Bound and Broken

- 10 -

Devra’s P.O.V.

“Come now, pet,” Queen Olivette cooed, tugging faintly on the chain that dangled from my collar. “I have such a long and dreadful day ahead of me.” My eyes fell to my lap on instinct and I nodded obediently. After years in the palace, I was used to being treated like nothing more than a coveted bit of pretty. But that still didn’t help dull the sting of feeling used and discarded after one of my sessions with the Queen.

“Yes, Mistress,” I replied. Her Majesty was still wrapped in the satin sheets of her bed as she beckoned me closer to her, greying hair loose over her bare shoulders. I obeyed without fail, holding myself up on extended arms over her body and gazing down at my Mistress with forced affection in my smile. My hand rose to touch her cheek. Cool skin was smooth beneath my touch, but it still seemed to soothe her.

My Mistress’ hand pulled tight on the chain of my collar, tugging me closer to her. I let her guide me down, my lips finding a place just below her sharp jawline. The Queen muttered something under her breath, and I felt her chest arch against mine. “Yes, Mistress?” I questioned, my breath dancing over her pulse as I knew she enjoyed. One of my hands found her waist and slid over the taught skin along her hip.

“Be a good boy and do what you do best,” she answered with more of a command than an invitation. Her free hand roamed over my forehead and pushed back my hair as the force behind her touch guided me towards her thighs. “It’s time for you to clean up the mess you’ve made.”

The hand that held her hip stilled as I trailed kissed down her stomach. Only when I was certain that her breasts obscured her view of my face did I let my smile falter. This was a job to me, no real joy or pleasure came in the physical connection that this coupling brought. I destested my Mistress, her court, her f*****g son.

I longed for her to burn at the stake like the demon she was. But I valued my own head and my life more than I did my pride. And defying her wishes would be a one-way trip to the gallows.

“As you wish, Mistress,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to the inside of each of her thighs. I wasted no time in delving my tongue into the wetness therein. The Queen sighed and softened at my touch, though I felt no spark of warmth or connection from my ministrations. I was spent, and my own arousal was far from attainable with my head between the queen’s thighs. I longed for this, but not with her or her kin.

Only one form brought any fire to my imagination in these last few weeks. The mysterious beauty that had pervaded these walls and quickly stolen a piece of me. She begged to be known in more ways than one, and I hoped beyond hope that I could come to care for her as Ari and Miri cared for each other. Myla.

The thought of her made my heart race, and I found myself picturing the auburn-haired mage in the place of my current partner. Her shapely thighs and pert breasts took shape where the Queen’s sat now. I growled into my work, cupping my hands under her buttocks and hoisting her up to be more accessible to me.

The Queen let out another moan, and I tried my best to tune her voice out. I redoubled my efforts, and I felt her thighs tighten around my head. Her breath quickened and the hand she had gripped in my hair tightened, pulling my face deeper to the point where I could hardly breathe through my nose. Shaking and trembling muscles tensed quicker, and the Queen’s harsh breathing heightened into a high-pitched whine as no doubt ecstasy washed over her.

Her skin was flushed and slick with sweat, even as she collapsed back onto the mattress. I waited until she was fully relaxed before ceasing my movements. Queen Olivette let my hair go and trailed her hand down my cheek as a deep breath filled my burning lungs. “Good work, pet,” she sighed. The wheeze of her words was all I needed to know that she was just as spent as she needed to be.

“Happy to be of service, Mistress,” I said low, reaching to kiss her knuckles gently. “May I stand?”

“You may,” the Queen said, propping herself up on her shoulders. “Ask the page to bring in a fresh pitcher for the washbasin, and you can proceed.”

With my back to the Queen, I was able to hide my wince of discomfort. I so hated the way she made us dress and wash under her scrutiny after dehumanizing us already in her bed. When I rose, I took one of the satin wraps from the end of the bed and wrapped it around my hips for modesty’s sake. The cold stone of the chamber floors sent a shudder up my spine as I took the quick steps to the door and cracked it only wide enough for me to see the face of the young page stationed outside her Majesty’s door.

“Georgei,” I said with a nod. “Her Majesty would like a fresh-”

“Pitcher of water,” Georgei finished with a disinterested sigh. “Unfortunately I know her protocols, Devra.”

Disappointment clouded my eyes when they met the young man, and we shared a moment of understanding silence together. He was but a boy, and he knew more of our traumas than any ever should. “Thank you.”

I turned my back to the door as it closed, only to see Queen Olivette sitting up and staring at me with a ravenous glint in her eyes. “I do so wish you could experience the bliss that your tongue can bring, Pet.”

The tone that she used sent a disgusted squirming coil spinning through my gut. “If only, Mistress,” I replied with a bow. “Georgei will bring the new pitcher right away.” This was the way of all our encounters. It never changed. I serviced her, she belittled me, sang my praises, and watched me bathe afterward. With everything I had, I hoped that the cycle would change. But it never did.

