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  “Will you have me?” he asked, heart breaking.

  “Will? Oh, you have made your decision then?” She straightened and smiled. “I had not realized you were close to choosing.”

  “I am bringing these games to an end. Tonight. Will you have me?”

  Sornes clasped her hands together between her breasts. “Of course,” she cooed.

  “You know what it is I require?”

  “You mean the … yes, I do.”

  “Then you will show me, tonight.”

  “This is the final test?” she asked.

  Moregon shrugged. “As you wish.”

  He stepped back from the door, motioning her to the hall. Sornes looked briefly disconcerted, and Moregon realized she most likely wanted to change into real clothing, but he did not have time. If he were given time, his resolve might fade.

  Sornes slipped on shoes and followed him out into the hall. He took her to the room set aside for one of the final tests, the most important test.

  He opened the door, motioning Sornes in and closing it behind her. There were a few beams of weak illumination from horizontal slit windows high in the wall. Using that light Moregon found a box of matches and went around the room, lighting candles as he went.

  What was revealed was a scaled down version of the Temple’s training room. Sornes’s mouth rounded in an O as she looked about.

  “There are garments,” Moregon said, motioning to a trunk. “I will return.”

  He paced the hall, walking slowly to give her time. When he returned Sonres was no longer wearing a nightdress. She now wore a short blood-red tunic with sleeves that came to the elbow. A wide belt hugged her tiny waist, and black boots came up to her knees.

  Moregon, still shirtless from his time with Aketa, carefully closed the door behind himself. Sornes tilted her chin up.

  “Strip,” she demanded.

  Moregon hid his grimace and bent to unlace his boots, taking first them, and then his pants, off. Naked, he stood again. She looked him up and down, inspecting him.

  He felt like a bull at auction.

  Moregon had to force himself to place his hand behind his back, crossing his wrists. He separated his feet and kept his eyes up. This posture was second nature to him, a position he’d assumed more times than he could count. Why did it feel so wrong?

  “On your knees!” she shouted.

  Moregon dropped to his knees. Sornes walked up and slapped him. The blow barely rocked him, but he was shocked that she done it at all. Rohaj would not have hit her, not like this. Where had she learned it?

  “I will put you in chains for your disobedience! Crawl!”

  Moregon leaned forward, placing his hands on the cold stone floor and crawling to the dangling manacles. The skin on his back and ass prickled. He did not like exposing himself to her.

  No, that was wrong, this is what he needed. He needed a woman to master him, to help him find that feeling of home that had been lost along with his status as a Zinah.

  At her command he stood. Sornes snapped the manacles into place around his wrists. Her breasts were heaving, her nipples sharp points against the front of the tunic, and she licked her lips constantly. She was aroused by this.

  Moregon tried to find pleasure in that. He was here to serve her: her pleasure was his highest priority. Instead all he felt was a sick ball of dread. This wasn’t right.

  She went to the crank and turned the handle. Chain rattled as his cuffs were drawn up. She stretched him until his feet were barely flat to the floor, the strain on his shoulders increasing with each breath. The metal cuffs were not meant for suspension and cut into his wrists and hands.

  “You are mine now,” she said, but her tone was not one of cool command, but rather that of a petulant child. She circled him, inspecting him. Her fingers fluttered over the upper part of his back, and he remembered Aketa’s nails scratching him there. She stopped in front of him, laying her hand on his belly above his cock, and Moregon tensed.

  “Say it, you are mine!”

  She grabbed his cock and balls in her two small hands, squeezing and grinding the flesh. Moregon was saved from answering by the pain that swept over him. He bared his teeth in a grimace, a groan escaping him. His belly twitched with the need to curl into a ball to protect himself.

  There were tears in his eyes by the time she released him, and Moregon panted through the pain. He heard her rummaging through the chests that contained various tools, used to help establish the domination and reinforce the bondage.

  This was wrong, this was all wrong. He felt sick and abused, exposed and demeaned. There were no feelings of pleasant helplessness and safety that he was used to, that he needed.

  He’d been safer, more at home, in the field with Aketa.

  Sornes popped up in front of him, a bullwhip and gag in each hand.

  Moregon looked at the bullwhip. “That is not meant to be used on a person. It is used for the visual effect and the sound it makes.”

  “I see that I will have to silence you,” Sornes said with great relish. She set the whip down and dragged a chair across the floor, into place in front of Moregon. She hopped up onto the chair, too short to reach his head otherwise, and held up the gag. It was one of the more invasive ones, consisting of a ball that was placed in the mouth. The ball was attached to a flat tongue that went between the front teeth and connected to a wide strip of leather that wrapped over the lower half of the face and buckled into place behind the head.

  “Open your mouth.”

  Moregon did not move. For all his stillness, inside he was shaking. He’d made a mistake.

