2310 BCE

A fly collected at the back of Leonara’s neck.

She couldn’t slap it away. Her hands were shackled against the wooden contraption that pushed each frayed splinter further into her skin. Her long dark hair fell over her face, and she could see bits of her flesh sprayed out on each strand of grass. She was grateful, at least, to be out of sight of the others, the barn, the courtyard and villa. Her fingernails dug into her palms, and although the top of her dress was pushed down to her waist, she could hardly feel a thing. The lacerations across her back were simply another layer.

Sorana’s shoes crunched against the ground.

The whizzing sound of the whip hardly made Leonara flinch. Red mist splattered across the dandelions and the ropes to which her calloused hands were roughly bound to. Out in the distance, she could hear the men hard out at work in the fields. Or the women tending to the gardens. Another lash settled upon on her back, yanking out what skin remained. She did not make a sound, merely stared out at the view of the fields ahead.

Sorana’s breaths were heavy as she finally dropped the whip to the ground. She was a tall, but slim woman, and her attempts at enforcing discipline were amateur, at best. Her pale face was flushed as she stumbled through the grass. A faint smirk crossed Leonara’s lips—to deny her such satisfaction. It always amused her how, given the great deal of masters that she had within her life, this was the worst thing they thought she feared. She could almost laugh right now. It was even better than the pain that now coursed through her body like a raging fire.

”You ran off,” Sorana snapped, after finally managing to take in a couple of breaths. With an aggravated sigh, and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “How dare you leave the premises without permission. And as of a time like this, when my husband is away. Do you wish to bring downfall to the others? Because I shall limit their rations.”

A bead of sweat dripped down Leonara’s nose. Her dark eyes focused on the grass. After much prayer to the gods and fasting for days, a plan had come to mind. A distant relative of hers—her second cousin dwelled in the city of Sippar, about six miles away. He was a slave, but worked in the kitchen at the home of an important soldier for the king. Small hands would be a tremendous help. It would be a better home for Hirom, and the master of that place known to allow his slaves to receive education. If she could just get the boy over there, before Matthias returned and claimed him as his property. Utua had informed her that he had rejected the boy, but she knew that it would be only a matter of time before he would change his mind.

She had planned to leave by dawn, return by sunset to make the negotiation. She had just saddled up Angus and was about to make it towards the woods when Bou had found her, dragged her back. Despite it all, she couldn’t help but hold back a chuckle when Sorana had stumbled out, half asleep, her blue eyes wide with rage. Leonara repositioned her knees in the wet grass, feeling the mud gather beneath them. This would not last long.

It had only been a couple of hours, after all.

”So you have nothing to say for yourself?” Sorana demanded. “Nothing at all? You stubborn cad.” She picked up the whip, and Leonara closed her eyes and prayed to the gods that Hirom was anywhere—anywhere—but in that cursed home. She bit her tongue and closed her eyes.

* * * * * * *

Utua wearily draped a woolen blanket over Hirom’s sleeping form. To his relief, he had found the boy wandering out in the courtyard, with an odd, but strange expression upon his small face. Almost wonder, like he had discovered something. He did not even appear fazed when Utua scolded him for getting up and leaving so abruptly, and even took his hand as he led him back to the fields. Utua couldn’t make sense of it—not a single time this day did he cry or fuss or hit at him.

He had only asked him about Leonara.

At this moment in time, Utua couldn’t stop worrying. He disliked giving Hirom the same answer regarding Leonara’s whereabouts, having repeatedly checked her shack multiple times, refusing to believe the inevitable—that she had been likely sold. Her place was only empty. His head was heavy with the day’s work, and he desperately yearned for a few hours of rest, but he decided to stop by again, like he did every evening.

Once he made sure that Hirom was asleep, he grabbed his oil lamp and stepped out of the hovel. The cool night air nipped at his shoulders and rags, but he gritted his teeth and made his way in the dark, making sure to remain in the shadows whenever an overseer passed by. His sandals crunched against the dirt as he ducked below the bushes and made his way around the trees, shielding the small flame of the oil lamp in his large hands.

