Possessions Ch. 07

"She did."

"Did she tell you? She lifted my restrictions. She told me to do as my body instructs, and that as long as I can tolerate it, I can do as I please!" Sarantha's excited smile was absolutely radiant.

"The Healer has lifted your restrictions regarding your pregnancy. That is all! It is still my responsibility to see to your safety and wellbeing. No! You will not be traipsing around unescorted, doing as you please! Where is your guard?" Ehrik's eyes narrowed as the venom poured from his mouth. Rage made him nearly shake. He gestured wildly, needing Sarantha to understand something that she never would. "Have you lost all common sense? The King is here! You know that brings added risk, increased danger. The King's guards are here to protect the King, nobody else. If there is danger or an attack, they will see to him, not you! You flounce around as if you haven't a care-"

"Ehrik!" Alaliya's voice held rage of its own. She lifted her chin, meeting her husband's glare evenly when he whipped around to face her. "None of this is her fault! Do not direct your anger at her when she has done nothing wrong!"

Ehrik turned his gaze back on Sarantha, who looked up at him with wide, confused eyes, tears sparkling on her lashes. Ehrik nearly groaned. It wasn't her fault. The slaves acting out, the stresses of returning from war, the King's ridiculous notion of marriage, Alaliya's secrets and fears. None of it had anything to do with Sarantha. At least, not that she was responsible for or even aware of.

"Little sister," He reached out to take Sarantha's hands, his breath coming out in a rush when she flinched from him. He frowned as Alaliya brushed past him to take the smaller woman in her arms.

Ehrik was at a loss. Women didn't flinch from him, especially not his family. Oh Goddess, did Sarantha think he would hurt her? He felt his chest squeeze at the thought. Was he so far from his normal self that his brother's wife feared a physical assault from him? She had to know, know unconditionally, that she would always be safe with him. He would never lay a hand on her, never cause her unnecessary pain.

He wanted to pull her into his arms. She was so young, so gentle. So naïve. She didn't understand shouting, or fighting other than in self-defense, and even then it upset her that self-defense was even necessary. He wanted nothing more than to comfort her, but he knew he couldn't, not right now at least. She had recoiled from him! His stomach churned as he remembered. She'd stepped back from him, put distance between them, as she'd brought her arms up to guard her child and dropped her head to protect her face. Did she mistrust him so much that she thought he would strike her, strike her child? No. It had to have been instinctual. She had to know she was loved and cherished here. Safe.

Ehrik, trepidation churning in his stomach, tried again. "My darling little sister? I am sorry. I should not have spoken to you so. Please, forgive my temper." By the sweet Goddess, if she didn't forgive him, he didn't know what he'd do.

Sarantha, her head still bowed as Alaliya held her against her chest, nodded. "I would like my Trivalm, please. I want to go to dinner."

"Of course, my precious sister. Let us go to our meal." Ehrik forced a smile as he lead the way to the slave's quarters, mentally preparing himself for Sarantha's reaction to her slave's condition.

Ehrik knew it was necessary but he doubted if Sarantha would tolerate it. Since her husband's death, her freedoms had been drastically restricted, and she was projecting her feelings of both confinement and loneliness onto her new slave. Whether she realized it or not, Sarantha was trying to assuage her own discomfort with her treatment of Trivalm.

Sarantha, as far as Ehrik knew, had never been unfaithful to her husband, and Ehrik knew for a fact that she hadn't known an intimate touch since Kellir's death. Forcing pleasure on her war slave, often via Ivory, was Sarantha's way of soothing him, easing his transition. A luxury she wasn't afforded after Kellir's sudden death. Sarantha sent Trivalm to the baths when she was restricted to using the small personal tub, regardless of her known love of long soapy soaks in the deep basins. She allowed him to walk freely, unchained, even when she was restricted to her chamber. Allowing such a thing only days after the slave's arrival was absurd, even if he was herbed. Yet Sarantha did so without a second thought, albeit only with Ebon. She was allowing Trivalm to do the things that she missed most.

Ehrik frowned. He didn't achieve his rank by being stupid or naïve. He was a soldier, and soldiers recognized soldiers. Ebon wasn't a common slave. Regardless of how he came to be Sarantha's, Ehrik wasn't even sure the dark skinned man was a slave. And he definitely wasn't born in Kriten. Ehrik scowled. He always kept an eye on the other man, but he had long since stopped actively trying to figure him out. That didn't mean it didn't weigh on his mind though.

