11. Eight

Senna and his brute squad escorted me from the fighting pit to a small tent nearby, where a physician looked at me. He was an older elf with a harsh demeanor, the sort that lent itself to combat medics and not sniveling snakes like Modir.

I clenched my teeth at the memory of Modir and his tortures in the pit. It was one thing to be tortured by a professional. That had been impersonal, just a masked face pushing pins into joints, sending magic and pain into my skin and muscle, spraying me down with icy water. It was methodical until Modir took over.

Modir was a trained physician. He knew better than most how to hurt without killing, which would've been fine enough except that he enjoyed it. His eyes lit up with every soundless scream. Every trickle of blood had him licking his lips. My stomach turned over the first time he had to excuse himself due to being aroused. By the end, he didn't even try to hide it. There was nothing worse than being tortured by a sadist, except perhaps a sadist who knew your every weakness.

After poking at every bruise he could find, the elven physician declared me fit and released me back into Senna's care. I was dressed in the simple garments I'd seen all the slaves wearing, my cuffs and collar checked with great care. Then Senna put his leash on me and walked me like a trained hound to another tent, one I hadn't been in before.

This one was larger, with a pair of red flags at the entrance. Music played inside and laughter drifted out. Stepping inside, it was as if I had left the army camp behind and somehow been transported into a palace. Sheer cloth hung from the walls, draped lavishly. Velvet cushions had been thrown haphazardly around, all of them occupied by soldiers and slaves in various states of undress. There was a table overflowing with sweets, cured meats, and a seemingly endless supply of grapes and drink.

Seated in the center of it all was Ieduin, wearing a long, open robe. They had traded their usual pipe for a strange tall device with several long pipes attached to it. In a ceramic bowl at the center of the device rested a simmering coal. One end of the device was pressed between their lips, letting sweet smelling smoke roll from their nose into the tent. They sat on a deep crimson cushion, surrounded by slaves, all of them naked or half naked.

A dark-haired woman with bright pink nipples moaned loudly while another woman clad only in lace knelt between her thighs. On the other side of Ieduin, two male slaves were fucking with slow, sensual movements, as if they were putting on a show. Considering how many people were around, they probably were.

Ieduin, however, didn't seem aware of it, completely absorbed in the presence of an attractive young elf with bright green eyes and dark curls. He wore the collar of a slave, which I found confusing. So far, I had only seen human slaves and assumed the practice was limited to my people. The fact that they would enslave their own kind left a sour taste on my tongue, though the slave himself didn't seem at all uncomfortable with his situation. He was draped across his master's lap, happily sucking honey from Ieduin's fingers.

A wave of nausea washed over me as I realized I might be expected to behave with similar wanton abandon. I had no intention of being some elf's whore, despite being advertised as a bed slave.

Senna fell to his knees before Ieduin, pulling me down to kneel beside him.

"Ah, here's the victor!" declared Ieduin, pulling their fingers from between the elf's lips with a loud pop. He waved Senna off, and the Savarran left, crawling backwards out of the tent. "Welcome to my little oasis of indulgence. Go on. Get up. There's no need to kneel in here, unless that's your pleasure. We're all sinners here."

I frowned and stood looking around warily. It had to be a trick.

"Ah, I forgot. You can't speak, can you?" Ieduin set aside the pipe in favor of stroking their fingers over the young slave's cheek.

"That's a pretty collar," said the slave, staring at me, eyes half closed.

"Would you like one like it, Nessir?" Ieduin purred affectionately. "I'll buy you a hundred. One with diamonds and sapphires."

"I want one like that," Nessir, said, and pointed at my neck.

My hand went to my neck, and I winced.

"Not like that." Ieduin gently pushed Nessir's arm down and pressed their lips into his neck. "I like the sounds you make when I'm inside you too much to silence you."

Nessir smirked and clutched Ieduin's arm. "Do you suppose he can still make some noises, or is he completely mute?"

"I don't know, pet," Ieduin answered distractedly.

Nessir's eyes glittered brightly. "Could I find out? Please? Oh, please?"

Ieduin tipped Nessir's chin up and rubbed their noses together. "Would that please you? To be his prize? He did very well in the ring. Ruith did say I was to reward him. What do you think, pet?"

The young elf giggled pleasantly and rose. He crossed the room and circled me so close my every breath was full of whatever soft, floral perfume he had bathed in. He smirked as he came back around in front of me. "He's handsome for a human."

"My pet's given you a compliment." Ieduin reclined on the cushion like some debauched god of pleasure in his court of sin, resting their chin on their fist. "Nessir is my favored pet. He has an eye for pretty things, and a very talented mouth. I don't lend that to everyone. But you impressed me. He can suck your cock if you'd like. He's very good at it. The best."

