The Leoth did not look at all worried by the king's invitation, merely indignant, so perhaps she was worrying needlessly?  No. She felt this in her bones.  A heavy dread, a creeping death.  In desperation, she gripped hold of Theodan's arm.

'You cannot take me to him, say you will refuse, you must refuse,' She pleaded, everything leaving her now but the cold desperation.

Theodan said nothing, his dark eyes examining every part of her face in silent contemplation.  For a moment she thought about giving herself over to his mercy.  This known devil was better than the tribal king known for his sadism and cruelty.  What if she revealed all to him and begged him to help her escape this place, what if she promised him the riches and gratitude of Calate if he were to return her to her homeland?  Would he do it? Could she do it? Go back? After all, she'd done to escape?

As Theodan's expression clouded with suspicion she felt all hope float further away from her.  He was a Leoth warrior.  He possessed no mercy.  He'd find no clemency for an Azurian slave who'd shown nothing but disdain for his very existence.

'Theodan please...' she whispered, squeezing the thick muscle of his arm a little harder.  She recalled how sure she had been that she would never beg him for anything - yet, how easily the words came now.  Weak.  Craven.  Selfish. Something shimmered in his eyes, the dark purple flame flickering, wavering, with some emotion she could not place.

'I can smell your fear, female,' he said. 'I can smell your blood thick with it.' He narrowed his eyes.  'Tell me why I should disobey a king for you?'

She swallowed. Opened her mouth to speak, the words rushing to her tongue, a burn which matched her wrists, her back.  This Leoth was all that stood between her and certain death.  This beast of Leoth.  This animal who had marched upon these shores at the very behest of the tyrant who sought to wipe out the monarchial line of Azura. 

This Leoth was not her saviour.  He was the Zybar's saviour.  

He was her enemy.

No.  If this was to be her death then she would face it with valour as Galyn had.  She let go of him and stood back, raising her chin to meet his eyes. 

'No matter,' she said.  'Of course, you will obey. Your king of dogs wishes to wipe out all of Azura - and you are here to assist him with the task.'

A low growl escaped his throat and he stormed away from her to the chest at the foot of the pallet which he threw open in frustration.  She flicked her eyes to Jhaan who stared at her with a hopeless look on his face.  He seemed to be pleading with her, warning her.  Theodan pulled on a dark leather tunic, intricate markings sewn into it in silver, and a pair of light coloured leg coverings.  She stood still, her breathing fast and loud, her blood rushing past her ears, her eyes, her bones rattling with fear.  She felt trapped and hopeless yet inside her swirled a raging storm of panic. 

She watched as Theodan crossed to the weapon stand and took from it his large blacksword.  Then, considering something, he placed it back in its place and removed the two thin blades instead.  Strapping his holsters onto his wrists he fastened one, then the other, and then pulled the sleeves of his tunic down to hide them from view.  When he turned to face Fara he seemed somehow to have grown in size, his shoulders pulled wide, his back straight, his eyes dark for battle. 

'Speak not unless spoken to, try not to incite his wrath, and for the sake of the gods try to refrain from calling him or his people 'dogs'.' He said before stalking past her with a grunt for her to follow.

Outside he issued some quiet order to Jhaan in Leoth, who gave him a troubled look before moving immediately to carry it out. 

The king's guards were tall, brutish and wordless.  Their gazes moved briefly to Fara, lingering longer than she liked before they gestured for them to move in the direction of the slope down into the main section of the camp.  She stayed close to Theodan's side, eyes down, breathing quick and untamed as she considered what options might be open to her now.  What certainty could the king have about her identity?  She had never been in the company of any member of the Zybar royal household or their emissaries.  None had been welcomed into Calate, and as was expected, after the announcement of her marriage to Galyn, none had set foot in Azura again.  Sense told her that the king could not know the truth with any certainty and that this was likely to be suspicion only.  And suspicion, like most things, could be beaten and tamed, stifled and smothered. 

