Prologue

Elex

Some of my earliest memories are of my mother crying.

The nights when she returned from a summons to the King's chambers were always the worst. She would bathe as soon as she left his quarters, scrubbing her skin raw if we let her.

One night her sobs woke me, and I followed them into the bathroom. We still had our own cramped, tiny apartment at that time. Though she was still classified as a favored slave the Callings to service the King were fewer and farther apart and the Overseer had warned us that we would have to vacate the quarters at the end of the month.

She was huddled in the bathtub, tepid water pink from her blood, wetting the bits of her beautiful dark hair that escaped the intricate braids she normally piled on top of her head. Her hands were on her knees, her shoulders shaking. Her pale skin was already purpling from the marks he had placed on her.

"Mitera,"I whispered.

She glanced at me, then looked away quickly, using the falling braids to hide her face.

"Go back to bed, Elex," she said, her voice hoarse as she turned away from me, wiping hastily at her face. She wasn't quite fast enough for me to miss the split lip and the deep bruising around her right eye.

Instead of obeying, I brought her a towel and her robe, turning my back as she stepped from the tub.

"Do you need the doctor?" I asked, my adolescent voice breaking.

She shook her head.

"Are you sure?" I demanded. Once before she had insisted she didn't need a physician, and had almost bled to death before we found her.

"I am sure," she whispered, her eyes downcast. Whenever she came back from seeing him it took her a while to be able to look anyone in the eyes. I went to the outer room and fetched the wine from dinner. It was sour, but it would have to do. I grabbed the pain medicine we'd traded one of her necklaces for and went back to the bathing room. She was seated on a chair near the sink, her head down, unmoving. She looked… worn. Exhausted.

"Here, Mitera, drink," I ordered.

She took the cup from me and put it to her lips automatically, swallowing the bitter mixture without complaint.

"What happened this time?" I asked. Sometimes if she talked about it, she seemed better afterward.

"He is a vengeful man, the King," she said, her voice low and broken. "He once told me that if I bore him sons, I could return home. A few weeks ago I made the mistake of asking if his promise was still good."

The thought of my mother leaving us here alone turned my stomach. She had been taken as a slave from her homeland of Illyria over ten years prior. He had been a prince then and had led the attack. He'd seen her with the other women taken captive and claimed her as a bed slave.

"What did he do?" I whispered.

She was quiet for a long time, before whispering "He burned it. That…monster," she spat, her eyes growing bright and some color returning to her face.

"He had his soldiers burn my home village to bare stone and brought me videos of the deaths of every man, woman and child within miles. My mother— He forced me to watch them while—while he--"

She stopped and began sobbing again. That "monster" was my father, King Cyrius Alexus, leader of Alexandria. He was the person I feared the most in my life. He was also the one I longed to kill above all others.

I knew there was fury in my eyes, even as young as I was. I knew about sex. The communal living quarters we would be returning to have no privacy. Though it was forbidden by law, some slaves risked the punishment brought on an "unfaithful" slave who had sex outside a Calling.

The thought of the King forcing my mother to watch those deaths as he brutalized her made me see red.

Illyria was a country that had remained independent from Alexandria for hundreds of years. Mother was human, and since her capture by the king, he had forced her to bear three children: my twin Erix and I, and my sister Eila. Little Eila had died the year before of the shaking fever when she was only three. Her death had broken my mother's spirit.

"I will kill him for you one day, Mitera," I whispered. "I swear it."

"Elex…So aptly named, my little defender," she said after a few moments, her hand taking mine. Her eyes almost seemed to glow in the bare, flickering bulb overhead. "You will, Goddess willing."

"Drink all of it," I insisted when she seemed to forget about drinking the wine. She obeyed. As expected, the medicine began to make her drowsy. I helped her to her bed, turned out the light and returned to the bed I shared with my twin. Erix opened his eyes as I got under the covers and whispered, "How is she?"

Erix couldn't stand to see her on the nights she returned home from the King's quarters. I had seen my normally strong and resourceful brother—who stood up to bullies and protected small animals—turn pale and sick at the site of some of the wounds the King inflicted on her. I felt the same sickness, but I didn't have the option of closing my eyes. If I didn't take care of our mother, no one would.

"Cuts and bruises. I think her throat is the worst. He strangled her," I whispered hoarsely, the tears I couldn't shed in front of my mother breaking free in front of my twin.

Erix wrapped his arms around me under the thin blanket as I sobbed as quietly as I could. Mitera may have called me her defender, but Erix was the one who kept us alive.

"I-I gave her the last of the pain medicine. We need to find more," I said, my tears finally slowing.

