Siren Slave (22 page)

Freya’s breath shuddered in her chest as she adjusted her position, keeping her arms at the small of her back. Again, she was overwhelmed, sensations coursing through her as she was exposed to his view. He openly appraised her and gave her a small bite of food.

She took the pieces of bread and cheese from his fingers with her teeth. For the next bite, he made her strain upward, an amused expression on his face as she struggled to reach the food. When he tipped his wineskin to her lips, she managed to spill a few drops on her breasts. He bent to kiss them away, gently lapping the crimson droplets from her nipples. She moaned, pressing her breasts to his mouth.

“So eager, so lusty,” he said with a soft chuckle as he turned a nipple ring in his fingers. She wobbled, hoping he’d sate her.

He gave her an appraising nod. “Etainen would not have been good for you. I am pleased, Freya, very pleased. You are an exquisite little slave, so needy and eager. I’d satisfy more of your curiosity and satisfy you, as well, but we must continue. There is also something to be said for anticipation.”

“That’s why you locked me again, isn’t it?” She glanced down at her piercing.

“Aye. You catch on well.” He kissed her again, slowly but deeply. She knew he was trying to torment her, and she enjoyed it so.

“I’m sorry, Freya,” he said. “That I didn’t get to you sooner, before the Druids did what they did.”

“It’s my fault, too. Before they captured me with human metal, I could’ve killed them with the Blood Call, but I hesitated. I hated to use that and I didn’t want to become sick.”

“Don’t hesitate next time.” A pause. “I am sorry, too, if I am being harsh with you, putting you through all these lovely trials.”

The heat in her cheeks flamed high. “You consider me part of what you’ve been fighting against. I’m still an enemy to you. Besides, you’re also doing this because you enjoy it.” When he just stared, she added, “It is very obvious. This is my punishment and your reward. I don’t know much of what happened to you in Rome, not unless you decide to tell me, but I’m sure they humiliated you. My people sent people like you to Rome.”

Siegfried looked away, his jaw set. “You’ve been awfully quiet about your opinions, Freya, if that is the conclusion you’ve drawn. I told you to speak your thoughts.”

“That isn’t all my conclusion, Master. You say it’s punishment for me, but that’s not all. You enjoy this, more than revenge. There isn’t anger in you when you touch me. I don’t think those people in Rome were tender. Perhaps all the scars gave me the clue.”

He rose and stepped behind her, his breath hot on her cheek. “I ask you again. Are you afraid?”

“Afraid, no. Overwhelmed, yes.”

Chapter Seven

It was the gloaming when they were next on land. Freya was tired from her long swim, her thoughts awash in this new feeling of belonging completely to Siegfried. She didn’t know what to expect. This was no lovers’ game to him. Sometimes, it seemed as if he’d try to hold back or feel guilty, but his darker desires would overcome that. It was not as if she minded. She wanted him to be free with her.

“Stop,” Siegfried commanded as she stood underneath the shadows of the bright leaves, the rose-hued light lacing through the branches. She had not donned her clothing again, choosing instead to wait for his command.

She waited for him, arms behind her back, legs spread apart. He draped the end of her leash over a bough. He knelt beside her, examining her knee. It was almost healed now, probably Enbarr’s magic.

“I will inspect you from time to time, ensuring you’ve no bodily harm.” He turned his attention then toward her breasts, lifting them, weighing them in his hot, rough palms. She fought the urge to lean into his touch, sag against him.

His deft fingers turned the rings in her nipples, as if he’d been worried he might have caused her some damage. Then, he dropped down to one knee before her, his head bowed, the sun-kissed strands of his locks hiding his face. A quick turning of a pin in the lock between her legs and he looked up at her again. “Use your fingers to open yourself for me. Tilt your hips forward.”

Freya groaned, sighing at the feel of her own fingers on her tormented flesh. She struggled for balance as she obeyed, trying not to think of where he was staring.

“Are you sore?” he asked, lightly running his finger along her folds.

“N-no, Master.” It was difficult to speak.

“Good. Tell me if I ever hurt you.” When he rose, he kissed her eyelids again. “Now, dress and walk beside me.” He held her leash again but didn’t tug. She stayed close. He did not walk fast, instead watching as she walked. He admonished her to lift her knees higher or keep her arms folded tighter behind her back. But he never once told her to hurry.

