Page 13 of Anorthic Anarchy

“Forces?” What kind of brutal madman is stopped from marrying who he wants? “But I thought…” Worse than that is some weird, nagging sensation that she said he loves them. His slaves. Does he? Does that mean he won’t love me?

That seems like a very dangerous place to be. Outside of his love.

“Listen. If I get the opportunity, I’ll come and, uh, you know…” She leans forward and whispers again in my ear. “Let you out. If I can.”

I gasp as my breath catches. Is she truly being helpful? It seems she has been so far. She stands and returns the hairbrush to its shelf and gathers up my tray, but I stop her from leaving. “How long do you think I’ll be here? Like, not after the wedding, right?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. But I’ll try to help you. You must be bored to tears down here. But it’s nicer than when I first arrived. I was in a cage for weeks. Do you want a book or anything?”

Standing with excitement running through my bones, I practically scream. “Yes! Can I get anything about archaeology or some paper and a pencil to draw with? Anything like that?”

Her wide lips smile and she giggles. “Sure. I’ll come back in about an hour with both of those things. Again, I’m sorry Lydia did that. I don’t think master will appreciate it when I tell him.”

Well. I guess I was wrong. My first friend. I haven’t had one since I was a child in elementary school.

Once she goes, I settle back on my cot. The deafening silence is my next hurdle. If I strain my ears, I hear a grandfather clock chiming the hours. Sometimes it’s louder, as if a door opens. I thought I heard screaming and a slapping sound once. But mainly, all I make out is the wind whistling through some unseen cracks in the stones.

Chloe comes back before the hour is up, and my shoulders relax at the sound of her lithe steps. So I guess I have one person I can trust here. She doesn’t open the door this time, though, but does hand me two books, a pad of drawing paper, and a charcoal pencil through the iron bars. One book is on ancient artifacts found in Siberia, which seems fascinating.

“Here. I can bring you more if you finish with these. But I need to attend to my other duties. Enjoy.”

Taking them, I thank her and sit on my cot to study the book. In two hours, I’ve sketched out a copy of knight armor found near Omsk. Barely hearing anything around me, my mind is stuck in the past, four thousand years ago, dreaming of what life must have been like then.

“What is that?”

A deep tenor ringing through the air scares me so much, I overthrow my little table, spilling everything on it. Jumping onto my cot with a scream, I scan outside my cell, and horror floods my body.

The master lurks just outside with a slight grin on his wicked face.

Chapter 7

Strauss

In a flash, she scurries to the middle of the room and kneels, placing her hands in her lap. She freezes like a cold serpent as she stares at the floor. Well, it seems she learns quickly. Something about that makes my blood run hotter.

It was a momentary lapse for me to come down here unannounced. The girl is underage, and now that we’re alone, unchaperoned, some pang of disgust fills me when I think about being twenty years older. I won’t step inside her cell.

“Arise, child. Sorry to startle you. I heard about your trouble with Lydia and came to make sure you have everything you need.”

Her golden hair bounces as she nods, the rapid rise and fall of her chest the only way I know she’s alive. “You may speak.”

Slowly, her chin lifts, but she looks at the walls around her as she says, “Um, yes, sir. Thank you for the books and…” The muscles in her scrawny neck constrict as she swallows the rest of her sentence. Her fear is tasty, as is the little candied scent that lives just under her skin. As if my nose had captured it when I collared her, it comes to mind now, even though there are six feet between us.

In her see-through dress with a tight red leather band surrounding her throat, I force my mind to think of anything other than how appetizing she will be.

Soon.

“What were you working on there?” The paper fell just to the edge of her cell, and I stoop to examine her drawing. It’s obvious she’s had no formal training, but the lines and perspective are well done.

“It’s ancient knight armor from four thousand years ago.” As if she suddenly remembered something, she quickly adds, “Sir.”

Scanning the room, I spot a few books. “And those? Are you interested in Siberia?”

“Not particularly. Just archaeology in general. Mainly Mayan. Do you know of The Crystal Maiden in the Actun Tunichil Muknal cave in Belize? It’s where I dream of going.”

I know nothing about this girl. And I should probably keep it that way. But some part of me is curious. “Have you traveled?”

She snorts, and finally her blue eyes meet mine as they crinkle with a smile. Her body relaxes as if she’s talking to a friend. “No. I never went anywhere before. Not outside Lecherton.” Her little shoulders lift and lower in a shrug. “Not until now.” How long has it been since someone spoke to me this way? It interests me. Her absolute naivety is endearing. So much so, my skin tingles with anticipation to hear her next thought.

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