Authors: D Jordan Redhawk
“Crutcheon? That’s ancient history. There hasn’t been an empire like that in a thousand years.”
Neito shrugged. “Nevertheless, she felt his training as a king had been neglected and insisted on the matter.”
Azrael shook her head, brow furrowed. ”What does the long dead Crutcheon Empire have to do with me, Uncle?”
Reluctance in every line, Neito’s face was grim. “There were two ways to gain power in the empire, Azrael. Politics, of which you are sorely lacking, and military might.”
Nils spoke up. “It’s been centuries since an army attempted to take the throne but that doesn’t make it impossible. All a general would need is an extremely loyal army and the good will of the people.”
“Both of which you have, Azrael.”
The dark woman stared blankly at her family, blood draining from her face. ”Shonal can’t seriously believe that…” She swallowed as their expressions indicated otherwise.
Chapter Eighteen
Morning found Azrael and company gathered before Neito’s villa, preparing to leave. All was ready, horses saddled and gear stowed, except Vincenza and Nils were absent. Beside the wagon two trunks and a leather satchel sat on the ground, Azrael having ordered her uncle’s servants to remove them.
Ursula puzzled over them, knowing many of Vincenza’s belongings were inside. In fact, the satchel had been brought out by Ursula when they left the villa moments ago. Chewing her upper lip, she was distracted by the men mounting their horses. Amber eyes widened and she swallowed heavily as she looked at her horse. She could almost feel her back end protest at the thought of climbing into the saddle.
“Ah, there you are,” Azrael exclaimed as her errant cousin and Vincenza appeared at the door. ”I wondered if I needed to roust you myself to bid you farewell.”
Nils appeared frazzled and smug through the sleepy expression on his face. “Sorry, coz,” he grinned, looking anything but. “I was up rather late.”
Azrael leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “I trust Vincenza pleased you?”
Nils chuckled, running a hand through his thick hair. “Aye, she did, coz. She’s well worth her weight in gold.”
Beside him, Vincenza dipped an eyelid in a wink and Azrael laughed. “She’s yours, cousin.”
“What?” the young man blurted, eyes wide. “Are you serious?”
“Very,” Azrael said. She pulled a parchment from where it was tucked into her belt, offering it to Nils. “Here are her papers. Her clothing and such are there by her horse.”
Neito raised an eyebrow at the exchange but said nothing as his son looked over the document in shock.
“I only ask one boon, cousin.”
”Name it!” Nils exclaimed, eyes sparkling.
Azrael grinned at his excitement. “I’ve already given Vincenza permission to attend her sister’s wedding next summer in Raston. I would ask you to honor that.”
“Consider it done,” Nils said, taking Azrael’s arm in his.
Shaking on it, Azrael nodded and turned to Vincenza. “I know you’ll treat him well and he’ll do the same for you,” she said, brushing her knuckles along the slave’s cheek. “Be well, Vincenza.”
Sniffling, Vincenza smiled. “Thank you, Milady. And you.”
Azrael gave her a hug and kiss before stepping away and turning to her uncle. Nils, still amazed at his luck, focused on Vincenza.
“Well, Uncle. I’m off to the lion’s den,” Azrael said, forcing a smile. “Any last words of wisdom for me?”
Neito pulled her into an embrace. ”Be careful, Azrael. Do as Shonal asks. Swear fealty and suffer at court until he’s at ease with you and allows you home.”
Azrael sighed. “Providing he’ll ever allow me go,” she muttered.
“It’s a possibility, true enough,” her uncle conceded as he held her at arm’s length. “Such is the way of it, however. Be glad Shonal bores easily. You’ll no doubt be home before spring.”
Hardly a concession. Azrael nodded once, bowing to her uncle’s wisdom. “I’ll see you at court on Solstice?”
“We’ll be there.” Neito glanced over her shoulder. “Your men are ready.”
Azrael gave him hug, interrupted Nils preoccupation with his new body slave for another and forced herself to walk away. Ursula was still on her feet and she waved the brunette up to her saddle.
Lifting her foot to stirrup was agony. Ursula could almost hear her hip creaking at the abuse. Straightening was nearly impossible; it took all the strength in her arms to haul herself upward. Sitting her saddle with a wince, she hissed as tendrils of fire shot through her thighs. Ursula consoled herself with the knowledge her rear would soon be numb.