My face flushed as Nessir dropped to his knees in front of me, settling himself between my legs. I pushed him away and stumbled back half a step.

Ieduin frowned and sat up. "He's not unwilling, if that's your problem. Are you, Nessir?"

The slave, eyes sparkling, licked his full lips and said in Savarran, "Not at all. I want his cock."

"There, you see? He wants you, and you've earned a reward. Take him. A gift." Ieduin put the pipe back between their lips.

My eyes darted around the room, stomach churning as the slave shoved his hand into my clothes, searching. This was wrong on every level, as wrong as what had nearly happened out in the fighting pit. I was no more willing, and the slave, despite assurances otherwise, had no choice either. That didn't stop him from being completely dedicated to the task, quickly finding what he was looking for. I flinched when wet lips closed around my length. I was not even remotely hard, despite the effort the poor slave was putting into it. My fingers curled into fists. The cuffs sat cold against my wrists, binding my hands together, and the collar chewed into my throat. I tried to focus on that, refusing again to give the elf the satisfaction they were looking for.

Ieduin sucked on their pipe and frowned, watching the display with concern, but they didn't do anything. Just watched. "For someone they tried to sell to us as a bed slave, you seem rather reluctant. Do you have performance anxiety? Don't be shy. Pricks are all the same, really. If you've seen a dozen, you've seen them all."

Nessir pulled back with a wet pop and I almost sagged in relief. "Perhaps he doesn't like men."

Ieduin frowned and removed the pipe again. "Do you want a woman instead? I have plenty of those. Some others, too. Or perhaps you'd rather take your pleasure in food and drink instead of flesh? Every pleasure made under the bright blue sky is mine to bestow. Well, what I can. Some things, such as myself, are not on the menu. I'm afraid that honor belongs to Nessir alone." They stood. "So what is it you want? Speak, and it's yours."

The tent opened and Katyr strolled in. "Quit teasing him, Ieduin. You know he can't speak." The mage commander walked over and promptly seated himself next to the two men who'd just finished fucking. He picked up the other end of the pipe device Ieduin had been smoking from, letting it dangle from his more delicate fingers. "Besides," he said, his eyes rolling over me. "I don't think he's the type for Nessir."

"No?" Ieduin plopped back down. "You think he takes it instead of giving?"

"I think some men need to be handled while others need to do the handling. And anyway, you don't know that he's even willing. Look at him. The poor beast is petrified. Poor Nessir. Must've been like having a delicacy gone cold."

"You're both incorrigible." The voice came from the shadows, where the silver-haired Aryn was apparently lounging, sharpening a knife. "Neither of you knows the first thing about humans."

"Then teach us." Ieduin picked up a peach and tossed it to Aryn, who caught it with his knife.

"What makes you think I want to?" Aryn snapped and threw it back.

"You're the only one of us who's fucked a human," Kat said. "Is it different?"

Aryn's expression didn't change, but there was a small tick in the corner of his mouth that made him seem…displeased with the subject. He regarded me coldly. "Humans are…conservative. They don't talk about it."

"As if they don't fuck," Ieduin scoffed with a frown. "Everyone fucks. What's the big deal? Well, everyone but you."

"I fuck just fine," Aryn growled. "Just because I don't take a lover to my bed every night doesn't mean I've got no interest. It means I have standards. Maybe he has standards, too."

"Standards." Ieduin sucked on their pipe and reclined further. "What's the world coming to when men turn down getting their cock sucked?"

"Not everyone is as debased as you, Ieduin," Ruith said, strolling into the tent.

All the slaves stopped what they were doing to prostrate themselves until Ruith flicked a hand, dismissing them. Then they were back at it, kissing, touching, petting each other in a shameless orgiastic display.

Ieduin smirked. "We're all whoresons here. Except for you. All hail the great Prince Ruith, whose cock is apparently too good for my whores these days. Something you and your new toy have in common, it seems." They gestured to me.

Ruith walked over and casually picked up my leash. "I prefer more sport than the docile whores of your harem, sibling." He yanked me closer to him.

Ieduin laughed. "Well, you'll have your hands full with that one."

I glared at the elf's feet defiantly. It was all I could do since I'd been instructed not to look at their faces.

"Has he said a word?" Ruith asked.

"No, and he won't." Katyr sighed. "The collar's blood magic. Attempting to remove it will kill him. I imagine it's rather painful for him."

