Bound and Broken

- 4 -

Myla's P.O.V.

Even without being told, I knew to keep to myself. The thrum of magic in my veins ached and twitched, sparks firing within me in a way that both relieved me and teased me. It was there, but I could not touch it. I sat up in my makeshift bed, feeling heavy eyes on me and spinning round to catch the stare of two older women in the sleeping quarters.

Their scrunched noses and held their hands up just enough o barely cover the whispered gossiping going on between them. Devra’s words hung in the back of my mind and loomed over me in the same way that a hurricane would strain the sails of a ship. I strained, my arms curling around my knees and hugging them close. 

Far away from other women still slowly pouring into the shared space, I sat curled up near the wall furthest from the door. My mat of hay was situated underneath one of the narrow windows. A sliver of moonlight streamed in through the slit, and I caught myself briefly wishing for the breeze that I could hear whistling past the window. Muttered whispers were hardly concealed as several of them looked me over. Some held pity in their eyes; others bore the stare of resentment. According to the smattering of words I could hear, I’d been the talk of the keep upon my arrival.

Eventually, time and the hard work of the day had lulled many of the other women in the room to sleep. I was not so lucky, it would seem. That first evening was marked with restless sleep as I lay on a cold smattering of hay bedding with only a sheet to cover my legs. 

But as consciousness finally started to leave me, I wondered what fresh new hell I was in for the next day. Nightmares wove themselves in frantic circles through my brain. Fires and battles raged, houses burned and fell crumbling to the ground. I saw Maggie’s hands outstretched towards me, fear seared into her otherwise blank expression. Her skin pulled taut over her bones and she seemed to wither away right before my eyes. Behind it all stood my father. King Karsan stood at the head of his armies, cackling in sick glory at the destruction and mocking me as I started to fall deeper into a dark enveloping abyss.

I awoke with a start in a cold sweat, clutching at my bare neck as though something else had been wrapped around it moments before. All I could hear ringing in my head was my heavy pulse, even when I felt the hand of someone small fall on my shoulder. Instinct made me jump back and withdraw, but the little girl’s soft voice brought me back to my senses.

She looked to only be roughly six years of age, and her bright blue eyes were wide in shock when I pulled back. “Oh,” I sighed, pulling my thin blanket back up to my chest. “I didn’t mean to scare you, little one.”

“Ilsie,” the little girl said. “I’m Ilsie.” Her dirty blonde hair was pulled into two thick plaits on either side of her head, leaving little whisps of thin bangs to frame her face. Rounded cheeks were pinked with worry as she puffed up and leaned closer to me. She looked like she was about to say something else when a woman in her late twenties stormed over and snatched the child away. She hissed a warning to the little girl to stay away from me as they moved back, with Ilsie looking back at me over her shoulder every few steps. 

None of the other women in the sleeping quarters had wanted to be near me either. And this was even before I was properly introduced to anyone. I didn’t need to be. Their eyes all fell to one glaring spot on my face. My hand rose, fingers brushing the scarred lines still tender on my skin. I was a threat, after all. My magic was seen as different, other, and a menace.

My thoughts were stilled by the crowing of a rooster out in the yard, and I heaved myself to my feet. The sun was barely starting to peek over the distant mountains, yet the castle was abuzz with workers and cooks preparing for the day ahead. It was a sound that I was familiar with in my Father’s court. Just...not from this perspective.

The scars on my back tensed as my back moved, making me wince in pain. Reaching back, I could feel that spots on m back had pulled free of their scabs and had bled some on the linen shirt on my bed. As I stood, I heard my name coming from the door to the women’s quarters. 

As I spun, I was met with only the second comforting face I’d encountered. “I’m Ari,” came the sweet and lilting voice. One of the names that Devra had given me. Ari looked to be close enough to my age. Maybe a year or two younger. She was tall, nearly statuesque with her beauty. Short brown curls framed her narrow face perfectly, and her small sloped nose sat pointed over thin but politely smiling lips. Her olive skin looked sun-kissed in a way that I could only dream of, and the breezy draped dress she wore hung scandalously off of her shoulders.

The woman stepped closer and tucked a stray curl away from her face. “You must be Myla,” she said, holding a thin hand out towards me. 

