Chapter Two

The hours passed slowly. Remus wasn't sure of the time when he'd finally come around in the slave baths, but he assumed it had been before noon. It took quite a while for the sunlight to fade from the window.

His uncomfortable position didn't help. His knees, shoulders, and neck grew sore no matter how he tried to move with his limited range of motion. If only he could lay his body flat. He wouldn't mind the cold steel plate. Besides his discomfort, he had plenty of time to stew on his twin's betrayal.

He'd never see Uncle Lupo again. Their Uncle, who'd taken over as Regent after Father's death, had treated both of his nephews with equal love. And now, he was dead so Quintus could have the position that never should have been his.

Father would roll over in his tomb if he knew the truth.

Considering what he'd done at Calmerra, Sébastien likely planned some way to make Remus pay for it.

Sébastien returned with three guards that night. Remus was beyond sore from his forced position, his head pounded, and he needed a piss. He kept his expression neutral as the damn humbler was removed by a guard.

"Let him up," commanded Sébastien.

"Your Majesty…" One hesitated.

"Did I stutter?"

The guard quickly looked away from the Prince and crouched to undo the chains. The gold cuffs and collar would likely never be removed again, but Remus was free to move. The lead remained attached to his collar, and it clinked as he shifted on the floor.

"Stand."

Sébastien was slimmer, and any muscle he had was hidden by his austere clothing. Remus tried to ignore the stiffness and not look weak. He slowly stood with the lead dangling to find he had a good four inches on the Prince who had to be nearly six feet.

Remus was bulkier all over with broader shoulders, pecs, and defined abs. He squared his shoulders as he stared back. Let the little shit say something. Remus wasn't about to be turned into a fucktoy that bent over for someone who hadn't even fought in the war since he'd been forbidden. The Prince had never killed anyone before and needed guards to face his new slave.

He was frightened of his present who wouldn't be quite so easy to hold down.

Sébastien's distaste was evident as his eyes flicked down and lingered on the moving tattoos Remus had been born with. Sébastien supposedly had moving ones too.

Remus had gold leaves that stood out on his light brown skin, and they drifted around on his chest, stomach, and back.

"Even your tattoos are common." Sébastien's cold eyes drifted up to hold his gaze again. "I hope your day taught you to watch your mouth. Any freedoms I give you can be taken away just as easily, so you'd better remember that. If I allow you into my quarters, you'll be on a lead and not given free roam unless I decide otherwise. When you enter, you're to kneel by the square plate in the corner unless I give you a command. When you address me, it's Prince Sébastien or Master."

Remus let his gaze travel down the Prince's body. Back home, when a slim, pretty man wanted to get in bed with him, Remus was the one who got on top.

"I don't bottom, so what are you going to call me when I've got you bent over?" asked Remus. "Master? Sir? Daddy? After I finish spanking out the attitude, I'll let you cum if you're a good boy."

One of the guards made a move and stopped when Sébastien held out a hand without letting his gaze waver. Remus didn't dare look away. Keeping his mouth shut was smarter in some ways, but he hadn't been able to resist the jab. It wasn't like Remus would be fucking him anyway since arrogant bastards didn't interest him.

If they were alone and Sébastien ever tried to fuck him, Remus would punch his teeth in. That was just the start. He knew the Prince had fire magic, so he'd have to take the burning consequences, but it'd be worth it.

The room was so quiet, they could have heard a roach if it sneezed.

Remus's footing was gone, and a fist slammed into his sternum, knocking the wind from him again that day. He found himself on the floor with Sébastien's boot on his throat, and the edge of the square heel dug into the soft flesh.

Shit. He was fast. Since the Prince had less heft and bulk, it figured he'd rely on ways to upset his opponent's balance and bring them down instead of a simple slug. The guards shifted.

"Did I say to move?" Sébastien asked, which made the guards back up a step. "I can handle him. You might be big, but that doesn't mean I can't fight and have you on your ass before you can blink. Remember that."

