She pulled the cloth over her body and moved closer to the fire. Though it wasn't cold - Azura was rarely cold - the ocean's chill was chasing her, seeping under the skirt of the tent and curling around her damp body. 

She watched as he moved to a trunk near the door and pulled from it another length of cloth, wrapping it around himself and knotting it at his hip to keep it in place.  She bent down to retrieve her soiled tunic when the entrance to the tent opened and three Leoth filed in.  Smaller than him.  Boys.  Wearing not the battledress he and the other Leoth wore, but plain cloth tunics belted at the waist with a thin strip of leather.  They looked more like servants. Servant's dressed as monks.

She scrambled back against the wall of the tent to shield herself. So she was to endure the stares of his men upon her nakedness too?  Surely even slaves were afforded a small degree of dignity?

The first went to fill his wine cup from the fresh jug he carried, while the other two carried what appeared to be a second pallet above their heads complete with coverings and cushions.  Her heart lifted a little.  So she wasn't going to be made to sleep on the dirt then? Or worse, beside him. 

They spoke a few words to him in their strange language, and he pointed to her, or rather, beyond her.  They gave her barely a glance as they passed, setting the pallet down in the corner adjacent to his own. They then began to arrange the modest-looking coverings on top. It wasn't as richly covered as his own, but she was thankful for the mercy. She turned back to find the third standing before her, holding out a small bundle of folded white fabric.

For some reason - instruction perhaps - she glanced at Theodan, who eyed her watchfully as he drank from his refilled wine cup.  The low light of the tent hid his eyes, casting half of his face in obscurity. Something that only served to magnify how beastly he looked; deadly eyes hidden in darkness, dark thoughts shrouded in shadow.

'Feel free to remain unclothed if you wish,' he said shifting slightly into the light.  'I would have no complaint about it.' The smirk curved the side of his full mouth as he lowered his cup.

She reached out to take the fresh clothing from the boy Leoth - whom she realised from this distance had only looked like a boy because he was so much smaller than Theodan. She could see clearly now that he was, in fact, a young male of an age to herself - though since the Leothine aged slower than humans, she supposed she could be mistaken about his age. She thanked him with a small dip of her head which he returned. 

After handing off the fresh clothing to her, the Leoth set about clearing the small table of the uneaten food. Leaving on it a second refilled jug of wine, the one containing water, and the barely touched platter of fruit. 

As he moved to leave, he stopped to ask something of Theodan, something which gave the warrior cause to consider. Something which gave him cause to re-focus his gaze on Fara.  A gaze which was studious this time; studious in a way that made her feel like she was being measured up for some task she was not yet aware of.  Then he gave the boy his answer; a few softly spoken words in leoth that Fara would have given anything to have understood. 

The pallet in situ, the other two Leoth went to lift the used basin, moving the large tank quietly and diligently towards the exit of the tent. Theodan's stare made the loudest noise, he rested back against the wooden beam as he drank deeply of his wine, the jug held lazily by his side.  She could not hold his eyes for very long, she found, for she did not like the look in them.   The look was not akin to that which a hunter might give its prey.  Neither could she move to dress, pinned in place by the presence of his men and her nakedness.

With ease, they carried the large metal bath out of the tent, offering Theodan a dip of their heads as they passed.  An action he seemed not to notice or chose to ignore, his eyes still studying her.  They raked over her.  Amused. Hungry. Vaguely suspicious. Had she only imagined that look of softness in them before?  That look of warmth in those moments he'd told her of Galyn's death? Something had hardened in him again and she knew not what or why, though suspected it was her doing.

A theory had developed as she'd sat with him in the basin.  If she were hard, then he would be too. If she were soft, then he would more likely be too.  So she would try harder to be softer.  She had to find the naive and simple Fara, the Fara she knew she had inside her - the Fara that Galyn had fallen for so quickly and so eagerly.

It would be easier if every look this Leoth gave her did not seem to indicate that he could and would see right through her trickery. 

Galyn had been a man, and men so readily saw what they longed to see when it concerned women. This... thing... before her was no man, and she knew not whether her skill was sharp enough to outwit a Leoth warrior.  Or rather, this Leoth warrior.

Think yourself that tempting?  Think I would break my word over you?

With his eyes still on her, she turned away from him and let the cloth fall from her body. Then, trying not to look as though she was attempting to entice him, she pulled the clean white dress over her head in as enticingly a way as possible. With her arms raised and her body arched, she let the fabric cascade over her.

