"Are you sure you'll be alright, Your Highness?" Sir Oran ran his eyes uncertainly over Princess Regina of Trandon, daughter of King Bryton of Eldon, the rightful heir to the throne of Eldon, who stood with a whip in one of her slender hands.
"I will be fine, thank you." She raised her chin as she spoke, running her thumb along the braided leather hilt.
Firelight licked at the auburn locks of Regina's hair, piled into a braid high on her head. She looked at the figure who knelt in front of her. He was in his late twenties, dressed in well-made clothing that looked to have been repaired many times. His dark head bowed slightly. His well-muscled frame radiated the tension of a man looking for a way to attack.
Even with her assurance, Sir Oran still stood at the door, hovering. He was always worried about her, the only person in the castle who paid her much attention at all.
Still, though, she was the princess. Regina's back straightened, and she squared her shoulders, rounding on Sir Oran. Her lips drew into a tight line. Eyes flashing, she opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the bound man chuckled.
"We'll be fine."
"You will not speak," Regina snarled.
Sir Oran wavered for a moment more, but then, seeming to decide the man could do little in shackles, left. From behind her, Regina heard the door close. She held back the urge to roll her eyes at how often she was underestimated here. No one thought she was capable of anything.
Sure, she had never broken a slave before, but it did not strike her as a particularly difficult feat. A whip, a sharp word, unflinching resolve, rinse, repeat. For a moment, she wondered if her father had been right after all. Perhaps taking on an enemy soldier was biting off more than she could chew for her first slave. The thought angered her. She squared her shoulders, tossing doubt away. She would show them.
The man cast a crocodile smile toward the princess. It did not reach his eyes. "You know, a whip is more intimidating if you unfurl it."
Regina glared. "Giving me advice on how to break you? Not wise." Her fingers opened, letting the whip's length out.
He smiled, but beneath it, she saw a hint of tension. This was not a man who enjoyed being made to kneel. She liked the feeling of power over another person. It sent a thrill down her spine.
Regina cracked the whip, landing a blow on the floor between his knees. She smiled as he flinched. In the late night quiet of the castle, the noise of the whip reverberated loudly through the room.
"Why were you so near our castle, soldier?" Her voice was ice.
"I came to see you," he replied. "Got a bit tied up, but the result, it seems, is the same."
"How sweet," Regina cooed before bringing the whip down hard enough on his side that his shirt ripped.
---
The man had come to the castle just this morning with a group of other soldiers. Most of them were nothing. They were small people, sympathetic to the Heilaun claim, but they would know little. They dressed in patchwork armor, rusted and clinking. Just as her father was ready to send the lot of them to work camps, Regina had noticed one man in the middle of the group. Something about the way he stood made her pause. There was a suspiciously aristocratic countenance to his motions.
"Father," she said, leaning around the blond man who sat between her and the king. "I don't think that one is just a low-level insurgent."
"Which one?" Asked Crestoff cloyingly, blocking her view of the king as he leaned toward her. He was thin to the point of boniness, almost serpentine in the grace of his movements. His facial features were just a little too broad to be handsome. Everything about him was broad—broad of forehead, nose, and cheek. Even his eyes were set just a little too widely.
"The tall one with the curly hair," Regina said, pointing.
"Don't fuss with her, Crestoff," the king replied. "You don't have to take everything she says seriously just because she's your betrothed."
"Of course, Your Highness, but if you'd give me leave to pursue my lady's thoughts, I think there may be something to her claim." He reached for her hand, and she let him take it, pulling her pale fingers to his wide mouth. She bit back a sneer.
The king gave an indulgent shrug and waved his hand in permission.
At the king's leave, Crestoff kissed Regina's hand, stood, and crossed to the group of shackled men. Regina watched the dark-haired man's face, saw his muscles tense and then slacken as if he had to force himself to remain calm. Crestoff grabbed the man by the shackles and pulled him forward to get a better look.
"By the gods," he cried. "He's a Heilaun."
"A what?" The king sputtered. "Bring him here."
Crestoff yanked the man's shackles, pulling him up the stairs of the throne and then shoving him to his knees. The man did not look at the king. Instead, his eyes moved slowly over the dais until he was staring at Regina. She found herself caught up in them. Crestoff was right, she realized, he was certainly a Heilaun. Those grey eyes. She had never met one before.
"A Heilaun," the king breathed in disbelief. "Who are you? What is your name?"
Her father had been crowned king ages ago, but the civil war had not begun until recently as the Heilauns spread rumors calling into question the legitimacy of her father's throne. Given the way her father and Crestoff spoke of the rival family, she had started to believe that the Heilauns were a particularly vicious folk. In her head, she always imagined a greedy, ugly, rat-like family. This man was in no way like a rat.
He looked more like a wolf; his dusky brown hair brought out the gray of his eyes. She imagined herself falling into them, completely transfixed as he watched her. Suddenly, the eyes were pulled from her as Crestoff kicked the man in the side.
"The king asked you a question, Heilaun," Crestoff said, yanking the man back to his knees. Regina did not realize her father had said anything. She shook her head, looking around to see if anyone had noticed her inattentiveness. No one had.
"What question?" The man wheezed a little.
"Who are you?"
"Ah, a good question." There was a glint in the man's eyes, and his voice was full of mirth. Despite the severity of the situation, Regina felt a small tug at the corner of her mouth.
Crestoff kicked him again, infuriated by the man's sardonic tone. The Heilaun winced but did not fall this time, anticipating the second blow. "Answer it."
"Must I?" The prisoner looked almost bored.
King Bryton rolled his eyes. "I have no time for this. Crestoff, take him to one of the quieter wings and beat it out of him."
"I'd rather not, Highness. I much prefer breaking girls. If you don't mind, have one of the slavers do it. I feel I'll serve you better here as your counsel if it pleases Your Highness."
The king shrugged. "Sir Oran, take the—"
"Father, could I do it?" Regina spoke up. She liked the look of the young man. Too, she had always wondered what it would be like to have someone entirely at her mercy.
With a startled look, as if he had forgotten entirely that she was there, the king turned toward her. "Have you broken a slave before?"
