Page 4 of Given to the Fae
‘Get out,’ he mutters with a sigh to the girl when he catches Sio’s eye.
She doesn’t listen to the master, instead turning to him with hopeful eyes. ‘But I thought we could?—’
She lets out a cry as he hits her hard across the cheek as casually as he would bat away a fly and she flees the room sobbing, hopefully with a new understanding that Ogdan’s notice won’t lead to anything good. Though from the furious look she casts at me as she leaves, I doubt it.
‘What happened?’ Ogdan asks, sitting heavily in his chair.
His coal-like skin glistens with a sheen of sweat from his activities and the scales that sporadically litter his flesh are tinged with green. He scratches his head next to one of his small, twisted horns.
‘Why do you hasten me in my fuck, Sio?’
‘The new one tried to lash her,’ Sio mutters, urging me forward much more gently than he would any of the other girls, I’m sure.
Ogdan lets out a longsuffering snarl. ‘Was it bad?’
‘Trampled by one of the horses.’
‘Fuck,’ Ogdan hisses. ‘We’re short-handed as it is.’
His black eyes find me and narrow as I look down. ‘You fucking loathsome little snake,’ he snarls. ‘Good for nothing. Ugly. Pathetic. Stupid little human bitch! Gods,’ he throws his hands up in the air dramatically, ‘grant me a moment without fate’s punishment, just one where I could beat this millstone bloody for all the problems she has caused me since I had the misfortune of buying her!’
I wince at his foul words. He knows there won’t be a punishment for those, so he tells them, and others nasty things like them, to me almost every day.
‘Get one of the girls,’ he snarls at Sio. ‘An older one.’
‘No!’
I’m on my knees before he’s finished speaking.
‘Please!’ I beg. ‘I tried to stop him. I promise you I did, my lord. I tried to delay him. I did all I could to spare him! I was going about my work when he cornered me in the barn.’
His expression is hard as he stares at me and then his eyes drift a little to his right, over to a knife that sits at the edge of his desk. I grab for it and snatch it up, knowing what he wants. He won’t ask. It has to be my decision, or something bad will happen to him.
I make the first cut high on my arm, slicing at just the right depth for bloodletting as I twist my face in more pain than I really feel. That’s what he wants to see, my anguish. I make a second and a third while he and Sio watch, though I see Sio glancing out of the window to gauge the time from the sun’s position in the sky. These punishments bore him. He likes to do the hurting himself.
At the sixth slash, red is running down my arm in rivulets and soaking into my ragged clothes, and I’m wondering how many he’s going to make me cut. The most it’s ever been is seven before I got too dizzy to continue. Sio whispers something to Ogdan. The demon glances outside and nods.
‘Enough,’ he hisses. ‘I have better things to do than watch you bleed yourself dry.’ He points at me with one thick taloned finger. ‘Next time, one of the others gets your punishment no matter what, so stay out of the fucking way!’
‘Yes, my lord.’
I hand him the knife, handle first, and he takes it, ensuring he doesn’t cut me with the blade.
‘Fuck off, you pathetic little cunt.’
I get to my feet, feeling a little shaky as I put my hand over the cuts, pressing hard to try to staunch the flow.
Staggering outside, I see the two goblins look away from me as if I’m not dripping blood all over the ground, but I’m not surprised. No one likes to be in Ogdan’s crosshairs if they can help it. It’s up to me to sort myself out.
I go to the healer, leaning heavily against the open door and hoping he’s feeling more altruistic than he was earlier. He rolls his eyes at me and points to a table with some healing herbs and bandages on it before he turns back to the unconscious troll who’s now lying on the wide cot in the corner.
I approach the table and pick out what I’ll need. I’ve learned enough over the years of tending to myself and watching thehealer that I have a bit of skill in this area. I know what to use in the poultice, and what potion to drink from the bottles on the shelf nearby though I’m not really supposed to touch them. The vials are expensive and not for slaves, but the one on the right will cut my healing time in half.
I glance over my shoulder at the healer. His attention is completely on the troll, so I grab one of the vials, uncork it, and tip it down my throat quickly. I put it carefully with the other empty ones on the table, hoping he doesn’t keep a tally somewhere.
He doesn’t look back at me.
After that, I grind the herbs I need and press them into a wet mass that I put over the cuts I’ve made, wincing at the sting. I wrap them in clean linen bandages tightly. Then, I make sure I clean up after myself when I’m finished, mostly so that the healer forgets I was here, and continues to not look too closely at what I get up to when his back is turned.
