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Chapter 23
I am shown to a room with pretty velvet paper on the walls. There are no windows here, but there is a second door. However, as soon as it passes from my field of vision, I forget it. My mind has no retention for these things now, and I'm not sure why. Before I can contemplate an answer, I'm distracted by the scent of perfume.
Perhaps it's only soap, but why would there be soap in this room?
Whatever the source, I find it intoxicating. It lies somewhere between fresh sandalwood, leather, and semen or a combination of all three.
The only other furnishings that I notice are three chairs with ornate backs, plump cushions, and golden tassels wrapped about their carved legs. Talen and Angelaria are nowhere in sight.
I say Talen's name three times. Three times and you won't forget...that's what my father told me once. I feel anxious because I think I'm in danger of forgetting my beautiful boyfriend. So I say his name once more for luck. I finish with a prayer. Please, Tethyr...if you can hear me...help me. I don't know what's happening....
Then I try to say HER name three times...but that's just it. I don't remember her name even though it was there a second ago. "Fuck fuck fuck," I say under my breath. I punch myself in the forehead angrily. All I see is white. Is it mist? No...it's powder....
I try to remember where they went, but the door opens behind me, and my thoughts flee behind a wall of fog. A man with many piercings on his face and down the line of his throat steps toward me. He's wearing a brilliant colored robe and has mesmerizing eyes: one is yellow and the other brown. From across the room, I put him in his mid-twenties, but as he draws closer, I see he's several decades older. His skin is slathered in a thick white makeup that makes his wrinkles all but disappear. But this trick doesn't work when he's inches from my face.
Pity.
I hope I don't look like him when I age. When I'm...when I'm...h-how old am I?
I scratch my head. Have I ever had a birthday?
My nose burns, and I pinch my petite nostrils wondering why it feels so dry.
The robe he wears scintillates in the artificial light, coming from a hundred candles blazing around the room. It has red, blue, silver, white, green...so many colors that I lose track of them. He has normal-sized fingers tipped with inch-long painted nails, so that each arm looks like it ends in a five-legged spider.
He stops and stares at me. He walks so close to my body, I think he might kiss me and then backs away to stand motionless like a statue in a gallery. He circles around me, muttering things from a mouth that seems lipless under a thin hooked nose, but I realize I can't see his lips because of the makeup. He touches my shoulders briefly with his nails, looking at my killsuit, and then stops in front of my face.
"You ARE a wretched smelly thing," he says, "but the princess and the cute, stupid boy did NOT do you justice when they said...you...were...lovely. I've never before seen your like; I'm going to enjoy cleaning you up. Too bad the boy insisted I NOT molest you in any way. What's your name?"
I blink but the wall of fog remains. "I-I don't remember."
The man smiles and holds out a familiar box. "Take another sniff. Maybe it'll come to you."
I'm delighted to see the Eros powder. It looks so wonderful in neat lines; I inhale and feel the cool burn ignite my nose, the man licks his lips.
My nose bleeds a little, but the man wipes it away with a handkerchief.
"Bleeding already? It must be almost pure...fascinating. That's bad news for you, boy. The princess must truly loathe you. That's enough for now," he says drawing the box away, "oh my savory little puppy."
"That's enough of what?" I ask. I try to remember what I was just doing. He takes a straw from my hand and turns me around. I see a tub in front of me. Steam rises from scented water.
Why didn't I see that before?
"That's enough time you've wasted," the man says softly in answer to my question. "Now, take off these filthy trappings."
I nod and start to remove my killsuit. As I do so he watches me, and I hear the tinkle of glasses through the door and what sounds like Talen's laughter. I smell food on the air and my mouth salivates.
"When's dinner?" I ask. I pull off my boots and slip out of the priapus. Now completely naked, I say, "I'm starving," but the man is distracted by the ugliness of my manhood. Even I'm surprised at how thick and long it is, the skin covered in wormy veins. It glistens with my sweat and probably stinks--the pink head looks like the cap of a big mushroom or a small apple. I try to cover it with my hands, but even with both, it's an impossible task. "I'm sorry," I whisper, hoping that my appearance doesn't offend him.
