Page 14 of Given to the Fae (The Dark Realms #3)

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I wake for the umpteenth time, turning with a soft grunt as I try to get comfortable.

I don’t know if it’s late or early, but the spelled window is showing stars and a high moon which would suggest that it’s still the middle of the night.

Does it conjure the time of day, or just dark and light, I wonder?

I can’t sleep.

The mattress beneath me gives with every movement I make.

It’s so soft and squishy that I feel as if it’s sucking me down into it.

I sit up quickly and cast my eyes around the room.

The fire has burned down to faintly glowing embers that are just enough to see the chamber by.

The fae male is dozing in the chair by the hearth.

When he told me to lay in the bed, I’d thought he was reneging on his promise that he didn’t fuck slaves, and I was terrified. Whether my fear was that he might harm me, or that I might like what he planned to do, I’m not sure.

I survey him while he sleeps, taking in the blond hair that he keeps tied back in a low bun, the strong jaw and his smooth brow.

I never understood why slaves like Bell professed to find fucking masters pleasurable, but with a bed partner who looks like Morgan, I think I’m beginning to grasp it now.

I look away from him and lay back again. My mind goes in predictable circles and I can’t escape the next subject of my thoughts.

Fate.

Although the innkeeper received his punishment for throwing me to the ground, there have now been four instances since the day I left The Barrack where nothing happened when I was hurt.

Once with Jak when he chucked me into the cage, twice with Locke when he touched me and slapped my hand, and when Morgan put those shoes on me too tightly.

Before, all of those things would have had a comeuppance, but there were no punishments for any of them that I saw.

I don’t understand. What if it gets worse?

I look at the huge fae again. What’s different about him and the others?

They look like normal fae slavers to me, as much as I know about their kind.

They seem typical, at any rate. Though this one did say I didn’t have to obey him.

That is odd behavior. I watch as his chest moves slowly up and down.

I suppose that means I don’t have to stay in the bed, though. I get up and pad quietly across the floor to the hearth. I don’t bother with the blanket because the room is too warm for me without it, and the stones by the fire will be enough.

I lay before the hard hearth, and let out a long sigh, shutting my eyes with the final thought that I’ll keep a close eye on these fae and see if I can try to understand what’s happening.

I stretch on the floor, wondering why I haven’t heard one of Ogdan’s men ringing the morning bell to get us up to begin chores. I vaguely realize I can’t feel anyone moving next to me, can’t hear the breathing of the other females. Where is everyone?

I’m not at The Barrack anymore.

I open my eyes to find a beamed ceiling just as I see the large fae jerk awake. His eyes fly to the bed and, seeing I’m no longer there, dart around the room almost in a panic.

Then he catches sight of me and visibly relaxes.

I stand up and stretch, throwing a piece of wood on the fire. I grab the kettle and fill it with water, hang it from the iron hook, and use the poker to swing it over the fire to heat.

The large fae appears uncomfortable and I give him a questioning look.

‘I...tend to do things for myself,’ he mutters.

I shrug in reply.

I don’t give him yet another of my confused looks, but I don’t know what to make of him. Never have I met a master, mistress, or slaver who didn’t desire labor to be done for them. There’s a reason humans are sought after, kept alive, and bred with each other for the purposes of making more of us.

I heard once at The Barrack that there was some malady that was making us ill in some Circles, and the top healers of the Dark Realms were called to the Golden Citadel in the first city in the first Circle to work together to find a cure.

One was found in just a few weeks. I realized when I heard that story that, outside The Barrack, my kind were considered precious enough not to simply allow to die.

Though I suppose Ogdan and Sio never killed any of us, they just made sure we were miserable, in pain whenever possible, and had no hope. If some humans didn’t survive, well, a weak slave isn’t worth much anyway.

I see the fae stand, and I wonder if he’s going to exact a price for his kindness to me now.

He may not ‘fuck slaves’, but, as I saw many times in The Barrack, there are plenty of other things a master could demand.

Of course some involved the carnal, but many orders were simply to perform everyday menial tasks like cleaning, washing clothes, shining boots, carrying bags, and, as with some of the talented ones, entertaining masters with singing or dancing.

But all he does is walk across the room, start the bath, and pull the partition across.

‘I’ll find us something for our morning meal before we join the others,’ I hear him say. ‘The door is locked, and the key is around my neck, so don’t bother trying to leave.’

