Staring at the sea with a thirst unlike any she had ever known seemed like a particularly cruel punishment.

As it was, the whore's touch had been light.  Lighter than the Zybar's had been on the march.  Lighter than Valdr's had been whenever he was angry with her and sought calm in his horsewhip.  Yet, she burned. Her pride, her tongue, her wrists, her arms, the balls of her feet. In fact, the skin of her back was the least troublesome.

His woman had said nothing afterwards.  She'd simply executed her duty and gone back to him as he had commanded. Leaving Fara alone with thoughts as dark as the night sky above.

As her thoughts had begun to twist and settle, she found that she held no resentment toward the whore for what she had done.  The command, after all, was his.  The desire, after all, was his.  Men would always be those who commanded.  Women merely chose whether or not to obey.

And, as Fara knew more than most, that this was often no choice at all. For as long as she had been of an age to understand, the consequences of disobedience were painful and often grave.  It seemed this was the one lesson Fara was unable to learn.

As he had dragged her from the tent and marched her across the main camp, she had at first thought he meant to give her back to the Zybar he had wrestled her from. Then, as they neared the sea, she considered that perhaps he intended to drown her in it.  Submerge her small, weak, useless body beneath the water and wait for her breath to leave it. She expected he'd push her out towards the horizon and never think upon her again. 

It would have been a better end than the one she had foreseen herself, so why then had she begun to tremble with unwelcome relief when he pushed her against the post and tied her hands? Why then had she smiled a little when she'd heard him issue the command to his whore?

Six strikes from a light-handed woman trained in giving pleasure was nothing.  She had endured worse. Far worse.

She did wonder why her insult against his whore had caused him such fury.  Had she not called him a beast and a monster who was no better than a Zybar dog? Had she not disobeyed and insulted him over and over again this night? Why had that been the line she should not have crossed?

Fara could think of only one reason: he had feelings for this woman. Perhaps he loved her. Though she doubted a Leoth was capable of such feeling it was the only thing which made sense to her tired mind. In any case, it all but rendered her plan futile. Playacting or no she could not compete for his affection against some pleasure slave trained to please him. She would simply return to her original plan.  She would find a way to escape.     

As the night wore on and the moon gave way to the sun, she thought of Galyn.  She thought back to the night of The Sorrow Feast where she had first laid eyes upon him.  The Prince of Azura had been as beautiful as all had said he was.  Hair of copper-gold and skin that glowed with health and vitality, and a pair of piercing blue eyes that displayed to all a life filled with happiness and joy. It mattered not that he was beautiful, it only made her promises to him easier to make, for Galyn was always going to be her saviour. She had no other choice.  He was her escape.

And as he had confessed later, he had fallen in love with her that night.  The feast would last ten moonrises but after three they would be married.  In secret of course.  For the marriage of Princes took years, not days, but the Gods knew Fara did not have years. 

I'm sorry Galyn, she whispered against the night air, please forgive me.

She cast a glance upward, wondering if he sat with the Goddess now watching her, delighting in her punishment.  Now that he had seen all, she wondered if he would forgive her.  So many times she thought of telling him, but she did not want to watch as her trickery was revealed.  She could not bear to witness the love he had for her twist into something darker.  Because as soon as she had learned the news of her father's death, it was already too late.

She would do it differently now of course, if she'd had the sight. If she'd known what would befall Azura in the wake of her own selfishness. She'd take her own life before spreading her poison across Ethis to this beautiful land. 

What Fara did, she did for her soul - that's what she whispered to the Goddess on her temple visits. She asked for forgiveness, from the Goddess, from Galyn, from Cassi.

It was too late for Galyn and Cassi, but she could yet save Azura.  She could yet avenge. 

If her survival depended on whether she could learn how to obey a Leoth, then she would learn how to obey a Leoth. The sooner you abandon your pride and forget your loyalty to Azura, the less painful these lessons will be for you.

