Page 7 of The War and Deceit Series omnibus

"Then what do we do with her? She might be dangerous," the older man counters, but I barely hear him.

We can't kill her.

Pulling away from the door, I stare at it in shock, not really seeing it. They truly aren't going to kill me. I hadn't let myself believe it when the magician turned up and whisked me away. Death is only a slip of the foot away when you're a slave, the slightest transgression or error can lead to your execution, your body just one more to add to the mass graves outside of the city. I've always known I would live a short life, but then I was shown a glimpse of something else.

Hope.

Shaking my head, I take a step back. Thoughts like that are dangerous. The only way I've gotten through the last twelve years is by living a day at a time, and that's what I need to do right now. Focus on surviving today. Taking a deep breath, I frown as I see a dark, dirty smear on the door where I was pressed against it. Mother above. If they see that they will know I was listening to their conversation. Something wet touches my foot and I smother the shriek that tries to escape. Spinning around, my eyes widen in horror when I see the bathtub is overflowing with bubbles. I'll get a flogging for this for sure. A pounding on the door has me jumping into action, leaping forward to turn off the taps and desperately trying to scoop thebubbles back into the bathtub, but they continue to flow over the top.

"What's going on in there?" Grayson's voice is muffled through the wooden door, but I can hear the command in his tone. "Open the door," he demands, as my eyes dart around the room, desperately looking for a way out of this. Only there isn't one. Sinking to the floor, I feel my chest tighten as I try to stop the flow of water and bubbles towards the door. The water is hot, almost scalding, but I ignore that as I grab handfuls of bubbles, desperately trying to throw them back into the tub. He doesn't wait for me to comply with his orders, and I feel the tingle of magic run over me as the little lock on the door undoes itself.

The door swings open and I lower my head as I wait for his response. He says nothing, the only sound is the gentle splashing of the water overflowing onto the floor. Belatedly, I shift my position so I’m prostrate before him, my forehead pressing against the wet floor, soapy water stinging my eyes as it continues to make its path towards the magician’s boots.

“What in the…” Grayson exclaims but he trails off, and I can almost feel his eyes burning into me. He’s silent for a moment and I keep myself as still as I can until I hear a noise of disgust. Fighting the urge to look up, I focus on my breathing, trying not to choke on the bubbles that are starting to surround me.

“I told you she’d be trouble,” the older man chides, before he walks away with clipped steps, leaving me alone with the magician. This is the biggest bathroom I’ve ever been in, but suddenly the room feels small, constricting.

“Get up,” he demands quietly, and as I push up from my position, tilting my head, I see him looking around the room with a frown before he drops his gaze back to me. Bowing my head to avoid eye contact, I hear his sigh before his knees appear in my field of vision. “I thought I told you to stop throwing yourself onto the floor.” His voice has a teasing edge to it, butI daren’t risk that he’s not joking and remain in my position on the floor. I hear his sigh as he takes another step closer to me, but he doesn’t bother kneeling, not this time. Is that because of my reaction last time, or because a slave isn’t worth getting his smart uniform wet for?

“You’re not in trouble, get up.” There is definite frustration in his tone now and, deciding not to push him any further, I scramble to my feet. Daring to look up, I watch the high magician as he surveys the damage to the room. A wry smile pulls at his lips when he reaches for the bottle I’d chosen.

“I applaud your good taste in scents, but did you need to use so much? This is expensive stuff.”

I can’t help it, I stare at him. This is a high magician, one of the men who protects our kingdom, but here he is, talking to a slave about his favourite perfume. Are all of them like this? Somehow, I don’t think they are. The magicians have a scary reputation for killing first and asking questions later, their training brutal and their Goddess-given powers lethal.

Wide-eyed, I continue to stare at him, drawing a blank at his expectant expression. His eyebrow raises when I don’t respond. Ithinkhe’s joking. He hasn’t reprimanded me, which he would have done had he been truly angry at the mess. He sighs again at my lack of response and waves his hands in a complicated gesture that has the water and bubbles starting to clear.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never used it before,” I whisper, as I watch him working his magic, the tell-tale tingling sensation running over me stronger than I’ve ever felt it before. Questions simmer up inside me, but I push them away. I’ve always been inquisitive and it’s landed me in trouble more times than I can count, but I’d have a death wish if I questioned a high magician.

“Mother above!” The high pitch exclamation has me spinning around to see a stern-looking woman gaping at the mess. “Mother above! What is going on in here?” Her gaze lands on mefor a moment, and I brace myself for a beating, but her eyes soon narrow on the magician.