Erix nodded. His face was like a mirror image of my own, except while my hair was black with a white stripe, his was white with black. We weren't identical, but we were very close.

"The healer is supposed to be back tomorrow. I'll see if I can trade something for it," he said.

There was a healer who lived in the palace who would trade gold, jewelry and fine clothing for drugs that helped the King's slaves endure his attentions. Some of those drugs deadened the pain. Some of them deadened the mind. Both were in high demand in the King's household. My brother was the one who usually handled trading our meager belongings for vitally needed supplies.

"We don't have anything left to trade, Erix," I said. I glancing around the room at our spartan surroundings. Mitera slept in a small alcove, but Erix and I slept on pallets on the floor of the room. A single outfit of clothes that were too small for either of us hung on a nail in the cracked plaster. The pants were too short but they were all we had. The shirts had holes in the front and back, and the battered shoes were held together with duct tape.

The King sometimes gave his favorites gifts, especially at the birth of a child, but mother had been Called to him less and less as the years passed. We had sold the last of her jewelry the previous year to buy the medicine we used to try to save Eila.

Little Eila had been the spitting image of Mitera. Her dark hair and gold-green eyes had smiled up at us from the floor where she would happily play with anything in sight. She had been three when the fever struck. I would never be able to erase the memory of her tiny, lifeless body when Mitera brought her home from the infirmary.

The King hadn't Called Mitera to serve since Eila had died. On one hand, not being Called was a blessing, because Mitera wasn't coming home beaten and bleeding. On the other, it meant we had no way to purchase the medicine she needed when the King treated her like this. As slaves, we were told to consider ourselves fortunate that we were given food and a roof over our heads.

"I'll figure something out," Erix said, a look of grim determination on his face. He seemed paler than before and swallowed hard. I suspected some of the things my brother had done to "figure something out" in the past, and they were not good things.

I let it go. Erix was the schemer. The tactician. Erix charmed people. He manipulated, cajoled, and even coerced when necessary. He was charismatic, and would charm secrets out of others; gathering them like a spider gathers flies. He used them to keep us as safe as possible.

Growing up in the shadow of the palace and being a katharmata, or bastard of the king, we were treated oddly. Not exactly normal slaves, but certainly not free. We were easy targets for the other slaves to vent their anger, but no one dared kill us because the wrath of the king could be monstrous. By the King's law, only he was permitted to fuck a slave, so it was assumed all offspring of the household were his. In reality, without a DNA test, no one knew who the father of a slave was. Nor did they really care unless the child demonstrated the Elusian ability to suppress Mageian powers. Only then would they be tested to verify paternity.

According to the law, if they were the King's child, they might become an heir. Slave-born heirs were second only to his lawful children of his body that were Elusian. So the hierarchy was a true-born Elusian, a bastard Elusian, then human children. The King didn't have any Elusian heirs yet, legitimate or bastard, though several of us would be coming of an age that we might develop them soon. It was a race to see who matured first.

In the meantime, we existed in between. We worked like slaves, could be beaten like slaves. Our only hope for freedom was developing the Elusian Suppression ability.

As I fell asleep, I dreamed about what it would be like when Erix and I developed our Elusian powers. I dreamed about the food, the money, the power it would bring us. I dreamed of the jewels and gifts I would give our mother, of how we would make her smile. I would make sure that no one ever hurt her again. I missed her smile so much. I hadn't seen it since Eila died. We just had to survive long enough to develop those powers.

Most children developed their powers around twelve or thirteen years of age, so we hopefully only had two or three years left of this hell.

And then, I would kill the King.

◆◆◆

Mitera was better the next day, though stiff and bruised. She bore a necklace of purple and red marks, but she had insisted she was able to work. She knew if she did not work, we did not eat.

We went about our daily chores, Erix and I, performing our daily tasks morning and evening, and schooling in between. Since the Alexandrians hadn't developed a DNA test to tell who was human, Mageian or Elusian, they had to assume that any of us could become an heir and trained us all accordingly.

That meant hours of classes on religion, language, history, strategy, mathematics, politics, and everything else under the sun. We had numerous tutors who came to the palace and taught us a variety of subjects.

Erix and I were both excellent students, though in different subjects. I excelled in math, history, language, and physical education. In hand-to-hand combat, I could out fight almost any other child my age, and even many who were older.

Erix excelled in politics and military strategy, and his ability to hit a mark with a blade, bow or firearm was already legendary in the palace. He routinely played chess against our strategy instructors and won almost every time.

Every year an examination was held to demonstrate performance in both physical and scholarly pursuits. Those who did well were rewarded. Those who did poorly were punished.