The camp had been alive a short time when he came for her.  One of his men; the one who had poured his wine and brought her clothes and fetched his whore. Not whore. Consort.  Try harder, Fara. She had thought it was him at first.  His body smelled similar, woodsy and verdant, and gave off the same wild heat, but when he placed his arm around her and loosened the straps from the hook above her head, she fell into him only when she realised it was not.  She let the young Leoth steady her while her legs tingled and her arms throbbed back to life. The blood rushed through them, shooting bolts of feeling from her shoulders to her fingertips.

He settled her down gently in the sand and offered her a skin of water to allay her thirst. She drank thirstily, caring not that the water drenched her chin and flooded her torn tunic, and when she was finally sated she glanced up to find no concern in the dark Leothine eyes, merely an air of civility.   

'I can carry you back to the commander's quarters if you are unable to walk,' the Leoth said.  His voice was soft but not with concern. Fara guessed it was that he was accustomed to speaking in low tones in the presence of his masters, for he had spoken softly in the tent too. 

'I can walk,' she replied. 

And so she had.  She'd allowed him to assist her up from the sand and to help steady her with his arm, but she had walked alone back to the red tent on the hill.  The Varveh was gone, which she concluded to mean he too was gone. And she was thankful for it.

The tent was empty, the woman gone too; although the air stank of it, of them, the scent of their breeding both sweet and sour in the hot air.  That pleasant forest scent that cloaked him was intensified and made her stomach feel tight and her weak legs feel weaker.  The fire was unlit but next to it was a basin of hot water, unscented. Next to that sat an adequate sized plate of bread, a bowl of thick cream, and a small jug containing what looked to be honey. Her mouth watered. She hoped it was.

'First, you should wash, eat and dress,' his man advised. 'The commander expects you to carry out your duties for his return before moonrise.' He had the same accented tone as Theodan; it warped some of the letters and made words she was familiar with sound foreign and odd. She said nothing but her stomach growled loudly as she glanced back to the food.  Her feet and body ached as she took in the sight of the hot bath. 'I will return with fresh clothing,' he said and turned to leave.

'What is your name?' she asked, the words surprising her. 

The leoth stopped and looked back at her, hesitant.  She offered him a small plea with her eyes.

'Jhaan.'

'My name is Cassine,' she told him. 'Thank you for your kindness, Jhaan.'

His eyes narrowed with confusion.  'The kindness is not mine; it is the commanders. I will return,' he said with a nod and then he was gone. 

She stood looking at the pallet for a moment after he left.  It had been exhaustive, their mating.  The pillows scattered across the tent, the fabrics twisted and stained; was that blood?  Her legs shook as her stomach tightened with disgust.  She was to touch these? Wash these?  She bent down and scooped them up, ensuring the soiled areas did not touch her fingers and heaved the heavy fabric to the entrance of the tent.  There, she kicked it outside. She went back and gathered up the cushions and did the same, dumping them on top of the soiled sheets.  She would deal with this newest horror when she had bathed and eaten and recovered some strength. 

After she'd soaked herself in the basin for a time, she wrapped herself in the fresh cloth Jhaan had left for her and sat down to the food now that her stomach had calmed.  The bread was soft and still a little warm at its centre, the cream fresh and cool to her finger.  She spread the cream onto the bread with the small flat knife provided - too blunt to be of any other use to her she decided after inspecting it - and opened the small pot to look inside. It was honey. The need climbed from her stomach to her tongue instantly.

Twisting the knife in the pot to scoop some up, she then drizzled it over the creamed bread before thrusting it into her welcome mouth.  It was magnificent.  Almost as good as the honey from home.  The cream was sweeter and thicker than any she had ever tasted, and it slipped delicious and welcome down her throat. She stuck her finger into the honeypot, then the cream jug, and sucked her finger clean, letting out a small sigh of contentment. 

When she heard movement at the entrance of the tent she froze, but when no one entered she calmed and continued to mop up the last of the honey and cream with the last piece of bread.  Fara was certain it was the best early meal she'd ever eaten.  A short time later she heard movements outside again before the tent opened and the sunlight streamed in behind the tall figure of Jhaan. 

