Redamancy Ch. 08-09

Chapter Eight

Cassius couldn't sleep.

His mind was alive and awake and it drove him mad with rage. He wasn't particularly a nasty Broslan or a cruel king but he was stressed.

Rumors of darkness were spotted off to the east of Asna, deep into the Suffering Forests where some magic still thrived. Even though magic was outlawed within his own kingdom, he couldn't vouch for the Elvin king of Drovalor. Possibly some stragglers still practiced magic when they were not born with it. Humans possessed zero magical abilities while only the highborn in his kingdom could wield it.

Even now, he felt the familiar tingle rise in his fingers, itching to be released. He so longed to flick his wrist and harm a being but he repressed it.

There was a reason he didn't allow magic in his kingdom and he needed to lead by example. However, he used his gift to protect those within his walls, enchanted those four tall, black towers to ward off all who posed a threat to him or his people. Ieslal was secluded and he was okay with that. He'd rather be isolated over a warring and deteriorating kingdom that had no hope in the end. At least this way, he could control what went on around him.

Sighing, he turned onto his side, feeling the silken sheet slip down around his waist. Aye, he slept naked. Aye, it was comfortable this way. But, even the smoothness and comfort of his bed did not ease the slight ache that began in his chest and ended in his groin. Sure, he was satiated, satisfied from the elf girl earlier but that didn't halt the uneasiness or the dread that seemed to seep into his veins. He needed something wholesome, something to warm his bed as he lay restless. Nay a wife, perhaps a mistress or even a concubine but would that be good enough for him?

And it wasn't even that he needed a warm body at night. No, he just felt...lonely sometimes.

Sure, he tended to segregate himself often but that didn't mean he didn't possess any feelings. He was, after all, a man. Maybe not entirely human but he was still a male, one capable of missing interactions and passionate moments between two beings.

Knowing that sleep would not be coming anytime soon, Cas stood and stretched. He bent down to retrieve his black breeches that he wore when he was relaxing in his chamber. Shirtless, he didn't feel the cold air as it blew in through the open window. Snow was beginning to fall but he could bear it. After all, his father had forced him to take baths in ice water in the dead of winter when even the wind froze.

He put on some slippers so as to quiet his wandering footsteps. He might be king but he could be a very considerate king. After all, grumpy subjects were by far the worst to deal with.

With his mouth covering in place, he left his lavish chambers, leaving behind the massive, four poster bed and the numerous plush rugs that adorned his floor. The warmth of the fire called out to him, beckoned him back but he didn't heed it as he trailed down the spiraling stone stairs that led to an inner network of meandering hallways. Instead, he turned right and padded his way down the lengthy halls not bothering with the direction he was going.

The castle was rather large with numerous spires jutting out from the corners. This is where the chambers were located so as to prove who were noble and who were not. The slave's and servant's quarters were down below the main halls and entrances. His chamber was housed in the Royals Wing, the tallest towers at the back of the castle. His occupied the very top with a round room and several windows that allowed in the natural lighting of the night and day. Extravagant his father had been but Cassius thought not to make any changes to his late father's chamber.

Ieslal was vast and Cassius was a proud Broslan and he cherished the fact that his forefathers had conquered this land. Not from any other beings, mind you, but from nothing having stepped foot onto Asna in quite some time. Scholars claimed their world was an old one, dating back many millennia and had inhabitants far greater and brighter than its current species, until they all died out from war and diseases.

Of course, there were a few stragglers who had survived to repopulate but his kind were extremely bountiful and blessed to have continued. Save for the humans and elves, Cassius was more concerned with protecting and ensuring the persistence of his species.

Lost in his thoughts, Cassius hadn't noticed just quite where his feet had taken him. He had already passed his sister's old chamber which was situated near the base of the King's Tower and noticed the soft glow of a dying candle. She was most likely reading by firelight and he smirked, recalling her old habits. He could feel his cheeks tugging the corner of his lips as he smiled slowly. He missed the older days when he was a carefree child and did not have to worry about such trivial matters like ruling a kingdom. Those were better times.