I let out a small chuckle and took her hand. “That obvious?” I asked. When Ari let go of my hand, I instinctively crossed my arms under my chest. 

“Mmm,” Ari hummed and laughed to herself before reaching up and tapping her forehead, mirroring the spot where I was scarred. “Devra told me that Mistress brought home a new female servant,” she continued with the hint of relief in her eyes. “I’ve been the only one for some time now.” 

Now that was shocking to me. I would have expected several more females than males in this castle. But then again...Queen Olivette seemed to be the one calling the shots within these walls.

A few of the women who still lingered in the women’s quarters scoffed and hurried past her, sometimes outright ignoring her and sometimes intentionally brushing against her. My eyes met hers with a look of concern and she just shook her head. “They always keep track when you work on your back,” Ari muttered. I could tell that it bothered her, but she was quick to force the look from her face. 

My cheeks reddened, both with rage at the poor woman’s situation but also with shame. I was no vested virgin. My time in captivity had already seen to that. But to suffer such consternation as a result of being tormented and tortured... As it would seem, that was to be my life from here on out. A social pariah amongst the servants. Forever told that my work was easy, that I had it made. I think Ari could see the pit form in my stomach because she was quick to straighten her shoulders and shoot a glare over her shoulder. 

“This way,” Ari said, reaching forward to grab for my wrist as she led me towards the door. “Mistress requested you be prepared for your presentation to his Majesty.” I could hear in her tone the sadness that lingered behind the words. And as we stepped out into the hall, now more alone than we were before, Ari leaned closer to me to whisper in my ear “Pay them no attention.”

I hummed in reply, nodding once as Ari led me through the labyrinthian hallways. Servants and pages ducked in and out of corridors, the sounds of crafting and cookery could be heard ringing through the stone halls growing louder with every step. “Where are we going?” I finally asked her. 

Ari turned to look over at me, offering me a reassuring smile. “Devra told me they made you wash in the stables last night,” she said. 

My cheeks heated in embarrassment. I couldn’t have been sure who had seen or heard me there, and being relegated to the hay and manure filled stables was so dehumanizing. “Aye,” I said low. “I wasn’t to enter the house until I was scrubbed.” As though I had some communicable disease that would wipe them out. 

We stopped at last in front of a large wooden door with a thick iron ring on one side as a handle. “I can promise you this will be much more enjoyable than that.” Ari stepped forward, pushing the door open to reveal a spacious room. To the right of the room there were large plush cushions on the floor surrounding a low wooden table, atop which sat a fine pot of silver with a long-necked spout. Beyond that was a doorway shielded by gauze and silk curtains. 

But over to the left of the room was a large indoor washtub surrounded by tables of oils and perfumes. Dried flowers hung against the drab stone walls, and the room looked almost lovely. “What is this place?” I asked, stepping forward as she closed and barred the door behind us. 

“A private bath and sleeping quarters,” Ari answered. “To make sure that the palace playthings are kept pretty enough.”

“Right,” I said, realizing my mistake. Father had a similar room, so I should not have been surprised. “Why is it so large?” I asked while moving towards the already steaming tub of water. While we chatted, I had started stripping down to bathe. I felt no shame standing nude in front of this beautiful woman, and actually hoped that she might try and catch a look. My skirt and tunic were folded neatly over the base of a stool, and I was careful not to move too fast as I eased into the tub.

My new companion spoke quietly, looking around for something that I couldn’t quite discern from my vantage point. Though I did catch the odd glance my way. “Mistress and his Majesty don’t allow us to sleep in the main room,” she said, snapping her fingers once and quickly ducking to grab a bolt of pale green silk from a basket near the wall. “At least not after-”

“Ari?” A familiar voice came from behind the gauze, and Devra strolled out into the main room. “Did you find he-” He held a linen sash over his thighs that hung low on his hips, not strung tightly and inching lower with every step. The man’s bare chest looked slick with oil, and his hair still held the slight shine of being washed. Judging by his shocked stare, he was certainly surprised to see me, and fully bare at that. “Her,” he finished.

The three of us stood in a sort of half-c****d awkward gathering. It was only when I finally sank into the watr that the other two started up their conversation again. 