I don’t reply. Instead I sit in a chair and unplait my hair. I comb it through, enjoying how easily Morgan’s polished wooden tool slides through the strands now and frowning at that kindness he showed me as well.

I don’t like it. There’s a price hanging over me like a guard looking for weakness to exploit.

He must want something! Or, is he going to do a hundred small kindnesses without allowing repayment, only to demand one enormous thing that I can’t possibly give at the end?

Masters do that sort of thing. They love tormenting us.

What might he ask for, I cannot fathom, but if there’s anything I know about masters, it’s that they can be terribly and terrifyingly creative.

What if it’s my pain and suffering he wants?

If I’m no longer Kismet, or it’s wavering, he could easily have it.

I hear him slide into the water and I can bear it no longer.

‘What do you want of me?’ I ask suddenly.

He’s silent for a moment. ‘Naught.’ He sounds a bit confused.

‘Nothing is given for naught,’ I say.

‘I speak the truth. I’m doing what I was ordered.’

I scoff loudly. ‘Bere will have ordered you to make sure I was fed and had that tea and was released. That’s all. Not the bath, and the bed, and the talking .’

I’m shaking with nervousness and anger. With fear.

I haven’t felt panic like this in a very long time.

He’s giving me thoughts I don’t believe I’ve ever had, that all isn’t as it seems, that all masters aren’t awful and that’s dangerous because no matter how hard I’m trying to keep my guard up, I’m think I’m failing.

I hear him get out of the water several minutes later and when he comes back onto my side of the room. His chest is bare, and he’s got a bathing sheet wrapped low around his hips.

I turn away, my cheeks heating. Embarrassment overtakes my anger though I don’t know why.

I’ve seen such things before. I glance at him again and I realize.

It’s just that none of them have ever been so big.

..and clean and pleasing to the eye. He even washes his hair!

I’ve never known a master to do that. The ones at The Barrack would either shear it off, or let it grow long without paying it much heed.

‘What is it that you’re afraid of?’ he asks me as he gets his pack out and begins to rummage through it.

‘I just don’t understand your kindness,’ I half lie.

You never show them your fears, and you definitely don’t tell them.

He sighs, looking up at me. ‘It’ll only be until we get to the arenas. After that, you won’t have to worry about my,’ his lips turn downwards, ‘ kindness .’

The last word is said so derisively that I flinch.

‘How far are the arenas?’

‘Five Circles from here.’

I hear the whistle of the kettle and get up to swing the hook back out of the hearth. ‘How many days?’

I hear him donning his clothes and make sure not to look over at him. ‘Ordinarily, no more than ten, but that’s going through the Breach as normal. Long journeys. After what the healer said yesterday, Bere will want to take you the longer way. A slave is too valuable to risk death to the Blet.’

He sounds like he’s reciting the words. There’s no emotion behind them at all.

He approaches the table and sits down heavily, producing the packet of herbs for my tea, and another for his own.

‘What are the arenas?’ I ask.

In truth, I’m not sure I want to know, but if I’m to be sold there, I should find out what I might be in for.

‘The fighting pits, female.’

‘And Bere is selling me to them...’ I think back to the woods, how happy the slavers’ leader was when I hit Bell. ‘To fight?’

His eyes find mine. He looks resigned. ‘There are female fighters, but they’re rare. You aren’t being sold as one of them.’

I say nothing, waiting for him to continue and he does after a moment.

‘You thought you were because of the fight with the other females that he commanded?’

I nod.

‘He did that to see which of you was the strongest, it’s true, but not so you could fight. He did it to find the one who could take the...rigors of being...’ He trails off, sounding almost angry, but I don’t think it’s at me.

I stare at him, not sure what he’s getting at.

‘You’ll be given to winners of the pit fights. An incentive to prevail. They’re strong warriors. Rough. Brutal. Savage.’

My mouth falls open. I hadn’t even considered that I’d be sold for...that. Once it was realized I was Fate Touched, it was never even considered. No male wanted his cock to shrivel and fall off because he stuck it in the unwilling Kismet.

But what if I’m not truly Fate Touched anymore?

‘He wanted to make sure I was strong enough to...survive,’ I mutter.

The look in his eyes has my stomach doing a flip.

‘Do any survive?’ I whisper my question.