"You shouldn't be starving," the man says softly, approaching me to scoop up my things and put them in a bag. "You already ate." He slaps my hands away from my groin and leaves a tiny scratch on the back of one finger.
"I did?" I ask, looking at my lean body. I listen to my stomach growl and complain. Tethyr's teeth, I've so many veins sticking out across my skin that it repulses me. They run across my abdomen, over my pectorals, and up from my groin. "They're so ugly," I say, but my comment has no context at all. In the next instant, I wonder why I can remember Tethyr's name. Perhaps the name of god is so powerful, no one ever forgets it.
"Your veins?" the man asks with an eyebrow raised. "I've never seen them quite so prominent, and I think they look...VERY attractive," he states, raising his eyes from my dick. "What a pity you'll never have children...the side effect of Eros. Barely an adult and completely sterile now."
"EROS!" I blurt out. "May I have some more?"
Please say yes. I'll truly do anything for it. Eros takes me away from the miseries of my life.
"I think not. To answer your earlier question, YES...you could be a little thinner. I can't lie after all. We groomers of Moh-Dehl have an oath to consider, and we (as you may well know) are the church that claims ownership of the best courtesans in the world."
"I-I want to be the best," I interrupt.
He frowns, "Then lose some fucking weight. It's a good thing that even though you may someday free yourself of...addiction...a lot of these things I say to you will implant themselves deep into your subconscious. You know, puppy, I like to see pretty boys with eating disorders." He smiles wickedly. "It's karma. People like you enjoy an easy life while people like me have to work doubly hard for everything we have."
I swallow nervously. "I don't understand...lose weight?"
The man slaps me across the face. "I'd love to REALLY hurt you my pretty puppy, but I can't." Yet even as he says this, he strikes me again, this time much harder. And then he does it for a third time, making my eyes water and leaving my skin inflamed. "Do you want to know what I consider perfection? My taste is impeccable. What I consider perfection is what everyone considers perfection. Do you want to know?" He slaps me a fourth time.
"Yes," I answer.
"Beg...beg me to tell you," the man whispers in my ear.
I nod. "I beg of you sir. Please tell me what perfection is."
"These raised bumps you have in the serratus anterior are beautiful, your rib and muscle definition is remarkable, and your navel is perfect...a boy's little dimple waiting to be sucked. But shaving ten more pounds off this frame would improve you still."
"It would?"
He nods, "Oh yes. There's always room for progress, even in someone as slender as you...even in someone as physically gifted." He drops his fingers to trail along the top of my cock. "The Meronese have absurd standards for their breeding holes. Your owners will court the highest paying clients to fuck you. The more perfect you look, the more money everyone makes before you can't shit properly. In the life of a whore, time is against you. The sphincter, you see, gets to a point where it no longer tightens. We call this 'incontinence.' But puppy, you are so young. What an investment the girl has made in you. 'Incontinence' shouldn't happen for a few years yet."
I shake my head, trying to clear all the thoughts that keep cropping into my mind. There's a voice telling me to run, to fight, and to flee. There's another yelling at me to stop failing. There's a third urging me to ask for more Eros. There's a fourth that keeps calling out to a brown-haired boy somewhere in the darkness, hoping that he'll hear me and find me. And there's a loud voice right in my face, telling me I'm not perfect enough and asking me to refuse to eat because this will make me attractive to others. This is a good thing, right?
"You think I could be thinner?" I ask.
I want to please him so much even though he's a stranger. In fact, it becomes my only purpose in life. Is that weird or does it even make sense?
The man stares me in the face and smiles. "Of course. All boys who don't want to be hideous curs must sacrifice something. You're only BARELY adequate. But I can teach you to discipline yourself. Eat only before you pass out from hunger and only then, make sure it is an apple or some kind of fruit lest you be a gluttonous pig." He pats me on the cheek. "And then perhaps you'll attain those precious things that make one more...fuckable." He turns me around and inspects the muscles of my butt. "By the gods we stand to make some money tonight." He kneads my muscular globes with his fingers, sniffing the tips afterwards.
"What's that?" I ask.
"Nothing. I was just remarking that the young lady, the boy, and the king are embarking on a business adventure. From the looks of things, we shall be quite rich in just a short while."
"How nice," I say, smiling. "I hope it goes well for you."