“Have you seen Miri yet?” Ari asked, clearing her throat and starting to pile up fabric on one of the cushions. “He was due back last night but I think-”

“No,” Devra interrupted. “The Princess kept him overnight.” I could hear the rustling of fabric and the jingling of metal as Devra moved. While I let the warm water and scented oil coat my skin, he appeared to be getting ready for his morning. He had slipped into fitted leather trousers and a billowing white tunic with the neck untied. A simple belt adorned his waist, but the jingling that I’d heard had come from the solid silver band he was currently fastening around his neck.

Ari caught me staring and answered the question that she could see brewing. “A token of favor,” she said, though the word favor was spat with some measure of vitriol. “We each get one, and have to wear it for our...sessions. I’m just grateful they’re removable.”

My hand rose to my neck, thumbing over the spot where my locket should have sat. “I see,” I said quietly. I didn’t much care for it, but that was no longer my decision now, was it. No. Instead I simply stayed out of the way as I bathed, and allowed Ari to help me tame my hair into a neat half-up knot of braids. Her Majesty had sent someone by to ensure that I was being made presentable, after all. 

Devra had been whisked away just as quickly too, apparently off to his morning meeting with Queen Olivette. 

As Ari helped me into a pale green dress, there was a chambermaid that worked to tie off a rich brown cincher just below my bust. I hadn’t worn either stays or corsets in ages, so the loss of my breathing was very much not appreciated. We’d taken care to fasten stockings to a lace belt beneath my skirt, and I was dabbed with perfume far more glorious than I would have ever anticipated. 

By the end of it all, I looked a cross between a right lady, and a harlot. The plunging neck line of the dress left my bosom nearly pouring out of the fabric as I walked. She led me back through the winding halls, this time so somberly quiet that all I could hear were our footfalls. 

Eventually, we came to stand outside of a large double door. Beyond, I could hear shouting and loud thumping. And though it made me jump, Ari was poised and perfect with her eyes downcast. She was quick to instruct me to do the same as the doors came flying open. Out came a stumbling and crying chambermaid trailed by two soldiers. 

The King’s voice boomed as he beckoned me in, and Ari had to part with me at the door. I felt her comforting touch on my shoulder as I vanished through the doorway with a lump in my throat. He sat atop his throne, large polished darkwood draped in velvet and sitting on a stone dais at the center of the great hall’s back wall. His face was aged, but his jaw still cut a sharp line with his stern scowl and thick beard. Streaks of silver started to show in the man’s otherwise golden hair, and broad shoulders rolled as he sat up straighter in his seat. 

“And you must be Myla,” the King said wih a low growl to his tone. I kept my eyes down and bowed as best I could, being careful not to lose myself from my top. When I didn’t respond verbally, he barked another order at me with a volume that threatened to shake the very walls that surrounded us. “Come here, girl!”

Acting on pure instinct, my feet carried me towards the throne. I still kept my eyes down, but as I stopped at the base of the dais, he snapped his fingers once. “You will look at me, girl,” King Roman spat with anger thick in his deep voice. When I looked up at him, he was already beginning to unto the clasp of his belt. I had to bite the inside of my cheek as he  proceeded to rather unceremoniously lower his trousers, putting himself fully on display. 

“And now,” he said with a darkening chuckle. “You will come here, and you will give me a reason not to send your head back to Karsan on a pike.” The threat was punctuated by the sound of shifting armor as two soldiers stood sentry beside the throne. 

Though I couldn’t see their faces, I could still feel their gaze on me. And even as I wished I could contemplate the order, my body was already moving of its own volition in some act of self preservation. So it was that I prepared to beg for my life in a purely carnal way. I allowed him to move and touch me, to grope and choke me. 

But what I wasn’t prepared for was perhaps the most mortifying thing of all. I was in the King’s lap as he sat in his throne, my skirts torn from me in a terrifying frenzy. My back was against his chest as he hoisted me up and brought me back down repeatedly, steadily growing faster with his heated grunts. Try as I might, my body was defying me with the sensation. We were interrupted by the creak of the door- the door that I was facing with myself wholly exposed. 

In the doorway stood Queen Olivette, her hands perched on her hips as she was given entry into the room, the click of her heels drowned out by the groans and gasps of her husband behind me. The closer she drew, the more I started to shake and convulse in King Roman’s lap. When she was standing directly in front of me, she stopped short and leaned in only to utter two words that chilled me to my core.

“My turn.”