord Heltez is leaving.”

  Dienus turned away from the flame. Thirty-five houses that pledged their loyalty to house Vogros were formally invited to dine with the royal family every single night. Sixteen Lords were present themselves, thirteen of them with their Ladies or Mistresses. Nineteen others were represented by their immediate family members. None of them had turned down their invitation yet. None.

  Lord Heltez was sitting at the middle section of the table on the right side. He was a middle-aged man with a bald patch at the back of his head. He was smiling and nodding to Lord Deihlan, who was sitting across from him, but his eyes kept darting at the royal table.

  Dienus glanced at his mother, who was sitting on the right side of his father. Lotheris and Dienus, crown princes of Chinderia, were seated on the left side of King Kastian. The seat next to them was empty, as Princess Lareani was never allowed to join them at the dining hall. Yet, King Kastian wanted a seat reserved for her at every event.

&nb
sp; Queen Inoeveth and half their advisors thought this was a wrong move. An empty seat reminded everyone that the King had a disabled daughter. To Queen Inoeveth, this was a weakness and they were better off pretending that Princess Lareani didn’t exist. This was the only subject in which they ever disagreed. Unfortunately for House Vogros, all the kingdom knew King Kastian had a weakness for his daughter.

  This evening, Lord Thalborn and his son were invited to join them at the royal table. Queen Inoeveth was leaning towards them, listening to Lord Thalborn’s story and laughing at the right places. She was a petite woman, with features that never gave away her real age; her smooth face and short hair signalled youth, while the creases that appeared around her amber eyes implied she had at least thirty summers. She touched Lord Thalborn’s arm every now and then and watched the man with wide eyes that made her look like a naïve maiden. Lord Thalborn’s son, who was no older than Dienus, watched the Queen without blinking.

  The music stopped and the flame tattooed pleasure slaves floated towards the servant doors. Dienus had missed the end of the dance show. He ground his jaw, cursing at Lotheris and Lord Heltez for distracting him. He eyed the far side of the room, where Bronkin, the new Master of the Slaves, was supervising his house slaves, making sure all the tables were looked after and all the cups were filled.

  “Don’t do it, brother” Lotheris mumbled.

  Dienus caught Bronkin’s eyes and gestured him to come over. Lotheris sighed.

  “Blonde purebred from the middle,” Dienus said when Bronkin leaned over. Bronkin’s face twitched, then his mouth parted with a forced smile.

  If there was anyone who hated disappearing purebreds more than the Queen did, it was the Master of the Slaves.

  “As you wish, Your Highness.” Bronkin straightened up and went after the flames. His back was stiff as if he had just swallowed a stick.

  Dienus glanced at his mother. Queen Inoeveth was still listening to Lord Thalborn with rapt attention. There was no indication that she even noticed Dienus’s conversation with Bronkin.

  Dienus could almost believe he imagined the vague tightness around her jaw.

  “You’re hopeless,” Lotheris said, rubbing his forehead with his fingers. Dienus didn’t bother with an answer.

  The next entertainer was a seasoned bard who played a miniature harp. He was joined by a younger version of himself who played the flute. Their first song caught half the guests’ attention and their second song put them in a good mood.

  His third song was cut short when King Kastian rang his knife at his wine glass. The musicians put their instruments down. Guests; heads turned towards the King.

  “I’d like to thank you all for joining me and my family in this wonderful evening,” the king said. “Your presence means a lot for my house.” He had a deep, strong voice, fit for a king. He wasn’t yelling, but he had an air of command that carried his voice to the far side of the hall. Dienus’s father always had this quality even before he was a king. This was the power of a natural leader.

  “To House Vogros!” a guest from the back said raising his cup. Others joined him. The Great Hall echoed with salutes to House Vogros.

  King Kastian’s smile neither succeeded softening his hard-set face, nor brought any joy to his poison-green eyes. He raised his own glass to accept their salutes. Queen Inoeveth and the princes joined him.

  King Kastian let the commotion go for several seconds, then silenced the dine hall with a subtle gesture. “I would also like to thank Lord Heltez for honouring us all with his attendance at Castle Brinescar and wish him safe travels back to Fort Heltn.”

  Lord Heltez stood up. “It’s been my honour, Your Majesty. Thank you for your kindness and hospitality.” His face and voice were not giving anything away and his shoulders appeared relaxed, but Dienus could see the joints of his fingers had turned white from squeezing his wine glass. “I wish to get home before the weather gets heavier. Winter is a difficult time for Fort Heltn and I cannot leave my wife alone at a time like this.”

  King Kastian nodded his approval. “As our elders say, a man’s first duty is to his wife.” He held Queen Inoeveth’s hand and kissed it. Inoeveth’s face enlightened with love. Her fingers caressed Kastian’s hand.

  Lord Heltez’s smile faltered. “Our elders are wise. They also say, a man’s loyalty to his wife is a good indicator of his loyalty to the crown. May House Vogros reign until the end of our days.”

  “Your commitment to your family warms my hearth,” Queen Inoeveth said. Her speech had a foreign accent that neither Dienus nor Lotheris inherited. Oddly, it could be heard in Princess Lareani’s speech, when her mind was clear enough to talk.