'This will suit your duties,' he told her, observing the way she looked at the rough dark tunic he sat down on the empty palette.  It was of the same fabric he himself wore. He turned to her holding a small ceramic pot, a thin ivory stick protruding from its top. 

'How are your markings?' He asked her, indicating her back. 

'Not too painful,' she said.  Though in truth, the bath had woken them. They were sore and raw, throbbing loudly across her shoulders and down her spine.  Earlier when she thought them nothing, she realised she merely hadn't been able to distinguish them beyond her hunger and exhaustion.  She could now.

'A Leoth healing salve,' He told her, holding up the pot.  'This will ease them.'

'Another kindness from your master?' she enquired. He nodded, oblivious to the sharpness in her tone. She looked at him closely. He looked more human than the others.  He looked kind, gentle even, but she had no doubts that whatever transpired here would be relayed back to Theodan.  If she was rude and dismissive, then Theodan would think her stubborn and foolish. He would consider her lesson unlearned.  If she accepted the salve with thanks and gratitude, then he would know she was in pain and likely regretful.   

She reached up and took the pot from him, opening it to peer inside. The pot was hot to the touch, and when she opened it the scent of it tickled her nose and stung her eyes. Using the small stick she scooped some of it up before realising her problem. She looked up at Jhaan, the question in her eyes.  She wondered vaguely whether this kind of touching would be deemed inappropriate, and whether it may prevent him helping her, but then he moved, dropping down to his knees and taking the pot from her. 

She turned and dropped the drying cloth from her shoulders to expose her back to him.  She gasped as he touched it to her skin as it seemed to burn, but then slowly, the marks began to quiet and she felt the throbbing heat recede, giving way to a soothing coolness. 

'He showed you respect,' Jhaan said quietly. 

'Excuse me?' she turned her head to the side, wondering if she had misheard. 

'He could have given the punishment himself - though it would have taken more than a healers ointment to ease the pain if he had. Having Iaria of Asalla do it was respectful. A kindness.'

Having his whore do it was not respectful or kind, it was part of her lesson. You think yourself better than her?  You are not.

When she spoke she kept her voice soft, contemplative.  Meek. 

'You serve your master well, that much is clear Jhaan, but I must disagree with you - I have yet to see kindness from him.' Even his saving her from the Zybar was a punishment. He had saved her from their mercy because he wanted her at his own.  

'Then perhaps you are not looking hard enough.' Jhaan said. 

His words felt leaden and weighty, especially as neither of them spoke another word until he had completed his task.  He worked quietly and efficiently and when he stood, Fara felt only cooling pleasurable relief where the white-hot marks had been. 

'I will be back presently with the Ironmaster,' he announced.  'You should dress first.'

She turned, confused. 'Ironmaster?'

He nodded. 'For your collar.'  And with that, he left. 

It was weighty around her neck.  A band not unlike the one Iaria had worn, marked with Theodan's sigil apparently. Jhaan had told her that for she couldn't see it herself.  Given it was wrapped around her neck.  Given that she had closed her eyes tight to stop the tears as it had been brought around her neck.

She'd thought about fighting it, but what use was it. She had to pick the battles she could win.  She would surrender this one, she would feign obedience, to save her strength for the bigger ones to come. 

After the Ironmaster had gone - a giant Leoth with the whitest hair and sharpest claws she had yet seen - Jhaan had tried to calm her by telling her that a Leoth slave collar did not mean enslavement in perpetuity.  It was protection. It ensured protection for her and a message to others that she was now the property of a Leoth master. Jhaan did not understand the reason for the small empty smile which formed over Fara's mouth at his words.

She belonged to Theodan now as she had once belonged to her father. As she had once belonged to her brother, as she had once belonged to Galyn. 

Had the Goddess really sacrificed her heart and her immortal soul so the women of Ethis could be forever enslaved by men?  It was a high price for peace if so.  And the trade had been for nothing as war had come once more to Ethis. It seemed that the four realms were intent on destroying each other once more. 

