“I arrived on the mainland and was kept in a cage along with other prisoners or animals from the far reaches of the world. For weeks the caravan traveled, and I lived in filth with little to eat and nothing to sustain my spirit. The winds answered me on the rare occasions I was left alone and able to call to them, but the guards soon silenced me with drugs or a blow to the back of my head.”
Hessa winced.
Gunnar nodded. “I survived. That’s all that matters. All things in life test our will. My time here is no exception.”
She reached past the bars to touch his chest, and reveled in the way he felt against her skin. Her dream of pressing her naked body to his was the closest she ever though it could be. Her fingertips brushed over one of his small, hard nipples. He exhaled, and his breath blew across her cheek. Down his side and along his abdomen, she explored his body. He had stopped telling his tale in order to watch her touch him. She circled his navel three times, imagining what it would have been like to have parents, to be cared for as a child rather than taught to work. She closed her eyes, her fingers dipping to the edge of his loincloth. Hessa imagined the scent of the sea and the fresh air of freedom. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in the vision.
“I wish I could set you free, but I’m just a servant here. What could I do?” His hand swept over her shoulder to brush one of her breasts. She sucked in a breath.
“Everyone has some sway.” His thumb rimmed her nipple, kept from her skin by her thin dress. He toyed with her until the flesh hardened. “Even a servant in the Omi House knows secrets.”
“Not me.” She struggled to hold still as he took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, swirling both digits until her sensitive skin peaked even more. “I am no one of importance. I have no magic, no knowledge beyond that of my duties.”
“Can you find out who the woman is they will send to me?” His hand cradled her breast, thumb tapping at its center. “Surely, you can discover that much.”
Her head swam for a brief moment of bliss, brought on by his touch until what he asked settled in her mind. “Woman…” She frowned. He wanted to know what woman they would make him breed with? It seemed a strange request. If he wanted to escape, he ought to ask for keys or a weapon at least. “Why?”
Footsteps shuffled in the upstairs hall. A man spoke, his voice weary.
Hessa shook her head and backed away from the cell, sudden jealousy burning inside of her. She thrust her hand into her bag.
“Because if I can’t have my freedom, I want you to take that woman’s place,” Gunnar whispered. He gave her a stern look and then went to sit on his pallet.
She swallowed her jealousy and went about her work, dropping food in the cells or into the hands of the prisoners. She went up the steps, but not without a backward glance at her stolen warrior. Gunnar was watching her. He didn’t smile or nod, but she heard his voice softly humming.
When she reached the top of the stairs, the wind rattled the smeared glass high in the upper cells.
“You’re early.” The cell keeper eyed her with suspicion.
“Yes,” she bowed her head lest he take more notice of her. “I have more work than usual behind the tavern today. I wanted to get a head start.”
He snorted and patted her shoulder. “You always work like a horse, woman. If I had spare gold, I’d buy you myself. Keep you in my house.”
A spark of hope shimmered in Hessa’s heart. She raised her chin to look at him. He was old and worn, his body muscle bound. Gray and black hair framed his narrow face. He had small eyes and a large nose. He didn’t make her feel anything at all-unlike Gunnar, but he could be a way out. It was not freedom, but she had never really hoped for that much.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You speak kindly.”
His smile revealed three missing teeth. He had lived a hard life. “I lost my wife three summers back,” he confessed. His eyes clouded over, and the cell keeper ambled away, his shoulders slouching. He didn’t say anything more to her. Hessa finished her chores just as the water bearer entered. They nodded at each other, and then Hessa left the cells to tend to the rest of her work.
She thought of her stolen warrior, of the fire he had ignited in her middle when he touched her breast. She wondered if she could find out who would be sent to him. Could she take that woman’s place? If she did, what would happen? Would he hurt her? Use her? Or something entirely impossible; would he make her fantasy come true?
On her way to clean in the brothel rooms, Hessa hoped for a night alone with Gunnar. She hoped for the chance at stealing a small time of happiness, of closeness. He couldn’t really care for her. She knew that and accepted it, but she wanted the chance all the same.
She set in on the first room, gathering up discarded clothing and piling it for the laundry. She pulled the linens from the soiled bed, the scent of sex heavy in the air. All that had happened in the room during the night only made it worse for Hessa. She tried to stop thinking of Gunnar, but she couldn’t.
She swept, mopped, and then she set the laundry in the baskets in the hall. After the floor dried, she made up the bed with fresh sheets and imagined herself sprawled there, her warrior waiting in the corner of the room wearing nothing at all.
Hessa groaned. She moved on to the next room and started cleaning in there. There was less mess than the first, as if the coupling that had happened hadn’t been as violent or unorganized. The sheets were hardly rumpled and a few flowers had been placed on the table by the bed. The scent of them made the room feel fresh and innocent. Outside the window, clouds gathered in the sky. Hessa closed her eyes and thought she could hear her warrior’s voice dancing in the air.
Chapter Three
Hessa was ready to go deliver the midday meals to the prisoners when the new women were brought through the brothel’s back door. Some had been sold into slavery. Others had been raised in servitude and reached the age of maturity-an age that meant childhood services of cleaning, weaving, or grinding grain had come to an end. For the young women with no magical abilities, it meant service in the brothel to the men who paid. For women with a little magic, it either meant sale to a guild clan or bedding the men who had survived the pits in order to make babies that would fetch a high price when they grew to the age to show their powers. A few looked frightened, their eyes wide and their lips pursed. But one stood out among them.
She tossed her golden hair and glared at the master who led them through the hall and away. She looked dangerous. She looked deadly. And by the color of her fair skin, she had not come from Bisura. The woman glared at Hessa over her shoulder.
At first, Hessa didn’t understand where the voice had come from, but then she realized it was the gold haired woman. She was able to mind speak, something the Shan-Shei priests were known for, a talent that always startled Hessa. Surely, she would be sent to the dungeons and the pit fighters.
Hessa swallowed down her nervousness, and followed the women. She watched the master assign them each to their rooms. Pretending to dust a length of shelving that normally held clean linens, she waited until they had all been shut away.
They would soon be given assignments.
Hessa refolded a few sheets and set them onto the shelves. This might be her chance to be with Gunnar-her only chance. If she could discover which of the women would be sent to him, she might be able to convince her to trade places. But how?
She needed to get to the kitchens and fill her sack with bread and cheese. Sighing, she turned and started toward the next chore, toward an endless agenda of work and servitude. She trudged to the kitchen and went about her work, looking forward to the moment when she would walk down into the dark and feel his touch on her skin. It was a small thing to hope for, but she hoped nonetheless and envied the spirit of the woman with the golden hair.