When he approached Leonara’s shack, he lingered at the door, spying the orange light that seeped through. Biting down on his cheek, he saw a shadow across the wall. His heart skipped a beat—he would never admit how badly he had longed for her. Hesitating for a moment, he knocked on the wooden door. There was no reply, but it opened just a crack. As he peered in, his stomach twisted and turned. The oil lamp fell from his sweaty palms and shattered on the ground.

Leonara was facing away from him, rubbing a thick ointment upon her exposed back. The sound, if she did hear it, barely fazed her. Scars were no stranger to him, but these were thick, dark keloids that seemed to rise above her skin—dried blood caked around it. Her hair was undone, hanging by her waist. She did not react as Utua rushed towards her and grabbed both of her arms with his hands. His single blue eye searched her face.

“What happened?” he whispered, his eyes scanning her naked back. “Who did this?”

“Go away,” the woman muttered.

“You are still bleeding. Let me go to the—”

”Leave me in peace!” Leonara turned away and yanked her arms from Utua’s grip. “Go back to Hirom. I shall be fine.”

”By the gods, watch your tongue,” Utua thundered. “Can not one gentle word escape your lips? I’ve let you ignore many things, but not this.” He spat on the ground as he made his way over to the table. “You cannot work like this tomorrow, not with that. This is absurd. This is absolute foolishness.”

“You have no right to meddle in my affairs.”

“If someone harms you, it is my affair.”

“What are you going to do about it?” A soft smirk fell upon Leonara’s face. “Nothing, expect to add more to the scars you already have. Be my guest.”

The dim light fell upon Utua’s face. He clenched his jaw. “This is no laughing matter. You need to tell me. Where have you been? You’ve been gone for days. I have been worried out of my wits.”

“Does it matter?” Leonara released a heavy sigh. “The gods must be displeased with me.” She cleared a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I must beg for your forgiveness. I was too stubborn and prideful the day before. I was unkind to you. It is because of these things that I am not in your favor.” A scowl settled on her face. “I cannot see this happen again. A child’s fate rests in my hands, Utua.”

“You need to tell me who did this.”

”So you may receive the same thing as I? There is no point.” Her voice cracked. “Why must you involve yourself in matters that do not concern you? Go back, before the overseer finds you over here. Leave me.”

”You need to tell me.”

Wearily, Leonara slumped down onto the stool. As if Utua wasn’t there, she silently reached for the bowl full of ointment, but winced in pain. Her arm shook as Utua picked it up and scooped out a generous handful of the sweet smelling gel. Very gently, he applied it across the raging, red marks upon her back, although his eyes stung. A heavy silence passed between them, with the exception of the trees blowing in the wind.

“Was it one of the overseers?”

Leonara sniffed. “Leave me, I say.”

Utua gently tilted her chin towards him. “Matthias shall never lay a hand on you,” he softly replied. “I will tear him to pieces.” He expected her to laugh at him, but she did not.

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They both studied each other for a moment, their shadows hanging over the small, flickering flame upon the table. Slowly, Leonara took Utua’s hand. Her own were cold against his coarse, calloused palms. Then she chuckled and stood up, reaching for a loaf of cracked bread. She tore off a generous chunk, before taking a large bite and chewing. Utua remained still, the imprint of her slim, worn fingers against his flesh.

“I tried to head out for Sippar,” Leonara mumbled after swallowing. “If I left at sunset and arrived back here by sunrise, I’d suppose nobody would notice. I used that mangy beast of yours. Bou found me at the edge of the woods. I’ve accepted my punishment and moved on. It is now time for you to the same.” She extended the bread out to Utua. “Take some of this to Hirom, you hear? He is growing. He needs all of the food he can get.”

With one swift motion, Utua rose to his feet and banged his fist against the table. “Have you lost your mind? Why would you try to run and not tell me? Or nobody else? You cannot just up and leave. You are more stubborn than Angus. You should have sought council.” He shook his head. “Now you have the mistress and the master on your tail.”

“You are clearly deaf,” Leonara snarled. “I said I planned to return. It was a trip.”

