Page 25 of The Sun God's Prize
“I hail from Heald,” I tell them.And salute them, the three of us raising our glasses together, though I only sip where they drink deep.
“If you have questions,” Hloraine says, “ask.And if you have doubts or squabbles…” she shrugs.“No killing, but you can stand your ground.”
“Good to know,” I say.“There are rules I must learn, no doubt.”
“Only a few,” Morinthi says, leaning forward, the lantern light shining on her bare scalp and the thin ring of silver she wears like a small cap.I’ve only just noticed it and find the glittering fascinating.“As long as you fight as you’re meant, keep your peace as much as you are able and bring wealth to the stable, you will do well here, Remi.”
“To the glory of the Rae,” Hloraine says, the pair clinking cups.
“And themistresse,” Morinthi adds before drinking.
“She was one of us once,” I say, stabbing that notion without hesitation.
They both agree, Morinthi rising, taking her friend’s cup, going to the large cask at the far wall where she refills them from a spigot as the tattooed warrior confirms it.
“Romouth islegend,” she says, voice low as if unwilling to be overheard.“It’s said she failed to earn her freedom by a single stroke.”
“And only,” Morinthi goes on for her, sitting again, pushing her friend’s cup back to her, brimming once again, “because she refused to kill her opponent.Right in front of the Sun God Himself.”
They both shake their heads in wonder, then drink as deeply as before.Neither shows signs of inebriation, but I can’t risk it, sipping slowly, waiting for the kick.
“The Rae rewarded her anyway,” Hloraine says.“Had her create her own stable of only women warriors, only women serving them.She’s been shining the glory of our patron ever since.”
“To the glory,” Morinthi says, emptying her glass again.“I’m done,” she tells her friend, rising from the bench.
The smaller, stout woman joins her.“We’ll see you in the ring tomorrow, Remi.”She flexes her biceps, impressive in their size, then laughs as she straightens.“Rest well.”
The pair lean into one another, the taller Morinthi draping a long arm around Hloraine’s broad shoulders, their hips bumping as they cross the ring toward the sleeping quarters.I look down at my cup, still mostly full, and seek out the feeling I’m expecting from it, only to find nothing.
To the fire with it.I drain the glass, the coolness paired with the odd burn in the back of my throat satisfying.If I get drunk from it, so be it.
Before that can happen, I want to finish my tour.When I rise to clear my bowl and cup, the small cook appears, doing that hand flapping gesture at me again, rushing me away before she quickly takes the three cups and bowl in an expert pile that she carries off again.
We’re to be catered to, then, cared for.As long as we do as we’re told.
I hadn’t asked the pair I’ve just met what the consequences of attempted escape might be, though I can guess that death at the very least would follow.But since this plan seems to be working so far, I’ll remain and do as I’m bid.
For as long as it serves me.
I quickly pass the animal housing again, not bothering to explore it right now, instead carrying on past the main gate, looking down the tunnel toward the town on the other side.It’s locked and barred to the archway, and though I could probably break through it, I have no reason to, as yet.
The next entrance on the curve is the armory I was told to visit, though it’s dark and quiet.I breathe in the familiar scent of leather and oil and steel and feel at home instantly, planning a very early return the moment I wake.
Though there will be no useless armoring for me, if I have any say in the matter.
The next entry is barred and gilt in a sheen of gold, carved with the likeness of themistresse.This must be Romouth’s private quarters.I carry on and reach the last before the archway to the warrior’s stable, inhaling the scent of moisture and flowers, stepping inside to find a large, shallow pool fills the bulk of the space, with narrow walkways of small, delicate tile surrounding it.
So, I can either bathe privately or soak in public with the others.I test the temperature with my toe and confirm it’s warm, though not hot, and pause to observe the sealed pots on a low table near the entrance.
When I finally return to my small room, the central space is empty and quiet, and my return unimpeded.There’s no way to lock or bar the archway, wide-open to the others, just as they are to me.That will take getting used to.As I debate finding some means to block it, my instincts demanding safety, I have to force down that impulse and accept.
This is what I have.I will make it work.And I’m well trained enough that, should someone enter my room, I’ll wake.I didn’t spend endless nights as a child being jarred from deep sleep by Vivenne or my mother or one of her soldiers until I adapted to be caught off guard now.
I’m just lying down, sinking into the soft yet firm mattress scented with some floral, fresh aroma, when I hear a soft moan.I stiffen instantly, but the next one that rises isn’t threatening.
I grin into the darkness.Someone on the other side of the wall is enjoying herself.
For the first time since I was taken from the shores of the Landlow Isles, I relax.My fingers seek out the small, hard nub of pleasure between my legs, the growing volume and speed of my neighbor’s moans as a counterpoint to my own sought-after bliss.