With a sigh of resignation, Ehrik mentally braced himself for the what was coming and pushed open the door to his war slave's quarters.

Sarantha was quiet as she walked slowly behind her brother. Ehrik never yelled at her, and now he'd done so twice in one day. She tried to blink her tears away.

She was used to rough men. Her husband never restricted her from anything. Not from the soldier's training, not from citizen's punishments, not from matters of military. But he had always been there to hold and comfort her when it was over, had always been there to erase the sight of blood from her mind, knowing how it haunted her. Now there was nobody. Nobody to hold her. Nobody to keep her safe. Nobody to wipe away her tears.

Ehrik would never hurt her, it wasn't something she'd ever even considered. Her brother definitely had a temper, and there was no doubt that he was quick to punish those beneath him, though he did his best to shelter her from that knowledge. He demanded instant obedience. Efficiency. Even those he considered friends, like Kriel, were not spared lashings when they failed to perform to standard.

Regardless of the knowledge of her safety, it didn't mean that it didn't make her chest squeeze when he showed such displeasure with her. Kellir never showed such displeasure toward her. He never lost his temper in her presence. She wasn't prepared for it, wasn't sure she'd ever be. She needed to be strong, like Alaliya, but she didn't think she'd ever have that kind of strength. Unfortunately, where Alaliya had strength, Sarantha had only empathy and compassion. It did her no favors, as others often tried to take advantage of that weakness.

The rattling of chains drew Sarantha's attention from her dour thoughts. She raised her gaze to see all three war slaves shuffle from the room – chained. Sarantha gasped her outrage as her gaze swept past Raikol and Drimelk to her own slave.

Just as the other two slaves were, Trivalm had shackles connecting his wrists to each other. The shackles on his ankles had only enough chain between them that he could take short steps. The chain connecting the two sets of shackles was short enough to keep his arms low, near his waist.

"Why is he chained like that?" Sarantha couldn't keep the horror from her voice. "He has been behaved! Why did you do that to him?" She couldn't help the tears sparking in her eyes. She was working so hard to help her slave settle, and all her effort was just being thrown away! "He isn't comfortable like that! Take them off!"

"Sister, you must calm yourself." Alaliya tried to sound soothing. "He was not behaved this morning, and the herbs have completely worn off. It is a precaution, for all of them. Just until the King leaves. They cannot be allowed to –"

"He is my slave! He can be allowed to do whatever I allow him to do!" Sarantha looked between Ehrik and Alaliya, her lip trembling even as anger flared in her eyes. When it became evident that neither was going to respond, she narrowed her eyes. "I am taking my slave back to my room!"

"Sister, you are expected at dinner to show deference to the King." Ehrik sounded weary, as if he already knew it was a losing battle.

"But brother," Sarantha's voice dripped sarcasm, taking on the sugary sweet tone those around her dreaded, "The King's own Healer was very specific. She said if I felt tired and needed to nap, I should. I'm tired. I'm going to nap. Please have a servant bring dinner to my room. Come along, little slave."

With that she turned on her heel and marched off, expecting her slave's obedience. The clinking of the chains confirmed Trivalm was moving, though if it was of his own volition, or Ebon was forcing him, Sarantha didn't care.

Her room wasn't far from her brother and sister's, in the same hallway. She would see them out of the corner of her eye when she turned into her own room. After all three of her slaves shuffled through, she slammed the door as hard as her little body would let her.

Sarantha threw herself onto her bed. Her body nearly shaking with the force of her anger. Almost instantly, Ivory snuggled into her side. Sarantha sat up, stroking Ivory's head as she watched Ebon secure one of the bed's foot shackles to the chain between Trivalm's ankles.

"Ebon, bring Trivalm the story book. I want to hear another tale." Sarantha forced herself to a seated position and smiled, remembering the last story her slave had chosen.

Ebon, of course, obeyed, then stood at the edge of the bed, as always, watching Ivory. Sarantha, for the first time that Trivalm had seen, smiled at the man and pat the bed next to Ivory. Instantly, as if any delay would cause the unspoken offer to be rescinded, Ebon climbed onto the bed, curling his body around Ivory.