The dress was soft, softer than the servant clothes she'd stolen, with long sleeves that draped past her wrists but still kept her hands exposed.  At her hip was a long length of fabric which she could see no use for.  She held it out and inspected it.  Then inspected the dress until she worked it out.  The extra fabric was a belt of sorts, intended to feed through the small gap in the other hip. She wrapped the length around her waist twice, until she had a small measure of it left, enough fabric to loop it through the gap and secure it with a small knot.  She supposed it was flattering if a little large for her. Is this what Leoth women wore? 

Next, she gripped the length of her hair and twisted it over her shoulder to expose her neck. Before she proceeded to ring it tightly to force the water out. Last, she about dabbing it dry it with the damp cloth.  When she turned around her hope deflated a little. He was no longer watching her. She wondered at what point she had lost his interest.

His interest was focussed instead on the fruit platter.  He pushed the grapes around with his finger before stabbing one with his fingernail and lifting it up into his mouth.

Sensing her watch him, he lifted his eyes to her again and she saw them darken once more. But then she saw something else, a slight flicker; a bloom of colour fusing the iris to the pupil. Then deepest purple again.  The light eclipsed. 

'I advise you get some rest,' he told her.

'Advise?'

Her intent had been half playful, but when his gaze narrowed she regretted speaking at all. She had to learn not to question everything he said, for each time she did, he hardened a little more. 

'A figure of speech - it was not advice,' he clarified.  'Tomorrow I'll expect you to begin the duties of a Leoth slave. For that, you will require rest.'

She nodded. Soft Fara, be soft. 'Forgive me, my lord,' she began.  'But I have never before served a Leoth.  Might you acquaint me with what it is you expect?' If he expected her body, then she would likely require another plan.  Because for her plan to work, her surrender to him would need to be on her terms. He would only truly believe that she wanted him, if she gave herself willingly, not if she were commanded to. 

'The tent will be kept clean and in order, the pallets and coverings will be aired and re-made - washed when required.  My boots will be cleaned and oiled. The table will be laid with food and wine and the basin hot and prepared with soothing oil for my return.'

'Your Varveh fed and watered?' She asked.  For if she could get close enough then she could assess the chance of using it as a means of escape.

His mouth almost carved itself into a full smile. Almost.  'Have you ever tended Varveh before?' 

'No. But I have tended horses before.' She had tended her own. Lyra had been her escape before Valdr had cut her throat.

'A Varveh is not a horse, Cassine,' he said, as though he had made the distinction many many times before and was tired of doing so.

'But the species are similar are they not?'

'You think so?' He mocked.  'Well, feel free to attempt to feed and water a Varveh as you would a horse - I should very much like to witness that.' 

'Very well,' she said in a voice as meek as she could manage given his arrogant tone.  'I will refrain from feeding or watering your Varveh.  Is that all?'

A pause. He raked his gaze down her body slowly, purposefully, and lifted his cup to his mouth.  His eyes never left hers as he drank, and it took all of her strength to hold them with her own so dark with intent were they.

'Yes,' he said finally. 'That is all I require from you at present.'   

'May I ask something?' She asked, hesitant. He gestured his assent.  'For these duties, I assume I require your permission to leave the tent?'

His eyes narrowed as he considered his response. 'To carry out your duties you may leave the tent.  But if you abuse this freedom, you will be punished.  If you try to run, you will be punished,' he stood a little straighter and stared her down. 'And if you disobey me in any of the orders I give you from now on, you will be punished. I do not have the patience nor the desire to train a slave. Do you understand this?'

She bit down on her tongue hard and the taste of iron spread across her mouth. 'I understand.'

He tilted his head, expectant. 

She swallowed.  'I understand, my lord.'

He smiled his satisfaction 'Now, retire to your pallet.  I will shortly be—.' the call of a Leoth outside cut him off.  Fara startled. The voice was female.  Glancing from the entrance back to him, she stiffened as he let a perverse glimmer seep into them.  He called out one word in Leothine to the female outside.

The Leoth who entered was beautiful. Taller and with a fuller figure than Fara, the barely-there attire she was draped in made no attempt to hide her gracefully feminine body. She moved almost fluidly across the tent toward Theodan, her head bowed and her hands clasped demurely in front of her. 

The second thing Fara noticed was the multiple black metal bands adorning her pale body, solid but with embellished gold markings carved into them.  She wore one around her neck, one on her upper arm, and one around her ankle.  The last was set atop her head as a headband and was weaved expertly into her silvery blonde hair.  Her face was painted garishly, or at least that's what Fara had thought before the woman stepped closer.  Closer it looked tribal almost, striking and artfully done.  The markings spread out from her eyes, dark kohl-lined the lids and winged out into swirling ornamental shapes drawn upon her temples. Streaming out from the headband were several strands of dark jewelled ribbon which were twisted decoratively around separate sections of her long hair.  The piece itself was stunning; it spoke to Fara of strength and beauty, delicate but unyielding. Carved from Leoth steel, she knew.  