The sharp edges of his heeled boot drove in, and Remus had to clench his fists to avoid grabbing the bastard's leg. He wouldn't be caught unaware like that again. Not if he could help it.

"Will you watch your mouth now?"

"Y-yes." Only to avoid the humbler or anything worse. He needed real sleep and something to eat so he could start getting his strength back, and being left in his earlier position all night would be torture.

"I didn't quite catch that." Sébastien added more weight as he leaned over, and strands of his hair fell forward. "What should you call me?"

Like fuck Remus was calling him Master and stooping that low with someone who thought slavery was acceptable. No word had ever grated on him in such a way.

"Yes, Pr-ince Sébastien," he managed to get out. More air would have been nice.

The Prince gazed at him like he'd found an interesting bug before he lifted his boot. "If you'd kept your mouth shut, I would have left your door open tonight in case you wanted to stretch your legs."

Bullshit. He wouldn't let his slave have so much freedom right away. They'd probably never let him off the damn chain again.

"Go to sleep," said Sébastien. "When you get up, your first thought better be about me."

He left after the chain was reattached. A servant brought a chamber pot, and the guards shut the door when they exited.

Remus had slack to move and could reach his bed. The door was too far, and so was the wall with the window. He rubbed his throat and sat on the bed since no one had said he couldn't.

A slave with hair the color of straw entered with a wooden pitcher of water and a cup. She appeared terrified at his presence, and her pale complexion grew even whiter as though she expected him to attack.

She'd likely committed some petty crime or she'd been related to someone who had done something worse. Severe crimes could see the family of the criminal enslaved too. Three guards watched from the hall as if they also expected Remus to attack her.

He looked away as the pitcher and cup were placed by his bed, and she hurried out.

Remus wasn't used to seeing people frightened of him, and it wasn't a pleasing feeling either. He'd only seen it on the field as he cut down soldiers who bore the lynx face crest, not from fellow men and women.

***

As ordered, Remus's first thought in the morning was about Sébastien. He was the slave of an utterly spoiled brat who hated the Rizzo family with every inch of his heart which was as black as his clothes. If he had a heart instead of a gaping hole.

Another slave brought breakfast under the watchful eye of Pointy and two guards. Her knee-length tunic was split at the sides, likely for easy access, and she lacked the wrist cuffs. Her gold collar was also thinner and seemed more ornamental than anything else. She didn't appear scared, but she may have been hiding it well as a survival technique considering the pit she lived in.

Remus was left alone to eat. The slave had also replaced his water, and he'd been given a decent amount of food on a silver plate, so he assumed he wouldn't be starved to weaken his will.

Back home, he was used to sausages made from swallowers, a type of pig. They usually had dried bog berries and a touch of maple syrup or ground caraway.

The sausages on his plate were a bit greasy and bland. The eggs lacked vegetables, the bun had no raisins or bog berries, and he'd been given thin fry cakes folded over sliced bananas. A peek inside told him that cacao syrup had been drizzled over the slices.

He'd better get used to Soleilian food. It might be a while before he ate something spicy enough to make his nose run and his eyes water. Soleil likely thought such food was savage. At least the butter had cinnamon.

The small fork he'd been given was quite delicate and liable to bend or break if stabbed into the neck of a snotty Prince. Not that Remus didn't picture it. Once he'd finished his food and orange juice, he left the fork just under the edge of the plate and remained on the bed with the sheet covering his crotch since it seemed that clothes were in short supply.

The air coming through the barred window was sweet, and he wondered if they were by a small courtyard garden. He couldn't reach it, and even if he could, it'd be difficult to pull himself up to look out.

On inspection of his wrist cuffs, since he had little to do, he saw the tiny keyholes for them to be unlocked. He'd never be able to pull them off without removing his hands, so he didn't bother trying. After feeling around the collar, he found the line where it joined. A tiny divot that didn't seem quite right proved what he'd assumed that night when they'd held him down.