The King watched the performance of all his children, and everyone knew it. From time to time, I would spy the King watching Erix from the balcony that surrounded the practice yards or would feel his heavy stare like an itch on the back of my own neck. He would sometimes walk through the classrooms when we were reciting our lessons or undergoing examinations. He never spoke directly to any of us, just appeared as a tall, menacing presence. He would sometimes give directions to our tutors or instructors, but never said a word to the children who were supposed to be his.

A few months had passed since Mitera's last summons from the King, and I was worried about her. She hadn't been eating. I'd seen her vomiting in the mornings and she was losing weight. Her always pale skin had developed a translucence that wasn't hidden by the ragged clothing we were forced to wear.

Even more than her physical appearance, the inner fire that had driven her for so long seemed to have been snuffed out. The videos the King had shown her haunted her dreams. She regularly woke from nightmares begging the King not to kill "them". She refused to tell us who she was referring to.

Mitera didn't speak often of her life in Illyria, for reasons she refused to explain, so neither Erix nor I knew who the person might be that she was trying to save in her dreams. A lover? A mother, brother, or father? She had mentioned her mother previously, but she wouldn't tell us, so there was no way to know for sure.

Erix had traded something with the healer for medicine to help her stomach, though he wouldn't tell me what he traded. I suspected my brother had begun stealing to provide extra food and medicine for us. I feared for his safety, because even a child of the King's household could lose a hand if caught stealing.

Our lives were not completely horrible, though. Erix and I enjoyed our studies, and we loved our mother. Some of the other slaves seemed to love her, too. She could tell some of the most wonderful stories and was often begged by the other slaves to share stories before sleep.

Before her last summons to the King's chambers, Mitera could on rare occasions be persuaded to tell us stories of Illyria. It was always quietly, hesitantly, as though she feared being overheard. She told stories of mythical adventures and magic, where no one was a slave, and everyone had enough to eat. Truly the stuff of fantasies.

On our namedays when we were young Mitera had tried to provide some kind of celebration, but on our eleventh name day she did nothing. There was no meager celebration in the slave's quarters. Mitera hadn't told any stories since the night the King had shown her the videos of the destruction of her village. We passed the day like all others: work, school, work, sleep.

Not long after, we gathered one evening in the kitchen with the other slaves. Erix and I had been begging Mitera to tell us stories of Illyria, and she had refused.

Something was different that night, though.

"Please, Mitera!" I'd begged. "Tell us a story for our name day."

Erix paused in his work, but I could see the hopeful look in his eyes. He loved her stories as much as I did.

She glanced around the room. Her eyes rested for a moment on Agnes, the cook, who was in the corner chatting with some of the women. Her eyes took on a calculating quality I wasn't sure I understood, but she nodded.

For a little while, it was as if she were her old self again, as she told us stories of her home, stories of partnered Mageia and Somas. They were our favorite stories, though she was always somewhat vague as to what a Soma was.

"Mitera, what exactly is a Soma?" I asked her, picking up plates and cups from the table.

"They are the other half of your soul," she said, smiling slightly.

"Doesn't that mean that Erix is my Soma?" I asked, looking at my twin who was gathering the plates from another table. We all had tasks to do in the evening, and this was ours. We often seemed to move in concert, understand each other's thoughts and even know when the other was in pain. Surely if there was another half to my soul, it would have to be my brother, right?

She shook her head.

"Erix is your brother, the brother of your heart and blood. Your Soma will be your partner. Your lover. Your best friend. Your guardian. They will keep you from all hurt while—"

She didn't even see the blow coming that knocked her from the bench to the floor with a sickening crack.

Agnes, the King's cook, stood over Mitera with her hand raised, her son Maalik behind her, laughing and drinking in the sight with an evil gleam in his eyes. Maalik was a vicious brute, a year or two older than Erix and me, and we had hated each other from the day we were born.

"Lies!" Agnes hissed as Mother lay on the ground dazed. She raised her hand to strike her again. "You know what the King will do if I tell him you are spreading your lies again, witch?"

Erix and I rushed her as one, knocking the bitch down and away from our mother. I struggled to hold the woman's arm as she swung at Erix.

Maalik stepped forward and grabbed me, pulling me off his mother and throwing me against the wall. He was older than me, and taller. At thirteen he was already muscled and boasted constantly about how he would be developing his Elusian powers soon and be named heir. His hair was long and straight, hanging in a curtain of black. As the son of the cook, Maalik had never gone hungry a day in his life. He was well fed, strong, and in many ways more than a match for me. I was scrawny and half-starved, but I refused to let Maalik surpass me, and I would never let him hurt my family.