They passed the pen of posts where Fara had spent her first night as a claimed slave.  She looked like a slave now, she wore the collar and dress of one, and she was certain that the Zybar king would be fooled by that much like everyone else had.  The guards marched silently ahead, their armour clunking noisily with each step. When she chanced a look up to Theodan, she saw him staring straight ahead with a cold impassive expression, yet somehow she felt his mood acutely, the simmering threat dark and heavy around him. 

As she stared at him she felt an echo of a memory course over her, her lower lip throbbing from the reminder.  She slipped her tongue out to run it over the spot where his teeth had punctured it and his eyes flicked to hers, glowing slightly while his nostrils flared as though he could scent something.  Still, they walked, into the Zybar side of the great war camp, past the pen of the unclaimed, and some squared-off section where Zybar men playfully fought each other, then onwards toward a sprawling black tent pitched adjacent to the shore.  A grand ship sat arrogantly against the moonlight, the Zybar sigil - a black shield - blowing on its sail. 

The king's tent was perhaps four times the size Theodan's was with the appearance of several smaller tents pitched next to each other, connected by a large dome section at its centre.

She could smell the sea and the scent brought with it a memory of Galyn taking her on a tour of the Azurian coast a short time after they'd arrived home here.  With only a few men on board to sail the small vessel, they'd gone south, meandering around the inlets that held bright blue pools edged by soft golden sand, and inhabited by fish the colour of sparkling jewels.  They'd eaten some they'd caught - bright white flesh and wide green eyes - and drank wine under the stars. He'd told her of how when he was a child, he'd believed that the stars above were the wishes of Azura herself.   They'd made their own wishes and then made love over and over on thick furs spread out on the bleached deck.  By the time they returned home she was with child. 

Six nights later she'd awoken to their child bleeding out of her onto the silk sheets of their marriage bed.  Blood on Galyn's thigh.  On her own thighs.  Azura must have wanted it for herself.  We'll have more, we'll have so many more my love. For many nights after she'd lain in the dark wondering whether it was because her body was hollow inside, a rotting corpse where her soul used to be, and how that was no place for a babe to blossom and bloom.  A dead fruit tree. 

As they approached the king's tent Theodan slowed, glancing back over his shoulder in the direction of the Leoth camp, before facing straight ahead once more, waiting patiently for the men guarding the entrance to step aside.  As soon as they entered she felt the air change, an energy expanding between her body and Theodan's, as though she was being pulled by an invisible force closer to him. 

They were led down a long covered space where lit torches lined the sides of the tent at equally measured intervals.  It smelled of Zybar.  Men.  Sweat and dirt and earth.  But Theodan's warm piney scent curled around her, wisps of fresh green through the black meaty air.  She took a deep breath of it, marvelling at how it appeared to calm the battering ram in her chest.  Why hadn't she tried to run? She'd been lying in wait here, a steady target.  It had only been a matter of time before she was discovered.  Of course, they were going to discover her eventually. Especially as she wasn't hiding, not really.  She was waiting. She thought about all she had survived and escaped only to be lead calmly to her death now.

They rounded a corner and her feet stopped moving, hesitant toes aware of the threat that lay beyond the closed curtain ahead.  Her insides suddenly felt alive, a squirming of panic, swirled around her stomach, her fingers, her scalp. Crawling. Scratching. Tearing.

Theodan stopped, turning to look back at her, his eyes narrow and dark. Tell me why I should disobey a king for you? She shot him a look that she felt told him everything but could see to him meant nothing.  Why hadn't she tried to bargain? Calate's reward might have tempted his allegiance away from Zybar. Now it was too late. The guards had stopped moving now too, and they looked back at her with impassive faces.

Goddess, help me.  Save me from this fate.  I have asked too much of you and you have given me much, but save me from this now and I will make amends.  I promise you I will make amends. I will rebuild your temples, I will worship at your altar, send me your saviour now, I beg of you.

