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Hi all-

This is a bit different as this story is currently in the works as one of my novels. It's high fantasy, centering around a world where Elves exist (oooh). I don't plan on it being too erotic as the plot is mainly about magic and power however, I did want to create a bit of romance between two unlikely characters. Hopefully enjoy!

~E

Prologue

The blood soaked through to his undergarments, staining his pale skin.

He noticed this as he took off his breeches, placing them into a crumpled pile by the fire. His shirt was no longer tan. It had once been a light color, resembling the wheat fields to the east before her blood had darkened the fabric.

The scars on his bare legs had turned an angry shade of pink from the rivulets of dried blood that had been splattered over him.

Seeing the sight of her throat being slashed before him was something he'd never forget.

Sennia didn't deserve to die nor had she deserved to die at the hands of his own mad father. The king's mind had gone awry a few years back and now he'd killed his youngest daughter. For what reason, Cassius will never know. The prince wouldn't be able to question his father's acts for his own father took his life with his daughter's after he'd see what he had done to her.

He was now king. King of Ieslal, king of the Broslans and Cassius was unsure of just what to do exactly as he stared at the raging fire, the blood in his veins boiling with anger and hate.

He twisted his gnarled lips into a sneer and immediately sent for contractors.

A plan was forming in his mind, one that would keep any and all out. One that would keep his people safe from the sickness that had taken his father. One, that would ensure he'd go down as the best king in history.

Chapter One

Human slaves were treated far worse than cattle.

Cattle were given shelter, food, and even massaged from time to time while human slaves were only given shelter. Food was earned from the day's work; clothes were handed down to them once another slave had passed.

It was a grueling job, one not wished for even in the throes of death and sickness.

Devyn Morneheure sighed as she sat back on her haunches, hew knees aching from kneeling too long on the stone flooring.

Two years.

Two long and exhausting years. Seven hundred and thirty suns had passed since her adoptive parents deposited on her the front steps of King Cassius's castle. Twenty-four moons had come and gone since she was sold as a human slave to pay back her father's debt.

She wanted to cry but she couldn't. Nay, she wouldn't shed a single tear for them. They did not deserve it.

Her bedraggled slip of a gown hung limply around her lithe frame, her silver hair shielding her saddened expression from view. She swiped a hand across her brow, wiping away the beads of sweat that had begun to form from the start of her chore.

She had been doing this for nearly an hour and she wasn't even half done with her job.

"Devyn!" Agetha yelled from the open archway in front of Devyn. "Back to work," she hissed before turning on her plump calves and returning to wherever she was headed to. Agetha was a mean Broslan, aged and withered, and time had not been too kind to her and she took it out over the slaves she'd been deemed to lead.

Devyn hung her head and continued scrubbing the scuff marks the king's boots had created from his midnight ride. It was too early in the morning, too late for the Broslans to be up and about.

Speaking of, why where there so many guards running to and fro? What happened?

Devyn strained her human ears to listen for any sign of trouble within the castle walls but heard nothing. With King Cassius ruling Ieslal, nothing could ever happen in the kingdom. What, with his massive walls surrounding the outer edges and the dark towers that shielded any intruders unless granted entrance, the people were perfectly safe in Ieslal.

So, what exactly had everybody up and worrying?

Devyn was by the entry way, near the large quadruple-wide doors of ornately carved wood and stone beams. The pillars scattered throughout the open room held each and every single gods' and goddesses' face on them, with the newer gods down on the bottom and the elder beings near the ceiling of the room. Long tapestries of the Broslan culture lined the stone walls, golds and reds matched together to create a warm yet enthralling atmosphere.

Devyn blushed at the scenes on the tapestries. The Broslans were a very open yet sexual culture and scenes of multiple couplings were depicted within numerous paintings, tapestries, and murals in the kingdom. They were also unabashed creatures, not caring about who saw how they "loved" their other half. She had accidently walked in on a few couplings herself and witnessed all that Broslans were capable of doing.

Of course, this was all done accidentally and Devyn would never dream of interrupting a passionate moment.

Then again, it's not like she'd ever get to experience it given she was now stuck being a slave.

It wasn't all bad. It could have been worse. Like she could be one of the king's concubines or even one of his blood slaves. She shuddered at the thought of willingly or even being forced to give her blood.

Before she had time to contemplate more on that thought, heavy boots sounded out from behind her followed by several sets of more boots. It was a large group of people headed her way, fast, and she was near the door, furiously trying remove the marks his highness had created earlier that night.

She was chewing on her bottom lip, too busy focused when she felt a kick in her side. "Out of the way, slave," a deep voice boomed, accented by the Broslan language of rolling r's and long vowels but muffled behind the metal mask he wore. The mask only occupied his nose, mouth and lower jaw, not allowing the scars on his face for all to see. It honestly made Devyn shiver unexpectedly.

Devyn fell to the ground in a heap, gripping her aching ribs. She hissed and glanced up, her gaze slowly traveling up over dark armor to a set of

silver

eyes, glaring angrily back at her. It was the king's eyes, forcing her body to still and crawl to its knees in a bowing position. She dared not say a word for if she were to utter one sound to the monarch, she'd lose her head.

No one was entirely sure why the king didn't allow anyone, besides other royals, to speak to him. It was almost as if he thought too highly of himself.

She stared up at him while he glanced back, two pieces of black hair partially shielding his left eye. Vertical scars marred each beautiful orb that started above his angled eyebrows to land below the aged mask over his mouth. Thick, dark lashes surrounded his eyes that blinked slowly, as if he were waiting for Devyn to do something.

He narrowed his eyes and then shook his head, turning away to signal for his guards to open the doors, allowing the orange glow of the rising sun to enter the room, casting an eerie gleam on his armor.

Devyn shrank back when the king took one last look at her and stepped out of the castle, to whatever was waiting on the other side.