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Bound and Broken

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IMPORTANT: I am currently experiencing troubles with my contract. As such, I am only able to post one chapter a week until further noted. Any undone edits are currently paused.

Bound and Broken

The Beledan royal court is filled with secrets. With an aging warrior King and a Queen so vicious she makes the strongest men's blood run cold, the country has never been more formidable an opponent. The recent mage uprising attempted to quell their growth but was unsuccessful. As a result, the practice of magic is strictly forbidden.

Little does the Queen know, her youngest son has developed some of the signs of being gifted in the arcane arts. His progress comes at a price.

The daughter of a god-general bought and sold as a prize of war. Will she be able to escape these bonds forged in a time of turmoil? Or will she forever be locked in the walls of an enemy palace. An unlikely friend may help her see through the trials, but at what cost?

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Foreword: I bring you this story for entertainment purposes only. Any acts or opinions perpetrated in this story are depicted as a work of fiction and are not indicative of my own personal beliefs on such troubling topics as abuse and coercion. This story will touch on topics such as assault, non-consenting s****l encounters, enslaved individuals, and the fallout of war and discrimination in a fantasy setting. If anything comes across as distressing and leaves you feeling uneasy or unsafe, I urge you to reach out to a safe person and to seek any help that you may need. If you are in immediate danger, please seek help from your local help and wellness hotlines. Stay safe, I love you, and I hope you enjoy this book. -Anna Miller - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Myla's P.O.V. I could feel nothing but the sting and pain of leather striking my exposed back. Even as I tried to will the pain away, nothing could lessen the sensation. But I would sooner take the whip over what these soldiers had done to me earlier. This, at least, was more dignified. What was my crime? I’d broken into one of the cook’s stores and stolen fruit from their provisions. There was an entire group of children that came in at the last raid that these monsters hadn’t fed in days, and I couldn’t sit idly by while they starved. My mind started to blur as the slaver’s whip cracked once more just beyond my perception of the space between us. The pain was intense, a blazing heat searing against my exposed back as a groan from my cracked and parched lips spilled out into the otherwise still summer air. The only cooling relief came when one of the attending soldiers splashed me awake with old dingy water from the bucket that sat beside the pedestal they’d locked my restraints to. Delirium made me clench my fists tighter as another lash came screaming against already torn skin. But I would not let them see me cry. Not now, not ever. I was the daughter of the fiercest God-General in the realm, and though I may have been sold I was no less a formidable force. I only wish that my magic hadn’t been sealed away with that damned sigil. My hands flexed, tension rising as the silence between lashes of the leather whip lengthened and played tricks on my mind. I could see nothing of the camp I’d been dragged to through this blindfold, though I could smell the pungent aroma of stale ale and roasting meat. My mouth watered for even a brief taste of food, and I’m sure my captors could sense that in me. “Make her squirm,” one of the men said low, his voice dripping with a malice not unfamiliar to me as the forsaken princess of a roving band of brigands. I pulled against the bar that held my arms above my head, but to no avail. The bonds wouldn’t budge. Whistles and hollers rose to a crescendo when one of the unseen men behind me reached around to unlock my chain from the pedestal, though the iron bars between my wrists and ankles stayed tight. The metal of his buttons and buckles on his uniforms scraped against my wounds and made me flinch away from them, but that only enraged the man that I assumed was standing in front of me. Because not long after, someone had stepped up close to my chest and gripped me hard by the chin. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him and smell him. The stench of sour ale on his lips puffed into my face with every ragged breath that he let out, and I tried to slow the frantic racing of my heart as I readied myself for more unending torment as I’d already experienced these past two days. Gods, I wanted to see the Beledan army burnt to a crisp. I remember the bonds around my ankles being undone, and I remember my arms being raised and suspended by my cuffs on a hook. I even remember the next few lashes of the whip on my back as the soldier in front of me fumbled with tearing the rest of my rags off. But by the mercy of the Gods, I passed out before any other depravities could be seared into my nightmares. The soreness and bruising present when next I woke were enough of an indicator to know without knowing. But I hadn’t awoken in the medical tent as I assumed. No. I awoke on the hard wooden floor of a cage with iron lattice surrounding the entirety. The sound of a bustling market started to rouse me, and I was quickly shushed and pushed to the back by Maggie, one of the older women that the slavers had taken from a recently razed village. She’d taken on an almost maternal role for all of us younger folk. Me being only twenty-three years old, I certainly looked up to the woman with respect and reverence. “Still now, dearie,” she said in the soft brogue of her natural accent. “Oh,” she sounded defeated and broken as she looked me over, her grey eyes full of tears as she gently turned my face left and right in the dim light streaming in through the sides of the cart. “They did a number on you, did they.” My eyes closed as a defeated breath left me looking down. I could feel her thumb graze my forehead, where a sealing sigil had been carved to inhibit my innate magical abilities. They knew the power that I came from, and wanted to risk nothing. “It was worth it,” I said with a forced smile. “They weren’t feeding you, or the kids.” I reached up with one shaking hand to pat hers twice before exhaustion made me still and