Trivalm couldn't help but roll his eyes at the ridiculous sight; the large, dark man holding the tiny pale creature, both with their heads laying on the thigh of the equally tiny pregnant woman. Irritated, wanting to get any interaction over with, Trivalm opened the book and began to read the second story. Trivalm sneered. This was not a children's book as he'd first assumed.

This one was about a soldier who was born of rape. The man served an honorable career in the military, supporting his elderly disabled mother and younger sister. The soldier discovered the man who had fathered him was the Keeper. In his anger, he tried to assassinate his father, but failed. As punishment, the man was chained in the dungeon with the knowledge of his family's fates; his mother sent to the Execution Platform and his little sister enslaved to the Keeper's harem, where she lived out her days in "erotic bliss". Again, not a happy ending in Trivalm's opinion.

Sarantha, though, seemed oblivious to the horror and gore of the story. "I've always liked that one. It was my favorite as a child."

Evidently it was a children's story in this backward and bloodthirsty country. "How is this appropriate for a child?"

Sarantha smiled a sad, almost pitying smile. "It teaches children consequences. Not everything works out the way we hope. It teaches them that even if you are doing what is right, you may still not be victorious. But it also teaches children that even your darkest moments, you are still able to find happiness. In bearing the child of tragedy, you may still raise a man, a good man. In being imprisoned, you may still find pleasure. In being chained, you may know that your mother no longer suffers illness, your sister no longer hungers. Even in defeat, there can be victory."

"And the last one?" Trivalm couldn't keep the sneer from his voice.

Sarantha's tried to hide her giggle behind her hand. "That one has a very simple lesson, little slave. Don't ever cross your wife."

Before Trivalm could reply, a knock on the door drew his attention.

Sarantha heaved a sigh. "Finally, dinner. I was beginning to wonder what was taking so long." She moved swiftly toward the door, her hand resting on her swollen belly. "I'm positively famished. I swear the child eats more than a grown man! He must be a son, regardless of what my brother may say." She rolled her eyes even as she smiled slyly. "My brother thinks I don't know about his little bet with Allek over the gender of my child. My brother believes the child will be female, Allek male." She shook her head as if the men's actions were childish and cute.

She opened the door, stepping back as she gasped.

King Jecis lounged in the door. "Good evening, dearest. I wasn't able to see you at meal. I had hoped to talk more." Smiling brilliantly, he raised his hands, a beautifully decorated cake balanced on top of several plates. "And I've brought you cake."

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Trivalm's head snapped toward the door at the King's voice. His head had cleared hours ago, but was still pounding. He had been looking forward to dinner, as he hadn't eaten since dinner the evening before. Even so, he had been relieved when Sarantha had whisked him back to her room, allowing him to avoid the humiliation of sitting and eating on the floor like a dog, in addition to whatever additional indignities that would be forced on him due to the King's arrival. He assumed that once in the room, he would just wait until servants brought Sarantha dinner, because he knew without a doubt that Ehrik wouldn't allow the pregnant woman to miss a meal, and Sarantha wouldn't allow her slaves to go hungry. The King arriving, especially after his unexpected announcement that afternoon, did not bode well. He vaguely wondered if Sarantha had been informed of the King's intent, but seeing the shock on Sarantha's face made him doubt it.

"My King." Sarantha bowed her head in respect of her ruler, confused and slightly nervous.

"Well, dearest? May I enter? Or am I to wait in the hallway all evening? Or perhaps only until you finish your cake?" There was laughter in Jecis's voice.

"Of course, my King." Sarantha stepped out of the entry way, turning toward her bed. "Ebon, Ivory, to bed, please." She shot one look toward Trivalm, but didn't comment. She didn't need to, the look in her eyes said it all: If Trivalm acted out in front of the King, there would be hell to pay.

"Please, call me by my name, darling. Perhaps your Ivory would enjoy some cake as well? Hmm?" Jecis smiled at the small creature still perched on the bed.

Hope shined in Ivory's eyes as they slid between the cake and Sarantha.

Sarantha, however, looked unsure. "She just had cake last night, my King." She shot a look at Ebon, who, as always in matters of Ivory, looked unrepentant. "Multiple slices. I don't want to spoil her."

Jecis laughed as he walked into the room, setting the cake down on the bed. "Jecis. And I'm certain Ivory is the most spoiled slave I have ever seen. Please, as a special reward for being so well behaved, such a good girl, I would love to share a slice of cake with her."

Sarantha pursed her lips. "Of course my – Jecis."

