Twenty-One

The room was small, no bigger than the room he was given, but the furnishings were more lavish than even Alissa’s. He saw an extravagant bed with intricately carved posts and a headboard inlaid with gold and gems, framing a down-stuffed mattress and supple silk sheets the color of honey. It sat atop a plush carpet of finely combed wool. The colors dyed into it displayed the Mayweather coat of arms, a sword flanked by beasts resembling a lion and a bear.

A table with two chairs rested against the far wall, food and drink untouched. A small hearth flickered with a happy flame, giving the room light and warmth, and a half-shelf mirrored the vanity against the opposite wall, highly polished copper reflecting the room around it.

But what really caught Marcus’ eye was the woman draped across the bed.

Golden hair was fanned out over the rumpled sheets like a splash of liquid sunshine. Her bare feet were toward the head of the bed, Marcus’ eyes trailing her supple, pale flesh the entire length of her long, toned legs. Only wisps of clothing protected her modesty, ghosts of her womanhood visible through the filigree fabric. Her midriff was just as bare as her legs, exposing the soft lines of her abdomen that blazed a trail all the way up to her firm, sizeable breasts covered by the lustrous bed linen.

But the woman's most stunning features were her gold-speckled eyes and the long-tapered ears rising through her resplendent hair.

“Oh, hi…” Marcus dumbly said, doing his best to avert his wandering eyes but failing miserably.

The elven woman didn’t respond to his glib introduction. Instead, she just looked at him with dead eyes, something that unsettled him greatly. No matter how alluring the woman’s eyes were, they couldn’t hide the suffering she had endured.

Marcus thought back to what Alissa had told him about the elven nations and their disgust towards humanity. It was because of the many abductions perpetrated against their citizens and the inaction of the human kingdoms in finding those who had been taken. Alissa had told him it was a poorly kept secret that many of the nobles would pay a hefty sum for an opportunity to procure an elf, and it would seem that this marquis was one of them.

He was at a loss for what to do. He wanted to go to her and help her escape if he could. Jorel had told him little about his mother, but the hurt in his eyes when he spoke of her voiced the horrible things they both must have gone through. But he was in no position to help her.

He was a slave himself; he held no position of authority or even a way to smuggle her out of the manor, let alone the country. Even if he did, he couldn’t do that while at the same time looking over Alissa, she needed him.

“Hey,” he called out before looking behind himself and down the hall. “How long have you been here?”

His voice must have finally registered with her as her golden irises focused on his mountainous frame, but even as she stared, he could tell that she really didn’t see him. She looked right through him as her painted lips curved up into a damaged smile that never reached her vacant eyes. In a mechanical motion, she sat up on the bed, the silken sheets sliding off of her hidden breasts, exposing them to the flickering firelight of the forgotten hearth.

Marcus could only see a broken person in front of him, someone so withdrawn within themselves that it was surely impossible to find them. He gave the beautiful elf a melancholy smile, her own plastic smile causing his heart to ache and his anger to flare. What was happening to her wasn’t right; it was a travesty that he was so powerless.

There was nothing that he could do.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered as he slipped back out the door.

The empty corridor opened up before him like a hungry maw, swallowing any cheer he had inside of him. He took a moment to collect himself and deal with the myriad of feelings plaguing him, but he couldn’t linger too long. The captured elf looked to be waiting for someone, and it wouldn’t do him any good to meet whoever that was.

He traced the path back the way he had come, the enchanted sconces flaring to life when he took the second turn. He nearly jumped out of his skin when the white halls flashed with light and cursed as a veil of white blinded his eyes.

“Can I help you?” A soft voice called out to Marcus as he rubbed at his eyes, his vision slowly returning to him.

The same servant that had led him to his room the previous night stood before him, his hands clasped at his waist in front of him and his long, raven-black hair tied snugly behind him with copper string. He looked at Marcus as he would a beggar on the street, only his status of being Lady Alissa’s personal guard deigning any form of respect from him.

Marcus ignored the man’s obvious disdain for him and gave him a factitious smile. “I was looking for the kitchens but haven’t had much success.”