Coming to the chamber where he placed his brother-in-law, at the very base of the stairs and closest to the back, Cassius paused, fighting the urge to blow open the door with his fingertips and strangle the bastard. Unsure of why his father chose Lord Toros to marry his daughter, Cassius wanted nothing more than to separate the couple and keep his sister safe.

He was just about to pass up the chamber room when he heard cries coming from behind the thick door. There were grunts and even what sounded like a body being thrown against the stone wall. Velorina couldn't possibly be behind that door as he had seen her off to bed just hours before. Unless, Toros snuck into her room and took her forcibly and was now having his way with her. And, by the looks of it, he would surely kill the babe.

With one swift twitch of his fingers, the wooden door splintered and inside, on a set of shivering knees, sat that slave girl with the violet eyes. Her silver hair was wound tight in Lord Toros' fist as he had his head bent near her exposed neck, nearly drawing blood from her pale skin. She was bare and he could see fresh marks from fingers and hands marring her flawless skin along with whip-like welts lining her thighs and sides. She was also bleeding from the corner of her full lips and a large bruise was beginning to develop around her left eye.

When the door burst into a million pieces, her big eyes looked up to catch his angered gaze. She was pleading with the king, silently, and Cassius knew, no, felt he had to help the poor girl. He growled out his brother-in-law's name. "Toros!"

With wide eyes, he let go of the moon-kissed hair and knelt immediately, tossing the girl to her hands as he did so. Toros was still impeccably dressed but there were tears near his neck.

She'd fought back.

"Up, now," he barked in his language, forcing Toros to his feet, using the outlawed magic. "What's the meaning of this?" He hissed, flaring his nostrils atop his mouth covering, and pointed towards the slave girl. Not that infidelity was of any interest to him because needs were needs but for the strangest reason, Cassius felt the desire to protect this girl. It was like a warm touch that embraced him during the wee hours of the night, binding him up and caressing his heart.

What was this ferocious feeling?

Toros only bowed nervously without answering, his eyes bloodshot from rage and some illness that Cassius could see had overtaken the other Broslan. And Cassius knew the all familiar side effects because he too suffered from a sickness that urged him to harm others. However, he hadn't acted upon the want in over twelve years. So he knew it could be controlled.

Cassius stepped forward and inclined his chin so as to knock Toros to the ground where he fell and hit his head on the stones. He deserved it.

The girl still whimpered even as her abuser was incapacitated however, she bore the face of someone who had experienced things such as this before. He almost felt sorry for her. However, whatever had happened to her in the past was of no concern to him at the moment. At least, that's what he told himself.

He bent over and held out a hand to help her up. She wavered and flinched away from his gesture.

And that's when he felt it. He felt his heart tear in two while beating uncontrollably. He widened his eyes at the sudden sensation that overtook his being, his fingers began to tremble from staying outreached. It was almost like a knife had been dug into his chest but what was this exactly? Why was he finding himself still and unable to move?

His eyes met hers and he saw the despair behind those violet irises. What had happened to her? What caused her to shiver in fear and untrustworthy of others?

He tried to recall when she came to his keep but he could not remember who had sold her to him. Was it family who no longer needed or wanted her? Had she been a former slave in Edrein? Why did she possess violet eyes and moon-kissed hair?

"Gods," he breathed while he stared at her, looking like a fool as he tried to fathom who the girl really was and why she had such an odd effect on him.

Chapter Nine

Devyn whimpered when the king inched closer to her.

He was being kind but why? What possessed him to try and console her? Moreover, how could he care about a slave, a human slave at that?

She could sense his hesitance at helping her, could feel the wariness that wafted off of him in waves. His fingers were still stretched towards her and a cold wind blew gently over her bare skin. There was no coercion because she knew that King Cassius could force her to her feet but this was of her own accord. As if there was a whisper telling her to trust him.

But she hadn't been able to trust someone in quite a long time, ever since that night when her adoptive father-

Sucking in a deep breath, she gingerly placed her palm on his and some sort of shock struck her, vibrating her entire body, making her flesh tingle. She shivered and rose slowly, her eyes never leaving the king's as she did so. Her hair was just long enough to conceal her pale breasts but not her nether regions. She blushed furiously and used her free hand to cover that one spot.

"What's your name?" He muttered, his voice muffled because of his covering.