“Jayne, I was trying to help our guest. I was distracted and I didn’t notice that the water overran,” Grayson lies smoothly, and with a flick of his hand the floor is spotless. The woman, Jayne, stares at him, unblinking, and for a moment I think she is going to call him out on his lie. Letting out a huff of air, she shakes her head, the corner of her mouth pulling up into a smile.

“Well, at least you cleaned up after yourself.” She tuts, trying but failing to hide her smile as she bustles into the room.

“It’s good to see you again, Jayne.” His voice is warm, and for a moment I don’t see the imposing high magician, I see a young man who’s been away from home for a long time.

“You as well, dear. You don’t visit me often enough,” she chides gently, before shooing him away. “Now, leave us alone, it’s not proper that you’re in here alone with a young lady.”

I look down at the shackles around my ankles and barely manage to hide my snort when she calls me a lady. Shifting on my feet, the metal rattles and I frown. Those are going to make bathing difficult. Skin tingling, I glance up to see Grayson staring at my legs intently as his fingers dance in intricate movements. A quiet click sounds from the cuffs, but it may as well have been a gunshot. It reverberates through me as they fall to the floor with a clatter. Mumbled voices fill the room around me, but they fade away as I stare at my now bare ankles.

For twelve years those have been bound to me, the only constant in my life. I hadn’t thought I would ever see them removed. Even in death slaves are buried with their shackles. My skin stings where the air hits the raw wounds from the too tight metal bands, but I pay no heed to it. The pain is nothing compared to what I’m used to receiving. I lift a grimy foot and place it back down softly, marvelling at how quiet my steps sound without the chains rattling with my movements. Jaynesays something to Grayson, her voice sharp, and I raise my head quickly and see her whipping him with a towel.

Stomach twisting, I stumble back, waiting for the retribution he will bestow upon her. To touch a magician without their permission is a crime. What Jayne just did would be considered a capital offence. But that’s not what happens. The two of them ignore me as Grayson laughs and holds his hands up in surrender.

“Okay, I’m going!” Throwing the older woman a fond smile, he strides to the door before turning to look at me. He seems to pick up on my distress, noticing I’ve shrunk back into the corner of the room. For a second I think he’s going to say something or take a step towards me, but his expression changes into a frown. His gaze drops to my ankles and then the cuffs. When he meets my eyes again, he looks every inch the magician, his hard eyes boring into me as if he can see all my secrets. I’m instantly reminded that although he may have saved me from the executioner, he could easily kill me if I was to upset him. I must never forget what he is capable of. After another couple of agonising seconds, he dips his head slightly and leaves the room, pulling the door firmly shut behind him.

As soon as he leaves, I feel like I can breathe again, and I blow out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. Jayne turns to survey me, and I use the opportunity to do the same. She’s shorter than me and of the typical Arhaven build, with slender shoulders and narrow hips. Her hair, which I’m sure was once fair and golden, is now peppered with grey and pulled back neatly. She’s wearing the dark blue uniform of a magician’s servant, the same colour worn by their masters. She must have been working in the castle for a long time to have been granted this position, plus she seemed to know Grayson well.

Her blue eyes scan over my thin frame, my lank, dark hair that’s falling into my face, and down to my raw ankles. Unableto hold her shrewd gaze, I drop mine to the floor. I’m waiting for her to belittle me or force me to my knees once she works out I’m a slave. But the blow never comes. Hesitantly, I lift my head, and for a second I think I see sympathy in her eyes before she quickly schools her expression. Sighing, she gestures towards the bath.

“Go on then, get in,” she instructs, as she places her hands on her hips, watching my every move. Taking small, careful steps, I tiptoe towards the huge tub. As I reach it, I grab the bottom of my shift, but stop to glance over at Jayne, who just raises her eyebrows at me. “Come on, no need to be shy. We have the same equipment.” Biting my lip, I nod. She’s right, after all. Plus, after what I’ve been through today, removing my clothing in front of another woman is nothing. This is no worse than when we’re chosen by the guards for monthly inspections.

To make sure that the slaves aren’t hiding contraband, the king holds regular inspections, and should anything be found or guards have suspicions about a slave, then a personal inspection of that slave can be authorised. If you’re chosen, you’re taken to the courtyard, stripped of your clothing, and forced to stand naked until the captain is assured that you aren’t carrying contraband. Of course, none of us ever are. I never got chosen when I was young, it wasn’t until I became older that the guards started to notice me more. Now I’m lucky if I make it a month without being picked.

The memory of the guards disgusting gazes makes me shudder as I pull my shift off over my head, dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. Turning my back to Jayne and reaching out to grasp the side of the bath, I freeze as her shocked gasp echoes around the room.

“Mother above,” she swears, before the sounds of her shuffling alert me to her coming closer. “They branded you? What did you do?” Her voice is horrified.

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