Azrael watched with bemused sympathy until her slave was mounted. With a final smile and wave to those gathered at the villa, she gave the order to move forward.
Several minutes passed before Ursula could see past her misery. Vincenza wasn’t riding beside her. Frowning, the brunette looked ahead, not locating her companion. She grimaced in pain as she turned in the saddle, seeing Neito’s villa fade away behind the cavalry bringing up the rear.
Vincenza wasn’t coming?
Ursula turned forward, staring at her mistress’ back. Did Azrael leave the slave behind temporarily or was this a permanent arrangement? And why? Midia had never mentioned something like this. While it was always possible her mistress would send her body slave to someone else for the night, would she just leave her there? Would she do the same with Ursula?
Thoughts full and heavy, Ursula rode on, chewing her upper lip.
Suma broke off and dropped back to check the men. It was nearing midday, the sun hanging not so high overhead. Fall was coming and along with that, harvest. Azrael wasn’t pleased she’d miss it again this year. The only thing more satisfying than swordwork was the physical labor used to bring crops in for the winter.
Glancing over her shoulder, she looked at her slave, finding the pensive expression amusing. “Ursula.”
The brunette blinked before kicking her horse to catch up to Azrael. Her amber eyes registered shock at the sudden stab of fire up her spine. It didn’t last long, fortunately, subsiding to a dull throb. “Yes, Milady.”
“How are your legs and back?” Azrael asked, reaching across to caress Ursula’s hair.
Mindful of her mistress’ insistence on truth, Ursula bowed her head. “Tolerable, Milady. It helps that I can’t feel anything.”
“Truer words have never been spoken.” Azrael chuckled. “When we retire for the night, I’ll give you another massage.”
“Thank you, Milady.” Ursula worried her lip. “Milady?” she finally said. “May I ask a question?”
“Certainly, Ursula.”
“Why has Vincenza been left behind? Has she displeased you?”
Azrael smiled. “No, Vincenza hasn’t displeased me, Ursula. I gave her to my cousin.” They rode in silence, the dark woman waiting for Ursula’s next inquiries.
The slave’s mind whirled. Vincenza no longer belonged to Azrael? But, why? Was it her jealous behavior? Or had she grown tired of the courtesan? Ursula mentally scoffed at the thought. Vincenza certainly had the skills and training to keep her owner interested for longer than a year!
A horrifying possibility occurred to the slave. Will Azrael be tired of her in a year?
The minutes stretched on and Azrael eyed the puzzled profile. Ursula seemed to be at a loss, uncertain of what to say. No small wonder. She was new and didn’t completely know what to expect from her owner. “Ursula, do you have more questions?”
Startled from her musings, Ursula said, “I… Yes… perhaps.” She blushed, dropping her eyes. “I’m sorry, Milady. I wasn’t expecting your answer.”
“It was a fairly recent decision,” Azrael admitted. “I spoke with Vincenza about it the day before we left.”
Ursula opened her mouth and then closed it. No wonder Vincenza had been acting different. She’d already known her fate.
“Ursula?”
The slave dragged her attention back to the woman beside her. “Why, Milady?” she asked, not expecting an answer. Azrael treated her slaves with caring and dignity, but she was still their owner. Certain things were not discussed with your property.
The anticipated question left Azrael with no answer. She knew it was inevitable and had rehearsed a handful of responses, but she was momentarily at a loss. Taking Ursula’s hand in hers, she said, “As you well know, Vincenza is a pleasure slave. All of her abilities are focused on that one aspect. To put it simply, I have no more use for her in that capacity. Nils will no doubt have much to learn from her.”
No more use for a pleasure slave? Ursula knew she was the only one spending her nights between Azrael’s sheets. She certainly wasn’t as experienced as Vincenza. Surely her mistress didn’t mean… “Will you be giving the rest of us away, Milady?” she asked, amber eyes wide.
Azrael smiled and squeezed the brunette’s hand. “No, Ursula. Midia and Felicia have made a home with me and I will not disrupt that. And I hope you will make a home with me, as well.”
There was something within Azrael’s eyes and Ursula furrowed her brow, trying to place the expression. Suma’s return interrupted both her musings and her mistress’ attention. She eased her horse back as the two soldiers discussed the state of their troops.