I used the momentum of his throw to push off from the wall and swept my hand along one of the tables, grabbing a meat knife from the tabletop. Maalik rushed me, arms outstretched, and I knew that if I gave him the opportunity he would kill me, so I refused to give it to him. He was bigger than me, but I was faster.

I braced for his attack, then at the last second pivoted, bringing one foot around and tripping him to the floor. In a flash I was on top of him, the blade at his neck.

"If you even fucking blink, I will cut your throat," I growled.

I looked over to see Erix on top of Agnes and Mitera struggling to her knees. Her eyes were open, but she looked dazed. A cut on the side of her head trickled blood down her face.

"Enough!" a voice rang out through the kitchen as the King's Overseer, Otto Vasili limped into the room. Otto was a tall man, a former soldier in the King's army who had lost his leg in one of the King's wars. He ran the household with an iron fist and fighting amongst the slaves was generally treated very harshly. Caught with a knife to Maalik's neck, I could be in big trouble.

The Overseer grabbed Erix and pulled him off Agnes. The bitch had a bloody nose, her hair was a mess and her blouse torn. Erix had scratches running down his face from her fingernails.

The Overseer glared at me, and I reluctantly released Maalik, who scuttled out from under me as I set the knife on the table.

"What in the seven hells is going on here?" he demanded.

"She was telling her lies again!" Agnes screeched. "The King told her if she kept telling them he would have her tongue for it!"

The Overseer harrumphed and stretched his hand down to help my mother up. Rumor had it that Otto had been in love with an Illyrian woman when he was young, and he always seemed to have a soft spot for Mitera.

With a haughty look she ignored his outstretched hand and stood on her own, eyes glowing like fire as she slowly gathered herself.

"If he would have my tongue for speaking, what do you think he will do to you if you cause me to lose the child I carry in my belly?" she asked, fury in her eyes.

Suddenly it all came together. Her fatigue, her pallor, the sickness. She was with child.

The room went deadly quiet, and it was Agnes' turn to grow pale. When a woman was with child, she was considered sacrosanct. Even if she committed murder, she couldn't be executed until the child was born. When it was the King's child…

Otto gestured to one of the guards who had followed him in, and they seized Agnes.

"Take her to the King," he said.

"No!" Maalik yelled. "If she's to be punished, then so should he!" he yelled, pointing at me. "He cut me! And I am a child of the King!"

The Overseer grabbed his chin and jerked it up to exam his neck.

"Take your bleating to the King, if you choose," Otto said, eyes narrowing. "Though I would advise against complaining about such a scratch. You are not heir yet, boy."

The guards marched all of us to the King's chambers. Otto spoke with the guards as we were forced to wait in the hall. Mother's head wound was still bleeding. While it didn't look that deep, I knew head wounds bled a lot. She didn't even try to stem the flow of blood, and I noticed she kept her head down as she walked, allowing the dripping blood to spread across her face and down the front of her dress. She caught me staring and I saw a slight upward curve in her mouth. What game was she playing at?

"Elex," whispered Erix, grabbing my hand as we stood in the hall. I looked at my twin.

"What?" I asked.

"Don't piss him off!" he hissed. "You have to keep your temper, no matter what he does."

I pulled my hand away from my twin. I knew he was right, but I didn't know if I could hide my anger at the King, not after all the times he had hurt Mitera.

The door opened and we were ordered into the room. The room was sumptuous - filled with a riot of colorful hangings and rugs. Courtiers lined the walls, wine glasses in hand as they tittered at the ragged group led to the foot of the wooden throne.

King Cyrius Alexus sat on the throne, a look of utter boredom on his patrician face. His wavy hair was long and black like mine but shot through with silver. His eyes were an ice blue. I hated the man, but I couldn't help admitting he was everything I imagined when I thought of a King. Tall. Strong. Broad shoulders hugged by a velvet jacket embroidered in gold. He didn't wear a crown, but there was no doubt who in this room was the king.

Otto stopped us at the base of the throne and bowed.

A sudden titter went through the crowd and one of the guards shoved me. I looked around and realized all the other slaves had dropped to their knees while I had been gaping like a fool. Fury and embarrassment made my face feel like fire as I awkwardly kneeled.

"Your Majesty," Otto said.

"Overseer," he acknowledged. "What is this?"

Otto sighed.

"A fight amongst the slaves, Your Highness," he said.

"Don't I pay you to handle this?" the King responded, taking a sip from his wine glass, his bored voice flat and cool.

"You do, indeed, your Grace," Otto responded. "However, one of the slave women is with child."

The room went quiet.