They made one brief stop before they arrived at the rebel camp, and that was so Freya could don clothing.

Their arrival in the rebel camp was heralded with many greetings and a flurry of activity, as they were given hot broth to drink and situated in a broad and thoroughly patched leather tent. Freya much preferred the wooden or stone sorts of buildings, especially considering the tent leaked. Once they’d placed their sack of belongings within their quarters and were led to a great bonfire, she pondered the quality of their accommodations instead of the curious stares she received.

The rebels were heavily armed and large in number, painted with bright blue war paints and carrying Roman weapons. There were so many, teamed now with other tribes. She wouldn’t even attempt guessing how many there were; numbers had always been difficult for her. She wanted to cheer for them trying to take back Gaul from Rome, but their scowls and glares made it difficult. It made her angry that she’d done nothing and they were furious with her. No, she had done something. She recognized some of these same people from the Folkvang dungeons. She’d freed them.

Siegfried stroked her arm, as if willing her not to lose her temper. His touch did wonders. That was really all he had to do. “Freya, I will not have you fetch me my food here,” he whispered as he took his seat around a great fire.

Then she saw Vercingetorix for the first time. She knew it was him, because he was flanked by spear-wielding guards. Bands of beaten gold were clasped around his upper arms. He was shorter than she’d thought, but he was burly, his entire body hard under the tartan he wore. His light brown hair was long, and his mustache touched his chest. At his side sat a woman, her copper hair in two long plaits. Behind Vercingetorix stood robed men—Druids. Freya did not like that at all. She was certain Siegfried wouldn’t like them either, especially because of how many there were. Six.

“Thank you, Master,” Freya said. She wondered at her timidity around him, her easy compliance with his wishes. She herself had expected to fight him more, because that was who she was.

He took a seat on Vercingetorix’s left side with a grimace. The bench was made out of a split tree. There were not many comforts to be had in this camp, it seemed.

“But I will still have you serve me.” Instead of having her kneel on his cape, he perched her on his lap. This time, it was she who fed him morsels of food and brought wine to his lips. She was nervous about spilling the wine on him in front of these people who didn’t like her. She did not want further attention from them.

“So this is the woman you’ve brought for me,” Vercingetorix said, studying Freya. “The daughter of the Remi traitors.”

“For him?” Freya asked Siegfried. Surely she’d misheard.

“You should not have marked her,” Vercingetorix said before Siegfried could answer. “She’ll be a less valuable hostage, useless now that she cannot rule.”

“He didn’t Mark me,” Freya said, shooting a glare at the robed men. “It was Druids.”

Vercingetorix raised his brows. “Foolish considering Druids have been banned in Remi lands.”

“I think bans hardly matter when they’re trying to knife the Remi princess,” Freya said. “That’s a banned activity, too.”

“She speaks the truth,” Siegfried said. “Before our farcical wedding, she was pursued by Druids. Druids who were not in keeping with our plans.” He explained the events at Folkvang, omitting any part that involved magic.

“You’ve never been given to dishonesty, Siegfried. Not with me, at least,” Vercingetorix said. “The question remains of what is to be done with her now. She is wanted in Remi lands but for murder. They are not going to surrender for a criminal.”

“If you want to be rid of her, we’re performing a sacrifice to Woden at midnight,” a Germanic man said to Siegfried. Freya didn’t even flinch at the remark. Siegfried would never agree to such a thing.

“I thought you agreed to stop sacrificing people in return for the supplies I bring you,” Siegfried’s voice was calm but with a sharp edge to it. Freya focused on his chest, revealed in the deep V of his tunic instead of at his face or the faces of the others.

“Only traitors,” Vercingetorix said. “If people wish to gain favor with their gods, I will not stop them. I am pleased to have the allegiance of as many men as I can.”

“By traitors, do you mean men who do not wish to fight in this war?” Siegfried asked.

“This war is everyone’s,” Vercingetorix said. “We must have a Gallic king, not a Roman Caesar.”

“What was wrong with the tribes just ruling themselves?” Freya murmured. “Maybe they just don’t want a king far away but someone closer that they can better control? Isn’t it better to put your men who want to be here with men who also want to be here? I think people who aren’t dedicated would be a bit of a liability.”