"Of course you do," the man says.
"May I know your name?" I ask.
The man tells me, but in the next moment, I forget. Why is my mind so foggy? I decide to call him Spider, because of the way his fingers look.
Spider picks up my priapus and dips it in a pot of clear oil. He lets it rest there for a moment. Then, he wrings it dry and returns it to me. "Put this back on."
I eye the tub of steaming water wondering why it's there. But my obsession with it causes Spider to speak. "Don't worry; this oil has made the garment magical. It will now protect your balls and cock from washing. We don't want to lose any of your natural scent before tonight. It'll drive the dogs...and others...wild."
I shake my head. "I wasn't worried," I say. But another question pops into my mind. "Don't I want to wash myself down there?"
"Oh no," the man says. "It's an attention grabber for the wealthy client who enjoys and desires youth for his bed."
"Oh!" I exclaim and then slip it back on. As usual, my veiny dick barely fits in the super small and tight rubber garment. Then the man hands me a pair of rubber boots also washed in the same oil. They're not MY boots, but ones that nevertheless, fit skin-tight over my feet.
"Why am I to wear these?" I ask after putting them on. The boots are barely comfortable, and I almost immediately begin to sweat in them.
"Same reason," Spider replies.
"Same reason as what?" I ask, not remembering what we were talking about.
Tethyr's Teeth I hate this. I just surrender to the fog and my eyes wander...only to settle upon the box of Eros.
Spider sees me looking at it and then retrieves it for me. I take another hit, and my eyes almost roll into the back of my head. By the gods, Eros is the best time I've ever had. I close my eyes for a second, and I'm back in the fishing boat with my father. He's holding me tight, and I smell his shirt, and he places a fishing rod in my hand. "Now son," he says, "this is how you bait a hook..." and his voice drifts away over a sun-sparkled ocean. "I love you dad," I whisper feeling all warm and fuzzy.
Spider snaps his fingers.
I open my eyes.
"Into the tub," he orders. "I must wash you for tonight."
"Yes sir," I say. I get up realizing I still have my priapus and rubber boots on. They are a second skin on my lean ankles. "Shall I remove these?"
"No," he snaps and points at the tub.
I swallow hard not wanting to cross him for his sharp tone. I walk over and get into the water. It feels soothing and relaxes me. As my mind drifts, I once again hear the tinkling of glasses through the door and a boy laughing. He sounds so familiar; I smell savory food and am so hungry.
Spider washes my hair, pulling a comb through my blond locks, and complaining loudly to himself. Sometimes his tugging hurts. Later, when my hair lies flat and straight, he scrubs my chest and back with a soft brush, using lots of soap and oils. Finally, he shaves the fine hair from my armpits, cuts my hair so that it's off the collar in the back, and leaves me with no sideburns or even peach fuzz on my face. He even removes my white blond treasure path that disappears into the top of my glistening priapus, pulling it down just enough to remove all the pubes I've manage to grow around the base of my penis.
It feels so peculiar.
I feel more naked than I've ever felt.
He leaves me in the tub to soak for a moment and returns a minute later with a suit of knight's armor. It's some of the most magnificent pieces I've ever seen. While he takes each piece of full plate out, I dry myself with a soft towel, and he makes fine adjustments, stepping often to my side for a quick measure and a quick tug on a strap or two.
"I think we're ready to try this on," he says at last, "breastplate first. You're the only knight I've seen that's six feet tall and possessing a 28-inch waist."
"Am I a knight?" I ask Spider.
He chuckles. "Why yes, ser. And I'm your squire. Now your lordship," he says with a much exaggerated and somewhat mocking genuflection, "please get ready to be armored. Where you're going tonight, there'll be other warriors from the front lines, but none so clean and none wearing such pristine trappings of the Timeron order."
I grin. "Why then am I wearing them, my squire?" I step over to inspect the fabulous looking metal raiment. They're so lightweight, and all of them made from shiny black metal. It feels so cool being a knight. I had no idea I was so accomplished.
"Because you're role is to be the peacock of a very particular fantasy," Spider says. "You're an example of how beautiful...noble warriors can be. There's a reason why many men think armor looks good, and why many women swoon over knights in full plate."