”Then why by the gods did you not ask the mistress for permission? And why Sippar?”

”I want to get Hirom out of here.”

Utua stared at her, his mouth going dry.

”My cousin Paku,” Leonara breathlessly continued. “He works in the kitchen. His master needs someone with small hands, a quick mind, a diligent spirit. Matthias does not want Hirom. He does not consider him his property. If I can only get him over there before the master returns—”

”Hirom will adjust,” Utua replied, shaking his head. “I will teach him everything he needs to know about the fields. But he is too young to be sent off by himself. You told me to keep the boy out of Matthias’ sight. And so I have.” He gave the woman an odd look. “Why is it that you wish to rid yourself of him so quickly? He adores you. He has been asking for you, Leonara. You wish to abandon him? What has gotten into you that you despise a child?”

She did not answer.

”Answer me. Is it Matthias whom you are worried about? I have promised you numerous times before that Hirom shall not even cross paths with him. I will see to it. He shall become strong and healthy. I will teach him the way of the gods. Perhaps the master will change his mind, or forget about him.”

”I do not despise Hirom,” Leonara whispered, shifting her gaze upon the flame of the oil lamp on the table. She began to play with the frayed edges of her ragged dress. “Do not ever say such words in my home again.”

Utua set down the loaf of bread and came closer, his single eye scanning her face.

“Why must he go to Sippar?”

Leonara did not answer. Her eyes were still fixated on that orange flame, her face partially hidden in the shadows. Utua placed both of his hands upon her shoulders and made her face him. He could hear how shallow her breaths were becoming, the paleness setting upon her face. His jaw was set firm.

“Why, Leonara? Why send him away?”

”You would rather him stay in this hell?”

”Here, he at least knows a few people. How would he fare being completely alone—”

”He shall not be alone. Paku shall watch him.”

The man leaned forward. “You did not answer my question.”

Leonara’s chest and neck tightened, almost threatening to close her airways. Barely, she could muster the words out. “Matthias’ youngest has taken an interest in Hirom.”

Utua frowned. “Master Telal?”

“I brought Hirom up once to the villa.” A shiver ran down Leonara’s spine. “Telal kept following us, asking strange questions, kept staring at Hirom.” She suddenly grabbed a fistful of Utua’s tunic, twisting and yanking it as she fiercely glared at him. “I know that look. Something is not right with him. That child is being neglected. Sorana keeps him in the house all day, and he hasn’t anyone his own age to interact with. Never has.” She gritted her teeth. “The moment Matthias finds out, he’d likely have Hirom killed. Or have him sold to the islands to cut cane.” Her voice faltered. “He won’t last a day.”

Utua frowned. “But—”

”Send him to Sippar. It is for his sake.”

”What is wrong with friendship? It is very good for Telal. And Hirom could use one. Angus is his only one, as far as I am concerned. Why are you so bothered?”

“Friends,” the woman spat. “Such a thing cannot exist between master and slave.”

”They are children, Leonara. They will easily grow out of it.”

”No,” Leonara shouted. “I will not hear it. You must do your due diligence and keep Hirom away from Telal. Whatever you do. You must find an excuse to get down to Sippar. Matthias has a temper, but he is more likely to listen to you out of all of us. You are the only one he trusts you to leave this place unsupervised. You take Hirom down to the master of my cousin’s home. You must promise me. This is how you are able to fulfill your debt to me.”

Utua glanced behind them at the open door, where the shattered oil lamp he dropped left pieces scattered across the threshold. “Keep your voice down,” he said in a hushed tone.

With a dark look, Leonara pushed past him and began to wrap the loaf of bread in the cloth. Her hands were shaking to grip the material, and she kept rubbing her eyes.

“It will not be easy to convince Matthias to conduct this trip.” Utua followed her to the table. “Don’t you know how badly I failed with the last one? What makes you think he’ll willingly send me out again? If I get caught, I will suffer a worse fate than you.” Once more, he gently reached out for her arms. “But I shall do as you ask.”

Leonara narrowed her eyes. “When?”