The priestesses of the temple were the only free women as Fara saw it.  They had chosen their own paths when they chose Azura herself as their master.  A God worthy of worship.  Fara had long felt empathy with The Goddess. Fara too had a brother intent on destroying the world his father had built. Fara too had sacrificed something to prolong a fragile and finite peace. Fara was no Goddess, and she could not save the four realms, but perhaps if she could survive a while longer, then she could at least try to undo some of the things she had helped bring to pass.     

She tugged at the metal, testing its strength against her fingers. Leoth steel. Warm to the touch and vibrating with vigour, it hung like a snake around her throat. Alive. Sentient.  She twisted it, slid her fingers under it, tugged it away from the skin of her neck. Was it magic?  Could he control her with it? If so, why hadn't he put it on her immediately?  It was locked by a tiny catch on the inside - she'd heard it click closed as the Ironmaster had slid the two ends together. 

She half hoped Theodan would wear it on a keychain around his neck on a chain so she could choke him with it as he slept.  Her fantasies always consisted of tearing open his throat. Of watching his black blood pour out onto the ground, as Galyn's had poured bright and red on the throne room floor. But his death in any form would suit her.

As she'd set about cleaning and sweeping the tent she'd forgotten completely about the soiled sheets she'd dumped outside. So that when Jhaan returned with them cleaned, dried and folded, she'd almost wanted to throw her arms around him in gratitude.  Instead, she'd said thank you, smiling so brightly at him that he'd blushed and dropped his eyes from hers. 

The young Leoth servant was shy, careful, and thoughtful. He was, in character, the opposite of Theodan in every way. She wondered why it was then that he had such a depth of feeling for an arrogant warrior who had slaughtered thousands of innocents. 

After Jhaan left she made up Theodan's pallet, before turning to look longingly at her own.  Her body felt close to collapse from tiredness. She wanted to lie down and close her eyes so badly that she groaned aloud from need.  But there was something else she wanted more.

As she stepped outside the tent she looked up at the sky.  The sun told her she had a few hours left before Theodan returned. Time plenty to go and be back in time to prepare his food and ready his bath.  Checking Jhaan was nowhere in sight, she hurried down the hill and across the Leoth camp towards the boundary. 

The moment she entered the slave camp she felt her first flutter of gratitude for the collar.  She couldn't quite bring herself to think of it as protection, but it was a repellant. 

The Zybar looked at her, fleeting looks of intent shifting across their brutish faces, but looks were all they gave her. They stayed a safe distance away as she moved through the camp on quick feet towards the feeding area.  It was almost as though Theodan were with her, walking behind her, though a few stolen glances behind confirmed that he wasn't. She tried not to think of the punishment this would bring, and focus again on the desperate need she had of finding her hairpin.  For if she could find it, her last physical reminder of who she was and what she had to avenge, then the punishment for getting caught would be nothing she could not bear. She had no plan to get caught, however.

There were less Zybar in the camp today than there had been last night. She knew what that meant.  It meant they were off killing and raping and burning more of Azura to the ground. They would pay. They would all pay. Her brother would pledge his armies. She'd promise him anything in return but he would not deny her again.  Then she'd enlist the Mages of Eltar to help deal with the Leothine; there was talk of ancient magic that could render them weak and powerless as babes. She'd round up what was left of the Azurian army, including the sea tribes of Azura - outcast by Sylvan for their barbaric ways - and she would join her two realms to beat back these swines. And if she died fighting for the peace of Ethis then it would at least be a worthy death.

Leoth and Zybar would pay for what they'd done. 

The clearing with the water trough was empty save for a gathering of haunted-looking women and a small group of dirty children making patterns in the sand.  They played almost contentedly, seemingly oblivious to the horrors unravelling all around them. The fortitude of children never failed to stun her.