The King looked up, finally seeming interested. His eyes flitted between Agnes and Mitera. He stood and walked over to the two women. He walked past Agnes dismissively. Gossip said it had been many years since he had last summoned Agnes to his quarters, which was one of the reasons she hated Mitera.

The King approached my mother, his hand taking her chin in his hand, gently tipping her head back and forth examining the wound. I saw her sway, almost as if she were going to faint. The king took her by the arm and steadied her.

"That must have been quite a blow to have left you so bloodied. Get the woman some water, and a chair," the King snapped. "And summon my physician."

Two servants jumped forward, one bringing a crystal glass filled with chilled water, the other a small chair.

"Thank you, your Grace," Mitera whispered, eyes downcast as she sank to the seat with a grateful sigh.

The King stepped back from her once she sat.

"How far along are you?" he demanded.

"Three moons, your Highness," Mitera said.

"You are sure?" the King demanded. Many of the slave women rumored to carry his children miscarried.

"That was when you last summoned me, my Lord," she said, nodding slightly. "I wanted to make sure before I informed you."

The King tore his eyes from my mother and looked at the rest of us.

"And why are they here?" the King demanded, gesturing to Maalik, Erix, and myself.

"These two defended their mother when Agnes struck her. The boy, Maalik, is Agnes' get, and he demanded punishment of this one for cutting him when he defended his mother," Otto said, standing between Maalik and Erix and me.

"He demanded, did he?" the King said, his voice gone deadly cold. "Step forward, boy."

Maalik shot me a look of triumph as he stepped forward, proud as a peacock in front of the King. He was so ignorant he didn't realize the danger he was in.

"The witch was spreading her lies again! Mother was just disciplining her. Then he attacked me without cause and cut my throat, Father!" Maalik proclaimed, leaning his head back and pointing at his neck and the tiny smear of blood there. "See?"

Muttering rose amongst the court. The King didn't officially claim any of us as his children until we became Elusians or established as human. Maalik had made a huge presumption.

The King eyed the small cut and raised one eyebrow skeptically.

"I've had worse nicks shaving," he said sardonically.

The room erupted into titters and Maalik's face flushed red.

"You two, step forward," the King demanded. Though we didn't plan it, Erix and I stood and stepped forward in unison.

"Ah, my little Illyrian half-breeds," he said. "They're a well-matched pair, are they not Eurymenye?"

I realized with a start that the Queen was also present. The King's natural charisma was so strong that it drew all eyes to him, making everyone else seem to fade away, even his Grecian Queen.

"If you like that sort of thing, your Grace," she said with a small smile. "They do seem a bit… wild."

She gestured at us widely with her fan and it was my turn to flush again. I knew what we looked like. Our faces and clothes were dirty. We were skinny and wore threadbare clothing that was too small and too short; Our hair wild and untamed because we had traded our last comb for medicine for our mother. The King turned back to us and tapped his finger on his chin, his eyes raking us from head to foot, then sighed.

"So they do," he said, his eyes raking Erix and I from head to toe. "Still. I don't suppose we can encourage their behavior," he said.

"As you say, your grace," she responded.

The King turned his icy gaze on Agnes.

"Twelve lashes for the slave who dared raise her hand against a bearer of the King's seed. One for every week of life she put in danger with her actions," he announced.

Agnes paled and began crying. "Please, your Highness! I did not know! She never said anything!"

The King ignored her pleas and gestured. The guards dragged her away. Her punishment would be meted out at sunrise, as was the punishment of any slave who displeased the King.

"As for you…" the King said, stepping forward. This time it was my chin he took in his strong grip.

I tried to play the humble servant, to keep my eyes down and my face passive, but it was beyond my skill, and I pulled my chin away. I stared at him with all the fury and heat of my hate burning through me.

"Oh ho! This one has some fire to him…" the King said. "Let's see if a day and night with no food and water doesn't help quench that temper."

I saw Maalik grin at me, pleased to see me being punished as he had requested. I saw Erix glance up at me from where he kneeled, relaxing slightly. I had gotten off easy.

"As for you…" the King said, turning back to Maalik. "I think it would be wise for you to spend the next moon as a servant of the Weapons master." Maalik almost groaned but visibly caught himself. Serving the Weapon master was one of the hardest tasks a slave could be given at the palace. You were up early and worked very late maintaining the weapons and armor of the King's trainer. You also frequently took the place of the pells for the knights practicing, which meant many a bruise.

"Maybe he can teach you not to let a boy half your size get a knife to your throat," the King continued coldly.

Maalik's face turned thunderous, and he started to step back but the King stopped him.

"One more thing, Maalik," he said. His fist flew out and struck the boy, sending him flying. Fast as a snake he was on Maalik, the boy's face clenched in his hand. "Call me ‘Father' again before you have earned that right and I will cut out your tongue."

