Blinded by the Sun (Erythleh Chronicles Book 4) (13 page)

"Why are you looking at me like that? I am not some oddity for your regard. I've been here long enough that you know my face. I have said nothing so unusual. What do you mean by such scrutiny?"

"I like looking at you."

"What do you see, when you look?" Lyssia asked, deliberately ignoring any ulterior meaning behind his words. It was foolish to taunt and goad the man who held her fate in the palm of his hand, but she liked being able to draw an honest reaction from him. "Do you see what captivity means to one such as me?"

"A little," Kavrazel admitted, "But I see more of what your captivity means for me."

"Which is?"

"Intelligent conversation with someone who isn't afraid to stand up for themselves."

"I'm glad that I am useful for more than simply pacification of your vulgar god. It wouldn't do for your intellect to remain... unstimulated." Lyssia's tone was pure sarcasm, but Kavrazel seemed to find her statement hilarious. He sobered, though, when she continued. "I, however, risk stupefaction. My brain, if not my muscles, is in danger of atrophy."

"You want to be stimulated?"

Again she ignored the double entendre. "Yes. I need occupation of some sort. I need to feel useful."

"You are useful."

"I need to be able to provide more than this." She held up her wrist. The blood had stopped flowing now. The mark on the tablecloth was darkening from scarlet to brown.

"You wish to chop wood?"

"Shinu spoke to you of this?"

"Of course." The king smiled. "Sometimes we have occasion to speak of you."

She had known, in some distant realisation, that she might have been the topic of discussion at some point. That the king knew of her attempt to utilise the axe made her think that perhaps the reports had been more regular than she had hoped. Shinu must have told him about her depression that afternoon. If he had reported the axe incident, he would not have let her upset go unmentioned. Kavrazel was being positively chivalrous by not bringing the subject forth, unless he was saving the topic for another time.

Lyssia felt distinctly uncomfortable. This new knowledge made it harder to pretend that she was an anonymous pawn of no consequence in the machinations of the castle and the king's life.

"May I be excused?" She had wanted to maintain eye contact, but at the last moment her gaze sought the flagstones.

Kavrazel narrowed his eyes. She had the impression that she had angered him, or that he was disappointed in some way... or more accurately, dismayed. She did not want to dwell on his attitude too much. She wanted only to retreat to the sanctuary of her room.

"You may." Kavrazel granted her a reprieve after a long pause.

Lyssia rose, and tried to command every muscle in her body not to betray her desire to flee from the room. For the most part, she felt she succeeded

Chapter Twelve

"She's not wrong, you know."

Kavrazel glanced at Girogis. He didn't need a bodyguard to escort him to his rooms, but this evening walk together was something of a habit. "You think she should be chopping firewood?"

"I didn't say that, and neither did Shinu. She's right when she says that she needs something to do. All that intellect that you value is going to disappear if she's kept away from the world."

"She's hardly kept in a gilded cage," Kavrazel scoffed.

"No, her cage isn't gilded, it's smooth obsidian and intricate platinum."

"You wax poetic, my friend." Kavrazel raised an eyebrow at Girogis. "You take part with the dissenters?"

"No." Girogis stopped walking, forcing Kavrazel to pause also. "But I do take part with Lyssia. She's smart and she's sharp, and she can do more than wait around at your whim."

"And if she had other occupation it would take precedence over my whims."

"Have you heard yourself? Really?"

"I was joking." The look that he received from Girogis suggested that his friend did not believe him. Both Shinu and now Girogis had approached him with the suggestion that Lyssia needed more constructive employment than sparring and providing the blood sacrifice. Shinu's opinion was that she was wasted as a slave, which was a sentiment that Kavrazel had artfully ignored.

"Very well," Kavrazel apologised by acceding. "I will think on it."

"Good." Girogis grinned. "Because if she gets any better with the staff, she'll be in danger of kicking my arse."