rest my hands back in my lap. “I know it wasn’t you that sold me out, Maggie. Don’t worry.” She seemed to relax at that, like she was worried that I’d have blamed her for something beyond the control that any of us had. I did look around though, several of the men in bonds beside me had already vanished since last I woke. The very idea was anxiety-inducing. Some of those men were soldiers of my Father, originally sent to retrieve me. I looked to Maggie, who in turn looked at the floor. “We’re on a caravan,” she said defeated. “Stopped in a small town on the outskirts of Olster, where they started selling us off.” In the fading light I could see her shoulders slump and her wrinkled face fall. “Sold my Bella off to a low Lord there.” My hands clenched tight on the torn tunic that hung in place of a proper dress over my form. Bella was Maggies ten-year-old granddaughter. Words of comfort cracked and halted in my throat as it was now my turn to reach forward and take her hand in solidarity. “Remember his name,” I told her. “And we will get her back.” Maggie looked up at me, hopeful but fearful all at once. I felt the power within me want to surge as I leaned forward to kiss her knuckles. “I promise.” All of a sudden, we were stopped. The dozen or so prisoners around us all shifted, some waking from a slumber induced by smuggled booze. Gods, I didn’t want to be them when the soldiers discovered that. Whispers rolled down the line, and the noisy din of the surroundings grew as our cart started moving again, only in reverse. We had kept our voices low, but I couldn’t be sure if one of the soldiers had heard us or not. In a panic, I scrambled away from Maggie to try and peer from one of the small holes in the lattice cage. “An auction block,” I muttered, looking back at my older companion. Quickly, I scrambled back to her and snatched up her hand. “Mag,” I said low but hurriedly. “What was the Lord’s name? If we’re parted here, I promise I will try to find Bella for you.” But she was ripped from my grasp before she could speak. I could read her lips better than I could hear her, because as soon as she started talking the gate at the end of the cage dropped and the sound of shouting poured in. Soldiers and slavers alike poured in two at a time, taking each of us up by the arms and carting us out onto a long wooden stage. Frantically, I looked around to try and guess where we were. At least a day or two’s ride within Olster, right? We were on the sea, with the coast to my back. My chest tightened with panic and I tried my hardest to recall the coastal maps. A visual scan of the crowd was nearly impossible, as the group of us was already split in half and being carted away. Most of those taken were men and boys, all likely pre-arranged for work on the local farms or mines. The panic rose in me as I looked at who remained. The old, the other women, most of the children who clung crying to their mother’s sides. And me. They kept me back from the others a fair distance, nearly forcing me back into the cage while the crowds whooped and cheered for each new asset pushed onto the stage. I didn’t want to pay attention to the process too much, for fear of the guilt that would wrack my soul. But when Maggie was sent up, I had to look. I had to watch to make sure I knew where to find her. The price was low, only a few copper coins for her. She was touted as a cook and a seamstress, but not many would have wanted to invest in a piece of ‘equipment’ nearly so old. Her price raised to nearly a silver piece by the end, and she was sold off to a woman that I could hear but not see. She looked back at me, resolution hard in her eyes that she would see herself through this. She was stronger than I ever hoped to be. I met her gaze with a subtle nod and made an inward vow that I would find her once I managed to escape, and reunite her with her family. I just had to survive. Apparently, in my thoughts, I had blanked out. Because there was the crack of a whip near my head to snap me back to attention. “You’re up, girl,” the man beside me said with venom dripping from his voice. A firm hand on my shoulder all but shoved me out onto the now-empty stage. The auctioneer whistled low and nodded his head before turning to the crowd. “Ladies an’ gents,” he said. “We ‘ave here a right trophy.” He made a gesture wanting me to turn for the crowd, but when I didn’t someone was quick to crack the whip against my side enough to jolt me and force me to turn. The crowd had gone nearly silent with anticipation, and I saw those with heftier purses start to mingle in at the edges of the crowd. “The Phantom King of the south,” The auctioneer continued to a chorus of boos and hisses ad those in front of the stage lobbed rotten fruit and vegetables at me. Most of the garbage barely missed me, but one slimy head of cabbage nailed me square in the jaw, and I felt the squelch of water splash over my face. “Has been kind enough to send us his only daughter for safe keeping!” The crowd grew silent, save for a few murmurs between parties. “What say we start the bidding at…” He looked me up and down, sneering as his old and cracked lips turned up into a malicious grin. “Two silver pieces,” he spat. “To prove his kin ain’t worth shite in our lands.” It wasn’t the price that made me fearful, nor was it the leering looks of the men around me. It was the tumultuous and agitated crowd that I feared. A mob mentality would be the worst possible outcome. Until. The entire section froze as a single horn sounded from the rear of the company. Those smart enough to turn and look were quick to bow their heads out of the way and clear a path for a regal woman, a line of soldiers, and a young shirtless man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. Even the auctioneer took a knee in the proper greeting of the Queen of Beledan. “Your majesty,” he said low as she approached, deigning to give him her hand to bow to. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She raised just one eyebrow in response, and motioned for her servant to step forward. In his hands was a tray with a small pouch on it. The tray and the pouch were offered up to the man with no question. “Inside, you will find two hundred gold pieces,” she said to his astonishment. The Queen then shot a look up at me filled with determination and malice. “This one is mine.”

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