Page 26 of Kept

“Yes,” I rasped. “But—”

“No buts,” he said sharply. “That’s an order, my queen. I won’t compromise on your safety.” He strode to the guards and put a hand on the wounded male’s shoulder. “Summon a thrall and feed until you heal. Then I want all three of you watching this chamber’s outer door.” His tone went hard as steel. “If anyone but me, the king, or one of my knight captains walks through it, you kill them on the spot. Is that clear?”

“Yes, General,” the males said in unison.

“The queen doesn’t leave this room. Guard her with your lives.”

“Yes, my lord,” the bloodied male said. “We’ll protect her.”

Varick left. Another distant scream drifted from outside. Heart pounding, I looked at the windows. They were too high up on the wall for me to see what was happening on the streets. But Laurent had a balcony. Like mine, it overlooked the city.

I slipped from the bed, and the guards averted their eyes as I crossed the room in my nightdress. They murmured among themselves as I quickly dressed in a gown I could button without help. As I was shoving my feet into slippers, someone pounded on the door in the main chamber. The guards drew their swords and went to answer it. A second later, I heard Captain Radu’s voice.

My gaze fell on Avenor’s sword leaning against the armoire that held my gowns. I’d been reluctant to touch it since Rolund’s death. For a second, I considered reaching for it. Then Radu’s voice sounded again, and I spun and rushed to the main chamber.

Radu stood with the guards and two wary-looking thralls—one male and one female. The thralls looked at me and quickly dropped their eyes.

“Your Grace,” Radu said, bowing slightly. “The general sent me. He gave orders for you to remain in this chamber.”

“Thank you—”

“And away from the windows.”

Irritation spiked. “What’s happening outside? Are we under attack?”

Radu glanced at the thralls, his expression growing shuttered. “I couldn’t say. I came straight from the barracks in the Serenity Tower.”

I understood that he wouldn’t speak in front of the thralls. They kept their eyes on the floor, the dark-red ribbons around their necks and wrists impossible to overlook. The glossy, liquid bands clung to their skin, the strips more like a living entity than fabric. Laurent had placed them during the blood rite he’d performed my first night in the palace, which felt like a lifetime ago. Like most thralls, the pair was young. The man had the broad shoulders and tan skin of someone who’d grown up on a farm. Although both thralls were dressed well, they were undoubtedly from poor southern families. Sithistran nobles and merchants didn’t sell their children into blood servitude.

Radu grabbed the male thrall by his shirt collar and shoved him toward the wounded guard. “Use this one first,” Radu told the guard. “If you need more, you can have the girl.”

The guard seized the man’s hair, yanked his head to the side, and bit through the red band that circled the thrall’s neck. The thrall flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. Beside Radu, the young woman lowered her head. She held her arms in front of her, one hand folded over the other. The red ribbons gleamed around her wrists.

That could have been my fate.

My throat went dry as I stared at her. Rolund had sent me over the Rift to serve as a thrall. Laurent could have bound my wrists and throat and fed from me for a year. And for the rest of my life, everyone would have known I’d been a slave. In Sithistra, it didn’t matter that the servitude was voluntary. The year of service carried a lifetime of stigma, even though the compensation was enough to lift an entire family out of poverty. Once a thrall, always a thrall. Only the poorest humans offered themselves. Was the service truly willing if the servant’s choices were submission or starvation?

A soft moan drew my gaze back to the young man. The guard’s face was buried in his neck. The thrall was pale under his tan, his brow furrowed as he moaned again. One hand dangled at his side. The other came up to grip the guard’s forearm. Between the thrall’s legs, a noticeable bulge pressed against the front of his trousers. Memories of feeding from Elissa—and feeling the unwelcome stir of arousal—flooded my mind. She’d asked me to sample her blood to check on her pregnancy. When I’d hesitated, she’d commanded me.

“Are you well, my queen?” Radu asked.

I jerked my gaze from the thrall. Radu stared at me, his warrior’s body dwarfing the female thrall next to him.

I cleared my throat. “Yes, Captain. Thank you.”

The male thrall moaned more loudly. His mouth hung open, his ragged breaths lifting his chest. The ribbons were supposed to stop vampires from taking too much blood. Just as I began to worry something was wrong, the guard wrenched away with a gasp, his fangs distended and dripping blood. The thrall swayed. One of the other guards caught his arm and led him to a chair.

“Get him some water,” Radu ordered. He looked at the first guard, whose skin was now pink and healing. “You need more?”

The guard shook his head as he took out a cloth and wiped blood from his chin. “No, sir. I’m good.”

Radu turned to the young woman. “Go sit with the other one.”

As she obeyed, eyes downcast, discomfort squirmed through my gut. I hadn’t paid much attention to the blood thralls during my time in the palace. Before Vai Seren, I either drank blood-wine or fed from Laurent. Like servants, the thralls blended into the background.

Or maybe I simply hadn’t noticed the things I didn’t want to notice.

“What is your name?” I asked the woman.

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