Her lips moved in silent prayer.  Theodan took a small step toward her.

'Female,' Theodan said, his tone dark with warning.  'Do not make me drag you before the king.'

That invisible force tugged at her again, urging her toward him, demanding her obedience.  The collar?

She took a small step forward.  Then another.  As she neared him she felt his heat envelop her, felt the echo of his mouth on hers, her blood crackling like kindling at his closeness.  A look moved through his eyes and he licked his lower lip, offering her a flash of one sharp tooth.  She held his eyes for as long as she was able before he urged her forward.

Turning, the two guards pulled open the curtain into the large dome-like space and Theodan moved through the opening, casting a predatory look around as he did. He walked in front of her, purposefully obscuring the Zybar king from her view.

'Your Grace,' Theodan said, voice level and calm, but with a measure of authority to it even now. 'What honour you show me. A private audience?'

'Not so private Leoth.' The king replied.

From the side of her eye, she saw Theodan nod, glancing left and right once more.

'And you have not come alone, as I suspected you might.' Amusement flickered in his tone.  'Step aside then, let me see this slave of yours.'

She saw Theodan tense, an imperceptible tremor moving down his spine, nape to base.  When he stepped aside it was with obvious reluctance. Tell me why I should disobey a king for you? For the first time, Fara considered that perhaps he had wanted her to give him a reason to disobey the King.

Fara kept her head bowed, staring up through her eyelashes.  She felt many gazes on her. 

'Come here, whore of Azura.' The King said, voice laced with disdain.  She froze still a moment and then, fearful of inciting his wrath, took a small, tentative step towards him.  'Closer.'

She wished she knew how many were in the space with them - a private audience? Not so private Leoth - how many would watch her die if that was what was to happen now.  Another step, then another. She stopped when she saw the sandalled feet of the king encroach her vision. 

'Look at me,' he commanded.

Suspicion only.  Suspicion could be beaten and smothered.

She took a deep breath and raised her head, slowly, as though it was being pulled upwards by a heavy invisible lever.  He was not at all kingly in demeanour, the bronze crown atop his head sat haphazardly, like an afterthought. He called to mind a kennel master or ship captain, weatherbeaten and scarred, with dark malignant eyes that suggested atrocity and contempt.   His narrowed gaze met hers searchingly.  The gaze said that he knew the truth was there but expected it, like some wily female, to try and evade him. 

'Quite the jewel,' he said, drawing his eyes down Fara's body.  'I see you collared her with haste.' He smirked, rubbing a fat-fingered hand over his hairy mouth.  'Tell me Leoth, have you fücked her yet?'

Behind her, she heard a low noise, like a crackle of thunder echoing across an empty field, distant but threatening.

'What I do with my slaves is none of your concern, your grace.' Came the measured reply. 'Explain to me your need with her.' This was less measured, more impatient.

The king looked faintly amused with the response, as though he expected it.  He nodded slowly and sat forward on his wide thighs. Then he waved a hand above his head towards the side of the room. 'Bring her in,' he said, letting his eyes settle back on Fara.

Movement behind Fara and to the right which she was afraid to look at and break the gaze of the king.  For a horrible moment, she thought of little Saira, but could not make the connection hold any weight in her head.  Someone appeared in her line of vision and Fara was finally able to look away from the king.  Turning, she saw not Saira, but someone else - a woman of an age with Fara herself - standing before the king, a large Zybar at her back.  She was a slave certainly, and Fara wracked her brain for the connection, the revelation, something that might explain what was happening, or what was about to happen. 

The girl's lips were a full blush pink and her hair long and black, partly tied up to reveal a long graceful neck. She was dressed in a filthy white tunic which was torn and stained.  She turned her head and let her eyes meet Fara's for only a moment, but it was a moment long enough. 