Maalik lay, pale and shaking for long moments after the King released him and returned to the throne. He dismissed us with a wave of his hand, and we were escorted out.

The Overseer locked me in the kennels after we were dismissed to keep Mitera or Erix from sneaking me food. It wasn't much of a punishment because I'd already eaten. I'd been raised around the dogs, and fed them myself enough times that they didn't bother me. They kept me warm that night.

The next morning saw Agnes receive her twelve lashes, and I made it through the day. While annoying, I'd endured far worse hunger and thirst in the past.

Mother was in the good graces of the King once more, it seemed, at least temporarily. He had his personal physician verify her pregnancy and treat her head wound. He sent her back to her chambers with new clothing for herself, Erix and I, as well as a necklace of yellow diamonds, "The color of hope," he said. "Hope that this child shall be an Elusian."

The phrasing seemed odd to me. Did he think Erix and I wouldn't be Elusian?

When I got back to our dark apartment Erix was seated at the kitchen table, already dismantling the necklace to sell the stones and setting.

"You okay?" he asked, looking up at me, his lower lip clenched between his teeth in concentration as he pried apart the necklace.

I nodded.

"Just thirsty," I said, shrugging. "Where's Mitera?"

"She's laying down. The physician has said she requires bed rest if she is to hope to carry the babe to term," he answered.

This drew a frown from me.

"You know she planned it, right?" I asked.

"Planned what?" he responded as he focused on the jewels.

"The story, the blood, the fainting spell. I think she planned it, then made it out worse than it actually was," I said.

He shrugged.

"I'm not surprised," he muttered and shrugged. "Whatever it takes to get him to leave her alone."

I nodded thoughtfully as I gobbled down some cold chicken, cheese, and only slightly stale bread.

After eating my fill I stopped in the bedroom to see my mother. She was propped up on the bed, a new, warm-looking dressing gown around her shoulders as she stared listlessly across the room.

"Mitera?" I said hesitantly. She was pale, with a small bandage over her temple where Agnes' blow had caught her.

"Elex," she replied, rousing only slightly from her reverie. "How are you doing, my little defender?"

"Fine, now that I ate," I answered as I sat on the edge of the bed. "How are you doing?"

She seemed to shrug.

"This one is making me sicker than either you two or your sister did, but the doctor said there is nothing to worry about," she answered, her hand lying on her stomach. She didn't really seem to look pregnant yet, but I guess women know these things.

"Is there anything you need?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Nothing you can give me, my son," she said.

A knock sounded on the apartment door, startling us all. We never had visitors.

Erix beat me to the door. As he opened it, I spied Margarite, one of the slaves assigned to the kitchen. In her hands was a tray with a covered plate and a bottle of wine.

"Can I bring this in?" she asked.

Erix stepped aside wordlessly, and she stepped into our apartment. She set the tray on the table.

"Compliments of the King's table," she said, with a small curtsy.

After she left, I took the cover off the tray. Underneath were oranges, strawberries, pomegranates, and a variety of other fruits and cheeses. They were obviously picked over. The wine, at least, smelled good.

I bit back my reply. The King sent us the scraps from his table. So very typical.

I took the tray to Mitera and urged her to eat. She finally sighed and took some fruit and agreed to a glass of wine.

Erix and I spent the evening in Mitera's little room, desperately trying to one up each other with ridiculous stories to get her to smile while she picked at her pomegranates.

After one of Erix's stories brought a small smile to her face, it sent a surge of hope through me that maybe the old Mitera would return. Erix caught my eye and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He had seen it, too.

Finally, yawning, she sent us off to bed.

Erix and I lay in bed for a long time.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" I asked.

I trusted my twin to tell me the truth. We'd both been lied to and mistreated enough in our lives. We would never lie to each other.

"I don't know," Erix said with a sigh. "She's acting strange. She was never this sick with our sister."

"Like you can even remember that!" I teased. I shoved his shoulder. He shoved me right back, of course.

"I remember everything," Erix insisted, shoulder checking me back.

"Have you ever thought about it, Erix?" I asked as he folded the new clothing and hung it on the hooks. Erix was a neat freak.

"Thought about what?" he asked.

"What it will be like when we become Elusians," I said.

His back was to me, but he froze for a moment.

"There's no guarantee," he said, turning to me, his back against the wall.

"We could be human," he said. "Or with our luck…"

"Mageian," I finished. We were both quiet for several moments as that particularly ghastly fate played out in our imaginations.