I feel heat rising to my cheeks. I must be blushing, and I've no idea why. Other than I must not be used to compliments. Honestly, come to think of it, I can't remember any.
Spider drapes a black shirt over my chest and then attaches the breastplate, which seems molded for my physique. It takes him a minute to tighten all the straps. The cold metal feels odd, but my body heats it quickly. The side everyone sees is molded very similar to my own real chest. It has accentuated pectorals, a deeply cut six-pack of muscles framed by a metal ribcage, and the two slanted lines that form a "V" on the left and right known as an "Apollo's belt." The waist flares out some; it's a short metal skirt polished to a high gleam.
It really does a remarkable job of reflecting my actual body.
I do the same with my thighs, knees, and legs: I wrap them in the incredibly beautiful black metal pieces. The legs and arms are engraved. Gauntlets with individual metal fingers cover my hands, the knuckles done in pure gold. My pauldrons bear the insignia of the Queen of Darkness, and lastly, he puts black chainmail over my privates which are in turn cupped by the rubber priapus. But there's no chain mail to cover my butt hole. He leaves that open "for easy access," but I've no idea what he's talking about. He does assure me the cloak will protect my modesty until it's pushed aside. And as for the back of the priapus, Spider says it's nothing a knife won't make short order of because it's made of thin black rubber.
His comment makes me laugh. Why would I knife my own jockstrap?
Spider is so silly.
As for my boots, he has me remove them and place my sweaty, veined feet into slender boots with high arch support and room for my long bony toes. The tops of the boots come up to just under the knee (they're fitted to slip over the armor on my calves) and are made of soft black leather, with red straps and laces, and six shiny buckles a piece. The leather makes my feet sweat so much that after only a few minutes, dark spots in the shape of toes appear representing the dampness of my moist skin.
"Why do I want sweaty feet?" I ask Spider. But he doesn't answer me directly, but beats around the bush. In my state of mind, I can't come up with any answer at all and his explanation just confuses me.
"Why indeed?" Spider says. "You're Atlantean. You don't produce smelly sweat like other human races. What you perspire is considered an aphrodisiac by many different cultures. It's why the Nykorans often skinned Atlanteans following coitus. They felt capes made from Atlantean hide would bestow virility. I have to say, I've always wanted an Atlantean cape to wear, but they're so expensive."
"What's an aphrodisiac?" I ask. It's a word that sticks in my head. Truthfully, Spider has said hundreds of words I don't know the meaning to, but that's the one I ask him to define.
He grins. "Something that creates desire."
"Is that good?"
"It's very profitable," he answers. Spider puts a black chainmail hood over my head and tucks it down into the collar of my armor which rises from the breastplate and neatly encloses my long neck and protruding Adam's apple. Then he hands me a full helmet. I slide it on; it fits tightly. I'm covered completely, a thin slit being the only way I can see unless I lift the visor. Lastly, he depends a full black and red cloak from my pauldrons. It flows over and sweeps across my back to trail on the floor (and neatly covers my bubble butt). When I stand, I can pull it all the way in front of me so that I'm completely engulfed by it. Not even my boots are visible. It feels heavy and traps heat close to my body.
"I love this," I say, giggling and lifting myself onto my tippy toes. I feel like a kid getting birthday presents from dad.
"It looks incredible on you," Spider says.
Once again I hear the laughter and tilt my head to one side. I wish whoever was laughing would invite me. It almost makes me sad, but then my mind returns to the Eros...
"You're to stay here," Spider says, "until someone comes for you. Until that time, I want you to do chin-ups using that bar over there. When you're too fatigued, do sit ups and pushups. I want you exercising and creating sweat and becoming a little dehydrated. Don't worry; someone will come for you shortly. I want you thirsty for what comes next."
"Yes sir," I say.
And then he leaves taking the box of heavenly powder with him.
I do as Spider says.
Before long, sweat is pouring off my body, and it soaks my boots and cape and leaks from every opening. The black shirt under my breastplate is sopping wet and does nothing to cool me at all. And my face is so hot, I long to pull the helmet off, but I fear that Spider will be cross with me if I don't obey him.
He returns almost an hour later, sees sweat stains I've left on the carpet, and claps his hands. Draped over his arm, he carries a black tabard. "Would you like to see how this looks on you?" Spider asks.