They'd filled the keyhole with molten gold. Sébastien wouldn't be free of the damn thing unless a blacksmith cut it off. Escaping with the collar would mark him and present quite a problem.

He went to piss in the chamberpot and considered that as a weapon. It was too flimsy. Smashing it against a guard's head would dent the pot and enrage the guard. Remus gave the chain a few mighty tugs, but the metal plate didn't even creak. Damn it. He sat on his bed and covered himself again when he heard footsteps.

The slave returned with Spectacles and two guards. His eyes inspected Remus and the bed after she paused in the room.

"If you don't put the fork on the plate, the guards will make you."

"Maybe he ate that too," muttered a guard, and his buddy snorted.

"He looks like he eats rocks for breakfast."

Spectacles cleared his throat.

It figured they'd expect him to try and hide a potential weapon. Remus might as well forget that idea in the future. He took the fork from under the edge and laid it across. "I always put it to the side. I didn't think barbarians had to follow Soleil etiquette."

Spectacles gave him a stiff smile. "If you did, you wouldn't be a barbarian now, would you? Also, it goes straight up and down when you're finished, not diagonally."

"Thanks. I was wondering." Remus barely kept the sarcasm from his voice and didn't bother to fix the fork.

A few years ago, everything had been fine. Fairies were fairies regardless of what Kingdom they were born in or what they looked like, and where a fork went after eating wasn't that big of a deal. Now, Rowland fairies were werewolf fuckers and savages to Soleil, and they didn't like Midland either despite owning it.

He expected the slave to take his plate, but she pulled down the top of her tunic to reveal pale breasts. Her pink nipples had puckered slightly from the pleasantly cool air.

Before Remus could ask what she was doing, Spectacles spoke. "I'm sure you're feeling better now that you've had something to eat. Correct?"

Remus was since the food had been enough, so he gave a faint nod. He wouldn't claim to be his usual self after the recent events and treatment, but he could be in worse shape.

"If you like the woman, you can have her. Or we can get a male if that's what you prefer, but she is quite skilled with her mouth if you don't mind a female."

Remus almost asked what the fuck?

He liked women, although he preferred men far more. The slave had arranged her face into a pleasant expression with a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. If ordered, he was sure she'd do whatever was expected without a single word of complaint. If he seemed displeased by her attitude, she'd smile wider and act as if eager to pleasure him.

It would all be fake and not consensual. If she said no or seemed resistant, she'd be punished. Whatever crime she'd committed, since the Soleilians had substituted slavery over sitting in a prison cell for anyone over the age of eighteen, it didn't mean rape was acceptable. Why would he stoop to their level? They were the savages, not him. Without true consent, it was rape, and he'd never be that sort of man.

Also, why would he be permitted anything like that so soon? Unless they thought he was some rabid man who needed his balls regularly drained to keep him calmer. He wouldn't be surprised if they took the Calmerra incident and twisted that to epic proportions in their minds.

"Well?" asked Spectacles. "Would you prefer a male?"

"No."

Spectacles tilted his head. "Is she not pleasing to look at?"

"I don't need to fuck anyone just because they're pretty." Remus struggled to think of something else to say that didn't involve an insult to Soleil or Spectacles himself. Calling them savages or rapists wouldn't go over well.

Spectacles shrugged and snapped his fingers at the woman who fixed her tunic before taking the plate and fork. Once Remus was alone again with the door shut and locked, he wondered if there was something else to that. Didn't Sébastien make the rules for his slave? Receiving sex could be a reward, and Remus hadn't exactly been good so far. Why allow that?

Unless he had some sort of status as a slave here that gave him a privilege. From what he'd heard before of the enslaved Soleilians, the ones kept by higher-ups were often treated like spoiled pets in some ways. They'd even receive gifts such as jewelry and trinkets. He wasn't sure about ones who simply worked in the Castle or a lord's home but weren't specifically taken to be a particular person's slave. They likely got the bare basics at most.