"I'm going to believe we will be Elusian," I said firmly. "When we become Princes, we'll have all the food and clothes we want, and we'll go on trips to faraway places. We'll have beautiful men swooning at our feet!" I laughed, jumping up and dancing around the room as if I had an invisible partner.

My brother and I were both omofilofilos - we were attracted to men instead of women. It wasn't that unusual in Alexandrian society, but there were still some people who looked down upon it.

My brother just looked at me from the bed, disdain on his face.

"And, what? Daddy dearest will make us Princes, and we'll all live happily ever after?" he snarled. "Do you really want to spend the rest of your life kowtowing to a man who would treat a woman the way he treats Mitera?"

I stopped in my tracks, the smile fading from my face.

"I…I don't know, I mean," I stumbled over my words. "I hadn't really thought about it. I just--"

"That's your problem, Elex, you never think," he said in exasperation. "You always pay so much attention to the here and now, you don't plan for contingencies."

"Now you sound like our tutor," I said, trying to tease some lightness back into him.

"That's because I listen to him!" Erix yelled. "I'm trying to figure out how we can make this country something other than a shithole where half the people are treated like animals."

I shushed him with a glance toward Mitera's room.

"Like she doesn't know it!" he said, waving me away. "The odds are against us, Elex. We will probably never be more than slaves. If it weren't for Mitera…" he said, his voice trailing off.

"What?" I demanded.

"I'd pack everything up tonight and try to escape," he said. "Mitera would never make it, though. Especially pregnant. And the King would move heavan and hell to bring back a pregnant bedslave."

I swallowed hard. Escape. What slave didn't think about it, in the darkness of night when there is no one around to stop them? But in the light of day you knew there was no escape. We literally bore the king's mark on our skin.

"What if you're wrong, though, Erix?" I asked. "What if we do become Elusian? Think of the life we could give her, the life we could have! Maybe—maybe someday he would love us like Mitera does?"

He sat up on the bed looking at me with an aching disappointment in his eyes.

"It will never happen, Elex," he said, his tone flat. "He will never look at us as anything other than tools. Human, Mageian or Elusian. He will use us to further his ends, no matter what."

Erix slammed his hand against the wall and stormed out of the apartment.

My brother had these strange moods sometimes, ones even I didn't know what to do with. He would storm off, and eventually calm down. I just needed to give him space.

I stayed up for hours, hoping to hear Erix sneak back into the house, but sleep finally claimed me.

***

I woke naturally some time before the sun rose. I had several chores to complete before school started and it was always better to get them done in the cool of the morning.

Dressed and reasonably clean, I knocked on Mitera's door.

"Mitera? Do you need anything before I go to work?" I asked.

Silence met my call.

"Mitera?" I called again.

I opened her door slowly, not wanting to wake her if she was still sleeping.

It was dark enough in the room that it took my eyesight a moment to adjust.

She lay on the bed, still propped up by the pillows, eyes closed. The empty wine bottle and the remnants of the food the King had sent still lay on the bedside table.

The room had a strange, coppery scent I couldn't place, causing a frisson of unease to flow through my skin. I looked around the room but saw nothing out of place. It was then I realized that there was something missing, after all: the sound of breathing.

"Mitera?" I cried, rushing forward, flipping the overhead light on.

The harsh light outlined her thin body under the coverlet, her braided hair still piled on top of her head, her skin a deathly white. As I grew closer, the coppery scent grew stronger, and I finally recognized the smell. Blood.

"Mitera!" I screamed, pushing back the covers. A red so dark it was almost black spread across the blankets from between her legs. I touched her face, but it was cold. I tried to chafe her fingers, but they were stiff and unyielding. I wrapped my arms around her cold, stiff body.

"No… no Mitera… Please…" I cried, tears pouring down my face. "You can't leave us…"

I don't know how long I sat there, but eventually I heard the door to the apartment open, and Erix walked in.

I looked at him, my eyes red from weeping.

"Erix…" I said brokenly. My twin took in the scene in a moment, and the realization of his world crashing down flashed across his face. He moved to the other side of Mitera. My own sobbing had quieted, but Erix made no sound. He just smoothed her hair back from her beautiful face.

"Elex—" he said, his voice hoarse. "Elex, we must tell the Overseer. And we must find somewhere…" his voice trailed off, and I realized what he was saying.

The apartment we lived in was the King's gift to Mitera. With her gone, we would have to find someplace in the slave quarters to live. I stared numbly as my twin rose and went to the other room. I could hear him packing hastily, throwing clothes and food into a few rucksacks.

I couldn't seem to draw away from Mitera. I couldn't imagine a world without her in it. She had loved us with everything in her and was always the one rock we could rely on. Now she was gone and I couldn't seem to make sense of this new reality.

