Page 38 of Bought by the Broken Beast
ONE YEAR LATER
The council chamber of the Saru estate is a place of stone, sea, and memory. It is not a grand, marble hall like those in the capital, but a room carved from the very cliffs themselves, its one, massive window a living portrait of the endless, churning sea. Here, the Lords of Saru have ruled for a thousand years, and now, I sit at their table.
Votoi sits at the head of the long, stone table, his splintered horn a proud testament to his sacrifice. He is no longer the haunted beast of the arena, nor the grim warrior of the rebellion. He is a lord in his own right, his presence a quiet, unshakeable mountain of strength and authority that fills the chamber. The ghosts of his past have not vanished, but they no longer haunt him. They are a part of him now, a source of a deeper, more profound wisdom.
I sit at his right hand, his mate, his wife. My quill scratches against the heavy parchment of a new ledger, my fingers, though now adorned with the silver ring of a Vakkak consort, still stained with the familiar, comforting shade of ink. The Saru Accord, they are calling it in the capital. My radical, revolutionary idea that trade between Minotaurs and the humansettlements on Tlouz could be a thing of mutual profit, not of conquest. An idea that is slowly, cautiously, changing our world.
But old prejudices die hard.
“The grain shipments are being delayed,” a Vakkak elder, Lord Theron, grumbles from the far end of the table, his voice a low, resentful drone. He is Lord Vorlag’s uncle, a bull of a Minotaur whose face is a permanent sneer of disapproval. He has opposed my presence here from the beginning. “The human settlements are unreliable. They take our coin, and they give us excuses. This…accord… is a weakness. We should be taking what we need, not begging for it.”
A low growl rumbles in Votoi’s chest. I feel the shift in him, the coiling of the beast within, the primal urge to defend his mate from a perceived threat. I place a gentle hand on his arm, a silent plea for him to let me handle this. This is my battle to fight. His wars are fought with steel. Mine are fought with ink and numbers.
I look up, my gaze fixed on the elder, my expression a mask of calm, professional neutrality. “Lord Theron,” I begin, my voice clear and steady, cutting through the tension in the room, “you are mistaken. The shipments are not delayed because the humans are unreliable. They are delayed because your nephew, during his time as Captain of the City Watch, seized their primary grain stores as a ‘punishment’ for a fabricated tax debt. An act of piracy that has left them on the brink of famine.”
I turn a page in my ledger, the crisp sound echoing in the sudden silence. The other members of the council, a collection of grizzled sea captains and stern landowners, shift uncomfortably. They are Vakkak, honorable in their own way, but they are not used to having their assumptions challenged by a human, let alone a female one.
“Furthermore,” I continue, my voice gaining a sharp, clinical edge, “the coin we sent was not for the grain we have yet toreceive. It was a payment, a gesture of good faith, to help them purchase seed from the southern isles so that they may have a harvest next season. A harvest from which we will receive a fifty percent share, a profit margin nearly double what your own lands produced last year.” I look up, my dark eyes meeting the elder’s, and my voice becomes a blade of pure, cold steel. “The Saru Accord is not weakness, my lord. It is an investment. And it is the most profitable investment this house has made in a generation. Do you have a problem with profit?”
The chamber is silent. The elder, his face a mask of stunned, impotent fury, can only sputter, his arguments dismantled, his prejudice laid bare for all to see. I see a flicker of something new in the eyes of the other council members. A grudging respect. I am not just the Lord’s human pet. I am the mind of their house.
Votoi’s hand covers mine on the table, his thumb stroking the back of my knuckles. The pride radiating from him is a palpable warmth, a silent validation that means more to me than the approval of the entire council.
He stands, his movement bringing the council meeting to an end. “The Lady of Saru has spoken,” he says, voice a booming thing that leaves no room for argument. “The Accord stands.”
Later, we stand on the cliffs overlooking the sea, the place where he once stood as a boy, dreaming of a future of honor and glory. The wind is a wild, clean thing, whipping my dress around my legs, tearing strands of dark hair from my intricate braids. The sun is a fiery orb, sinking into the endless, turbulent expanse of the ocean, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson.
“You were magnificent,” he says in a low rumble against my ear. His arms are wrapped around me from behind, his chin resting on the top of my head. His presence is a solid, comforting wall at my back.
“I was merely balancing the ledger,” I reply, a small, triumphant smile playing on my lips.
He chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates through my entire body. “You wield a ledger like I wield an axe. You leave your enemies with no ground to stand on.”
“It is the only weapon I have ever had,” I say softly, my gaze fixed on the horizon. I think of the terrified scribe in Kairen’s study, a girl who thought the world was as orderly as the numbers on a page. She seems like a stranger to me now, a ghost from another life.
He wraps his arms around me from behind, his hands coming to rest on my stomach. It is no longer the flat, taut belly of a scribe. It is gently, beautifully, miraculously swollen with the promise of our future.
“The ledger is balanced,” he murmurs, his lips pressing against my temple. “Our house is strong. Our people are prosperous.”
I lean back against him, my head resting on his chest, my hand covering his where it rests on our unborn child. “And our son will be born into a world of peace.”
I look out at the endless, churning expanse of the sea, at the horizon where the sky met the water. I have a name. I have a home. I have a family. The quiet, invisible scribe from Tlouz is a ghost, a memory from another life. I am Bella Saru. And I am finally, truly, home.