I nod.
He puts it over my chest and the bottom of it flows over my groin to about mid-thigh. He attaches a leather belt around my waist to hold it in place and then shows me to a mirror in a room just to the side that I never noticed. Was there a door? Yes, I think I did see a door when I first came into the room.
How awesome is that?
I look in the mirror.
I realize suddenly that I'm tall and blade thin (almost wiry) with broad shoulders and svelte lines, but I guess this is what handsome is. The knightly armor looks fearsome, and the tabard is both beautiful and horrific. It features an eclipsed sun and a black star surrounded in a halo of blood. Beneath it are shadows that look like demons cavorting in twisted reverie around a pile of bones.
Standing at my shoulder, and a full inch shorter than me, Spider reaches underneath my armpit and to my front where he slides his arachnid-like hands down my abdomen, feeling every bump.
"Are you hungry, my knight?" he asks.
And as if on cue, I am. The hunger returns full force.
"Yes," I reply, turning my head ever so slightly. I know he can't see me, but I'm looking at him with my best puppy dog eyes hoping he'll give me something to eat. I know these eyes once turned someone else to gravy...a boy with brown hair that I struggle to recall. I think his name starts with a "T."
"Then on your knees," he declares. "It's time for supper."
Praise Tethyr, I think to myself. I drop down as he indicates, increasingly thankful with each passing second. Spider raises my visor. Then he parts his robes and pulls out his dick. It's glistening with precum, erect, and about six inches long. It's spotted with glitter.
"Suck on this gently," he says. "When your meal is ready, I'll let you know. And if I feel teeth, you shall have no dinner."
He looks to either side nervously as I begin to suck on him. I loll my tongue gently along his skin, feeling the warmth penetrate my eager moist mouth over and over. I actually welcome the sweat I taste off of him because I'm so thirsty. And Spider groans and groans and starts thrusting against my helmet. He grabs my head and forces me to take all six inches of him, which I'm not used to and it makes me gag.
Every once in a while, I taste something foul that stings my throat. But I don't complain. This is what he wants me to do. Although part of me, a very small part of me is screaming, the other part that knows he has the Eros urges me to do the best possible job that I can to earn the fuel I'll need for tonight.
I just wish there were more men to please, so that I could get a full meal.
Slowly as I work him, water glistens from Spider's neck, and his bony hands clutch violently while his body shudders.
"By Moh-Dehl, god of coin, you're so fucking tight and moist and perfect. Ahh Ahhh Ahhhh," he says, pounding away with his hips. "Nnnggghhh...suck my cock you fucking cum whore! After I feed you, I'll piss down your throat."
My lips start feeling sore.
"Prepare to receive your dinner," he whispers. But then I hear the door to the chamber begin to open. I hear a woman's voice followed by a boy's.
"Let's see if our dear Kian is ready," a girl's voice says.
"Wait," a husky man's voice declares. "You forgot the box, princess..."
The delay gives Spider just enough time to finish. I'm so glad because I'm hungry and he promised to feed me.
Spider's face scrunches and he pulls his dick out of my mouth, and he pumps his semen over my eye and nose. Long white ropes dangle from my eyelashes. Some of it makes it to my tongue, and I hungrily lap it up, sensing the man's urgency. Then Spider drops onto his knees and puts my visor back in place, wiping my helmet down with a cloth.
"You'll not uncover your face for any reason until you're gone from here!" he hisses, eyes wide. "If you do, you'll regret it. This I promise you."
Then he covers himself with his robes and rushes to the door. I stand and feel Spider's warm cum sliding down one side of my nose, but manage to blink most of it from one eye. I'm so fucking hungry I want to lift my visor and eat the rest of it, but I know better than to disobey. It's my only chance on getting more Eros, and that's worth anything, even if I don't get my supper.
A lovely girl with mahogany hair that I think I should know walks in with a handsome young boy at her side. I know him...his name's Talen, but I can't quite place why I know him. All I know is that he's so beautiful. I'd be so lucky to be his friend, and I hope maybe he'll like me.
I wonder what it's like to get a hug from him.