“And what do you know of men and their desires, slave?” Vercingetorix asked. “I assume that is what Siegfried’s made you.”

Freya shrugged off the jab. “My closest friends are all men in the barracks. Some of them didn’t want to fight for Rome. They were better at farming or other needed jobs. Some of them just disagreed. But if my parents caught wind of that, they’d have been executed or sent to Rome. It’s a weakness in a battle if your men might join the other side.”

“You think that because you’ve bedded down with soldiers that you know about warfare?”

“She’s not bedded down with anyone,” Siegfried said. Did he feel the need to defend her honor? He grimaced. “She drank and gambled with the men.” He looked to her. “Who doesn’t support the Remi amongst your men?”

“Hartwin, Faramund, even Berengar. I was able to secure them a spot protecting the palace. They taught me how to play
hnefatafl.
Was I really supposed to let them be executed as traitors or performing poorly for not believing in a cause that wasn’t theirs? They at least wanted to protect me…or did. Besides, I wanted my friends close, too. They didn’t really help against the Druids though.”

“You have no fear of speaking so boldly to me, do you?” Vercingetorix asked after he studied her for a long moment.

“No. You’re a man, just like my friends in Folkvang.”

“He is the king, slave,” one of the Druids warned. He marched from his place behind Vercingetorix. “The rightful king.” The Druid tried to whack Freya with his gnarled staff, but Siegfried quickly blocked the blow.

“That remains for the people to decide,” she said. “If you try to force respect, you’re not really any better than Caesar.” She wanted to say more but found she could not speak. Siegfried’s grip was tight on her thigh. She couldn’t see the Druids’ faces under their cowls. Some of the men were murmuring. Vercingetorix just looked stony.

“It appears as if Freya isn’t as meek as she’d have me believe,” Siegfried said.

“I can see why she appeals to you, Siegfried,” Vercingetorix said. “I expected her to beg for mercy.” Freya snorted at that. “It looks as if you have every intention of keeping her.”

“Aye,” Siegfried said.

“I’d sacrifice her,” the woman with the plaits said. “It’d be less trouble to let the gods discipline her. See how well her questioning them is received.”

“Idunn,” Siegfried said, his voice heavy with warning.

“What do you think happens to human sacrifices?” Freya blurted, unable to help herself. Siegfried had stopped silencing her. Perhaps a few questions would help.

“They are slain in honor of the gods,” Idunn said.

“Well…I mean, how does it honor them?” Freya persisted, her thoughts taking flight. “Have you ever thought that Woden might be in Asgard, doing his Woden-ish things, like busting skulls and snarling and running around in a loincloth in the snow, and all of a sudden these sacrifices just appear there? Maybe they land in the middle of his table. And there would go dinner, because someone’s ass ended up in the stew. Or they might land on his head as he’s battling, or—”

“Is there…something wrong with her? Maybe you should sacrifice her to Woden,” Idunn said. “Sacrifices are supposed to serve the gods in the afterlife.”

“Let me continue. Er, please, Master.”

Siegfried nodded and watched her with interest and the slightest bit of amusement.

“You’re giving Woden sacrifices of people you don’t really want. How does that honor him in any way? That would be like me giving someone a pair of old shoes and saying how much I like that person. It’d be more of an insult really. If you do sacrifice me, I’m just going to tell Woden what you’re really up to. Giving him your undesirables. And then I’d see if he had any ale.”

“Does it happen that way?” one of the men asked the Druids. The Druids looked to each other but did not answer. Freya bet they were glad for those hoods, which were most likely serving to conceal frustration and confusion.

“I never thought of it that way,” Vercingetorix said, scratching his chin. The mirrored medallion on his neck caught the firelight. A lot of people were wearing those, now that Freya thought about it. She’d thought they were fireflies at first, because the small orbs reflecting the flames were everywhere. But fireflies weren’t that big and it was too late in the year for them. “What if we’re angering the gods with the sacrifices? We lost forty men two days ago. Right after our last sacrifice. Just to be safe, we will put a hold on the sacrifices.”

Freya breathed a sigh of relief, and Siegfried sat her on his knee. “I have no idea how that worked, but thank you.” He managed to sound grateful yet reluctant all at the same time.