"There are other ways to communicate." Ruith set his hard eyes on me. "He'll communicate if he's inclined, or he'll tolerate whatever I demand. Tonight, I want conversation, but I will settle for entertainment."

With a yank on my chain, he dragged me along until he found a place to sit. Then he forced me to kneel at his feet. After a moment, he seemed to think better of it and yanked on the chain again, this time pulling me into his lap.

I squirmed as strong hands gripped my hips and I bit my lip when Ruith's hot breath brushed against my ear.

"If you don't want your prick serviced," he whispered, "perhaps you'd rather do the servicing."

"He'll bite it off," Aryn advised, and he was right. If the elf put his cock anywhere near my teeth, I meant to bite it clean off.

My heart pounding, I lashed out at Ruith, trying to slam one of the cuffs against the side of his head. He jerked his head to the side, avoiding the strike entirely. With his other hand, he grabbed the chain that linked my wrists together and pulled my arms roughly above my head, attaching the chain to a hook I hadn't noticed. I squirmed and twisted, trying to find a way to free myself, but that only made things worse. The more I moved, the more I became aware of Ruith's body pressed against mine. He was all thick, corded muscle, and smelled of leather, horse, and something enticingly masculine. My body, already primed to respond by Nessir, reacted even more strongly than before. Captor aside, Ruith was exactly the sort I might've liked had he been a man and not an elf.

Ieduin laughed. "Maybe you're more his type, Ruith. He seems a lot more eager now."

"He doesn't seem eager at all," Katyr said, frowning.

"His cock's finally hard, though. Maybe he likes to be forced."

"I'm not going to force him," Ruith scoffed. "But something has to loosen his tongue."

Something whistled through the air and crashed into the wall behind me. The chain holding my arms up suddenly went slack, and I fell from where I was being held captive in Ruith's lap to the soft pillows at his feet.

I looked and saw a curved dagger sticking out of the wall. Aryn held another in his fist and wore an incredulous look on his face. None of the other three elves moved, not even to breathe. A heavy, electric tension settled in the air as Ruith and Aryn stared each other down, each one refusing to look away from the other.

"I don't want to watch this," Katyr interjected eventually, standing and pulling his chosen slave with him. "If you have no further need for me, I'm going to go take my pleasure elsewhere."

"I'll join you." Ieduin stood and grabbed Nessir by his collar. "Come on, then. We'll go find a proper use for you."

One by one, the slaves and soldiers all made a hasty exit.

Only Aryn and Ruith remained.

"Well?" Ruith asked calmly.

"You shame yourself," Aryn said angrily.

"I wasn't going to rape him, Aryn. Gods below. You know me."

"Do I?" Aryn shot back in a decidedly nasty tone. "These last few weeks have pushed you. The coming months will push you further." Aryn tensed, grip tight around the blade he'd drawn. "I won't serve someone who behaves like the tyrant he seeks to unseat."

Ruith placed a hand on top of my head. "Would you kill me if I did?"

"Yes," Aryn answered without hesitation.

I frowned. Aryn's answer did not come from any loyalty to me, but this was clearly part of a larger conversation I was not party to.

"Good," Ruith replied eventually, and Aryn relaxed.

A look crossed the silver elf's face. I didn't know him well enough to read it, but if I did, I would be tempted to call it hurt.

"The issue of communication remains," Ruith pointed out, though the topic hardly seemed related to anything that had transpired.

Aryn's icy blue eyes darted to me, searching my face. Then he stormed out of the shadows and gripped my chin, looking up at me. He was a good head and a half shorter than me, with delicate fingers and a firm brow, but even so, he was terrifying. "Nod your head if you understand what I'm saying."

I clenched my jaw and considered not answering. After all, the fact that I could understand them without them knowing was the only advantage I had. This one almost seemed sympathetic to my situation. If I cooperated, I might find some favor, which I could exploit later.

I nodded once.

"Can you read and write in Elvish?" Aryn demanded.

I nodded again.

Aryn released me and took a step back, glaring at Ruith.

"You see?" Ruith sounded smug. "I knew we could find some way to communicate if we tried hard enough."

The silver-haired elf narrowed his eyes. He spat out a curse in Elvish and left the tent.

After he was gone, Ruith gripped my chin and made me look up at him. He wore a smug grin, and I hated it on him. The elf was well aware of the victory he'd just won, and probably intended to rub it in my face.

"Are you going to behave for me, slave? Or do you want another night in your cage to think it over?"

I eyed the rod, not sitting far away, weighing my options. The cage was a miserable place, but it might be preferable compared to whatever he had in mind. Still, if I wanted to find a way to freedom, I would have to win the elf's trust to some degree. To do that, I had to seem like less of a threat.