  “Family means everything,” Inoeveth continued, tilting her head and watching Lord Heltez with the softest eyes. “We always want the best future for our family. I think your young son could have a great future squiring for Prince Dienus. Norrol, wasn’t it?”

  Lord Heltez’s face paled a tone while Dienus’s darkened. They both managed to keep their composure.

  “I could not even describe the honour it would bring to my family,” Lord Heltez said. “But Your Highness, I’m afraid I already gave my word to Lord Thalborn. A man cannot break...”

  “Oh, I would never ask you to break your word, Lord Heltez,” Inoeveth said, waving a hand as if swatting a fly. “Lord Thalborn, would you release Lord Heltez from his word?”

  Inoeveth’s question raised many eyebrows in the Great Hall. Lord Heltez blinked at the audaciousness of the request. Lord Thalborn, falsely assuming the Queen was joking, let out a chuckle, which he contained promptly after noticing she was not laughing.

  “Ehm…” Thalborn’s eyes went from side to side. He even glanced at the King, hoping he would acknowledge the improperness of the situation, but Kastian simply watched Thalborn with a tilted head.

  “Ehm,” Lord Thalborn repeated. Inoeveth encouraged him with a charming smile and Lord Thalborn realized what she asked was not really a question. “Anything for my Queen,” he said, raising his cup.

  “Fantastic!” Inoeveth approved. “All of Chinderia knows, Prince Dienus is an excellent swordsman. Young Norrol has a lot to learn from him. Isn’t that right, my darling?” As swiftly as she took over, Inoeveth returned the conversation back to her husband.

  “I couldn’t have thought of a better arrangement,” Kastian said. “I expect young Norrol to report for duty as soon as possible. You have a safe journey, Lord Heltez.”

  “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Lord Heltez sat back down and King Kastian gestured the musicians to resume the entertainment. The bard and his son started playing Season for You and I, a fast-paced song that’s popular in the Heltn Hills, but the song wasn’t enough to bring life to Lord Heltez’s movements, which suddenly seemed to lack energy. The man accepted other guests’ congratulations with a bleak expression.

  “It’s like his son was just sentenced for execution,” Lotheris snickered. “His son will squire for a prince. He should be honoured.”

  “They all know what squiring, being a lady-in-waiting, or being under ward means,” Dienus mumbled. “Do we really need a hostage from every house?”

  “Do you really need to ask that?”

  “I already had one snotty squire.”

  “Now you have two. You really shouldn’t have annoyed mother.”

  Dienus glanced at the Queen. Inoeveth felt his gaze and returned him with a cold stare. Silently telling him she knew what he was planning to do with the flame.

  Dienus didn’t have much choice. He had the need. When the need came, it always took what it wanted.

  As the night went on, Dienus waited for an opportunity to excuse himself. He found it when Princess Lareani’s lady-in-waiting -their hostage from Kilrer- came to whisper some news to Queen Inoeveth’s ear. Lady Lona was Dienus’s age. A little lanky for his taste, but otherwise pretty. The Queen’s face darkened as she listened to the young Lady. She quietly excused herself and left with
Lady Lona.

  Dienus waited for several minutes, then stood up.

  “You better not kill another one,” Lotheris warned. His voice was dripping with malice. “If mother asks where you are, I will tell her the truth.”

  “Told you, I’ll be careful,” Dienus hissed.

  His brother’s condescending attitude only bothered Dienus until he left the Great Hall. As soon as he was on his way to his room, his steps lightened. His cheek started twitching. Thinking about what was waiting for him in his room made him feel the need stronger than before. All he could think of was to discover a way to satisfy it. Moreover, knowing that what he was about to do angered mother, only made Dienus want it more.

  He was telling Lotheris the truth though. He didn’t want to kill another purebred. Murder was never what the need was about. He just had to be more careful.

  When he reached his chambers, he asked the Vogros guards outside not to be bothered.

  The flame was in his bedroom, standing near his bed. There was a piece of paper in his bedstand with two neatly written words on it; her First Word and her Pain Word. He wouldn’t need either of them, but she was a purebred and Words were what made them special.

  Her hands were clasped in front of her and her head was cocked slightly to the side. It made her look smug, which Dienus found attractive. Her honey-coloured hair was thick and tousled; exactly how a woman would look like if she was just dragged out of her bed. She was still wearing the two-piece clothing she had on when she was dancing. One barely covering her breasts and the other hanging from her hips. They were both intentionally ripped in several places. It added to her wild appearance.

  Dienus approached her. He placed a hand on the side of her face. Her eyes were half-closed. She moved her head and rubbed her cheek in Dienus’s palm like a purring cat. Dienus caressed the slave tattoo on the left side of her neck; a flame trapped inside a circle, and three lines to indicate she is purebred.

  His fingers traced the lines of the tattoo and found her pulse. He closed his eyes and felt her heartbeat at his fingertips. It was slower than his, and steady. It disturbed him. He knew pleasure slaves didn’t really feel arousal. They were just extremely good at acting it. It was disappointing still.