Possessions Ch. 07

Hmm? And just how did the King think he was going to that? Trivalm almost laughed, wondering if the King was really going to test the little strumpet in such a way. There was the sound of water pouring into a basin, followed by more footfalls. Trivalm smirked when the distinct wound of a blade being unsheathed brought two feminine gasps. Trivalm spared a single glance at Ivory in her cage. She cowered in Ebon's arms as he stroked and soothed her, her wide eyes trained above her as if she'd be able to see through the mattress if she tried hard enough. Nothing new, boring. Trivalm rolled his eyes, letting them again drift shut.

"My King?" Sarantha was stuttering. Even across the room, Trivalm could hear her rapid, heavy breathing. She was scared, fear bordering on terror. She was trying to keep her voice even, but failing miserably.

"Hush, dearest. Did you never see Kellir remove his facial hair? Men do it daily. The lather will coat your skin and protect you from any nicks. My knife is sharp; it will be a smooth glide. Slide down here, darling. Spread your legs wide for me so I may see to your care."

There was a smacking of lips, and Trivalm wondered where the King had kissed her. The head? The cheek? The lips? The cunt he was about to shave so that he could satisfy his lusts on the small, pregnant woman?

"My King–"

"Jecis." He corrected again, sounding slightly irritated.

"Jecis," Sarantha corrected, "This is truly not necessary. I am sure you have other, more important matters to attend to–"

"I don't." Now he sounded amused. "Now lay back and relax."

The next moments were quiet, save for a few small whimpers from Sarantha and softly spoke encouragements from Jecis.

Finally, Jecis gave a satisfied chuckle, murmuring, "All finished, dearest." There was another smacking of lips. "So pretty, and soft."

There were more sounds of kissing, and increasingly more frequent sounds of whimpers. Trivalm sneered. They could at least have pulled the divider closed. It was disgusting, a pregnant woman fornicating with her ruler, above her slaves while another slave was able to watch. The stupid slut.

Trivalm was ripped from his increasingly angry thoughts by a sob. Not a whimper, not a sigh. A full, genuine sob.

"No. Please. Please, I beg you, my King, don't. Please. Oh, Goddess, please, I beg you, no."

There was terror in Sarantha's soft plea. Stark terror. Trivalm's head snapped to the side as he bolted upright on the small cot. They had changed positions, Sarantha laying near the edge of the bed and Jecis kneeling on the floor. His head was already raised, his lips slightly parted. He scrambled to his feet to better see Sarantha's face over her large belly.

"Dearest?" The King sounded concerned, but whether it was concern for Sarantha's distress, or his part in creating that distress, Trivalm had no idea. "What's wrong? Stop this. Stop."

The King reached for Sarantha, causing her to flinch from him, raising her arms to guard swollen belly and the child inside. He ignored the movement, wrapping is hands around Sarantha's upper arms and pulling her to a sitting position.

Trivalm had had enough. Sarantha was scared, sobbing now, trying to pull away from the man holding her. No, regardless of how he despised her, Trivalm would not sit idle and watch a woman be raped. Forgetting the shackles around his ankles, he lunged from the bed, ending up sprawled on the floor. Instantly, with a soldier's reflexes, he sprang back to his feet. His gaze fixed on the man that very well could have hurt a small, defenseless pregnant woman.

Jecis's glare held venom as it fixed on him, but Trivalm refused to break the stare. They sat like that for several moments, the promise of retaliation in each of their gazes. It wasn't until Ivory began shaking the door to her cage that both men looked away. The little blond looked panicked, trying to see where Sarantha was still sitting on the bed, shaking and terrified.

Jecis looked at Sarantha for several moments. Her wide sparkling green eyes were wide as they locked on his face, even as her slight body shook in fear.

Jecis sneered, before turning and stomping to the door. He flung it open, barking orders to the guards there. "Fetch the Keeper! Now!"

He slammed the door, turning to face Sarantha once again. He took a step toward her, and she visibly recoiled, a pathetic little whimper escaping her. Jecis, disgust etched into his face, gave a disbelieving huff. In a fluid movement, he spun around, yanked the door open, and exited through it. The bang of it slamming behind him made Sarantha flinch again.

As soon as the door was closed, Trivalm turned his attention back to Sarantha. From where he was, he couldn't tell if she was hurt. He didn't see any blood, but that didn't mean the King hadn't left bruises or bite marks. Goddess! He hadn't been paying attention. If he had, he would have a better idea of if Sarantha were injured.

"Sarantha."

He tried to get her attention. Her wide eyes remained on the door. Her lips were parted and trembling and her breaths came in quick, shaky gasps that made her chest heave. She didn't indicate in any way she had heard him.

"Sarantha! Look at me!" He nearly yelled her name, needing her to respond to him. When her frightened gaze snapped to him, he lowered his voice. "Are you hurt? Did he harm you?"