Devyn didn't notice that he was topless, only sporting a pair loose of breeches that hung off his hips, quickly tied in the front to hint at his... manhood. Unlike humans, Broslans rarely had body hair but the king had some darkness leading down into his pants. Having seen naked men before, such sights did not bother her, however, she flushed at his adequacies.

But his flesh was marred with several imperfections of scars from beatings past. There had been wind that his father treated him with violence, merely whipping him for the simple fact he'd played with his sisters. Rumors ran far and wide of what the mad king had done to his only heir just to create the perfect monarch. Dev honestly felt sorry for the royal family after all they had to endure over the years.

He sighed when she did not answer. "Your name, slave, what is your name?" He was still clutching her small hand in his.

Devyn drew her eyes upward from the crisscrossing marks on his chest to his face and saw how his black hair curled against the tops of his shoulders. In his agitation with the lord, he'd ran his fingers through it carelessly, mussing it up. "De-Devyn Morneheure, your highness," she stammered and stooped in a pathetic attempt of bowing.

"Morneheure? As in the Morneheures of the Tworidge lands?" He seemed surprised.

Well, he did nod whenever Lord Tworidge practically begged on the steps outside of the castle because the man was delusional and could not save his coins. Bastard, Devyn cursed Steffanos in her mind. "Yes, your highness."

She gasped. This was the first instance she had been allowed to speak before him, in his presence. The last time a slave dared to utter a word in front of the king, he had their head on a pike set up in the slaves' chambers so as to prove a point. The poor girl's brown eyes were so lifeless and her mouth had been kept open in a silent scream as if she had cried out the moment the axe sliced through her neck.

The king glanced down at the flooring and burrowed his thick brows. He was perplexed at her admission. "A noble slave?"

Devyn squeaked a "yes" before quickly adding, "Your highness." Albeit she wasn't precisely noble considering she had once been orphaned but, the Morneheures gave her their name because Lord Tworidge simply wanted a daughter he could harm.

He dropped her hand as if it had stung him. He hissed behind his mask and turned away from her.

"Why are your eyes violet, slave?"

Even after knowing her name, King Cassius still addressed her as "slave". Devyn didn't question him for fear of repercussion from him. She chose not to reply at first as she glanced up towards the sky. "I am unsure, your highness. I was born this way," she mumbled and chewed on her bottom lip.

The king turned back to her, his silver eyes searching her face. He walked up to her and gripped her chin tightly between his fingers. She suppressed a protest knowing now wasn't the time or place to be brave.

King Cassius moved her face left and then right, inspecting every inch of flesh over her skull. Devyn stood still and allowed him to do what he wanted. She closed her eyes, liking the way his skin felt against hers and just stood there, reveling in his touch. His grip tightened and she gasped when she cracked her eyes open.

The king had moved significantly closer to her, his warm breath escaping through the slits over his nose. She shivered and, without thinking, brought a hand up to lightly touch the bronze object that hid his lips. The metal was rough as she trailed her fingers over when assumed his mouth would be. Then, the urge to remove it struck her deep and hard.

King Cassius paused his examination of her face and grew incredibly still as he watched her.

Devyn inhaled quietly as she reached up both hands, uncovering herself in the process, to feel for the release of the mouth covering. She felt along the bottom of his jaw and saw how he closed his eyes. His skin was warm and smooth and she wanted to touch more of his face. But first, she had to remove what was blocking her full of him. Her fingers found their way towards his ears where the mask ended. There were no straps or buckles; the mask seemed to be embedded into his skin.

Her nails pried beneath the mask before the king pushed her roughly back.

Devyn stumbled from the force and knew he'd used to magic to force her away from him for his hands were still in their position. Her chin had been yanked out of his grasp and his brows indicated that he was frowning.

And that's when Devyn realized what she had done. She'd touched the king without his permission.

Her world fell from beneath her feet and she dropped to her knees to bow before her superior. "Forgive me, your highness," she practically chanted and tamped down the urge to beg for her life.

"Get up, slave and return to your quarters," he hissed. "Speak not of this encounter."

With that, she saw his bare feet pivot before they brought him of the room. Her heart broke but she did not understand why.