A cascade of memory. It bled from the cold resentful stare and across the short distance between them.  She saw her dressed in gold and silk, lids of her blue eyes painted a cool Azurian sea blue, her thick black hair shining like silk as she spun and danced.  She saw her silent and sullen at the second ceremony of vows as Galyn spoke his loyalty and love to her.  She'd known immediately. She'd known without being told. Galyn was much like any young prince in pursuit of pleasure. He was expected to have women, beautiful women, some women whose sole purpose it was to bring him pleasure.

This woman was Galyn's Iaria of Asalla.

She had given herself to him, brought him pleasure and words of devotion, perhaps even loved him - for Galyn was very easy to love - until, with a few whispered words and a mage's curse, Fara had stolen him for herself.

Her heart sank.  

'State your name,' the king said to Galyn's courtesan.

'Nysa of Therolis.'

'And how do you come to be here Nysa of Therolis?'

'I am.. was.. a courtesan at the palace of King Sylvan. I was taken in the raid and brought to the camp four days past, your majesty.'

There were a few moments of silence before the king spoke again. 'I wish to offer you a trade Leoth,' the king said.  Nysa looked confused and afraid as she stole a glance at Theodan.  This was not supposed to happen.  Yet, she held her tongue.  As did Theodan. 

'They much alike think you not?' The king went on.  'The same Azurian blood and skin.  The same hot space between their legs for you to have your fill of. I can have her cleaned and washed, painted like one of your women.  What say you?'

Theodan took his time. Presumably considering the offer.  The air was heavy with something, some unstated thing, like the time between thunderclaps. He would be well to make the trade, Fara thought.  She had caused him nothing but displeasure.  She had not let him have her body and had barely learned to obey him in anything. Galyn's courtesan would be well trained in all things Theodan required of his slaves. 

True Nysa herself did not appear pleased about the kings offer, but she was clearly smarter than Fara in the ways of survival, so she would be unlikely to fight her fate as Fara had done. It was hard to see any reason for him not to make the trade.

Yet, she still hoped he might be looking from her to Nysa of Therolis, and might eventually decide upon something in Fara that he preferred.  If Theodan knew of the king's true intentions - though Fara could not see how he could, for not even she was sure she had been discovered - then he had not made a single move to confirm it. In fact, many moments of silence passed before she heard Theodan make even the slightest noise. She could almost hear his presence, could feel it even, before finally, he sighed loudly. 

'This is the urgent matter you called me here for? To barter whores with you? I am disappointed your grace, and tired - for wars are tiresome for those of us in battle.  I am sorry you're displeased with your spoils - but this one is mine.' She felt him grip hold of her under her arm and he began to drag her backwards away from the king. 

As they moved toward the exit the guards took a step forward, their intent clear, yet their faces not fully committed to taking on a Leoth warrior.  She heard him growl in response before he turned back to the king. 'I advise you call off your men your Grace unless you want to lose more men this day than you have already.' Theodan warned.

The king raised his hand, waved back his men, and softened his gaze on Theodan.  'Very well, Leoth.  No more of this nonsense, I did not summon you here to make a trade. But I'm afraid I do have to relieve you of your slave, the replacement was merely a gesture.'  As the king's eyes settled back on Fara she knew.  She knew that the king knew.  She knew that Nysa of Therolis knew.

'I am quickly losing patience with this entire exchange,' Theodan growled once more.  'Explain the meaning of this.' 

Fara almost felt sorry for the Leoth then, for he seemed to be the only person in the king's audience who did not know what he held so possessively in his grip.  The king did not look away from Fara.  His dark eyes bore into her, through her chest, the wheel turning, the rack stretching, her bones popping under the pressure. 

'The meaning of this, warrior, is that while we have been tearing this realm apart looking for a lost Princess, it appears she has been right here under our noses.' The king's eyes were sly and confident now as he lifted them to meet Theodan's. 'Now, the only question that remains, is whether you have been hiding her from me, or, whether she has made a fool of you too.'