They walk in carrying wine glasses. Behind them a tall, thick man with a beard that looks like it's made from steel wool follows them in. He's the one I heard speak earlier...the one that said, "princess..." Is my mind clearing a little? I hope so.
"Incredible, Braedir," the girl states. "By Milbar," she swears, clutching her breast, "he's handsome. I love men in knight armor."
But I'm the one that KNOWS she's the pretty one, all dressed in blue velvet and wearing jewels. Who is she? Who is this incredible vixen? Because of this attractive couple, my cock between my legs jumps just a little behind the chainmail cup and leaves me momentarily in discomfort.
The boy raises himself up on the balls of his shoes. "Damn Skippy he is," Talen says.
Wait...did he just compliment me? My heart starts beating faster.
Talen turns to Spider who's mopping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.
"So...he's all cleaned up then?" Talen asks.
"Of course, just as HIS MAJESTY ordered," Spider answers.
"And unmolested?" Talen follows up.
It's almost like he suspects something...but what? And what does unmolested mean?
Spider raises his voice. "What kind of operation do you think we run here, my little lord? As the king commanded, I only washed him and clothed him as you see here. He's fit to accompany you and the miss to discuss business with Leto and acquire the things you need. I assure you, my little lord; his body remains a temple...a thing that has only seen your pleasure and yours alone. Please remember that I'm bound by the oath of the groomer. I'm a complete professional and while I spoke with him, I used no words to implant suggestion or change his behavior."
"See," Braedir says to Talen, "I told you to relax. A groomer of Moh-dehl is quite an asset to have in my house."
"The oath of the groomer?" Talen queries with a suspicious tone. "Is that something associated with the church of the god of wealth?"
"Yes," Spider says. "They'd have my tongue cut out were I to speak falsely and brag, for example, of spilling my seed across this young man's face...a man that's probably the only Atlantean boy left alive in all the world of men. I wouldn't be so stupid." Spider sneers at him, and I feel sorry for Talen, but I'm not sure why.
I see Talen swallow uncomfortably, and he looks at Spider over the bridge of his cute nose. "Well that's what I thought. No need to get testy about it; I just wanted verification."
Angelaria lets out a loud sigh and asks, "Why are you so hung up on this?"
"Because I take a lot of pride in...owning Kian," Talen remarks. "I-I don't want him...touched...unless it's for a fucking ton of money. And even then, I'm not so sure I'd be on board with it. I-I'm feeling a little confused. Maybe it's second thoughts; call it what you will, but can we talk this over?"
Kian? Is that my name? I wonder but Angelaria steps forward with the box, offering me some Eros. I lift my visor with caution. Only a slit so that she can slide the straw through, and I can sniff the white powder into my nostrils. I feel a rush of blood almost immediately that ends in so much pleasure, I curl my toes. The next thing I know, I'm dreaming of rainbows yet wide awake.
"You're being a fool. Grow some balls. You're seventeen and so is he. At most you'll be in love another four months and then move on to fuck other people. I've seen it before and will see it again. 'Love' is a word he used to get into your pants, Talen. That's all. You've seen what he's like. He takes you for granted; uses you like a whore and is unashamed to boast about it," Angelaria states.
"What if I LIKE him boasting about it?" Talen asks.
"Then you're stupider than I thought," Angelaria says. "He's going to make us both rich and you famous. You'll be leader of multiple guilds back in that shithole of a place you call a country. And you'll have all kinds of boys beholding to you. Make them fuck you if you want. Or, you could fuck some girls if you develop a taste for pussy."
Talen shakes his head. "I-I don't know...no one looks like Kian does. You know I'm right, he's like one in a million--"
Angelaria slaps Talen across the face and puts the box away. She hit him so hard; it leaves a red mark on his skin.
I feel like I need to move to his side, but my feet are as heavy as lead right now. Maybe it's all the unicorns that have surrounded me and are stepping on my pink shoes. I giggle...pink shoes. Those are so cute. I close my eyes and think of daisies and rainbows and fairies with sparkling wings who want to paint little moons on my cheeks.
Talen rubs the pain away and looks at her, obviously angry.