~o0o~

It had taken Kavrazel some time to arrive at any sort of solution, and he still wasn't convinced it was the right one. He had thought about asking Lyssia to tutor some of the younger members of the household staff, but had disregarded the idea after much deliberation. He had entertained visions of her becoming enamoured with her charges, and becoming too busy to attend to him as she should. He knew it was selfish, but he justified his egotistical thoughts with the rationalisation that she had been bought for his use. Even as he thought it, the notion rang hollow. She had been bought because he could not ignore her, because something about her had intrigued him, because even drugged and disavowed, she had shown a spark of character and attitude.

He had no doubt that the resolution he had arrived at would be greeted with varying degrees of enthusiasm, but he was willing to endure the arguments. He would consider no other options. He wanted her available, and he wanted her where he could see her. He wanted her under his command.

He recognised Lyssia's knock at the door to his private office. She made a firm rap, as though she cared nothing for the state of her soft skin against the unforgiving oak.

"Enter."

The door opened. She did not peer shyly into the gap, she opened it wide enough to admit herself fully, and stepped into the room

"Shinu said you wished to see me?"

"I do. Please, come in."

Kavrazel motioned at the chair on the opposite side of his desk. Lyssia looked at him, and then at the chair, then back at him, as though everything in the room had the potential to be venomous. She had no trust for him. He thought she had trust for Girogis, and for Shinu, to the extent that someone like Lyssia would allow herself to trust, but there was nothing for him. The thought ached in his chest.

She was wearing the traditional dress of a blood slave. The belt that encircled her waist was a slender length of silver chain; it glinted between the layers of midnight fancy. Her collar was a beacon around the base of her throat, catching the light and reflecting it as a signal to all who saw her. Kavrazel was certain that, for all the accoutrements, Lyssia would never truly look like a slave. He could order her to be dressed in rags, and she would still look like a queen. He could discern the shape of her body through the multitude of layers of diaphanous material. He had to shift in his seat, just a little, to find a better degree of comfort. He had to take care not to betray his instinctive reaction to her. He had tasted her blood. He had been close to her skin. He had felt the warmth of her body. The scent of her, the feel of her, was already ingrained in his mind.

Eventually, having obvious decided that the inanimate objects in the room meant her no harm, Lyssia sat down.

"How might I serve you, your Majesty? It isn't quite dinner time yet." The edge of sarcasm in her tone would have earned any other slave a punishment, but Kavrazel appreciated her acidic humour.

"I have been thinking about what you said the other night."

"I said a great many things, and I'm sure not all of them were at all appropriate. You wish to make an example of me?"

"To some extent, yes." Kavrazel noted that Lyssia did not even so much as blink. She was perfect for the duty he had in mind.

"You made the point that you were bored, almost neglected. I have had an idea to change that."

He saw her eyes flash with interest before she composed herself. She must have been feeling very neglected to latch on to the mere mention of activity. She remained silent, waiting for him to expand on his speech.

"I attend a great many meetings on all manner of topics. It isn't possible for any man to remember the duties he is designated, or the actions he delegates, from each one. My head would simply burst. I am in need of a scribe."

He watched as Lyssia thought through the proposition, and all the possibilities for his ulterior motives, and was confident that she found none more than she should have.

"I have no training for such a role."

"You can write in a close approximation of our language?"

"Yes, a close approximation, it is very like my own, but I am nowhere near fluent."

Kavrazel brushed her concerns aside. "A close approximation is all that is needed. I don't need everything recorded verbatim. I need only the salient points or actions. I simply need a record of who was supposed to be doing what, or facts and figures that I might need to remember."

Lyssia cocked her head to one side, and Kavrazel tried not to be distracted by the way that her dark hair tumbled over her bare shoulder.

"Don't you already have a servant to perform this function?"

"Not a servant, no. My current scribe is a free man, but he mostly takes dictation, letters and such. He does not attend some of the more... sensitive meetings that I am party to. I need someone I can trust. I need someone who can't be bought."

"I would have thought that I would be the last person you would choose. You can't trust me. I don't want to be here."

"But you can't be bought unless I choose to sell you. You can't be bribed, because everything you have comes from me. You're perfect."

"I hate you," Lyssia hissed with narrow eyes. Her mask of stone had been broken only by curiosity, but now she allowed the full extent of her true feelings to show.

"You do not need to like me to be able to do this thing."

"And if I don't want to do it?"