Her breath faltered as she turned her head to meet Theodan's eyes.  They were still dark but the light behind them flickered dangerously. Confusion, doubt, disbelief, anger.  She could see that he didn't believe it could be true, didn't want it to be true, but she could also see there was a single strand of light swirling there in the darkness that suggested it might be. Fara opened her mouth to speak, not sure whether to offer him truth or denial, but the look that came into his eyes - a look of warning she thought - made her close her mouth again. 

'This is why you called me here?  For this... madness?' Theodan asked, scoffing slightly. 

'Do you not think it pertinent warrior, that the leader of my armies has been concealing the Calate whore under my nose?' The king bristled, angrily.  Fara turned to see him on the edge of his seat now, his eyes narrow and his jowls shuddering with rage. 

Theodan took a moment to consider his response.  'Yes, I do.  In fact, if the claim had any merit, I would offer you my surrender and give you permission to mount my head on the bow of your ship. However, as it is, I find it merely coincidental and grossly opportune.' He threw a withering look to the trembling Nysa of Therolis.  'For all we know, this woman herself is the missing princess, here to divert you from her own discovery with a bold and fanciful claim for which you would be most merciful and grateful.'

'Are we really to take the word of a desperate imprisoned slave who has appeared before you four days after being brought to this camp, to tell us what not a single other prisoner has noticed? That their beloved princess has been drinking from a water trough?' Theodan's voice was level and calm, reasoned. She could see the King think over his words. 'Or are we to believe the facts, that the princess indeed escaped, as every single prisoner from the palace claimed when questioned - including this one if this is indeed where she was found - and is at this moment safely under the protection of her brother?'

The king did not appreciate Theodan's tone, that much was clear from the deadly look which swept over his dark eyes. But neither did he want to appear foolish and hasty before the Commander of his armies.  Fara remained still and silent, though she was certain that Theodan, and possibly even the king himself, could hear the fear rocking her entire body to the bone.   The king's thick fingers curled around the ornate arm of his throne, his grip tightening and releasing, tightening and releasing.  When his eyes finally landed back on Fara she was certain she could see her fate in them.  An eternity of torture. Worse than any she had ever known before.

'And what of you, whore? Have you anything to say to these accusations?'

A sudden surge of rage shot through her at the insult, strengthening her, powering her.  She wanted his head mounted on the bow of a ship.  She had not thought she could hate another soul more that she hated the Leoth, but here she was, breathless from the force of it. For what he had wrought upon Azura she wanted to run at him and pounce, scratching his eyes out with her fingernails and leaving them as a feast for the crows.   If all was lost then she could see no reason why she should not attempt to do some damage to this monster king before her last breath left her body. 

A crackle of electricity flowed all around her; it sparked her blood and heated her skin which was deathly cold. Would Theodan stop her if she were to make a run for the king? Could she loosed one of Theodan's daggers from its wrist hold and plunge it into the bloated expanse of the King's chest.

'Speak!' The king roared.

She swallowed and lifted her chin.  'I am Cassine of Achaeia, claimed as spoil by Theodan of Leoth in the great and final war of Azura.' She said, loud enough for Nysa of Therolis to hear.  'This woman brings you nought but craven falsity, your grace - I am no princess.'

'You lying Calate whore!' Spat the viperous tongue of Nysa.  'Your Grace, I beg of you, it is she who speaks false, she is the Princess Fara - I swear to you!  I saw her wed the Crown Prince with my own eyes.'

Fara lifted her head and shook it.  'Your grace, she is mistaken, I did indeed work in the royal household - where this woman was cruel to me and many others. She bears a grudge, fired only by her own conceit. She was envious of any whom the prince showed favour or preference. This is the truth, I swear it to you.' Fara rushed, a curtain of lies which fell from her tongue easily once the cord was pulled. 'If she does not lie on purpose then she is mistaken or confused, there is no other explanation, my lord.' Fara directed this to Theodan, her eyes wide and pleading. She glanced briefly at Nysa of Therolis and saw her lip curled back in fury, her blue eyes wide with disbelief. 

