Consumer warning; May contain nuts, egg and dairy. Not recommended for children or pregnant or lactating women. Contains caffeine.
No seriously.
This is set in a fantasy, post apocalyptic world. My original inspiration for this series was the artwork of Luis Royo. All characters are fictional.
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CHAPTER ONE
For too long all she could see was the course fabric covering her face, all she could breath was its choking musty scent. She wanted to cough, but feared that if she started she wouldn't be able to stop again. Rough, calloused hands pushed her forward. They had beaten her, but not badly. Certainly not as badly as the brutally ravaged bodies she had recovered on the boarder of the tribe's lands. It seemed every person killed by the Prince's army was first raped and beaten beyond repair before their tortured corpses were returned to their families.
However her special treatment did not bode well for her. The Prince knew who she was. If she had been killed, left on the board as her tribe mates before her, there would still be hope, but while she was imprisoned here, tortured and displayed, the hope of her people would be crushed. They would be defeated.
She regretted this now. Her fury at the Prince's mistreatment of her people had driven her to act rashly. She had heard word that some of the women of her tribe may still be alive, trapped within the palace walls. She had thought to sneak in and retrieve them, but it had been a hopeless mission from the start.
She was pushed to the ground, her kneecaps cracking painfully on the frigid marble floor. The sack was yanked off her head, and for a moment she was blinded by the light.
Soul deep, brown eyes watched her, half hidden behind long, dark lashes. His head was shaved but for a thick, summer green topknot that hung foppishly to touch his left ear. Women lounged, semi naked, around his feet like hounds, some cowering as far from his obsidian throne as their chains would allow, others preening and fawning for his attention.
The air, the blessed air. She inhaled deeply, then submitted to a fit of coughing. Clearing the dusty spores from her lungs. He smiled, watching her with a curious, puzzled look. A bemused predator who has just had prey fall into its grasp. She struggled to rise, but hands forced her down, the point of a blade puncturing her shoulder. She hissed and received a fist to the back of her head for her impertinence.
He rose, graceful, muscles shifting and rippling under his skin like those of a cat. He was no false power. She could see by looking at him he was a warrior. Like her. His body was sparsely covered by tatters of what once might have been fine clothes. They were from a time passed however, back before the new age. Synthetic fabric was a such a rarity, it was a wonder any of it was still around at all.
He reached out for her, turning her head with his fingertips. She could smell the pungent aroma of a woman's sex and blood on his hand, but his fingers were dry.
"Savage."
She didn't understand the word, but guessed the meaning from his tone. The Prince and his people treated hers as barbarians, because they chose to live in the wilds, away from the ruined remains of cities long dead. He coveted the land of her tribe and the tribes beyond that. He coveted their women and food. He coveted all power and all he could see from his ivory towers.
She said nothing. Unable to rise, for fear of pain or further abuse. Let him look all he liked. She would bide her time. Soon, soon enough she would have her chance.
He spoke expansively to her guards, then motioned them away. They pulled her to her feet and lead her away. Dragging her through a cold bath and anointing her body with oil. Their touch was rough, brutal, but none dared to squeeze or pinch her flesh. Nor did they thrust their fingers into her, or harm her.
She understood why. She was to be his and his alone.
She was blindfolded and led through what could only be a maze of corridors. Twice she stumbled at the base of stairs, twice she was jerked to her feet again by uncaring hands. At last they tossed her bodily onto a bed.
She lay stunned for a moment, before twisting herself into a sitting position and ripping off the blindfold. The room was cluttered, the ceiling hung with gauzy curtains that swayed and shimmered in the breeze. The bed was massive, piled with sheets and cushions and the stone floor was littered with any number of oddities. A feather here, a knife there, children's toys, rope, clothes, pretty stones and useless trinkets all piled together in a random, formless display of colour and mess.
She was alone for the moment, so took the chance to ease herself cautiously off the bed. She fetched a knife from the mess, secreting it away down beside the mattress just as the door opened.
He stepped in, closing and locking the door behind himself. He tossed the key to the floor, where it was instantly lost amongst the mess. He studied her, eyes searching every inch of her skin. She could almost feel their gaze as a physical thing, sliding over her curves and skin like water.
She tensed. Unsure if she should try and flee or attack him. She was fast, and armed she had killed many of his men, leaving their corpses on the muddy battle fields. She knew the weaknesses on the body of a man, she could kill him with her hands, but his confidence.... His sheer presence, kept her pinned. Trapped in the dark pools of his eyes, unable to move, unable to fight him any more than she could fight the passing of time or the ageing of her own body.
He stepped toward her, reached out to touch... to own... but she fled from him. Crossing to the far side of the room in a flurry of sheets, legs and trinkets that scattered as she kicked them from her path.
She pressed herself against the wall there. Glowering at him, hissing like a wildcat and baring her teeth.