She thought of Cassie, of her small body wasting away in a bed too large for her yet still laughing whenever Fara told her the stories of Old Piatar and his mishaps.  She thought of the time she'd relayed the story of him falling into the flower bed and being unable to get himself out for half a day. Cassie had laughed so much she cried. Not of pain or fear as she had often done. But of joy. She thought of herself, of learning to hide her own fear and pain almost from the day she understood what they meant.  Children were stronger than they appeared.

The children glanced up at Fara as she passed, and she smiled warmly.  Around them, the women lay staring at the sea or kneeling in the sand, whispering words of prayer to the Goddess.  What good was praying now? She wanted to shake them.  Get Up! Fight!  Survive! For Azura will rise again, you have my word, and she will need you to help rebuild her!

But she said nothing. 

Instead, she kept moving, hurrying past the trough to the mound the Zybar had dragged her to and looked around for a glittering jewel of deepest amethyst. She couldn't be sure of the exact spot it fell so she worked her way back from the mound, skimming her feet across the sand in wide arches, one foot out in a wide circle, then the other, then again.

When that yielded no results she got down on her hands and knees and began to search the same area with her fingers.  The sun was high and it beat down relentlessly on her back, her hair quickly thickening with sweat, heat beading on her skin and dripping thickly down her back. It stung the welts the whip had put there and began to wake them again.

She tried searching each section separately, outlining a square in her head and searching each one meticulously.  She could not guess how deeply it may have sunk into the sand, so she dug her hands deeper and clawed at it, lifting up handfuls which she then sifted through her fingers. 

She wasn't sure when the tears had come, stupid and pointless and of no use to her.  She'd known the chance of finding it was small, but she'd still had hope, hope which drifted through her fingers time and time again with every handful of sand she let blow to the ground on the gentle sea breeze.

She needed water.  Wiping her cheek with her hand, she stood, crossing to the water trough where the children had now converged. They were flicking and splashing the precious liquid at each other in play, laughing as though all was not lost, as though they were just playing together at a crowded beach.

Despite the hopelessness she felt, she smiled. If she were to survive this and save Azura, then she had to believe that the children were right.  She had to believe that all was not lost.  Azura, like these children, would smile and laugh once more. 

Lowering her head to the water, she splashed some of it onto her face and into her mouth, wiping away the sand engrained tears from her face and drinking it down into her dry throat. On the opposite side of the trough, a young girl watched her, curious and alert.  She could not have been more than six namedays and had dark almost black hair that hung in straggled lengths around her face.  Her bronzed skin looked sunburned and dirty.  As Fara met her eye, the girl smiled; a shy smile at first until Fara smiled back.  Then, as the child's mouth slowly widened into a grin, Fara saw that she was missing a tooth right on the front.  It gave her an adorable urchin-like quality.

'Hello,' Fara said. 

'Do you have any food?' The girl asked her.  'I'm hungry.'

Sadly, Fara shook her head.  'No, I'm sorry.  I don't.' 

Disappointment flooded her eyes as she brushed her matted hair away from her face. The girl opened her mouth wide and then bent over the trough to suck some water loudly without using her hands.  She raised her head back up and gulped dramatically before letting out a loud sigh which belied her small size. 

She gave Fara a small shrug and turned her head to look back at her friends, who had resumed playing with the sand a short distance away.  As she did, something glinted within the thick tresses of her hair, something almost completely obscured by the dark locks.  As she turned her head back to Fara the sun hit it once more and the jewel glimmered brighter. 

Her heart beating quickly, Fara moved around the trough and lowered herself to her knees beside the girl, who stiffened, wary, and gave Fara a look of suspicion.  From this proximity there was no mistake, there pinned in the thick mass of her hair, was a dazzling royal amethyst. 

Barely breathing, Fara glanced from the jewel back to the eyes of the young girl. Almost immediately the girl reached up and pulled her hair forward to cover it.

'It's mine,' the girl said, adamant. 

Fara said nothing right away, afraid to frighten her. Then, 'You found it here, didn't you?' Fara asked, as softly as she could given the burn of hope in her chest. 

The girl bit her lip, then shook her head. 'It's mine,' she repeated. 