"Then you will remain a lady of leisure."

"You won't allow me to find any other occupation."

"Nothing serious, no."

"You..."

"Have a care, Lyssia." Kavrazel interrupted her, his tone stern. "My tolerance has limits, even for you."

"You would have me whipped?"

"It would not do for you to become so used to speaking your mind to my face, that you forget to silence your thoughts in company. I am the king, monarch of this nation. I will have your respect."

"You've done nothing to earn it," Lyssia spat.

"I disagree." Kavrazel waved away the imminent interruption which he knew would be a reminder about her lack of freedom. "You could have received far worse treatment than you have, and not just at my hand. Shinu and Girogis have both extended themselves for you, in ways that they would not normally."

The mention of the people that she held in good regard seemed to still her tongue, and seemed to make her think. Her eyes were afire with rage, but her tone was restrained civility. "Very well, I accept your offer."

"Good." Kavrazel didn't smile; her grudging acceptance did not merit it. "You can start your new duties immediately. I have to meet with my Chancellor. "

He rose and left the room, with Lyssia following half a stride behind, her posture stiff and her aura as livid, although her features were schooled into compliance. He was frustrated at the way she had disregarded this gift as yet another symbol of her enslavement, but it was not the only gift he had to offer, and he was sure she would like the next without reservation. Her conduct in the coming meeting, which he was certain would be impeccable, would solidify his need to appease her.

~o0o~

The meeting with Divna about Vuthron's finances had been interminably boring. There had been a few highlights, but as his country was prosperous, and as the wealth was not squandered, there was not much of note to discuss. Lyssia had, for the main part, been redundant, but she had behaved as though groomed for the role. She had taken the parchment and quill without complaint, and had listened, or had given the impression of listening, throughout the whole dreary affair. She had even scratched some notes down. Kavrazel had cast his eye over them, and had realised that Lyssia possessed more than a close approximation in the ways of their language. Apparently she also possessed a fair understanding of the world of finance, and a keen ear for the details which might be of interest to him at a later date. She would be a definite asset to him, and she was due her reward.

Given that it was almost time for the midday meal, he could tell Lyssia was surprised when he asked her to accompany him, and then headed in a different direction to that of the dining room. She didn't query him, and he offered no explanations as he led her through the corridors of the castle, through a side door, and out into the vivid colours of the height of the day. The sunlight was strong, but not warm. The world was illuminated to its most vibrant, but there was still a chill in the remnants of the winter wind. The first buds of leaves and flowers were beginning to swell, but there might well be harsh frosts in the coming days which would destroy them for their heady impatience.

He could tell that Lyssia's inquisitive nature was torturing her as they drew closer to the stables. By the time he pushed open the heavy door and stepped into the miasma of animal and hay she was about fit to combust with curiosity, but as stubbornly as she refused to ask the questions, he refused to offer any answers, yet. He remained silent, although an impish laugh was threatening to bubble from his lips, as they walked between the rows of stalls.

The stall they were heading for appeared empty, but as they approached the occupant hooked her head over the door. She was lazily chewing a mouthful of something. Evidently, the animals were eating before the king; it was a good thing he was not precious about such things. The mare watched them approach and turned, indifferent to their presence, to finish her lunch. Kavrazel stopped at the mare's door. It seemed his lot in life for the women around him to want to ignore him, except that Lyssia was almost bristling with curiosity that she was trying to tamp down. Several long moments passed; the mare chewed, Lyssia watched the horse eat, and Kavrazel watched Lyssia struggle not to speak. In the end, the king broke first.

"She's yours."

Lyssia's head whipped around so quickly that Kavrazel feared she might have pained herself. "Excuse me?"

"She's yours. You may ride her when and where you wish.. as long as you don't compromise your other duties."

"She's beautiful," Lyssia murmured, although Kavrazel was not sure she meant for him to hear that thought out loud. The beast was certainly impressive. The moment he'd seen the mare, as pure white as any snowfall, with dusky grey at her nose and hooves, he'd known that she would be perfect for his favoured slave. Lyssia's features pinched as she faced him. "What makes you so sure I won't ride her all the way to freedom?"