her behalf.

A tear swelled from below her downcast eyelid, and she wished desperately to wipe it away, but did not want to call attention to it.

“You Southern tribes,” Sedrak muttered. “You call us barbarians, and yet no warrior of mine would be so cowardly as to let a… girl… bargain for his life.”

Leola left her eyes on the ground. She could not tell from his tone if Sedrak was angry with her, or with her uncle, and she did not wish to be punished again by daring to ask the question.

The silence between them went on for what seemed like an unbearable time.

Sedrak broke the silence unexpectedly, and quite loudly. “I have bargained fairly for the possession of you, princess. It cannot be helped that your uncle has no honor!”

He said this as though Leola had objected to something, and his voice was loud and commanding. She trembled, wishing the earth would swallow her up. She had no idea what to do to keep this beast of a man from shifting, like mercury, from mood to mood, or how to please him, or what was expected of her.

His hand was beneath her chin within a moment, and he lifted her face to look at it.

“I shall not have crying!” he growled.

Leola braced herself for another punishment, her body going stiff. She could not stop the tears from overflowing from her eyes.

“Guard!” Sedrak hollered, loudly enough that his voice rang in Leola’s ears and she cringed. She barely understood the word he had voiced, so she was surprised when the flap of the tent was flung open and the guard who had brought her to Sedrak appeared inside.

“My lord?” the guard asked, hand upon a weapon.

“Take this… my pet… to her cage. See to it that she has furs and water, and a ration of stew. I grow tired of her company.”

Leola’s eyes flew open, and her lips parted. Should she say something? Apologize? What would happen to her now?

Sedrak crossed the room and retrieved the leash he had unclasped from her collar, affixing it to her once more. He kicked up her fur from the floor, and caught it in his hand. In a rough motion, he shoved it at Leola, who was slow to grasp it in her shock.

“Take it,” he barked.

She wrapped her hands around the fur, staring at him. She could not read what was in his eyes: it appeared to be anger, but he was sending her away, rather than punishing her.

Sedrak gave the leash to the waiting guard. “Go, now.” He turned to Leola. “I will summon you tomorrow. I have no patience for you now. When next you come, you shall not cry, or you shall be punished. And you shall know your place! Do you understand me?”

Leola’s lips trembled. “Y-yes, yes, Master,” she said, her voice wobbling.

“Out of my sight!”

The guard tugged on her leash, and led her into the dark night through the camp.

Chapter 3

The cage had been moved to a new location, inside a tent, not far from Sedrak’s. The furs remained inside, but the leather covering over the cage was gone, so Leola could only stretch a fur over herself to keep away the prying eyes of the guards who remained just outside the door and occasionally entered to tend the small fire at the center, and bring her food and water.

The stew was foreign-tasting and nothing like the stews prepared in her home, but Leola was hungry and ate greedily. Then she covered herself and faced the back of the tent, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Her dreams were incoherent and stressful: walks down passages with no doors or exits, running from something unknown, Sedrak’s hand on her bottom, rubbing it gently but sending the sharp sting of his punishments through her body.

She dreamed of his manhood, the strangeness of it, its thickness, and that Sedrak did as he had promised and put it inside of her, after spanking her soundly. The burn on her bottom mixed with the peculiar pleasure she felt at his touch, and even in her dream she could feel the ache between her legs, longing for something, but she did not know what.

In her dream, her servant Datharia called to her to wake her. Sedrak was in her bed, his manhood between her legs. She tried to hide, but Datharia continued to call to her. Princess Leola, Princess Leola… Leola… plaything of the king! Leola!”

“…Princess!”

The voice was not in her dream but in real life. It was a woman’s voice, shrill with a note of exasperation. Leola’s newly opened eyes took in the scene before her: the light-colored wall of the tent, lit by the morning light from outside; the bars of the cage, the fur piled up to her neck.

There was a clang behind her; the owner of the voice was banging something on the bars of the cage. “Hey! Princess! Wake up!”

Leola supposed there was no hope in pretending she wasn’t there. She rolled over, tentatively, and looked up at the figure standing over her cage.

It was a woman, a little older than Leola herself. She had a hand on one hip, and was dressed in a costume that was feminine but clearly the same as the barbarian tribes. Her coloring, like most of them, was dark. She had long black hair and eyes the color of the wheat drink her uncle’s men partook of at feasts.

Though her tone was one of exasperation, her face was not entirely unfriendly.

“You sleep like the dead,” she told Leola. Then she gave two light bangs on the cage with a stick before unlocking it. “I’m to take you to eat and bathe.”

She reached for the leash when Leola climbed out of the cage, struggling to gather a fur to take with her. The tent was warm inside, but she could feel the sharply cold morning air drifting through the flap. And she had no clothing, still.

She had never been completely naked in the

Вы читаете Claimed by the Barbarian
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату