Part VII


So it had a name.

The beast of Leoth had a given name. She hated how soft it sounded on his mouth. In her head. In the space between them. She hated it. She hated him more for giving it to her.

It was far easier to hate him when he spoke to her like a master spoke to a slave. When he growled his demands at her. When his mouth pulled back in its impatient growl to reveal his beastly teeth. She did not want this: she did not want him speaking in soft tones and looking at her with humanity in his eyes and giving her his name

'Then let me say it again, I will never beg you for anything, Theodan.'

Surprisingly, the beast smiled at her. A close-mouthed imperious smile that made his eyes look aflame.

'Time changes many things,' he replied, arrogantly. Her fingers tightened harder into fists. 'Those who speak with the most haste are often those who have most to regret.'

He reached across to lift the battered metal goblet from the table, filling it from a similarly-battered looking jug with markings etched into its sides, and drank deeply. Then he refilled it and quenched his thirst once more. When he turned his eyes back to her they looked slightly glazed, a calmness now settled over them.

'I would know your name in return,' he said as he lowered his cup, fixing her with a commanding stare.

She started in shock. She had not for a moment considered this. What need did he have of her name? Wouldn't 'slave' or 'female' suffice as it had done so far?

Her torso tightened, bones hardening, her mind grasping, clutching. She could not refuse to give him her name, she had pushed him too far already this night. She hoped the panic did not show on her face as her mind struggled to find purchase on something, anything. She considered using her dear mother's name but no Azurian servant would ever be named for a Calate queen. She clawed harder, he was going to make the impatient noise again, he was going to be suspicious of the reason for her reluctance. Think, Fara.  The name came to her in a bolt of lightning straight to her chest, a memory of warmth and love and longing.

'Cassine," she uttered, startled with the sound as it left her mouth. 'My name is Cassine.'

She saw him let out a deep breath, saw his shoulders relax. No Leoth warrior would know the name of a long-dead Princess of Calate who did not live past her seventh name day.

'Cassine,' he repeated in that oddly accented tone. It caused a tremor of something dark and forbidding to roll over her bones. Her dead sister's name sounded almost like a curse on his lips. It did not belong there. It did not belong here in this tent being used as a falsehood.

Why in the goddess had she said it? Hadn't she buried her sister's name long ago, for it hurt too much to think of her? Now she'd called it forth to be used by a Leoth to hurl commands and insult at her. Cassi, forgive me, please forgive me.

Fara prayed Cassi would understand, prayed that as she roamed the sun enriched Gardens of Evara she would hear her name spoken by this leoth and understand why it needed to be so.

It didn't stop the guilt Fara felt. A barrage of guilt that filled her at this new and twisted act of self-preservation. At cloaking herself in her baby sister's name to hide here like a coward. Fara could only hope that one day they would meet again in Hellaphina and she would be able to explain, explain everything and that Cassine would understand. She would know that Fara had chosen Cassi's name above all others because if she must be called by another name, then she wanted it to be the only one that had forever filled her with hope and love and strength and joy.

Yes, Fara was certain Cassi would understand.

The silence between them became stretched and terse with anticipation. Fara knew he had not put aside his request for them to bathe together. She wondered only how long it would take for him to command her again to unclothe him. She was no less repulsed by it.  The thought still made her stomach clench and her mouth dry up, still made her heart feel like it was being crushed slowly between two powerful hands. Hands like his.

'So I am to call you Theodan then?' she asked, meeting his eye. She had decided to distract him with further conversation.

He straightened. Lifted his cup once more, drank deeply to drain it once more, and then set it down on the table. 'When we are alone, or when I command it, you will call me Theodan. In the presence of others, you will use my, 'my lord'.'

She frowned, confused. Leoth culture did not imbue the use of 'lord'. It was known that they did not recognise royal bloodlines or rank of birth, so why this particular address? It made little sense.  But then, he assumed her to be some wayward kitchen girl who had merely wandered into the heart of battle, so perhaps he thought 'My lord' would be easy and natural to her? Since it was far preferable to 'master' she nodded her assent.

'Now do as your lord commands you and unclothe me,' he said with quiet force.

She froze once more, noting the colour change in his eyes. She was becoming more accustomed to the way they altered with his mood or intent: Dark purple with anger, the blackest of night for battle, tinted lavender with amusement and the effects of leoth wine.

Hesitating a few moments, she finally reached out for the laces which secured his leg coverings, rough black leather which was coated with blood and dirt. The blood of innocents. Children. A sharp bitterness rose in her. Her breathing sped up as she fought to keep her eyes focused straight ahead at the movement of her hands and nothing else. He did not react visibly when she began to loosen his clothing, but she felt his breathing alter imperceptibly and then, sickeningly, she felt the weight between his legs begin to grow and harden.

Her heart all but stopped at the shocking sensation. Her hands froze into clumsy thick fingers, useless. With an inward curse, she willed them to move again and pulled harder at the thick strips of leather holding the coverings on his thighs. Raising her hands to the waist of the garment, she gripped and jerked hard, and the soft worn leather fell away from his body. They slid off down his legs, held on only by the lacing on the back of his calves. She closed her eyes and tried to stifle a gasp at the sight his manhood presented before her.

She thought she may understand the moaning of the slave girl being taken by the Leoth in the woods now. If they were all built in such a way then she could imagine it would be a.. difficult experience for a human female to couple with them.  Though it was thought this was why they enjoyed human women. And she knew from the whispers of her maids that this was why human women enjoyed them. His size was almost monstrous. Thick and long, yet surprisingly human in character and appearance.

What she expected to find lurking between his legs she did not know. A viper perhaps. With teeth like its host. Spitting and hissing at its prey. She wasn't sure whether she was disappointed or relieved. But aside from its size, the leoth's member was exactly like that of all other males.

Her mouth felt dry as desert rock as she lowered herself to her knees to deal with the calf lacing. Reaching around his left leg first she found the strapping and began to untie the topmost knot, then the second near his ankle, before pulling it loose. As she moved to the other leg she felt the heat of his stare burning down on her as hot as the sun, and as she released the covering on his right ankle and pulled it away he made a soft noise of contentment. He stepped out of the soft supple leather and kicked it aside so that he stood utterly naked, feet apart, large hands by his sides before her.

From her position on the floor, she kept her head bowed and her hands flat on her thighs, fearful of looking anywhere. She focussed on her breathing and took in the size of his feet. Again, they were startlingly human in shape and form, but she could see the potential in the nails of his toes. Like his fingernails, they were sharp, claw-like things which protruded out from the bed downwards. Whatever footwear he wore must accommodate such thing, to allow them to do their worst in battle.

'Look at me,' he instructed suddenly, quiet but firm.

She lifted her head slowly, tilting it upwards to meet his eyes. She swallowed.

His dark eyes flashed bright, a flare of light sparking again in the centre for a few moments before he blinked it away. Slowly, they returned to that pale lavender colour, and even more slowly, he let them fill with need.  Something struck Fara as she stared upwards into those glittering eyes; an opening. A tiny sliver of possibility.

This leoth wanted her. His arousal told her that. He had said this was not about desire, and yet, evidently he wanted her body and its surrender in the same way men had before him had wanted it. In this too he was much like every other male.

And this, Fara realised, was her opening.  This was a battle she could partake in. It might even be a battle that she could win. If she fought smart, strong and with purpose, then this leoth might be the one to sign his own death warrant. For it would be signed. With her as it's witness.

A shudder of doubt moved over her.

Could she do this? Did she have this in her? To give herself over to this monster. Forger some connection of deceit with Galyn's killer?

Goddess.  The thought made her feel ill. And yet she was well versed in monsters was she not...

Survive, obey, avenge.

The words were clear. Bright like the flash in the leoth's eye only a moment before. She thought of the leoth's own words only a short time ago: there are no cowards in battle. Only the dead and the living. This was true. She saw the truth in those words. She could almost taste them on her dry tongue. Survive. Obey. Avenge.

The decision solidifying in her mind, she hit her first challenge. Had she not swore to him she would never give her body to him willingly? She would have to be clever. To win this battle she needed to fight clever and strong while appearing simple and weak.

Then, as though he could sense her thoughts, his gaze narrowed on her, suspicion filling his stare. She did not think they could read thoughts, but she had thought many things about the leothine before this night which had proved to be untrue.

It occurred to her then that he might ask her to pleasure him with her mouth. The position suggested it, his eyes seemed to suggest it too, and her throat and pride burned at the thought of it. A Princess of Azura on her knees servicing a Leoth warrior. Doubt swam in her mind. She could not do this. She glanced at his member; large and thick and now fully aroused, the end of it beading with moisture. As she imagined the act, of giving the leoth pleasure with her mouth, of watching him succumb to it, a strange flush of something unwanted fluttered over her. Her mouth was no longer dry.

Horrified, she lowered her eyes but she felt him grip her by the arm and pull her up to her feet.

'Get up,' he commanded, walking away from her towards the basin. 'I told you to undress and join me.' He said as he climbed inside it.

Naked, his body was honed to perfection. Strength. Virility. Power. He bore no scars, not a single one; every inch of his skin was instead a flawless creamy canvas. Ridged muscle shaped every part of him; thighs, back, chest and arms, carved presumably by a school of talented and mystical craftsmen in the citadel of Leoth. His thighs were as wide as her whole body and she could see the strength in his large hands as they hung down by his sides. His hair was a rich dark mass of thick curls, the colour like black tempered steel where the amber glow of the fire touched it.

He was a monster.

A monster capable of crushing her beneath his foot or between his hands, simply because she displeased him. A monster she would have to seduce and beguile if she wanted to survive.

Fara swallowed once more.

With a smooth easy grace, he lowered himself into the water, moving his large body to one end and pulling his knees into a bend to make room for her. When he looked at her again she considered abandoning her foolish plan and running. He was too smart. He would never fall for what she had planned. He would take her and use her and kill her for even trying to fool him. How far would she get if she ran, she wondered? If she ran for the sea and swam hard towards Calate? How far would she get before drowning? How far would he chase her? He would not be in any way bashful about the camp seeing him naked. He would come after her, that much was certain, because he saw her as his property now. She belonged to him now. No. She would not run. Not anymore. This time she would stay and she would fight.

'Do you await a formal invitation?' he said with an ironic lilt to his mouth.

She tightened her fists and loosened them again, raising her chin in the face of her decision.

Knotting the fabric of her tunic in her hands, she gave him a weak, simple look. 'I've never bathed with a male before,' she said timidly, casting her eyes downward to hide the lie. 'I am untouched. I would request that you find it in your heart to spare me this—.'

'My heart?' he snorted. 'What makes you think I have one? I'm a monster. You spoke true in your assessment of me, female,' he sounded bored as he began to cleanse himself, dragging the water over his smooth pale skin roughly.

'But this, you cannot ex—.'

'You are covered in dirt and I can still smell the stink of Zybar on you — you will clean him off.' He spoke again, cutting her off.

Keeping her eyes lowered, she took a small step towards him. Then another. When she was next to the basin she looked at her side of it. The one intended for her. It was too small for them both, she would not fit.

'I could use the water when you finish perhaps, my lord? There is not space enough for both of us.'

He smirked, his wide mouth pulling up into a taunting smile. His teeth were white and straight, gone where the deadly forks of white he had shown her earlier. He looked almost human. Almost.

He spread his legs, gesturing the space between them. 'There is plenty space for one tiny female, Cassine. Now get in.'

With a deep breath, she lifted the torn soiled tunic over her head. She had bathed with only two men before. One was dead. The other was family. Would her form please this male? She knew in this light he would not see them, but still... Not that it mattered, she cared not whether the leoth found her pleasing, but for her plan to have any chance of success, she needed him to still want her after seeing her unclothed.

She let the tunic fall gently to the floor and reached up to tear the last remaining pin from her hair. Then, avoiding his eyes, she stepped into the basin with the dark-eyed warrior, very aware of his gaze which was trained solely on her like prey.

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