“I would not think so,” he said with little emotion. “As the kitchens are located on the lower levels. If you would like, I can prepare a meal for you and send it with Lady Dresden’s.”

“That’d be great.” Marcus nodded, thinking that maybe his opinion of the man’s attitude towards him was only in his head. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d made such a mistake. “Thanks.”

Without another word, the raven-haired man turned on his heel and alighted down the hall with silent steps. It was spooky how quietly he moved; Marcus supposed it was a skill that was in high demand for a servant such as himself.

It was a few more minutes before Marcus found his way back to his own room. He had a thought to see if Alissa had gotten up yet but didn’t want to disturb her. She did like to sleep in. He stepped inside, noticing immediately that someone had been there while he was gone. His heavily soiled armor lay in a discarded heap in the corner, waiting for his return.

Marcus let out a sigh. He knew what he would be doing today.

He had just finished polishing his helmet, the visor having taken up most of his time, with the hinges wanting to cling onto the jellied remains of the monsters he had killed when a knock came from his door. He gladly placed the piece of armor on his bed, confident that it wouldn’t stain the white sheets, and went to greet his breakfast.

A maid stood there, holding a disappointingly small tray between her hands. She offered it up to him, her eyes supported by heavy bags. She looked to be around his own age, no greater than thirty, but her hands showed a lifetime of hard work. “Your meal.”

Marcus took the tray from her, his stomach answering her in its own way as he gave her a thankful nod. From the size of the cover upon it, he doubted there was much to eat, and as he uncovered his meal, could only let out a sigh.

A small bowl of stew stared back up at him from his little table. Wilted vegetables floated amongst potatoes long since turned; the broth was reduced from an unknown source and was as cold as the night was dark, and it gave off a pungent smell that filled his room and wrinkled his nose. But, even with all of that, the worst thing was that they hadn’t even bothered to give him a spoon.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

“Asshole…” Marcus grumbled as he brought the sorry excuse for stew up to his mouth. He honestly would rather go hungry than eat what was in front of him, but spite drove him to take large bites of the sour concoction until there was nothing left.

By the time another knock alerted him to a visitor, he had made it through most of his armor. With a sigh, he stopped what he was doing and looked towards the door and then to the small window overhead. It was bright outside, midday at the latest, and around the time that Alissa would usually rise from bed. Marcus couldn’t say he blamed her; if it wasn't so uncomfortable, he would want to stay in bed longer as well.

“Lady Dresden wishes to speak with you.” A lady-in-waiting said to him as soon as he opened the door.

It didn’t take Marcus but a moment to happily agree. “Lead the way.”

It was only a short jaunt over to the room down the hall, Marcus’ eyes following the servant girl’s long, billowing dress as they walked. It reminded him of bulging storm clouds, in shade and in texture. It was a style of dress he hadn’t seen yet, and he was curious as to why it looked so different from the other maids and serving girls he had seen before.

She brought him to Alissa’s room and gave one sharp knock before entering. Marcus followed closely behind her, the sight of his charge sitting at the same table as the night before bringing a small smile to his face. Two more attendants, both wearing the same style of clothing as the one that had led him here, stood just behind her, their hands clasped gently in front of them.

Marcus examined their faces for any hint that they might know about what had happened the previous night. He and Alissa had been alone for quite some time, but that didn’t mean that someone couldn’t have overheard them. But as he looked, the tension that had been building up inside of him relaxed. He couldn’t sense any suspicion held within their eyes.

“I have brought to you your slave.”

“Yes,” Alissa’s icy voice chimed throughout the room. “That will be all. You are excused.”

All three women gave a small bow before filing out of the room, the last one closing the door behind her. Neither Marcus nor Alissa said anything for several long moments, both of them wary of ears listening in on them. But Alissa soon broke the silence. “Was my company so unwanted last evening to put you in such a sour mood?”

Marcus gave her a puzzled glance as he took the seat across from her, “What do you mean?”