'And now you have the truth of it,' Theodan shot at the king, visibly riled. 'A petty female squabble over a dead prince's favour. This madness is over.' He announced, pulling her again towards the exit.  The guards did not move to block his path this time but threw hesitant, fearful, glances at the king.  Behind her, she could hear Nysa pleading desperately with the king. They had almost reached the exit when the king's voice boomed across the space.

'A moment, Leoth!'

Theodan stopped, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He opened them slowly before turning back to face the king.  There was a sharper edge to him now, dangerous and raw, like a caged animal half-mad from hunger. Fara could feel it in the heat of his grip, which clung tight to her arm, a visible vibration swarming around him that encircled them both. 

By the king's side now was a tall man, thin as a rod, with pale skin and large eyes, and completely without hair.  As Theodan led Fara back towards the centre of the room, the man whispered into the king's ear, eliciting a reluctant nod from him. When they were still closer to the exit than to the King's dais, Theodan halted. At the king's second nod, the thin man took a few steps backwards and disappeared behind a thick curtain.

'Vagan has suggested a way to settle the question - obvious really - but I had not thought it would be necessary.' A flutter of panic rose once more in Fara's chest, a rekindling of the fear, a warning that she was not yet out of harm's way. 'In truth, I had not thought to find you so attached to your spoil.' He lifted his cup to his mouth and drained it, holding it out for a young page to refill. Cup refilled, the king stare settled on Theodan once more, a pompous tilt to his mouth now.  'Tell me Leoth, is her cünt really that spectacular? You seem most unwilling to part with it.' 

'Her cünt is no concern of yours King Torrik.'

A sly smirk tilted the king's mouth. 'Well, with respect warrior, that is still under debate. For if this is the Princess Fara, then it is very much my concern, and I shall see it put it to good use.'

Fara's legs weakened slightly, almost giving out beneath her, collapse imminent.  Theodan, as though sensing her weakness, firmed his grip on her.

It felt like many hours they waited, time slowing and blood quickening, but it must have been only moments.  The air became thick around them, the tension solidifying. Fara glanced edgily around, wondering how many of the king's men Theodan could kill if the occasion arose.  If he were to do something foolish like refuse to part with his spoil. No, he would not do anything foolish. He had not become commander of the Leoth army by making rash and foolish decisions. He would not go into battle in an enclosed space outnumbered by twelve Zybar soldiers. Certainly not on Fara's behalf.

She did not know how the king proposed to 'settle this nonsense', but she did know that it would have to be settled. For it was clear that Theodan would not hand over his spoils on the king's command alone. Whether it was pride, or the rule of spoil, or his latent lack of respect for the Zybar king, she knew not. But it gave her some comfort that all was not quite lost.

Suddenly there was movement behind the dais, and the curtain through which the thin advisor the king had called Vagan disappeared, was pulled wide open.  At the sight revealed, Fara's legs did give out, crumbling beneath her. She was saved only by Theodan's arm, which moved around her waist to keep her upright.

The rich red fabric of her gown was stained and torn open at the front, her breasts exposed.  Bruises and weeping cuts covered her once jasmine-scented skin, her rich honey-coloured hair matted and filthy. Tear stains streaked her dirt-covered face.  Gagged and collared, she was pulled forward by a large bare-chested Zybar, a chain attached to the collar around her neck.  He pulled her to the front of the dais where he kicked her over the edge so that she landed on all fours before Theodan and Fara. The brute yanked the chain upwards, forcing her up to her feet.

'Leoth, I believe you are acquainted with Queen Arielle? You did deliver her to me after all,' the king laughed, mercilessly. 'Queen Arielle, let me give you the introduction befitting a woman of noble birth: this is the Leoth warrior who slaughtered your beloved son Galyn. Now, first I shall have you ungagged, and then you will tell us the name of the woman he now uses as his whore.'