Spider speaks up. "I must caution you, that I instructed Kian not to remove his helmet for fear of showing his blond hair too early. He'll only raise his visor just enough to sniff more Eros if you choose to give him some. I suggest you keep him well medicated; if he bleeds from the nostrils it's only because the air here in Soulwarden is unfit for his physiology. More Eros should actually be helpful to him. And being starved for food has definitely brought out the definition you indicated you wanted on him prior to meeting with Leto. His veins and muscles are so prominent on his nakedness; you could use him as a medical school cadaver." Spider rubs his hands together in glee. "Perhaps when he's properly worn out, they'll sell him back to me so I can cut him up. I've always wanted to see the guts of an Atlantean. And perhaps I could use his skin to fashion a handbag. My friends would be so jealous."
"We aren't selling him!" Talen exclaims, putting his foot down. "Only using him to get the amulet from Calisto. And Angelaria, we don't leave him behind!"
"You've done splendid work, Spider," the taller, bearded man says, patting him on the back. "You may leave us now." He turns to Angelaria, "If you're satisfied, we'd best get your man to the bathhouse. Leto will not be there for long if you intend to attract his attention."
"Thank you, Braedir." The girl says, and as the big man turns to leave, Angelaria faces Talen. Her eyes suddenly blaze with blue light. "I'm altering this deal because I can see you're getting cold feet. Here's the truth little boy...I'm selling your boyfriend to Leto tonight for as much money as I can get. I'm also getting the blessing from the amulet of Calisto, and you can choose to go along with that or not. But mark my word, if Calisto and a legion of Timeron knights want to rape your boyfriend until he can't walk, I'll let it happen. If they want to use his mouth as their own personal toilet, I won't raise so much as a single finger. Not as long as I get my money! And know this...he WILL stay behind to live out his life as a sex slave for all the wickedness he's done. He needs to learn that no one screws me over and kills my men. I want what's in that preceptor's house. Imagine the enormous amount of money I can squeeze from the church of thieves with information on the murder of one of their most important clergy members by a demon from a rival faith. Not only will it start a war--and need I remind you, Talen, that wars are highly profitable--but it'll also make me rich beyond the dreams of avarice. If you suddenly remember that 'you're in love' then it's too little and too late."
"You fucking bitch!" Talen screams, fists squeezing tight. "You USED me! You KNEW I was jealous that he always thought of you. But I'm not the fool you take me for."
She laughs. "No? And just what are you then for not stopping me? I see a fool who's killed the best thing that he had going in his life."
Talen snatches a knife from his belt and lunges at her chest but Angelaria has him beat. She raises a hand, speaks a single word, and Talen is swept back by a powerful force and thrown into the wall. He collapses on the ground, a little blood streaming from his forehead.
"Don't ever attack me again," Angelaria warns. "I can kill you with my magic. I can fry you in your clothes with bolts of lightning from the sky. I can reduce you to the size of a flea and force you to live your life out on a dog turd. I AM the daughter of Hanibel the Pale, greatest wizard in the empire of Thularum and advisor to the Throne of the Seven Dragons. My father is court magician to the crown of Kandaleya, whose shores are so vast, two oceans crash upon them. And you! What are you other than a nobody...a nothing...a weakling with little education and a birth no higher than that of a common sow? I'm a princess of sorcery, taught in a college of wizards so powerful their very spells broke apart two continents and created a cataclysm two thousand years before you were even a gleam in your daddy's eye. I have words that can strip the flesh from your very bones while you still live. It would be best for you to remember this."
Talen starts to weep, and I walk over to him and kneel, hugging him. He pauses to stare through the slit at my eyes and then he sobs on my shoulder. I help him up and ask him, "Why are you crying?" I honestly can't figure out why, but he looks so sad. "Don't cry," I say, patting his back.
But this question, this statement only makes the handsome boy weep a little more.
The girl walks over to me and grabs me by the elbow, and I suddenly feel like following her. She's so pretty in her dress. I wonder where she's taking me.
"Coming, Talen?" Angelaria asks. "We've an appointment to keep, and I don't want to be late. Don't make me alter the deal further. I'm sure I could sell you into slavery too, only I doubt I'd get even a pittance of what your boyfriend's worth."
I will post Chapter 24 next week. Please visit the free forums on my website if you'd like to partake in discussion about what will happen next.