Page 9 of The Bone King and the Starling

“Hm,” the king says and it is the only answer he gives. I don’t expect him to defend me, but to be discussed like this still hurts. I may be a thrall, but I still have some pride.

“She certainly holds a draw for the boys,” Rosalind says, her voice cool. I glance up and watch as, seated on Chief Olec’s other side, she cuts into a large flank of meat. She glances up at the king, gaze not landing on mine. “I’m sure you don’t see many like her in Ithanuir, my liege.” Her voice carries hints of a question.

One he responds to in brief. “In Ithanuir, we see all kinds, Lady Rosalind.”

Rosalind gives me a look that I don’t like. I look at the king’s hand resting possessively across my knees. “You may need to clean her before you use her, my liege. She is unwashed.”

I tense, stung.

“Is it common for you to instruct males of your village on how to occupy themselves with their females, or do you make exception for me?” Behind me, I hear a lady warrior snicker while the males buck with laughter. All his warriors, it would seem, are listening.

Rosalind gives the king a stare that frightens me, so diffident and defiant and cold. Chief Olec, seated between them, makes no move to intervene. He merely continues eating, glancing between his wife and the king as if confused by what’s going on. I’m not sure how much he’s had to drink, but he does not seem coherent. It is not uncommon for him.

“Apologies, my liege,” she says slowly. “I meant only to inform you as she is our ward.”

“A ward you keep unwashed?”

Rosalind bristles, “It is not our priority to keep all orphans and thralls washed. And she is of little utility to the village. It is a gift that we allow her to remain here at all. I hope it is not too presumptuous for me to assume that we will be compensated, as her keepers, for the time you choose to spend with her tonight. She is ours, after all, my Liege.”

“I thought you just said she is of little utility? Should she not then, be free for my use?”

Rosalind is much smarter than her husband. She is, from what I’ve seen, the smartest person in our village. But the king, this big brute of a male, seems to so easily entrap her. She flounders in ways I have never seen before. “She will be of greater use when you have claimed her honor and shown her the ways of pleasure. Then she can tend more fruitfully to the other males who have requested her. We will have no more reason to keep them at bay anymore, my king.”

“And yet, if I am increasing her value to the community by having her for the evening, I wonder why I should then be expected to compensate you for her time.”

Rosalind doesn’t respond. She merely purses her lips.

The king shakes his head slowly and clicks his tongue against the backs of his teeth. “You certainly do have an unusual way of doing things here in Winterbren.”

And then Rosalind’s voice grows dark. She snaps, “My king, this thrall is a virgin. She is not going to be able to satisfy a male of your appetite. I suggest you choose another female — or two or three — to occupy yourself with tonight and return her to the barns where she belongs.”

My shame is a raw wound that Rosalind picks at with each sharp word from her tongue. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve her speaking of me like this. She’s never spoken to me like this before, so hatefully…

I wedge my palms in between my clenched thighs. The king, meanwhile, palms my low spine, rubbing circles through my dress that may intend to provide reassurance, but do nothing to reassure me. His hand spans the full breadth of my waist. It makes me nervous when he squeezes, as if demonstrating his size compared to mine and making sure I am also aware of it.

And then he ducks his head and whispers into my ear directly, too quietly for Rosalind to hear. “Does she tell truths? Are you a virgin?”

I nod. I had already tried to tell him as much. And even if I did not want him to know, there would be no point in lying. He would find out soon enough — as soon as he tried again to kiss me — and even if he still wanted me after that, Rosalind would skin me alive for trying to lie to their honored guest.

His palm splays over my knee. He soothes his thumb over my thigh. “Shh,” he says to me softly. And then to Rosalind, he says in a voice that’s louder than need be, “I think you may be right, Lady Rosalind.” I tense. “My little bird could use a bath before I claim her. Why don’t you draw her one?”

I dare a glance up when she does not respond to the king. And for a moment, I fear for her, until I remember that she is the chief’s wife and that affords her security. Then, I fear for myself. She is displeased and since he is the king and that affords him security, I do not doubt that she will turn her displeasure towards me.

“Certainly,” she finally says, elongating the word. “Elena,” she calls, but King Calai interrupts her.

“No, Lady Rosalind. Not Elena. You.”

Lady Rosalind doesn’t move. I feel the tension. I hear the chuckling from his warriors at the other end of the table. Lady Rosalind’s lips pull together in a tight scowl and her left eye twitches. Torbun pretends to be deep in discussion with his wife on his other side. She has not looked up as Rosalind spoke. I don’t dare look at Rosalind, either. I know that I will be punished for this severely as soon as the king sees fit to release me. The manner of my punishment, I do not as of yet know.

Quiet hangs over my head like an axe. My feet don’t touch the ground and my dirty slippers start to slide off of my feet. I don’t make any move to keep them on. The axe is falling.

“Rosalind, my love, did you not hear the man?” Chief Olec slurs loudly. He claps the king on the arm, making me jump. The king holds me closer. “Go on, draw a bath for the king and his pretty thrall.” Chief Olec slaps his palm down towards my knee and I brace, but the king catches Chief Olec’s wrist. He squeezes it and Chief Olec’s blurry red eyes round. He makes a face and looks at the king with incredulity before returning his attentions back to the flagon of ale. It’s empty now. He hails another while his wife begrudgingly gathers her skirts and gets up from the table.

“Are you alright?” the king whispers in my ear.

I nod, even though it’s a lie. The king’s hand freezes on the place where my prayer hands are wedged between my thighs. Isuck in a startled breath when he pulls on my wrists to extract them, and then slips his hand into the place mine just were, in between my legs, high on my inner thighs. His fingers curl into my skin and I feel my whole body flush. I look up at his face. His mouth is relaxed, as if to spite the tension, and he gazes down at me with eyes half lidded.

I open my mouth to tell him something, to warn him about my inexperience, to beg him to apologize to Rosalind and the chief so that I may be spared a later punishment, but I don’t say any of that. Instead, I gasp. His fingers crawl higher, towards the juncture of my thighs and when he pulls me tighter to his chest, higher onto his lap and grunts…I can no longer ignore the bulge between his legs. My weight settles further over the hard length pressing at my bottom from below. I feel myself swoon slightly forward.

---