As the woman came to stand before him she kept her head and her eyes down, a perfect picture of female submission, and Theodan's appreciation was evident.  He gazed down upon the girl with a rapturous sort of look; a look filled not only with desire but with... respect. 

Slowly, he lifted his fingers to her cheek and skimmed them across it, his touch tender and soft. Fara held her breath, mesmerised, disgusted. With his fingers beneath her chin, he tilted the girl's head back and forced her closed eyes up to meet his own.

'I permit you to look at me,' he said, in Fara's own language. It was the softest she'd ever heard his voice, and thick with desire but there was no mistaking the command in it. 

The Leoth girl fluttered open her eyes and Fara let out a small quiet gasp that neither of them appeared to hear.

Pale blue. Not black, or red, or violet. The girl's eyes were pale, human blue.   

And suddenly she knew what this girl was.  Suddenly she recalled the word he had called to the leoth outside the tent as he'd left the bath.  The word that she had not properly acknowledged at the time.  This girl, this human, was a Consort of Asalla.  The Asalla was real.

She had thought them merely another Leoth myth.  Another legend perpetuated by the whispered gossip of idle chambermaids. Human pleasure slaves 'employed' and trained in the servicing of Leoth males. It was said they lived in harems all over Leoth.  It was said that the harems allowed girls as young as the age of twelve into their employ.  It was said that once a woman entered a house of Asalla, they signed away their given name, as well as all of their worldly possessions and freedoms. It was also said that only orphans, childless widows, and undesirables joined the Asalla.  Yet, this woman looked very desirable from where Fara stood. This woman looked as though she had been constructed purely for giving pleasure to leoth warriors.  Her soft silky hair, her smooth oiled skin, her preened and fragrant body.  A new sensation began to simmer in Fara's veins. One she couldn't understand. One she tried to ignore.

'Why have you come to me this eve?' Theodan asked her softly, staring down into her pale eyes.

'Master, I come to you as Asalla so pleases - to submit to your will and your pleasure,' the girl whispered, her eyes fixed upon him as though under some kind of spell. Perhaps she was? Some potion which kept them slow and agreeable, and which made them enjoy the company of a Leoth male. This would explain much. 'Instruct me as you will, use my body as you desire, command me as your own.' The girl continued. Practised words spoken melodic and soft.

Fara's head began shaking of its own free will, her stomach roiling as though trapped on a vessel amid a stormy sea.  She could not bear witness to this.  Would not witness this. He was going to take this woman to his bed, this human to his bed, with her as witness?  Why would he even think of such a thing?  As a lesson?  A warning?  What other reason was there?

Sometimes we do things, simply because we can.

She watched as he pressed the sharp black nail of his thumb into the soft cushion of her bottom lip, retracting it to allow the blood to bead to the surface. Then he lowered his mouth and kissed the blood from it. A deep, fervent kiss that caused the girls' legs to weaken and a desperate female moan to escape her.

He snaked a hand around her to steady her and pulled up from her mouth.

'I accept your body and its gifts this night, Iaria of Asalla,' he told her.  Lowering his hand from her face, he pulled loose the knot at her hip, and the girl pushed the dress from her shoulders.  The translucent fabric fell to the floor with a soft whisper and Fara felt a wave of heat come from them then. Hot and palpable, she could almost taste the need he felt for this woman, could hear the girl's soft breaths sharpen, feel the air charge with arousal as he lifted his hand to stroke her breast.

And as she stood there transfixed there was something else Fara could see. She could see as her plan and her hope and her vengeance washed away like footprints on the sand.  He did not need Fara's submission.  Of course, he didn't.  Why would he need hers when he had countless human consorts painted and primed and ready serve to him.

She felt the surge of hopelessness burn through her as he touched his mouth to the girl's breast and sucked hard, causing the girl to moan once more in pleasure, her head dropping back in abandon.  She sank against him, her knees weakening as his touch began to open her up to him.  He removed his mouth from her breast and the girl kissed her way down his jaw to his throat, then his chest as he dropped his head back and growled softly in pleasure.

With his eyes clothed he untied the knot of the cloth covering him and commanded the girl to her knees. It was then that something inside Fara broke free. Something she could not have prevented even if she tried. 

'Stop!' She commanded them, her cry piercing the thick air of the tent.

There was a beat of dreadful silence before he rounded on her, his eyes blazing dark with fury.

Behind him, the girl's pale eyes widened with shock and something else. Something like pity.