Remus had eaten off of a silver plate with a gold fork. The food had been good and plentiful. He wore gold, although it wasn't in a way he'd prefer. If he was obedient, and Sébastien decided to keep him around and bring him out, it would be for humiliation considering Remus's past position and their family history.

Sébastien clearly wasn't poor, but a slave was just another way to show off the wealth everyone knew he owned. He was the Prince who owned a Prince.

Perhaps certain slaves were permitted the use of others as a form of reward or temptation to continue good behavior. Their owners might also find it entertaining. Allowing Remus to have fucks could be another way of showing off his wealth. Even his slave could have the usage of other slaves.

Remus wanted to get out, and he'd have to behave to some extent so he didn't get his ass kicked by multiple guards, but there were a couple of things he couldn't do.

He'd have to see and learn the little rules and unspoken things of this court if possible. Sébastien might not be eager to fuck him. The hate was so strong, it'd be like besmirching himself with a dog.

It wasn't like Sébastien couldn't find a courtier, go to a whorehouse, or pick another slave for a quick fuck since most were Soleilian and therefore not dirty or responsible for the deaths in his family. He'd obviously been having his needs met before Remus came along, so keeping him would be for shame and revenge.

Remus just needed a way out. He might eat off of silver, but that didn't mean Sébastien wouldn't want to torment him even if Remus did behave. Yesterday proved that. The Prince would have plenty of time to do whatever if he thought of it.

The other problem was that while Sébastien had to keep him for a while as a show of acceptance to Quintus, how long would that last? A few years? More than ten?

He highly doubted Sébastien would want him around forever. Perhaps Remus could grow "ill" or have an accident.

Since the door was locked and the food had energized him a little, he quietly stood. The chain clinked a bit, and he listened. Guards were surely outside his door. No one came in or seemed to hear, and he assumed he was permitted to walk around, not that the lead gave him much slack. The room was decently large and rather bare with only the bed.

The mattress was thick, and the silken sheets were a good weave. When he lifted the mattress, he frowned. The wooden slats to hold it up weren't laid across and supported at the ends by the inner lip of the frame or nailed down. The bedstead had been carved entirely from one piece of wood. He tested one. It'd be nearly impossible to break off a slat, and the guards would hear the noise.

He let the mattress drop. He wouldn't be busting his bed into pieces anytime soon. If he got out of here…

Killing Quintus wouldn't be that easy. Getting to Rowland would be an issue, and what if he couldn't find support in a place where he was thought to be a traitor? Who knew what others said about him now? Lords that seemed to distrust Quintus and his story could be quickly replaced. Commoners could stay back and accept things because to them, general life would go on.

On his own, what was he supposed to do? He clenched his fists and was tempted to punch something. Lupo had died so the crown, a temporary thing he hadn't particularly wanted, could be taken from him. Remus wouldn't be able to say any last words to Uncle or attend his funeral. Everything was simply…over.

They'd had dinner that last evening and everything had seemed typical. Quintus hadn't acted differently. They'd gone to their separate quarters afterward. Remus had assumed the morning would come as usual.

He sat on the bed again. Some little part of his mind said that if he went home right that second, he'd find Lupo alive and well. But he knew that wasn't true.

Quintus had never seemed eager to get the position or shown jealousy, but he must have been considering things for a long time. After Father died, the opportunity had been too tempting. Lords and friends alike had died in battle to be replaced by new faces. Men who were willing to listen to Quintus whispering words of treason and offering rewards had thrown in their lot with him.

Father would be ashamed. Mother would be too. She'd wanted children so badly, and no woman raises her kids so that one can betray another.

To stop himself from thinking of Father or questioning his last thoughts at Calmerra, Remus turned his mind to the other slaves who'd been brought to Soleil. He didn't have the foggiest clue who Quintus had selected. Were they criminals or random citizens?

The door opening snapped him from his thoughts. Three guards came in.

"You need a bath."