Fara swallowed and nodded. 'I lost a hairpin just like this one,' she told the girl.  'Last night, right here.'  She glanced over her shoulder at the mound where Theodan had rescued her.  'My husband gave it to me.  Of all the gifts he gave me, the hairpin was my favourite. It was also the only thing I had left of him.'

'You shouldn't have lost it,' the girl said, harshly.  When Fara looked back at her she found her little face hard, but her eyes uncertain now. 

'You're right. I should have held onto it tighter,' Fara closed her hand into a fist and pressed it over her heart.  'Just like I should have held onto him.'

'Is he dead?' The girl asked, direct. 

'Yes.'

'Did the Zybar kill him?'

Fara shook her head. 'No. Not a Zybarian.  A Leoth.  The most deadly Leoth of them all.'

The girl paled a little.  'I'm scared of them,' she whispered, as though she didn't want anyone else to hear the admission. 

'Me too,' Fara said, reaching up to touch the iron collar around her neck.  'But now I belong to one.'

The girl's eyes dropped to the collar before they widened in horror.  Slowly they shrank back down to their usual size and she glanced away from Fara. She began chewing her lip again. Fara had no clue what to do.  She could, feasibly, snatch the pin from her head and leave, but she couldn't bring herself to do it.  The girl had nothing, less than nothing, and Fara could not take this from her too. At least Fara had been given somewhere to sleep, clothing, and food.  Fara has the idea a moment later.

'What's your name?' She asked the girl. 

'Saira.'

'Saira, how would you like some cream and honey? And some warm bread to eat it with?' Fara smiled.  The girl's eyes snapped wide again. 'The sweetest honey and cream you've ever eaten?' Fara added. 

The girl's pupils expanded with need, the desperation and desire clear in the shimmering blue around them.  It took a little longer for Saira to realise what Fara meant.  That this would not be a gift, it would be a trade. The girl swallowed. Thought hard. Long and hard. Fara held her breath. Finally, much to Fara's overwhelming relief, the girl nodded.  

'Okay,' she said, her little voice quiet.

Fara smiled. 'Okay. Tomorrow, then tomorrow I will bring you some. I promise you.' Fara nodded.

The girl's expression darkened immediately and she stepped away from Fara. 'No,' she shook her head.   'Not tomorrow. Now. I want it now. I'm hungry now.' 

Fara's panic rose once more, her fingers itching to snatch the pin from the child and run. Don't look back. Take what you came for. But hadn't she already taken everything from this child? Her home? Her parents? Her freedom?

'Please,' Fara begged her.  'I can't now, but tomorrow I will bring it to you, I promise you. I promise.'

'No. No. No,' the child looked like she might cry and the women were looking over curiously now. The sun was sinking a little more in the sky above, casting shadows further into the holding camp.   'I'm hungry now. They say they will come to take us tomorrow, to Zybar, on the ships, maybe this eve.' The child said.

With echoes of the whip beginning to flit across her back once more, Fara arrived at her only option. Standing, Fara held out her hand to Saira. 

'Okay. But you have to come with me. Quickly,' Fara glanced at the sky.  'We must go now.' 

Saira hesitated only a moment before putting her little hand in hers. Fara led her away from the trough and out of the holding camp away from the weary stares of the women left behind, one woman looked up from the sand but said nothing. She dreaded the children calling their friend and rushing to follow her. She couldn't feed them all.

But luckily, no children's voices called out. No voices at all called out.

She knew what the consequences would be if the Leoth caught her feeding the child.  But she also knew that the consequences of not feeding the child would be far far worse.

She knew she would survive the whipping that would come from being caught if she were holding a token of Galyn's love in her hand. 

As she hurried the girl through the clearing, she glanced up again at the sinking sun.  Something occurred to her, striking her with all the force of a whip itself: would he punish the child too if he caught her?  Fara knew not, but she could not turn back now.  Tightening the girl's small hand in hers, she pulled her faster.

'Please, hurry.' She told Saira as they crossed into the Leoth camp, the suns shadow chasing them all the way. 'We don't have much time.'