Page 68 of Bred
She rose from her seat and crossed the room to drop the piece of parchment into the small fire that crackled in the hearth.
“Ripe—” I whispered.
“Yes, of course,” Artin said smoothly. “What good are you to the Kings of the Jeweled Throne if you cannot bear a child? They need you to be fertile. You will have a month to prove your worth. And you will not be the only one vying for the king’s attentions.”
“I—”
Artin moved closer and trailed a hand over my shoulder. She unpinned my cloak, and I forced myself to stand still as it dropped to the floor. Artin dragged her hand through my hair and frowned at the tangles before she gripped my chin and gazed into my eyes.
It would have been easy to look away, but I couldn’t. Her eyes were clear and a hypnotic shade of gray that I had never seen before.
“Good skin,” she mused. “The hair could use some work, and she smells like a stable lad.”
The servants covered their laughter with their hands, and the man who had brought me into the building chuckled in agreement.
Artin’s scrutiny traveled down my body, and I flinched as she rubbed her fingers over my collarbone.
“Hold her,” she said briskly.
The angular, dark-eyed man did as commanded, and I wondered if he did it with any enjoyment. His fingers closed over my arms and held me in place as Artin pulled up my skirts. I sucked in a breath as her warm palms rubbed over my thighs and brushed dangerously close to the juncture of my thighs.
“What—”
“Be still,” she hissed.
“What do you think?” the young man asked. His mouth was close to my ear, and the depth of his voice made me shiver.
Artin frowned as she straightened and rubbed a careless hand over my breasts before she tugged at the laces of my bodice to expose my bare flesh to the room. My cheeks burned, and I struggled in the man’s grip.
Warm hands rubbed over my breasts and pinched at my nipples, which hardened to dark pink peaks. I bit my lip to keep from swearing at her, and Artin’s pale eyes flickered to mine.
“The tea has done its work,” she said. “She may as well be in heat.”
“Delicious,” the young man murmured.
I squirmed out of his grasp and grabbed for my bodice to re-tie it.
“She’s fiery,” Artin said as she walked back to her table and took her seat once more. “The king will be pleased to have a bit of a challenge. Has he ever taken a servant before?”
“Not in a place like this,” the young man said. I could feel the smile in his voice, but I refused to look at him. He didn’t deserve my anger.
“She’ll need to be bathed,” Artin said. She pulled a scroll from one of the piles at her elbow and picked up a quill that matched the color of her hair. The nib scratched across the parchment. “Take her upstairs.”
“As you say,” the young man replied.
“Not you, Jaren,” she snapped. “She’s not for you to play with. She’s royal property now. Unless the king decides he doesn’t want her.”
“What happens then?” I choked out, scarcely able to believe that my plan had worked.
Artin looked up briefly. “If the king doesn’t choose you, you’ll be tossed out into the street where you belong.”
My jaw clenched. I don’t know what I’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t that.
My mistress would never allow me back to the house, especially because I’d disappeared without a word. There was no one I could send a message to—no one would care. They would say I’d run away.
I grabbed my cloak from the stone floor and held it tightly to my chest as one of the servants came forward and took hold of my elbow.
“Come with me, girl, we’ll wash the stables off you,” the woman said brightly.
