Sorrows of Adoration (32 page)

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Authors: Kimberly Chapman

Tags: #romance, #love, #adventure, #alcoholism, #addiction, #fantasy, #feminism, #intrigue, #royalty, #romance sex

BOOK: Sorrows of Adoration
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Still, the cart went
on. I began to drift to sleep, exhausted, numb, and rocked
continually in my little box. I know it sounds implausible, to
sleep whilst being abducted and on the way to one’s death, but
somehow I did.

I woke when the cart
stopped. A seizing fear clamped my chest, and I immediately began
to struggle again. I knew it was night once more, for no light
peeked through the boards of the cart. I prayed that we had stopped
because I had been found missing and a searcher had caught up to
the cart.

The lid of the box that
held me was removed. I saw four men, two of whom were my abductors,
the other two unknown to me. They lifted me out of the cart, and
immediately I began to struggle and kick at them.

“Hold it there, wild
thing,” one of the other two said with a laugh.

“Keep it down, or we’ll
change our minds and kill you after all,” one of my abductors said.
His implication that they did not intend to murder me halted my
struggling. I clung to the fervent hope that these men would betray
Sashken and were, in fact, turning me over to someone who would
take me home.

“There now,” said the
second new man, “that’s a good girl. Let’s just see what you’ve got
to offer then.” He approached where I stood, my bound arms held
tightly by one abductor and the other new man. He lifted my chin
and examined my face and hair in a very odd manner.


We have no use
for one with child,” said the new
man who held me.

“She’s a pretty thing,
though. Look at these,” he said as he grabbed at my breasts. I
struggled again in outrage, trying to wriggle myself from their
grasp. “And spirited too. Wonderful hair, reddish even in this thin
light, down to the backs of her knees. That’s usually popular.” The
brute turned to my abductors and said, “Two hundred.”

“She’ll be sought
after, you fool! We’ve had to travel without rest and sweep our
tracks as we went! Six hundred, not a coin less!”

I’m
being sold!
I realized
indignantly.
The wretched pigs are selling me!

“Come now,” said one of
the buying men. “She’s pretty, but we’ll get a lower price what
with the child and all. She won’t be any good to them for months!
Plus if you’re as likely to have been followed as you say, that
makes it more dangerous for us until we cross the border. Three
hundred.”

They continued to
haggle as though I were a used kitchen pot. I was outraged but then
realized that, given the choice between being sold and being
killed, being sold was better. At least that gave me more time to
escape.

They settled finally on
a price of four hundred fifty gold and that the sellers could take
my gold necklace as well. I wept but allowed the men who bought me
to take me to their caravan. They were gentler than the other two,
putting me on a pile of clothing to be traded instead of in a
wooden box. I continued to cry quietly nonetheless, wondering how
any man could participate in such a brutish exchange.

We started moving, one
of them out driving the caravan, the other sitting inside it with
me, watching me to ensure I didn’t attempt to escape. I looked at
him with eyes full of sad disgust. He was clearly uncomfortable
under my stare, and I found myself hoping I could convince him to
release me, despite the enormous sum that he and his partner had
paid.

Eventually he spoke.
“If you think you can behave, I’ll take off your gag and give you
something to eat. But I warn you, if you make me regret my choice
you’ll go hungry and thirsty the whole way.”

I nodded, and he leaned
forward to gently remove my gag. I coughed and stretched my aching
jaw. “How can you do this?” I whispered.

“Nothing personal,
pretty girl. Just business,” he said as he put a piece of fruit in
my hands. Hungry, I devoured it quickly, weeping quietly as I ate.
When I finished, he took the core away and discarded it.

Looking at him
pleadingly, I asked, “Do you know who I am?”

“No. Don’t care,
either. Whoever you were doesn’t matter any more. Better get used
to that.”

“What if I told you my
husband, Prince Kurit, will no doubt be searching for me with all
of the King’s Guard behind him?”

His eyes widened in
shock. He rose quickly and pounded on the front wall of the
caravan. It came to a stop, and the other man soon opened the back
doors.

“What is it?” he
shouted.

“She says her husband
is the Prince of Keshaerlan!”

The other man sneered
at me. “Sure he is. And I’m the High Abbott of Maellorn. Pleased to
make your acquaintance, Highness.”

His attitude enraged
me. “Feel free to doubt my words, but I assure you, my Kurit must
already be frantically searching for me, and my Champion Jarik as
well. They’ll have every King’s Guard, every soldier, and every
Lord looking for me. I’m carrying the heir to the throne of
Keshaerlan in my womb! A fiendish woman of the court had me
abducted and ordered me killed because she yearns foolishly to
steal my husband from me.

“Now, you have the
opportunity to win the everlasting favour of the royal family and
every Lord under them. I suspect we must be in or close to Alesha.
Take me to Lord Cael. You will be handsomely rewarded what you paid
for me many times over if I am taken safely there. I promise you
that.”

The one in the caravan
was convinced, that I could tell for certain. But the one who stood
outside clearly thought I was telling a desperate tale to save
myself. He laughed at me and closed the doors.

I leaned my head back
on the wall of the caravan and wept. The man with me looked very
worried, so I tried to exploit that. “I’m telling the truth.
Please, if he won’t listen, you can still save me. If not for me,
please, I beg for my husband and child’s sake. My poor Kurit, he’ll
be mad with fear for me. He’s probably on his horse right now,
searching frantically. Please take me home to him.”

The man clamped his
hands over his ears to shut out my words. “Enough,” he grumbled. “I
can’t help you.”