Sarantha's gaze went back to the door. Before Trivalm could get her attention again, there was a loud, purposeful knock on the door.

"Sister?" Ehrik's voice rang clearly through the door. Without waiting for an invitation, he pushed it open just in time to catch Sarantha as she threw herself into his arms. True to his profession, his eyes swept the room, taking in every detail, Trivalm's aggressive posture, Ivory's panicked expression... and Jecis's knife still resting on the floor near the foot of the bed.

"Brother! I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I didn't mean to upset him. I didn't mean to disobey. I am sorry. I am so sorry. Please. Brother, please! I didn't mean to; I was just so scared. I am sorry. I will not show such disrespect again. I am sorry. Brother!"

Ehrik tried to calm her, stroking her hair and shushing her. When that proved useless, he swept her trembling form into his arms and carried her to the bed. Laying her gently on the pillows and pulling the blanket around her, the Keeper had no choice but to listen to his sister-in-law sob and beg forgiveness, not even knowing what she was begging forgiveness for. Concern etched itself into the lines of his face, but the General's eyes held anger.

Within moments, Allek came running through the open door.

"Ma'am?" He was at the bed in seconds. "What's wrong? Sarantha, darling, what happened?" He lifted his gaze to Ehrik, looking for answers. Not receiving any, he climbed onto the bed, pulling Sarantha's head into his lap and stroking her hair as she continued to sob.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of both men stroking and shushing and soothing, Sarantha fell asleep, several sobs escaping her even after her eyes were closed and her breaths evened out.

"Ehrik, what happened?" Allek sounded confused and horrified.

Ehrik, instead of answering, turned his furious gaze on Trivalm. "Slave! What happened?"

Trivalm took a breath, certain the General was not going to like the answers. "The King came, presumably to bring cake to Sarantha. They spoke. He attempted to touch her intimately, but she protested because..." Trivalm hesitated. How much was necessary for the Keeper to know?

"Slave!"

Trivalm sighed. Ehrik would find out one way or another.

"She protested because she wasn't groomed. The King shaved her. I don't know what happened after that. I was turned away. I heard her whimper a few times, but I thought..." He trailed off, shame enveloping him. "She began to sob, and when I looked your King was on the floor while Sarantha was at the edge of the bed."

Only the sounds of breathing filled the room as all three men's minds reeled.

Finally, Allek broke the silence. "Ehrik. Please. Let me bring her home."

"No. She is too close to giving birth. She would not make it to her Keep before the child came. Besides, if he truly intends to wed her, and is so insistent about it, he will just follow her there. It is far better that she remains here, where we may both protect her."

"You don't think he exposed her to–"

"No." Ehrik's denial was adamant. "He would not do that. He has to know she would never respond favorably to such treatment." He looked speculative for a moment. "Though Kellir was aware of the Kings proclivities. I wonder if he spoke of them to her."

"Never to my knowledge. As much as she believes that he shared everything with her, your brother put significant effort into protecting her from the harsher aspects of life. He allowed her to witness punishments, but even then, only those that were not severe." Allek had an odd tone of voice.

"And your proclivities?" Ehrik's voice was flat.

"She is well aware of them."

"You know, those proclivities are the only reason I allow such informal interaction between you and my sister. I don't care that you were her husband's best friend. If you were simply one of my Captains, you would never enter her room alone, never lie in her bed, never call her by name."

"I understand, General." Now Allek's voice was flat. "If you would allow it, I will remain here with her, in case she wakes in the night."

Ehrik gave a small, humorless chuckle. "This bed was can easily fit three."

Allek slid Sarantha head his lap, moving around the room to close the door and extinguish candles. When the last one was sniffed out, Trivalm moved back to the small cot. He laid on his back staring at the ceiling though the darkness.

Shame burned in his veins. Had just a few days turned him into so cruel of a man. No, not a man. A monster. Only a monster could show such joy in a woman's discomfort as he had. He hadn't been causing it, but he had done nothing to help her. She had laid on that bed for hours, speaking to the King, frightened and anxious. When Jecis had shaved her, she had been scared, whimpering. Again, Trivalm had done nothing. He laid on his little cot and smiled while she laid terrified, a sharp knife pressing at her most sensitive flesh, just inches away from her unborn child. It wasn't until she was sobbing, shaking, and begging that Trivalm had attempted to intervene. Was she hurt? Were her tears those of fear, or those of pain, agony? He hadn't even watched, so caught up in his twisted and depraved sense of victory. Trivalm's face twisted with self-disgust as he remembered the terror in Sarantha's eyes even after the King had left the room.

He was a man, a good man, who was raised to respect women, protect them. Was he so weak that in just a few days he allowed that to be stripped away, leaving behind only a callous, cruel shell of the man he once was?