Page 29 of Given to the Fae
I shrug in reply.
I don’t give him yet another of my confused looks, but I don’t know what to make of him. Never have I met a master, mistress, or slaver who didn’t desire labor to be done for them. There’s a reason humans are sought after, kept alive, and bred with each other for the purposes of making more of us.
I heard once at The Barrack that there was some malady that was making us ill in some Circles, and the top healers of the Dark Realms were called to the Golden Citadel in the first city in the first Circle to work together to find a cure. One was found in just a few weeks. I realized when I heard that story that, outside The Barrack, my kind were considered precious enough not to simply allow to die.
Though I suppose Ogdan and Sio neverkilledany of us, they just made sure we were miserable, in pain whenever possible, and had no hope. If some humans didn’t survive, well, a weak slave isn’t worth much anyway.
I see the fae stand, and I wonder if he’s going to exact a price for his kindness to me now. He may not ‘fuck slaves’, but, as I saw many times in The Barrack, there are plenty of other thingsa master could demand. Of course some involved the carnal, but many orders were simply to perform everyday menial tasks like cleaning, washing clothes, shining boots, carrying bags, and, as with some of the talented ones, entertaining masters with singing or dancing.
But all he does is walk across the room, start the bath, and pull the partition across.
‘I’ll find us something for our morning meal before we join the others,’ I hear him say. ‘The door is locked, and the key is around my neck, so don’t bother trying to leave.’
I don’t reply. Instead I sit in a chair and unplait my hair. I comb it through, enjoying how easily Morgan’s polished wooden tool slides through the strands now and frowning atthatkindness he showed me as well.
I don’t like it. There’s a price hanging over me like a guard looking for weakness to exploit. He must want something! Or, is he going to do a hundred small kindnesses without allowing repayment, only to demand one enormous thing that I can’t possibly give at the end? Masters do that sort of thing. They love tormenting us. What might he ask for, I cannot fathom, but if there’s anything I know about masters, it’s that they can be terriblyand terrifyinglycreative. What if it’s my pain and suffering he wants? If I’m no longer Kismet, or it’s wavering, he could easily have it.
I hear him slide into the water and I can bear it no longer.
‘What do you want of me?’ I ask suddenly.
He’s silent for a moment. ‘Naught.’ He sounds a bit confused.
‘Nothing is given for naught,’ I say.
‘I speak the truth. I’m doing what I was ordered.’
I scoff loudly. ‘Bere will have ordered you to make sure I was fed and had that tea and was released. That’s all. Not the bath, and the bed, and thetalking.’
I’m shaking with nervousness and anger. With fear. I haven’t felt panic like this in a very long time. He’s giving me thoughts I don’t believe I’ve ever had, that all isn’t as it seems, that all masters aren’t awful and that’s dangerous because no matter how hard I’m trying to keep my guard up, I’m think I’m failing.
I hear him get out of the water several minutes later and when he comes back onto my side of the room. His chest is bare, and he’s got a bathing sheet wrapped low around his hips.
I turn away, my cheeks heating. Embarrassment overtakes my anger though I don’t know why. I’ve seen such things before. I glance at him again and I realize. It’s just that none of them have ever been so big...and clean and pleasing to the eye. He even washes his hair! I’ve never known a master to do that. The ones at The Barrack would either shear it off, or let it grow long without paying it much heed.
‘What is it that you’re afraid of?’ he asks me as he gets his pack out and begins to rummage through it.
‘I just don’t understand your kindness,’ I half lie.
You never show them your fears, and you definitely don’t tell them.
He sighs, looking up at me. ‘It’ll only be until we get to the arenas. After that, you won’t have to worry about my,’ his lips turn downwards, ‘kindness.’
The last word is said so derisively that I flinch.
‘How far are the arenas?’
‘Five Circles from here.’
I hear the whistle of the kettle and get up to swing the hook back out of the hearth. ‘How many days?’
I hear him donning his clothes and make sure not to look over at him. ‘Ordinarily, no more than ten, but that’s going through the Breach as normal. Long journeys. After what the healer said yesterday, Bere will want to take you the longer way. A slave is too valuable to risk death to the Blet.’
He sounds like he’s reciting the words. There’s no emotion behind them at all.
He approaches the table and sits down heavily, producing the packet of herbs for my tea, and another for his own.
‘What are the arenas?’ I ask.
