Page 44 of House of Serpents and Slaves

“Is there somewhere private we can go so I can check your back?”

“It’s not necessary,” he said coldly, his black eyes gazing down at me like deep pools of oil. “I am fine.”

"No, you're not," I insisted. "And maybe you are now, but if they’ve broken the skin and you get infected, you could end up not being able to fight at all. Let me help. Please."

For a long moment, Tarshi said nothing. Then, with a resigned sigh, he nodded. I followed Tarshi to a secluded spot behind the barracks. He hesitated before slowly lifting his tunic, revealing the raw, bloody wounds of his flogging. I recognised Cato’s work immediately. He deliberately kept going until he broke the skin. Only three lashes had though, he must have been in a rush that day. Two were fresh, still oozing, but I could see older wounds beginning to scab over. My stomach churned at the brutality of it.

"Gods, Tarshi," I whispered. "This is awful."

He grunted, refusing to meet my eyes. "It's nothing I can't handle."

I shook my head, reaching for the small pouch of healing salve I kept on me. "Let me clean these. They'll get infected if we don't treat them."

Tarshi tensed as I began gently dabbing at the wounds with a damp cloth. His muscles rippled under my touch, and I could feel the heat radiating from his skin.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked gruffly.

I paused, considering my answer. "Because no one deserves this kind of treatment. Not even a..." I trailed off, realizing what I was about to say.

"A monster?" Tarshi finished bitterly.

"That's not what I meant," I said quickly. "You're not a monster, Tarshi. You're just...different."

He scoffed. "Different. Is that what you call it?"

I worked in silence for a few moments, carefully applying the salve to his wounds.

“Is it true what he said? That none of the slave women will come to your bed?”

“I never asked any of them,” Tarshi said stiffly.

“Do you not like human women?” I asked, not quite daring to meet his eyes.

“I liked my mother. No other human woman has come near me.”

I looked up at him. “Your mother was human?” I couldn’t quite disguise the shock in my voice as I said it. I knew the Talfen raids were bloody and violent, and spared no one. Any female survivors usually died later from their injuries or in childbirth bearing the products of their vicious assaults. As intimidating as Tarshi was, there was a gentler side of him, I was sure. A human mother would explain that, I suppose.

Tarshi sighed. “My mother lived right on the borders of your empire in a small village. She would go foraging for hours in the woods nearby and one day, she met my father.”

I inhaled, guessing at what was coming.

Tarshi watched me, his black eyes narrowed. “He came upon her as she was gathering berries by a riverbank. She slipped and fell in, so he dived in to save her.”

“He… rescued her?” I was shocked. Not one story had ever made the Talfen out to be anything than evil, unnatural killers.

“He did. They talked and the next day she went back to see him again. It went on for months. He wanted her to come away with him, but she was too afraid of his people, and hers would have killed him. When finally I was born, my village rioted. They grabbed their weapons and went into the forest. My father had lived in a small settlement several hours travel from the border. They were peaceful farmers, nothing more. My village killed them all. Every last one. And yet, they were supposed to be the monsters.”

I sat in stunned silence, trying to process Tarshi's words. The image of peaceful Talfen farmers was hard to reconcile with the description of unnatural bloodthirsty demons that had populated every story I had heard of their race. There had never been a time when the empire hadn’t been at war with the Talfen, and their raids on our borders had only increased, no matter how many the imperial troops fought back. The declarations from the Emperor of losses to the Talfen, even the horrific and heart wrenching stories told by travelling entertainers who moved from village to village, they all portrayed the Talfen this way. Surely, they couldn’t all be wrong in their depictions. And yet, something in me wanted to trust Tarshi, wanted to believe him.

“What happened to your mother?"

Tarshi's eyes darkened, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. "She tried to protect me. When the villagers came for us, she fought like a wild animal. But in the end..." He trailed off, his massive fists clenching at his sides.

"They killed her," he finished, his voice thick with pain and rage. "Right in front of me. Then they sold me to the slavers."

My heart ached for him. I thought of my own family, brutally murdered, and the burning desire for vengeance that drove me. Tarshi and I weren't so different after all. My heart ached for him. I reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. His skin was like fire under my touch, a heat that seemed to soak into my own skin, heating my hand, my arm, my whole body. I fought not to pull back surprise, trying to ignore the strange sensation.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "Tarshi, I-"

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