Page 40 of Pawn of the Cruel Princess
A stocky man moves in, not blocking our progress exactly, but making himself noticed. I’ve met him once at court—Cowen, the bombastic older son of an influential Lord. He wears a thick golden chain with a medallion the size of his fist. His wide face is alight with interest.
Cowen bows low. “Your Highness. So delighted to see you here. We missed you at Wintertryst.”
A lie, of course, but I force a smile. Ducayne has his role to play, and so do I. “That’s kind of you to say, Cowen. You can call me Ruelle.”
His ruddy face flushes deeper at the mark of my favor. “Thank you, Princess—I mean, Ruelle. And who is this?”
“This is the former Captain Adraxas Ducayne of Yurstin. He’s my pleasure thrall. You may call him Ducayne.”
Ducayne gives Cowen a deep bow and a wicked grin.
Cowen fans himself with a thick, ringed hand. “He’s a bit wild, isn’t he?”
“I prefer him that way.” I tug Ducayne’s leash lightly, and he steps nearer to me.
The way my thrall looks down at me, with the same devilish smile he gave Cowen—the way his lashes dip as he eyes my mouth—the glide of his tongue over his lower lip—my heartbeat quickens, and I have to remind myself that it’s all fake. He’s doing it for show.
And everyone in the room is fascinated. I can hear them murmuring excitedly.
“My younger brother Ward is here as well,” Cowen says. “I would introduce you, but he’s off somewhere messing with his sciences and chemicals, trying to figure out how to blow us all up! Ah, don’t look so alarmed, Princess, it’s all in fun, I’m joking, just joking of course. No, I’m not, he would definitely do that. He’d blow us all into Arawn’s presence and barely notice the change of scenery. Best keep an eye on that one, eh?”
Chuckling, he keeps pace with me as I continue through the foyer, toward the columned doorways leading into the next room.
“Ward and I brought our two best thralls. Zurai is over there, see?” Cowen points to a young woman with dark hair, enormous breasts, and extremely generous curves. “Beautiful, and perfectly trained. She’s very good with her tongue, she is. Happy for her to lick you anytime, just say the word.”
Ducayne makes a choked sound, far too much like a laugh.
“So generous of you,” I say loudly, in case my thrall decides to make any more noises. “I will let you know if we can arrange something.”
“Arrange something—yes, yes.” Cowen chuckles again. “We also brought our thrall Anvel along. A huge male from somewhere far north on the continent—a savage place called the Bloodsalt, I think. Very exotic. If you like the kind of man with the big muscles—” he gestures to Ducayne— “our Anvel might do well for you.”
My stomach sours. “He’s from the Bloodsalt, on the continent? But how did you get him?”
“My mother bought him for us last year, for Ward’s twenty-second and my twenty-fourth.”
“No,” I say, fighting to keep the anger out of my voice. “How did he get from his continent to this one?”
“Oh.” Cowen clears his throat. “I believe he was a raider of sorts, captured and then sent to the coast.”
“He was sold as a slave, you mean. Shipped here as a slave. But we don’t import slaves in this kingdom.”
“Ah, well, your Highness might not be aware, but the King recently changed the import laws in that regard.”
“How recently?”
“Two years ago, I believe.”
Through the pounding of my pulse in my head, I’m conscious of everyone in the room watching me. Probably sneering inwardly at the naïve princess who didn’t know that her father now permits the import of slaves.
I don’t know what to say, how to move on with the conversation. I’m paralyzed by this new information, and by the desire to cut more truth out of the annoyingly jovial face before me.
Ducayne’s chain clinks and tugs in my hand. He has knelt by a couch and he’s kissing the bejeweled fingers of a woman with smooth ebony skin.
It’s a liberty no well-trained thrall would take without their owner’s permission. And it’s a welcome distraction.
“Ducayne.” I jerk his leash. He rises, bowing his head to me in apology.
“I beg you, do not blame the thrall, your Highness.” The beautiful woman rises from her couch. She’s elegantly dressed, clearly one of the noble guests. “I lured him over. He is a magnificent specimen. I did not know Yurstin was hiding such luscious males.”
