Bad enough as it was, she saw his men descending on Immari when he dragged Aida inside. Their armor loosened, belts jangling as they rushed the bloody, weeping woman. She didn’t understand Immari’s screams, only knew that her friend was hurt, and no one would help. Only the beginning still as he forced Aida to kneel, ripping the soft flannel gown to bare her back. The cane hurt, liquid fire scorching delicate skin. It felt as if it had split her open, though Otaso assured her through the entire ordeal he would never leave her marked. Not his little fawn, his precious jewel. It was after the punishment that Aida’s fear soared to new heights, though she didn’t understand what it was at the time.
As Otaso held her in his lap, rubbing his rough hand across her agonized flesh and murmuring soothing words that did nothing to cease her sobs, things changed. His touch became different. Seeking something. Otaso became angry when she didn’t give him anything but her tears and sniveling cries, too wrapped up in the pain that still pulsed through her body, red hot and bone deep. That dissatisfaction lingered. Grew stronger by the day, long after the incident, well past the next time she’d been brave and dared to incite his wrath.
Now it was a constant. Always searching her features, her eyes, for something that he never found. His frustration mounting as the years passed, and she saw her eighteenth spring, becoming more woman than child. Now he would take it, whether or not Aida agreed.
“Stand.”
Immari’s biting command shot through Aida’s meandering thoughts, jarring her into the here and now. Shuffling up the side of the tub, she did as she was told.
Downy softness of a towel wrapped around her body, Immari helped her from the tub to stand before the mirror that never steamed over. Aida refused to meet her gaze in the reflection, the creeping certainty that another’s eyes peered back keeping her on edge whenever she stood before the glossy surface. Waiting with arms out for Immari to rub more of the oil into her skin, she instead looked at the parts of her body not concealed. Sun starved skin a sandy beige with a chaotic jumble of freckles, it wasn’t anything near the frigid paleness of the people of Logoria or anywhere else in Aeslomor. Not that she knew over much about them, but of the few she’d seen during her clandestine excursions and in the few books Otaso allowed her, they were cut from the same cloth. Pale skin, inky hair, all of them tall.
It couldn’t be more clear Aida’s parents, whoever they might have been, had not been of Otaso’s people. He’d had no reason to take her in that night, no responsibility as a ruler to even find her another home.
“You would do well to remember how much your guardian has done for you. Raised you to be a fine lady. Given you everything,” Immari muttered as if she knew Aida’s thoughts, brisk strokes of her palms smearing the thick oil over Aida’s skin.
Noncommittal hum going unnoticed, Aida gazed at her reflection, lost in her musing. It could be worse for her, no matter she felt stifled, imprisoned, the pretty bird singing her song in the dankness of a dungeon. Shiver prickling the backs of her arms and legs, Aida took a slow breath through her nose to banish the thought. Still her heart raced at the nightmarish memories of those dank and dark chambers.
Following Immari into the bedroom, Aida sat before the delicate vanity on a rounded stool, avoiding yet another mirror. The extensive process of applying the paints and dressing her hair that became mandatory for Otaso’s pleasure began.
She should be grateful. An orphan, all alone, she’d never have survived the world and all its dangers. Not from what little she gleaned from Otaso. His tales of war and violence were enough to terrify, leaving her to toss and turn through the night with horrible dreams. As much as she chafed under his constricting rules, his stern protection kept her safe.
There were other reasons to be afraid, ones Otaso hinted at. Things that made her special, desirable, craved by the very worst of men. It sang in her blood and was what made her eyes the deepest black pricked by pale blue points, the pupils hard to discern in anything but the brightest light. It was why he’d kept her.
Jerking her head away with a hiss when Immari’s fingers pulled a tangled knot free, Aida grit her teeth as she received a sharp slap to her back. The intricate braids hid away the curl of her hair, the soft sable intertwined with rich russet darkened to an austere black with yet more oils and concoctions to keep the strands smooth.
She owed him everything. Knew she should throw herself at his feet, eager to please him. Aida wished with all her soul she could make herself feel the things he wanted her to, because at least then it would make what would happen bearable.
Yet she couldn’t. No matter how hard she tried to find his wicked smile appealing, the stiff bristles on his jaw charming, none of it would beguile her.
Not in the way a single sniff of the guard at her