With so much to think on, Ursula forgot her bruised bottom as they continued their journey.
The sun was waning as they arrived in Shonal’s city. Ursula had thought many of the towns they’d been to were huge. The city was vast in comparison and she found herself gawking at all the sights.
Upon their arrival at a vast gate, the city guard halted them. One look at Azrael’s standard and the insignia on the breasts of her men was all the gate captain needed. Bowing and saluting by turns, he waved them through, pausing long enough to send a runner ahead to the palace.
It was nearing the supper hour yet the streets still teemed with life. The sun was low enough to cause drifting shadows from the taller buildings. Ursula was amazed to see that some had three stories! Pedestrians and carts clogged the narrow streets, forcing Suma to have the men clear a path. The cursing from people pushed unceremoniously aside by the breast of a warhorse was nearly as colorful as the people themselves.
They passed several inns and taverns, businesses set up for the weary traveler just arriving. The brunette heard Azrael’s name called and looked up at a building with a balcony. Several scantily clad women posed there, calling to her mistress and men offers of company for the evening. One had the audacity to bare her breasts, blowing a kiss to Azrael.
A brothel! She’d heard tales of these places but had never thought to see one. Gaping, Ursula glanced at her mistress. Azrael bowed from her saddle and winked at the tart! The women all cackled and leered in response. Ursula’s blush was so strong, it was a wonder she didn’t set fire to her collar. A dim throb pulsed behind her eyes and the ever present jealousy surged forth.
Thankfully, they soon passed the flourishing hospitality business around the gate. The buildings became more sedate, though dirty and unkempt. Quite a few people bustled to and fro though it wasn’t as crowded as before.
They turned off onto a wider street with better houses. Here some attention had been given to repairs and cleanliness. Bedsheets and rugs hung from upper windows, smoke rose from chimneys and the air smelled of cooking food.
Again the street widened. It also became noisier. Ursula saw they were entering a market square that was still doing business. Once more, pedestrians were forced aside as they navigated the crowds.
The square itself could have housed Ursula’s old village of Theara with room to spare. From her vantage point on horseback, she could see at least three city wells and a number of statuary. Hawkers called for their attention, offering goods at a reasonable price. Others were deep in the throes of haggling with potential customers.
Unlike the markets of smaller towns, here there were fenced courtyards where entertainers plied their trade for coin. They passed one such impromptu stage and Ursula watched with wonder as a small circus performed for a decent sized audience. She gasped as a tall woman, dressed all in black, tunic and breeches, held up a torch and blew flame four feet into the air. The people clapped and tossed coins as the entertainer bowed, not a single unruly blonde hair singed. She stepped aside, introducing two muscular men who looked to be twins.
Ursula was disappointed when they moved out of sight, wondering what other interesting things the performers would do. As they left the market square, she avowed to seek permission to return.
Again the buildings took a turn for the better. It seemed the further into the city they traveled, the nicer the accommodations. The houses grew wider, as well, no longer tenements with numerous occupants. Instead they were small mansions, some with walled courtyards spilling over with potted plants. Fewer people were on the streets, most obviously servants or slaves intent on errands.
Another square, this one not as large or robust as the market they’d passed through. Ursula’s eyes widened as she recognized a temple by the statue of Sif standing before it. Scanning the buildings, she noted several other temples, sedate businesses sprinkled among them. She eyed armed men at one door, wondering who or what they were guarding.
It seemed to Ursula that they had been riding inside the city forever. Certainly the sun had lowered quite a bit, the buildings now casting gloomy shadows. In some places, torches were already being lit by workmen, a string of orange flames illuminating the road. The mansions here were fewer and farther between, providing privacy for their owners. Ursula thought the people residing here were rich indeed.
As if to prove her point, the travelers slowed, the forerunners guiding their mounts into a courtyard. A young boy jumped up from his seat on the step and ran inside. In moments, several servants poured out of the mansion.
Ursula, taking her cue from the soldiers, winced as she eased out of her saddle. Rather than try to bend her leg, she prepared to slip her foot from the stirrup and hop down, preferring a sudden jolt to long burning agony. She gasped as hands gripped her waist, easing her to the ground.