The wizard kings stolen wife

Unchained

She awoke confused, it was gloomy and a sharp ray of orange sunlight sliced across her eyes, waking her. Shielding her chained hands over her face she sought to sit up and take in the space about her. Her blinded eyes could not make out much, there was a figure standing at a workbench that was piled high with papers, ceramic pots and all manor of threatening looking instruments, she had not seen anything like it before.

Sitting up she realized she was in wicker armchair, lined with plush silk cushions. Someone had draped a warm blanket over her and its cloth was finer than any she had touched, even when doing the wash at her old masters house. As she moved her chains clinked, and the figure looked over. 

"Perfect, you're awake" Came the deep voice of Tristan, setting her heart to run a pace faster. He motioned her to stand. Quickly she struggled off the blanket, draping it as best she could with her arms bound. Her bare feet were silent on the stone floor as she quickly padded closer to him

 "Those chains are getting on my nerves." He intoned darkly, "they make such a racket. Come, please sit up in front of me." He patted the workbench in front of him. She couldn't help but pause, here eyes scanning the sharp tools and array of powders set about him. Not waiting for her response he grabbed her roughly by the waist, and as if she were not more than a bag of grain hefted her up onto the workbench before him.

"When I ask you to do something, just do it." He growled at her. Sitting in front of him her eyes were almost level to his, she realized just how tall and lanky Tristan was. Nervously she squirmed back, trying to push her tattered skirt down over her thighs where it had crept up, noting his gaze rake over her tanned skin. 

 She shrank back as one of his fingers traced the line where her cold copper collar met the soft, scarred skin of her neck. The touch sent a shiver down her spine. "How long have you had this on?" He asked, his voice cold and clinical.

"Uh, all my, life. Not this exact one though." She stammered back, nervous at his close contact. "When I was a girl it was smaller, so when I became a women I got this copper one." He seemed surprised. 

"They change out your collars as you age?" He asked stepped away briefly to grab some small black case.

"Its not so much age, as what we are worth. When you are very young, you are very small. You cannot reach as much and you carry less so you have a iron one. When you become an adult the laborers will keep the iron, and salves who are trusted as indoor servants get the copper. Some who may be suited to book work or have special skills get silver, and-Some have gold." She finished quietly. Her voice was soft in the quiet room, be he noticed the pause at the end.

"And what deserves the golden price tag? I have not seen any gold collars for sale in the line before." He asked, not looking up from the case before him. She blushed deeply as she watched his hands fiddle with fine slivers of metal. 

"Gold is for the concubine slaves. Though they get the best meals, noone whats to be hem.If their owner dies they are to be buried with him, or just killed if they cannot afford the crypt."

 He looked up sharply at her words, meeting her curious gaze, before she dropped her eyes in embarrassment. Her eyes dipped back up to see a fierce frown on his face, shaking his head at her words. 

Slowly he turned and walked back towards her. Her breathing became shallow as he stepped close to her again. Her knees pressed tight against each other as she felt the warmth of his body against her legs.

"Hold still." He said a wicked grin on his handsome face, he reached up to her neck grabbing her firmly by the metal ring. He began to mutter under his breath and something flashed in his hands as he jabbed the tool into the small lock on one wrist cuff. She ached away but his wicked grip gave her no movement.

"Please stop, its not so simple!" She cried out as the lock pick rattled in the precise tumblers "No sir, noone can undo these, there are enchantments against it!

She squirmed as she felt the metal begin to heat up against her skin. But to her amazement the cuff popped open and fell with a hard clank against the table. Tristan met her eye for a moment with a smirk before moving onto the next rapidly heating cuff. 

The metal on her throat and remaining hand began to glow as the runes carved deep into it shone though, sweat began to tickle her neck and her wrist felt like it was sitting in a boiling pot. Tristan swore, and his muttering became louder. She felt her pounding heart beat in her throat as her skin went red at the fierce heat. The second cuff popped off as she gritted her teeth in pain. 

Finally Tristan's hands moved the the collar at her throat, still furiously muttering in a language she could not pick up, the soft words felt like puffs of arctic air cooling the metal even as it became scorching. She squeezed her eyes tight as the pain grew, it felt like she was being strangled by a hot poker and she could smell her hair burning. Finally the lock popped and Tristan ripped it from her neck, throwing it into the table where it smoldered against the wood. 

Her hands flew to her neck, touching the searing hot swollen skin in pain, but with no small wonder. Reaching for her Tristan batted off her hands and stoked the hot red skin, still muttering his strange, buzzing words. As he spoke his hands gilded over her neck like cool snow, she leaned into him as her breath came in shallow gasps of the pain of hot on cold. 

 It was magic. She had only ever heard of magic like this that came from people rather than the old language of the runes. This type of magic wielded by people was rare and very powerful. Wizards and witches that could control it were prized servants of the king that he showered in wealth and glory, or if they disobeyed would send legions of his warriors and assassins to try end them before they could wield any of this power against him. 

"You are a wizard," She breathed, "How?" she began, before shaking her head and staying in silence. Why was the question sitting on her lips that she did not want to ask. 

He pulled away as his hands moved to her wrists His touch soothed the red welts as he ran his hands over her skin,  circling then with his long fingers they too had the burning feeling doused into a touch like cooling spring water.She was lightheaded as she stared at the collar on the table. 

Finally he stepped away, he picked up one of the discarded cuffs that lay on the table, he ran is big hands over the marks that now showed tarnished and dark on the polished surface. He tossed it away with a clank, to land by the collar. Then uncharacteristically he grinned, transformed by his wicked smile he raked his eyes over Melia, his gazing lingering at her neck and chest. 

"That went far better then I expected," He ran a hand though his hair, messing the tousled locks further. "Come on, after a day like this I need a bath. And so do you." He said wrinkling his nose.