Was I really going to take him at his word? An elf, a barbarian who, minutes ago, had seemed to want to do unspeakable things to me?

I can't kill Michail if I'm dead, I thought. I might survive whatever he wanted. I won't survive many more nights in that cage.

Begrudgingly, I nodded once.

"Sit," he commanded, and I sat at his feet like the good pet I was pretending to be.

He eyed me for a moment, appraising, and then making a judgment. Then he loosened his hold on my leash enough that he could walk around the room while still gripping it.

"I haven't yet worked out who you are." He took up a plate with his free hand and began picking through the spread of food on the table. "But I know the new king of Ostovan gave you to my father, hoping you would suffer at his hands. Which you would. He has no use for a bed slave who bites. I, on the other hand…"

He returned with the plate, but that wasn't all he brought. He'd also brought me a slate and a dull bit of chalk. Ruith put both the writing implements on the floor in front of me and selected a juicy pink fruit that he offered to me in his hand, commanding, "Eat."

I stared at the fruit, my stomach rumbling and my face burning. It was clear he expected me to eat from his hand like a trained dog. Hungry as I was, I wouldn't lower myself to that level. Not yet.

"Your pride makes this difficult," Ruith said. "But who do you have to be proud for? It's only us here and you're not going to impress me by being stubborn. I have no use for you weak and starving. Come now. Isn't your strength surely better reserved for a fight worth having?"

I clenched my jaw, staring at the fruit, trying to will myself not to salivate. As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. I licked my lips and slowly leaned forward. My teeth sank into the strange fruit, which tasted like a cross between a peach and a plum. I intended only to take a small bite, but once the sweet flavor hit my tongue, I snatched the fruit out of his hand and began devouring it messily, not even caring about how the juices ran down my chin.

Ruith smirked and sank into his chair, watching me. "I don't intend to give you to my father."

I paused, my cheeks stuffed full.

"Don't worry." Ruith waved a dismissive hand. "It doesn't serve me to kill you, or to bed you, honestly."

I glared at him. If he didn't want me for that, then why had he kept me at all?

I finished the fruit and set the stony pit aside to scrawl a single word on the slate in careful elven script.

Ruith cocked a brow when I held up the slate. "Why? You mean why didn't I just ask you myself if you could read and write?"

I nodded.

He settled further into his chair, staring straight ahead at nothing.

I frowned and wrote something else on the slate. "You used him." I meant Aryn.

His lips quirked into a slight smirk. "You're cleverer than I judged you to be. I knew you'd never answer me, but Aryn… It was easy for you to see an ally in him."

Aryn wasn't my ally. None of them were. We were enemies all, and I was just beginning to understand how manipulative Ruith could be.

"As for the rest… There are certain machinations in play that you needn't worry yourself over. When, at last, the dust settles, there will be allies on one side and enemies on the other, but we are not there yet."

I frowned at his non-answer. I couldn't begin to guess at his reasons for anything he did. Ruith held all the cards, and I was being thrust into the game blind and mute with no understanding of the rules.

He offered me a fig that I took with only a little hesitation, chewing slowly before picking up the slate. In careful, curling script, I wrote a variation of the line that Senna had told me I should say if I should ever find my voice. "How will I serve?"

Ruith smiled at the loaded question. "You will be my body slave, which means you'll be tasked with attending to me directly. You will prepare my tent, serve me my meals, see to my horse and armor, and whatever else I demand of you when I demand it."

My frown only deepened. That was a lot of responsibility to hand to a man who, less than a day ago, had tried to slit his throat.

"Why?" I wrote on the slate and showed it to him.

"Because I'm the only one in this camp that can protect you," he replied. "Your fellow slaves hate you already. You'll find no allies among them. The other elves hate you. Those who wouldn't kill you outright would fuck you and pass you around to make a point. Without the protection this position would afford you, you'll be dead before we reach the crossing, and it is in my best interest to keep you alive."

I pointed to the word on the slate again.

His face suddenly hardened. "I've tolerated enough questions from you today. Tonight, I'm surrendering you to Senna's care. He will begin training you to complete your duties tomorrow."

I turned the slate over and erased the word, writing something else slowly. Elvish script was difficult and still too foreign to my hand.

He watched over my shoulder, only to snatch the slate away before I could finish. "I don't care to learn your name yet. If you survive the crossing, then you can give it to me. Until then, keep it to yourself."

I sighed in frustration and held out my hands, hoping he'd give me the slate back. Instead, he rose and called for Senna, who appeared promptly to escort me out.