  No, he hadn’t. Aketa did not want this, did not want a man who needed this. She deserved better. The dark haired woman before him, who looked increasingly deranged with each passing moment, was his only choice.

  He opened his mouth.

  She shoved the gag in, forcing his tongue to the back of his mouth and bucking it in place.

  “That is better, that will teach you!” she said with glee, jumping off the chair which she quickly moved out of the way. She scooped the whip up, and to Moregon’s surprise and horror, flicked her wrist sending the tail winging through the air with an expert snap.

  “I like horses, and I race buggies,” she said, clearly understanding the question writ on what was still visible of Moregon’s face.

  She walked to his back and Moregon closed his eyes.

  The first lash landed across his lower back, across skin that was smooth and soft, where there were no bones beneath the skin to save the tissues below. Moregon bit down on the gag, suddenly grateful for it, as pain radiated from the lash.

  The second landed across his middle back, the third diagonally up to his right shoulder, crossing the second.

  That was enough to have a cry of pain escaping him. Beyond the stripes of fire along his back, there was a crawling sensation, as if something were creeping down his skin. Blood.

  He deserved this, he told himself. He deserved this and more for forcing Aketa to endure the torments not only of the Training Room but of this whole contest. She deserved something more, someone strong and kind, someone she could talk to.

  Not someone weak, not like him. Not someone who needed a woman to master him.

  The fourth and fifth stripes parted his flesh, the cracks of the whip drowning out his muffled groans and the creak of chain.

  If Aketa were his … if only. He would care for her, make her feel safe, loved. They would have their own place, here in the Palace or back in the Temple, and maybe they would build a one-room cottage, somewhere like the test fields, where they could go when they wanted to be away. He would teach her not to be ashamed of her face, of her scars, so she would not feel that she had to hide herself.

  Crack.

  The whip landed again and Moregon’s legs gave out, putting all his weight in his arms.

  He would pleasure her day and night, tease her, torment her … love her.

  Chapter 29

&nbs
p; Aketa raced through the Palace. She wore the slip and cloak, her shoes forgotten in the field. A guard straightened as she approached him.

  “Where is he?” she demanded.

  The guard started, staring at her bare face. Her deformed mouth was clearly defined by the moonlight. She didn’t care.

  “Where?”

  “Uh, whom do you seek?”

  “Lord Moregon.”

  “I know not, my Lady.”

  Aketa heard voices, and recognizing Rohaj’s, ran towards them. He was speaking to a group of guards. “The King and Queen are not in their chamber, find them.”

  “Do you suspect foul play?” one asked.

  “Nae, only an errand that required the night. Search the altar and receiving room, and send men to the Temple.”

  “Yes, my Lord,” they said, turning away to their tasks.

  Aketa ran up and grabbed Rohaj. “Where?”

  “What happened?” he demanded at the same time.

  “No time,” she spat. “Where?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Has anyone seen him? Has he been back here at all?”

  “He was here, I saw him. Something happened between you. He asked where Sornes and Amzel were.”

  “Take me to their rooms.”

  Together they raced through the Palace, Aketa running to match Rohaj. They wended down towards the lower floors, when a sound had Aketa pausing. “Wait, wait,” she hissed.

  Rohaj stilled and the echo of footsteps died.

  Crack.

  The sound was faint, but Aketa knew, she knew he was there.

  She followed the sound, pausing occasionally to listen. Rohaj, who’d stayed beside her, let out a curse and took off running.

  Aketa followed him, heart in her throat.

  He led them to a corridor with only a single door upon it. Rohaj stopped at the door, hesitating.

  Crack.

  This time the sound was followed by a low groan.

  Aketa pushed past Rohaj and threw open the door. The scene revealed within would haunt her for many years.

  Moregon hung from the ceiling, his arms stretched painfully above his head. Sornes stood behind him, dressed in red and black, wielding a whip.

  Moregon’s back was a bloody mess.

  Cuts criss-crossed his back, blood forming a spider web over his skin. Sornes, unaware of the open door, raised the arm wielding the whip.

  Aketa leapt forward. She grabbed the whip, jerking it from Sornes’s hand and tossing it away. The other woman turned, teeth bared. Aketa punched her.

  She threw her entire body weight into it, and there was the crunch of bone against Aketa’s knuckles. Sornes’s head snapped back, but she did not fall. Aketa grabbed a fistful of the other woman’s hair to hold her in place, and punched the bitch again.

  Sornes dropped to the floor, limp. Aketa was running to Moregon before she was completely down.

  She skirted around him, knowing there was no way he could have seen her yet, as his back was too the door.

  “Moregon, Moregon,” she whispered, cupping his face in her hands and lifting his head.

  He blinked red-rimmed eyes at her. His brows lowered and he shook his head slightly.

