leave none to farm or work. He now only allowed her slaves and criminals to add for her pleasure. But as usual, Vanessa found ways to get what she wanted.
She walked over to the second door. Pushing it open, it revealed a second small room. Tristan could see that it was filled with barrels and from the smell they were filled with sour wine.
Vanessa stepped back to Tristan, her eyes narrowing on his lips as her tongue wet her red painted lips.
“This is the way it’s going to be. You have two days to turn this wine into water.
If you can do this, you may go back to your farm and live out your life.” Tristan swallowed hard. “And if I can’t?” His voice trembled slightly as he looked down into her icy depths.
Vanessa stepped closer and placed a hand lightly on his chest. He shivered in disgust at her touch but dared not pull away. He knew she held his life in her hands.
Her hand started to glide over his smooth skin, circling a nipple. Tristan bit his bottom lip to keep from jerking from her touch like it burned his stomach, revolting and churning at her touch.
“You will become part of my harem. I’m in need of a sex slave.” Her voice was honeyed and soft, almost child like, but Tristan heard a cold tone behind the sweetness.
“My last one…well, I had to let him go.” She rose on her toes and placed a light kiss on his stiff, unresponsive lips. “Two days,” she reminded him, as she stepped back and left the room.
The two guards approached Tristan and released the manacles from his wrists before backed away. Everything inside of Tristan told him to take a chance at escape, but looking at these two men, he knew that he’d not get far.
When the door closed and the click of the lock echoed through the chamber, Tristan went to the open doorway. There were at least twenty barrels of wine in the room. Despair filled him as he slid down the doorframe. Pulling his legs up to his chest and settling his arms on his knees, his head rested on them.
His life was over. There were stories whispered in the dark corners of taverns of how the Queen treated those in her harem. Once a man entered it, he was never seen again. Some say that it was a fate worse than death. Rumors told of how all the men she kept were scarred as a result of her misuse and cruelty, and that she cared nothing of their feelings or pain. They were only alive to serve and please her. Tristan let his tears of desolation flow freely as he cried, an action he’d not allowed himself to do since his mother died when he was just a young boy.
A hand settled on his shoulder, its warmth spreading within his body. He felt comforted by the touch, it felt similar to when his mother would wrap her arms around him and kiss his hurts. Slowly, Tristan raised his head and looked into the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. He had never actually seen eyes like this before. They were two shades of purple. The ring surrounding her black iris was the color of wild violets. The outer ring was darker in color, like the royal garments the King and Queen wore. Thick black lashes framed them. Fairy eyes, they were called.
Tristan looked past the eyes and found a beautiful woman kneeling next to him.
Her hair was long and dark brown in color. Bright red streaked the mousy color. Her lips were deep red, the color of roses ripe in bloom, and hinted at a smile.
He reached up and wiped the tears from his face, reluctant to move from the stranger’s touch. “Who are you?” His voice was quiet and unsure.
“I’m here to help you,” she said, with a voice as sweet as honey.
Tristan laughed. “Unless you can turn all of this sour wine to water…” he said indicating the barrels. “Then you are wasting your time.” The smile fully formed making her beauty shine. “I can help.” Her calm tone sobered him. “How?”
“I have my ways. However, I require payment for my services.” The small hope Tristan held tightly to fell. “I’m sorry but I have nothing to give. I own nothing but the clothing I wear.” He looked down at what he wore, pants and an old pair of shoes, both in ragged shape. “I’m but the son of a farmer. The land we tend isn’t even ours.”
She leaned over and gently pressed her lips to his. Her tongue swept over his flesh, beckoning them to part. His lips opened, allowing her tongue to slip in. The kiss was tentative, one of exploration and shyness on Tristan’s part. As the kiss continued Tristan craved more. She tasted sweeter than honey and found himself moaning when she ended the kiss by pulling away.
“You have what I require,” she said. “You can offer yourself to me as payment.” Tristan blinked slowly at the woman, still reeling from her kiss. It took a moment for him to comprehend her words.
“Me? You want me as payment?” He was unsure he’d heard right. Her offer sounded quite similar to the Queen’s. Both women wanted him as a possession, like he was cattle. He was a simple man, unused to this kind of attention. He had to wonder what fate he crossed to be punished with such a decision.
“I shall turn every barrel to pure water and get you out of here in exchange for your oath to surrender to me.”
Tristan looked at the beauty before him, thinking of the warmth and comfort he felt when she’d touched him. Her smile was sweet and inviting. Her voice was lulling like a spell.
Silently he weighed the pros and cons of his situation. If he pushed this woman away and allowed the Queen to have her way, he would be pulled into a nightmare world, where there would be beatings and punishments at her whim. He would be completely at her mercy with no one to help him. Remembering how his skin crawled at her touch and how much evil he saw in her eyes, he shivered at the thought of being at her mercy.
On the other hand, he knew nothing of this woman in front of him. How would she make the barrels turn from sour wine? How would she get him out of the dungeon?
Where would she take him? If he chose her, would he be exchanging one hell for another?
“How can I be sure that I’m not getting myself into a worse situation than what the Queen has offered?”
“You can’t. You can only trust what your heart tells you to do,” she said, raising her hand to caress his cheek. “I promise that you will be in a better place than this. And you won’t be punished or treated cruelly.”
Tristan felt the warmth of her touch spread through his face. He resisted the urge to lean into her hand.
“And my life here? What becomes of that?”
“It will be behind you. You will have no need of it. I will keep you safe.” The woman removed her hand and he instantly felt the coolness of the cell’s air where her warmth had been. He shivered, not liking the feeling.
Knowing that he would have a short, tortuous life if he stayed there, Tristan took a deep breath and let it slowly seep out of his lungs.
“If you get me out of this dungeon and safely away from the Queen and her fury, I give you my oath and surrender myself completely to you as payment.” She nodded. “Why don’t you lie down and rest while I take care of things?” Tristan looked to the spot that held her gaze and saw that there was a pallet of straw in the corner of the cell. He knew it wasn’t there before, but before he could question it, he felt very tired and the makeshift bed beckoned him. The woman stood and helped him up and walked with him over to the pallet. In several blinks of his eyes, he was lulled into a deep, dreamless slumber.
* * * *
Tristan woke snuggled under thick covers. Grudgingly, he opened his eyes and met with bright rays of sunshine seeping in through a small window. Sleep slowly drifted from his body and he remembered the events of the previous day. He turned and found that he was no longer in the cold, dark cell. He sat up and looked around the room he’d never seen before.
Tristan threw the covers back and gave a small groan as his muscles protested the movements. His body was sore and stiff when he stood and stretched. He was barefoot and his dirty, torn clothing was gone. He now wore a clean pair of tan pants held at his waist with a tie.
“Hello?” Tristan called out.
He left the room calling out again. There was no answer. He made his way through the small cottage. It had one bedroom, a bathroom, living area, and a kitchen.
He found no one else there.
Tristan opened the only door leading out of the cottage. He stepped out onto a porch that led into a garden. Walking out he called out again but only the sound of nature answered his call. He walked around the garden in