A few moments later, Erix was in the doorway, the bags at his feet.

"Elex, we have to go," he said.

"We can't just leave her," I said.

His gaze softened and he nodded.

"I know. She wouldn't want us to lose everything, though," he said.

He strode forward and shoved a ball of leather into my hands. I unrolled it and found a small woven bag attached to a leather thong.

"Here," he said, tying the bag around my neck. "I split some of the diamonds up between us. If they get taken from one of us, maybe the other can hide theirs."

I ran my fingers over the bag mutely.

Erix picked up a knife from the tray that had been sent the night before and approached Mitera.

"What are you doing?" I hissed as he turned the dagger toward her.

He looked at me calmly then turned back to our mother. He reached out and gently touched her head, turning it gently to reach her braids. With a swift movement he drew the knife through her hair and came away with two of her braids. He took one and opened the matching bag around his own neck and tucked the braid inside. Then came to me and did the same.

"We need to go," he said.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. As expected, we had immediately been turned out of the apartment.

When the King found out about Mitera's death, we heard he was furious and he had the Overseer question us about the events of the evening. Margarite was questioned and it didn't take long to discover that the King hadn't sent the food and wine to our rooms, but rather Agnes had. The wine had been liberally spiked with a sedative and an abortifacient. One drug made her sleep while the other caused her to lose the child she carried.

Agnes insisted she hadn't intended to kill her, but the King hadn't cared. Under torture, Agnes admitted to supplying the same mixture to any of the King's slaves who became pregnant in the hopes she could prevent any competitors from being born and challenging Maalik's place. Agnes claimed Maalik didn't know about her actions, even under the worst of tortures. He sentenced Agnes to be flayed alive in front of the household slaves.

The day of her execution we were all gathered in the courtyard to witness her sentence. I thought at first that I would gladly watch her die after what she did to Mitera, but soon lost all thoughts of vengeance as the King's executioners did their work. Normally the King meted out his own punishments, but a poisoner of slaves was beneath him.

They began with her chest, peeling her skin away from her breasts and arms until she lost her voice and could only let out a high keening sound that seemed to bore into my ears.

Maalik stood opposite us in the square. I thought at first he was watching his mother, but realized it was Erix and I that he had fixed his furious glare on. Without thought, I moved closer to my twin, bumping his shoulder. He glanced down at me. His face was pale, a thin coating of sweat on his upper lip.

On the balcony above us I saw the King standing in mute witness to the horror below.

I swallowed hard as the executioners threw a piece of Agnes' skin to the ground, and the wind shifted, bringing the same sickening coppery scent to my nose that had filled Mitera's room.

I couldn't hold it in anymore, and I vomited on the ground. I wasn't the first one, nor the last one to lose the contents of their stomach, but I noticed neither Erix nor Maalik did, they just continued their staring contest until Agnes' cries finally ended.

When we were finally dismissed, I turned to head to the slave quarters, but Erix grabbed my arm.

"We can't go there," he said.

"Why not?" I asked. "Where else would we go?"

"Maalik has a group ready to jump us as soon as we do," Erix said, leading me to a relatively unused portion of the castle.

I followed him in silence, still in shock over what we had witnessed. It didn't register at first where we were going until Erix tugged me into a small storeroom on the third sub floor.

The front part of the room held numerous boxes and piles of unused furniture. He led me to the back of the room to an area shielded from view from the entrance. A piece of dirty canvas hung across a small entry way. We passed under it, only to find a small room near a fireplace, two pallets made up nearby. The room held our two rucksacks, some food, and a few bottles of what looked like wine.

"Here, drink this," he demanded, pouring a small cup of clear liquid and giving it to me. I took it gratefully and tossed it back, thinking it was water, only to begin coughing and choking as it burned in my throat.

After coughing and spluttering for a few minutes I felt a tingling glow begin to spread through my limbs.

"Where did you get that?" I demanded, wiping tears from my eyes.

"Davidus," he said, grinning. Davidus was a half-brother a couple of years older than us. He and Erix were good friends.

"W-what do we do now?" I asked.

Erix paced the small area.

"I think we should leave," he said.

"They'll be watching us," I said. I'd already noticed the eyes of the guards following our movements and the Overseer had stayed much closer to us than normal.

"So we stay put for now, until things calm down, then we head out," he said.

"Where?" I asked.

He smiled sadly at me.

"Where else?" he said. "We make for Illyria."

My stomach roiled again. The thought of what might await us outside the doors of the palace was invigorating, but terrifying.

The punishment of runaway slaves made Agnes' death look like a walk in the park.