Page 21 of Pawn of the Cruel Princess
He huffs out a pained breath, and my eyes close with pleasure. I love that sound.
“Cruel woman,” he whispers.
“Rebellious words, thrall.” I twist the clamp ever so slightly, and he cries out. “My gods, man, you were a soldier. You bore my torture better than this.”
“I’m very—sensitive—in that area,” he hisses through gritted teeth.
I stare at him for a long moment, my heart pounding from more than the exercise. Then I clip the other clamp in place. “We’ll run the course again now.”
He groans, but he jogs obediently back to the start with me.
This time, I win.
I make Ducayne wear the clamps during three more rounds of the obstacle course and during a long run through the forest beyond the palace. My guards ride beside us as we run. When we return to the palace, my maids fill a bath for me, and when I’m done my thrall bathes as well. He asks if he can remove the clamps, but I tell him no.
“If you ask to remove them again, you’ll wear them longer,” I say.
He narrows his eyes at me. “I suggest you make a list of the rules, instead of inventing them as we go along.” Then he stalks into the bathing room and shuts the door.
“This won’t do,” I tell my maid. “He can’t keep sharing my space, my bath. Don’t my sister’s thralls have their own quarters?”
“They do, Your Highness.”
“Then I want a room assigned to him, near mine. Perhaps the Thornlake guest room, just down the hall. Please put in the request on my behalf.”
“Yes, Your Highness. It will take a little time to have the room furnished for a thrall.”
“He can share with me for two more days, and then the room can be prepared for him while we are at Summerglee. Tell the housemaster he can design and furnish it as he likes—I do not care how it looks.”
The maid bobs a curtsy and hurries away to do my bidding.
Before Ducayne has finished with his bath, there’s a scuffle outside my door. It’s flung open with a bang and my guard Penn hastily announces, “His Majesty the King!”
I drop my book and rise from the bed, my nerves lighting with panicked energy. I can’t remember the last time my father came to my room.
He strides in, robed in full regalia with a massive golden collar around his shoulders and medals pinned to his chest. His steel-toed boots crush my carpet. He looks down his prominent nose and manages to both encompass and dismiss everything in his view with a single curl of his lip. “Daughter.”
I sink to my knees and bow, touching my forehead to the floor. “My lord.”
“Your sister is most displeased with my gift of the Captain to you. She says she planned to claim him, and that you knew of her plan. Did you come to me first out of some malevolent intent to defraud her of the prize she craved?”
Of course I did, and he knows it. I could demur, try to be diplomatic. But my father prefers ruthless honesty.
“Yes, Padra. I came to you first, knowing she wanted him. She has eight thralls, and I had none until you graciously gifted me the Captain. I only wanted someone special I could take to Summerglee, so I could form connections and friendships, as I told you. It was less about defrauding her, and more about prioritizing my own success.”
He strokes his beard. “I can respect that. What I do not respect, Ruelle, is the reports of your activities with the enemy prisoner. Taking him for a drive into the city? Exercising with him in the training grounds? Running with him through the royal forest? These are not the activities a young woman should be engaged in during her first days with her new thrall. You should be—” he grimaces— “enjoying the man. Teaching him how to please you and others.”
“Yes, Padra,” I grit out.
“Have you succeeded in getting any more information from him?”
“No, Your Majesty.”
“This man is not your companion, child. He is a tool for pleasure and service—and a means to glean more information about our enemies. See that you treat him as such, or I will have to take him away from you and give him to someone who knows how to handle a thrall.”
“Yes, Padra.”
“I expect to hear news of his good service to you, and of your effective training measures, before you leave for Summerglee.”