The King smirked. "Your Jecis?" He grinned as Sarantha tried to apologize. He leaned close to Sarantha's ear, nearly whispering. "Hush, dearest. I find I like that."

The King gave no other comment as he cut the cake into thick slices and placed one onto each of the five plates. After handing one first to Sarantha, he directed Ivory to deliver one to Trivalm. She of course obeyed, smiling and expecting Trivalm to be as excited with the treat as she was. When he wasn't she frowned over her shoulder, causing both Sarantha and Jecis to narrow their eyes at him in warning. Doing his best not to glare, Trivalm forced a smile when Ivory turned back to him, taking a large bite. It seemed adequate for the pale thing, because she smiled back, clapped her hands in joy, and scampered off to accept her own slice from the King.

It was a good trick, one that Trivalm recognized instantly, even if nobody else did. The King obviously knew of Sarantha's unusual love of her small slave. The King must have realized it would be much easier to gain Sarantha's affection if the little pet enjoyed his company. The plan was simple: Make Ivory happy to impress Sarantha. He had brought something the slave would enjoy, but Sarantha had desired. He was being sneak, further confirming that Sarantha was unaware of his intentions.

It didn't take long for the cake to be eaten. Ebon collected the dishes and stacked them neatly outside the door before following Ivory into their cage, locking it behind them. Sarantha and Jecis lounged on the bed together, talking and laughing, though Sarantha seemed quiet and subdued. Occasionally, Jecis would reach out to stroke her arm, or lay a hand over her belly. For his part, he seemed genuinely awed at the life growing inside of her. Once, when the child moved inside it's mother, Jecis's eyes widened in pure wonder as he laid his hand over the swollen belly.

Trivalm was well skilled in carnal matters, just as he'd been accused the first day in this horrid Keep. Being skilled in those acts was useless unless you were in the position to perform them. It was necessary to be even better skilled in the actions leading up to carnal matters. Trivalm knew exactly what the King was doing with his soft endearments, increasingly personal touches, and leading questions.

Trivalm looked closely at Sarantha as Jecis flirted. She was nervous. She obviously wasn't aware of her King's intentions. Trivalm, in a moment of twisted pleasure, almost laughed at the little wench. It served her right, being scared, confused, and completely at another's mercy. And she was at another's mercy. If her King demanded her body, she would not dare defy his wishes by denying him. Let her see what it was like to have absolutely no control over her own body, her desires and reluctances ignored. Even in his depraved enjoyment of Sarantha's discomfort, when the King's touch turned softer, more deliberate, Trivalm laid back and closed his eyes, going so far as to turn his head away. He had no interest in watching the two fornicate. After a few moments of soft murmurs and sighs, he smiled when Sarantha spoke, her voice trembling.

"My King? I beg you stop. I..." There was trepidation in the softly spoken words. "I am not groomed." The words were muffled, as if she had turned her face into the pillows.

Trivalm glanced at the pair on the bed, his curiosity roused. Jecis lounged on his side beside Sarantha, obstructing Trivalm's view of her face, but not the view of the King's hand on her inner thigh, pushing her dress scandalously high to expose the creamy flesh. There was no doubt where that hand's intended destination was.

Trivalm was caught between smirking and frowning. The woman didn't even keep herself groomed? The part of Trivalm that was taking pleasure in this twisted punishment of fate gloried in the fact that it must have been utterly humiliating for Sarantha to have admitted such a thing. He wondered if her pretty little face was red and tight, embarrassment shining in her green eyes. The part of Trivalm that was a good man, who was raised to respect women, wondered at the lack of care. Sarantha put significant effort into her appearance, applying cosmetics and styling her hair daily, going as far as to change her clothing several times before meals to ensure she was properly attired. She'd used wax to remove the hair from her arms, legs, underarms, and belly twice since his arrival only days earlier. It was odd to him that she would let any part of her body not be tended to. Was it purposeful?

The cruel part of Trivalm won the internal battle and, not being able to see anything worth watching, he closed his eyes again.

"Oh, dearest, my sweet darling. Do not look away from me that way, with shame in your eyes." Jecis's voice was soft. "You are with child, heavily so. It cannot be easy to...twist... into a position that you can see to such things." There was a small silence, followed by movement, then Jecis's heavier footfalls. "Here, sweetness. If you are so concerned over such things, we will see to them now."