Only once I was washed and dressed in my silken draped pants did the Queen herself begin to dress. She stood before me, bare and proud. My eyes held firm to the floor out of forced respect, but the clearing of her throat brought my attention back up. “You are dismissed, Devra,” the Queen ordered with a bark. “Should I have need of you, I will call on you this evening.” As she spoke, one of her handmaidens ducked in through the chamber door with the folded court dress that had been freshly washed and pressed.

The handmaiden’s eyes met mine only briefly before she too turned her eyes down. When she turned to begin dressing the Queen, I quickly and quietly made my way out from her chambers. I could hear her nattering away with the handmaiden as I let the door close, but the words themselves escaped me.

Blessed silence filled my ears for only a moment before the sounds of the keep rose up around me. Footfalls on stone, clanging metal; it all grew louder and louder until my mind finally caught up with my reality. A choked sob held in my throat just long enough for me to feel the pain of it before I shook my head and forced it away.

“Devra?” a small voice beside me chimed in and kept me from crying right there in the hall. My head turned to catch the soft brown eyes of Georgei. His blonde hair was curled at its length and framed his boyish face. “Are you alright?”

I looked down at the boy and nodded softly. It was rare enough for other servants to ask after our well-being. But there was a genuine concern in the young boy’s eyes that spoke volumes to the fears I once bore myself.

A flash of memory hit me, fire blazing around a boy no older than he was now. Screams and cries of pain rolled around in the memory and tightened my throat once again. A shake of my head and a crack of my neck was enough to keep me from re-living it even further. When I opened my eyes once again, the scene was back to normal. “Well enough, Georgei,” I replied with a forced smile. “I pray you never have to bear this cross for Her Majesty.”

The young page nodded and I saw his eyes fall to the band around my neck. Curiosity burned in the way his cheeks puffed with an unasked question. I tapped the ring on its front with two fingers and nodded again. “Don’t envy it,” I urged. “Some do, but they know not the true weight that comes with being the royal playthings.”

Georgei swallowed and simply huffed in acknowledgment. His hearing must have been far greater than mine, as well, because he very clearly heard a call for his name. “Get some rest, Dev,” he whispered to me over his shoulder before ducking back into Her Majesty’s quarters.

I waved at the closed door and heaved a hefty sigh, turning on my heel in order to stride as quickly away as possible. These halls were as convoluted as a maze, yet were second nature to me by now. It took me no time at all to work my way down across the expanse of the property and back to the guarded playroom the royal family kept us in. That's what it truly was, after all. We were their delicate and brightly colored toys. Bits of pretty for them to use and discard at their leisure.

The guards stationed at the door did nothing to stop my entry; they didn't even look up at me as I approached. No. To them, we were a nuisance that merely took up time in their days. I could hear the sounds of movement in the room before I opened the door, and fully expected Miri to be there biding his time with a new book. "What are you reading today, Miri?" I asked without looking over. "You had the morning off, yes?"

"Oh, Miri was called away." The soft melodic voice that responded made me halt immediately. I turned to see Myla there, still fully dressed and painted as the moment the Queen and I had left this morning. Not a single glimmering curl was out of place. My eyes searched her form for any signs of Aelon left on her, and when I found none I felt the release of tension that had been building in my chest. She rose from her seat and smoothed a hand over the silken drapes she wore. "I believe the eldest daughter and her husband have returned to the keep to attend some feast," she continued.

"Ah," I replied, nearly tearing the collar from my throat as I made my way across the room to her. "Princess Neria was certainly one of his frequent callers." I paused only briefly, remembering her station. "Duchess Neria, I should correct myself. The King married her off to a neighboring Duke some years ago." I let out a chuckle and laid a hand to rest on Myla's shoulder. "But none of that is important." Myla looked up into my eyes, a tinge of pink warming her cheeks as her painted lips turned up in the smallest smile. "Are you well, Myla?"

Her nod was enough to ease my worries some, but she continued on with confirmation. "I've suffered no ill-treatment by his Highness." Something about her tone seemed off, and for the briefest moment it looked like she was holding something back. But her smile broadened as she stepped closer to me and laid a and on my chest. "And you? It's well past mid-day. I didn't expect the Queen to keep you so long."

"Her majesty was..." I let a deep breath hiss out through gritted teeth as I tried to find the words. "In need of extra attention, it would seem." My smile broke and faltered, but I did my best to keep her spirits high. "I've no doubt that Neria's return has something to do with it."

"Even still," Myla said quietly. "I am sorry that things didn't quite go as we'd planned." Her fingers tensed briefly when the Queen was mentioned, and I thought I saw her eyes darken for only a moment. Myla drew a deep breath in and slowly let it out before turning her eyes back to me. "Perhaps," she paused. "You could finally give me a tour of the grounds?" she offered with a very heavy hint laden in her tone. "After we change, of course."

Excitement shot through me and I reached up to grip Myla's hand tight. Ths was just the mood lift I needed today. And if she was correct about there being a feast to prepare for, we could very likely roam unnoticed in all the mayhem. "I would be honored to show you around the castle."