  “I’m here, I’m here,” she said. She wanted to get him down from here, but did not want to leave him. She looked to see Rohaj at the drum, reversing the pull to lower the chains.

  “I’m here, I have you. You are mine, do you, do you understand? I am here, you are mine. I’ll do anything you need. Just be with me, that is all I want. Be with me.”

  The chains clinked as they lowered. Moregon could not support himself, and his knees folded as he was lowered. When his knees were on the stone, his arms still stretched up, Aketa dropped to her knees too. She unfastened the gag, pulling it from his mouth.

  His lips were dry and cracked. She kissed them, hands still cupping his face. She was afraid of touching him anywhere else.

  “I love you,” she told him, tears streaming down her cheeks. “That was what I wanted to say, but I was afraid. I love you. I understand this, better than her. I understand. I will do it. You will be safe with me.”

  “It wasn’t right,” he said haltingly. “I wanted to feel home, but I didn’t. This was all wrong.”

  “I’m here, I’m here.”

  “This was all wrong. I felt more peace, more home … with you.”

  Aketa laugh, a soft watery sound. “I thought the same of you.”

  “I am sorry I am not stronger.”

  “I need you as you are, not stronger, not different. I need you.”

  Moregon’s bowed his head, pressing his face into her neck, and his shoulders shook with a sob. With his head bowed Aketa could see the activity she’d been ignoring. Servants were preparing a litter, Lord Anleeh and Lady Siara had arrived. They were discussing how to move Moregon without hurting him more.

  Moregon lifted his head. His blue eyes met hers. There were fields and storms and fresh grass and pears and sweet wind and summer bees—all the things she thought of as home—in his eyes.

  He smiled, slight but there. “I love you,” he said. “I can only be what I am. I’ve been lost since I left the Temple. All I wanted was to find home.”

  “I love you, I love you. You are home to me,” she said smiling and crying at the same time.

  He opened his mouth to protest once more, to again proclaim that he was not good enough for her. But she said, “Quiet. I’m here.”

  And he obeyed.

  Glossary

  List of Principle Characters

  Anleeh: Lord Justice for the new monarchy, formerly the third ranking Zinah. A warrior of Den, Anleeh came to the Temple to train with their warriors, but was chosen to be a Zinah instead. He is married to Siara. His story is told in Savage.

  Aketa: Daughter of a farmer, hailing from the outskirts of the Great City. Aketa’s past has left her scarred, both outside and in.

  Amzel: Girl from the Great City. She, along with Aketa and Sorner, is one of the final contestants for Lord Moregon’s hand.

  Cryessa: Queen, wife to King Tamlohn, formerly High Priestess. As Priestess, Cryessa, with the aid of her Zinahs, tried to protect the Great City from the sadistic King. She was meant to treat them as slaves, but though it was forbidden, loved Tamlohn. Her story is told in Forbidden.

  Dreya: Aketa’s mother.

  Kelum: Aketa’s brother

  Legan: Aketa’s youngest brother.

  Markum: Aketa’s father.

  Moregon: Minister of Agriculture for the new monarchy, formerly fifth ranking Zinah.

  Partus: Aketa’s brother.

  Rohaj: General of the combined Temple and Palace armies for the new monarchy, formerly the second ranking Zinah.

  Siara: Former Head Mistress of the Temple College, now Royal Historian and Scribe. Married to Anleeh. Her story is told in Savage.

  Sesah: Minster of Ceremonies and Protocol for the new monarchy, formerly fourth ranking Zinah.

  Sornes: Girl from the Great City. She, along with Aketa and Amzel, is one of the final contestants for Lord Moregon’s hand.

  Tamlohn: King, husband to Queen Cryessa, formerly Prima, or first Zinah. His story is told in Forbidden.

  List of Terms

  Great City: Capitol city to the Land Between the Sea, home of both the Temple and Palace.

  Land Between the Seas: Great kingdom that houses all peoples and culture. The kingdom has fractured over 1000 years of poor reign by the old monarchy. The new King and Queen seek to re-unite the kingdom.

  Zinahs: Five chosen warriors who served the High Priestess of the Temple as both trusted advisors and sexual partners. The Zinahs were disbanded when the old King was defeated and the Priestess became Queen.

  Prima: title used to denote the head Zinah. Tamlohn, before becoming King, was Prima Zina

  The End

  About the Author:

  Lila normally lives in Hollywood, which provides an endless supply of exciting ev
enings and writing ideas, but is currently terrorizing a sleepy little town in Surrey, England. Having spent extensive time in France, Egypt and Turkey, Lila speaks five languages, none of them (including English) fluently.

  Lila has yet to look the correct way when crossing the street in England and family and friends are taking bets on when she will be hit by a car.

  Visit her at www.liladubois.com