”As soon as Matthias returns, I will ask him.” He sighed. “Are you happy now? And before I do so, you must make sure to at least see Hirom. The boy spends every waking moment talking and asking about you. He misses you terribly.” Utua hesitated. “So have I.”

Slowly, Leonara turned around. She pressed the loaf of bread in Utua’s arms. Rubbing her eyes, she sat down at the table and reached for her bowl of ointment.

“Give that to the child,” she mumbled. “He needs nourishment—he is nothing but skin and bones.” She glared at Utua. “Now leave.”

* * * * * * * *

Hirom slightly stirred in his sleep.

There was a slight tapping at the worn, wooden door. He tried to ignore it, although he couldn’t remember where it had come from. With a heavy yawn, he slipped off the straw mattress and felt his way around the cramped dark hovel, careful not to bump into the table. His bare feet were silent against the dirt floor as he peeked through the crack of the door. With both hands, he slowly opened it, before peering out in the moonlight lit path.

In the frigid night air, stood a small figure, bent over and picking up pebbles. They flinched and scrambled back upon hearing the squeaking noise of the door, but upon seeing Hirom standing in the threshold, they stepped out into the shadows once more. They were shivering and hugging their arms.

Still half asleep, Hirom rubbed his right eye with his fist. “Telal?”

The other boy took a hesitant step forward. He glanced up at the hovel, then back at him. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, he slowly smiled and waved. “Hello.”

”Hello.” Hirom waved back. “You look cold.” An idea popped in his mind. “Wait.” Once he rushed back inside, he pulled his woolen blanket off his pallet and exited the hovel. He handed it to Telal, who draped it over his thin shoulders.

Telal frowned. “Now you are cold. Here. We will share.” He then extended half of the blanket. Both boys huddled together under a tree. Telal’s blue eyes kept darting around the empty road, but only shadows greeted them.

“Are you looking for someone?” Hirom asked.

“No. I can’t sleep,” Telal said, picking at his bare feet in the grass. He gazed at the hovel. “You live here.”

“Yes.”

”Do…do you like it?”

“I like Leonara’s house,” Hirom answered. “I lived there first. She has a big garden close by.” He gazed at the night sky. “I really want to see her. But Utua will not let me.”

Telal glanced away.

”Do you have a garden like Leonara’s?”

”Even better. You can come and see it.”

Hirom sneezed. “I can?”

”Yes. Anytime. I’m…I’m not allowed to be here,” Telal whispered. “But I remember. This is Utua’s place.” He pointed a pale finger down the row of similar shaped hovels. “There is the cook’s. And those who work in the fields.” He picked up a blade of grass. “I saw you follow Utua here. From…from the courtyard.”

Hirom stared at Telal. “The villa?”

”Yes. I can see everything from my room.” Telal smiled. “I…I haven’t seen you for a while. I got very worried. Mother really thinks that I am in bed. So do the servants.”

Hirom shivered. “I was in the rice fields.”

“Oh,” Telal quietly said. He kept staring at his muddy toes. “I wish I could live here with you. Then we can have supper every night.”

”Me too,” Hirom replied. “But I don’t like Utua’s cooking very much. We only have chicken stew. There is still feathers in it.”

Telal laughed. “It doesn’t matter to me.”

“Would you like to meet Angus?” Hirom exclaimed, suddenly standing up. His teeth were chattering. “I have not fed her in a very long time. Are you cold? The stables are very warm. We can go over there.”

“Who is Angus?” Telal asked, a confused look setting on his face. Hirom extended his small hand to pull him up to his feet, and the other boy eagerly accepted it. They both wrapped the woolen blanket tighter around themselves to share.

“She is a donkey,” Hirom replied. “She is very grumpy sometimes, but she likes apples and carrots. She will eat anything else, though.”

Telal’s face brightened up. “We have plenty of that in the kitchen. Hundreds! I can bring over some for next time. We have onions too.”

Hirom grinned. “You best be careful.”

“Why?”

“Because she will come at you like this.” Hirom made a braying noise, causing Telal to snicker. “Race you!” In the dim moonlight, both boys took off running down the twisted dirt path, their giggles overtaken by the cold, sharp winds.