“You look troubled,” Alissa explained as she poured him a cup of tea. “They have been treating you poorly, have they not?”

Marcus shrugged his shoulders. Although the servants didn’t really seem to care much for him, and he had been given nearly spoiled food, his treatment could have been much worse. At least he had a bed to sleep in and wasn’t forced to reside in the stables. No, what was really bothering him was what he had discovered earlier in the day. “They’ve been treating me fine, I guess. I did find something , though, that you should probably know about.”

Alissa put her cup down before she had a chance to sip its contents as she leaned forward and whispered. “What is it?”

Marcus leaned forward as well, his voice a much harsher whisper than the small woman’s in front of him. “They have an elf here in the manor. I remember what you had told me about them but was at a loss on what to do.”

Alissa’s face scrunched up in disgust as she leaned back into her chair. She didn’t say anything for a few moments, but when she did, her shoulders slumped. “She saw you?”

Marcus nodded, “Yes, but there wasn’t anything behind her eyes.”

“Then leave it,” she said, her tone morose and full of scorn. “There is nothing for us to do.”

“It’s illegal, right?” Marcus pressed, his conscious unwilling to let it go.

“It is. But that does not matter. No one will risk themselves to aid a captured elf.” She told him as she stood from her chair and closed the gap between them. She paused and looked towards the door before placing herself in his lap, wrapping her arms around Marcus’ neck. Her face flushed with awkwardness, and her breaths came much more quickly than before. “Is this alright?”

Marcus placed one hand on her thigh and wrapped the other around her slender waist. She was behaving much more timidly than the night before, no doubt as a result of the lack of alcohol in her system. “You don’t regret what we did? If someone finds out…”

“I do not care.” She affirmed before pressing her warm lips against his, lingering for quite some time. Marcus returned the kiss, squeezing her small body against his own, basking in the warmth radiating off of her body. Finally, they separated, her hot breath prickling his skin as she nuzzled against his neck. “Let me enjoy this… while I am able. Please do not burden me with things I cannot change.”

Marcus knew that she was talking about more than just the captured elf inside the manor, and with everything that was waiting for her, couldn’t fault her for her unwillingness to help. “Alright… So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

“I just wished to see you,” she admitted, leaning heavily against his chest.

“We probably can’t spend too much time together; your maids might grow suspicious.” Marcus intoned as he ran his thick fingers through her soft hair. Alissa seemed to enjoy the action as her body melted into his with each slow stroke.

“You should not be concerned,” Alissa purred. The maidens wouldn't suspect a relationship between us.”

“And why is that?” Marcus asked, “I’m sure it’s not unheard of.”

“It is not.” She clarified, “But those women were here to take my oath of chastity before their gods, something I gave willingly and with confidence.”

“So, they were nuns?” Marcus asked.

“In a sense, yes. Pol Trulant, unlike Lorenth, is a quasi-theocracy, holding their gods’ words above all others. Of course, the king of Pol Trulant is also their prophet, so his words are echoes of the gods’ as well.” Alissa went on, her face turning serious as she recalled her teachings. “Any oath taken under the gods’ names is considered binding and unbreakable, enforced by the gods themselves.”

“…oh,” Marcus uttered, his mind going to magical contracts bound to the soul, like his slave seal. If Alissa had agreed to something like that, then he wondered how it was she was able to convince them that she was still pure and not suffering from any horrible penalties. “How did you get around that?”

“Well, according to the laws in Pol Trulant, slaves are property, just like it is in Lorenth. But they take it one step further.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “They believe that slaves are not people, that they are less than the beasts of burden used to till their fields. In their eyes… you are not a man but a tool, a thing worth less than the air you breathe. They would never consider debasing themselves with your touch, let alone a relationship of such… nature. So, their oath of chastity holds no provisions for such a relationship occurring since they would never even consider it.”

“A loophole?”

“I pray my words were not too harsh,” she said, pulling away from his chest and looking up into his eyes. “It is not what I think at all, but the way that this place views you.”

“It’s fine, really.” He assured, bending down to kiss her. “That actually explains a lot…”