My options exhausted, I
wept quietly until the caravan stopped again some time later. The
other man came around back and opened the doors.

“I’m taking her to
relieve herself before she stinks up the merchandise,” he said,
dragging me out of the caravan. He tied a rope to my arm bonds and
turned his back to me. How humbling it was, to squat in open land
and do what I had to do. But it was better than soiling myself
again, and I was glad to be spared that. I suppose I should have
also been thankful that he neither watched me nor held my arms, but
it was rather difficult to be thankful of anything at the time.

I was loaded back in
the caravan, and we were off again. The numbing depression
returned, and I sat in half-conscious misery until we reached our
destination the next day.

I was unloaded roughly
from the caravan into the bright light of mid-day. I squinted
against the glare and heard a man with a strange, purring accent
say, “Careful now. If you damage her, I won’t take her.” I had
never seen a Wusul before, but I had heard enough stories as a
child to recognize him to be one. His clothes were very odd, made
more from skins than cloth and dotted with metal studs on the
shoulders. He looked normal enough, but the short crop of yellowish
hair was the obvious confirmation. All Wusuls were said to have
this strange colour of hair.

“Don’t think I’m going
to pay you for the child,” he said to the men who had brought me
there. “I have no use for the child. The girl is pretty enough,
though. Ran Kei-Galu likes the flame-haired ones well.”

“Which is why we
brought her here instead of to Ran Kei-Mosun,” the one who had
driven the caravan replied.

In my depressed,
vaguely aware state, I realized I was being sold, likely as a
concubine, to some Wusul lord. Fresh tears rolled down my cheeks,
but I was too weak and tired to even try to wrestle myself away.
Not that I could have gone far with my legs still bound and many
spear-armed Wusul guards gathered about to gawk.

“Good, then,” said the
Wusul man. He called to some guards and ordered them to take me to
a cell. “We’ll keep her down there until she bears the child. We’ll
dispose of it quickly. and she can begin service to the Ran.” The
guards started to drag me away, but having heard that the barbarian
intended to kill my child upon its birth, my energy returned and I
struggled against them, screaming.

“You can’t do this! I
am the wife of the heir to the Keshaerlan throne! If you kill his
child I swear to you he’ll bring the wrath of the King’s army upon
you,” I growled, but still the guards took me away.

“Is she serious or is
she crazed?” the Wusul asked.

“Temporarily crazed by
the travel, I assure you,” I heard the wretched fiend who had sold
me reply. “We bought her from a pair of vagabonds. No Princess
would be outside her palace without a mad chase of guards behind
her. Now, shall we say a thousand, then? Quite the bargain for that
little beauty …” I was dragged inside and heard no more of
what they said.

I was freed of my bonds
and dumped in a straw-lined room of stone, the entrance wall made
of thick metal bars. I cried out repeated threats of war, of armies
that would seek me, but nobody listened, so I soon gave up.

A short time later, a
woman with that same odd hair wrapped strangely in rolls at the
sides of her head came to see me. She had the most bizarre form—a
large bosom and equally large hips, but her waist in the middle was
squeezed so tightly that I wondered how she lived. I imagined a man
of Jarik’s size could almost put his hands entirely around her
waist at its narrowest point.

The thought of my good
Jarik tore at my heart. I wondered if he was furious and calling
for me or perhaps cold and dark, brooding remorsefully as he
searched.

My thoughts of him were
banished quickly as the woman began to speak in that same purring
accent. “I am Ras Mei-Risha-Galu. You shall call me Ras Risha. In
your land, that would be equivalent to Lady Risha. I am the sister
of Ran Kei-Galu, your new Lord, as you would think of him. I am in
charge of his concubines, of which you shall be one. It is a high
honour to be a concubine to a Ran. If you behave as is fitting, you
shall live comfortably in the Ran’s graces. If you are foolish, you
will be branded and sent to work as a scullery slave, if not
executed. Do you understand me?”

“I carry the heir to
the throne of Keshaerlan. If you make me your slave and kill my
child—”

“So I’ve heard you
claim. I care not,” she said without emotion. “You are now
San-Galu, which means ‘servant of Ran Kei-Galu’. If you enter his
graces, he may one day grant you a name of your own. Meals will be
brought to you here in your cell for now. Once you have birthed
your child and it is disposed of, you will be allowed to reside in
the lower halls with the other concubines.” Her message delivered,
she took her leave.

I put my hands
protectively over my belly. Silently, I promised my unborn son or
daughter that I would protect them, that somehow I would prevent
them from being killed in their first innocent breaths.

After the sun had set,
which I could see through a tiny window at the top of the cell, a
guard with a full tray of food came down the stairs that led to the
cells. He opened the door to put it on the floor and sat to watch
me eat. I ate everything that was offered, not even tasting it.

I saw that the guard
looked at me with lust in his eye. Quickly, I devised a plan of
escape. My mind reeled with a thousand reasons why the plan would
fail and I would end up dead. I didn’t care. I had to try, for the
sake of my child.

Yes,
for my child,
I told
myself. I repeated it over and over in my head:
For my child. For you, my
unborn child.

I forced a
lascivious
smile onto my face,
and gazed towards the guard. Catching his attention, I murmured,
“Are all Wusul men as handsome as yourself?”

He laughed. “If you
think you can flatter me into getting my keys, you’re mistaken,
girl!”

Curse
it,
I thought.
Don’t be so
flagrant, or he’ll suspect you.

“I’m not so stupid as
to consider the idea. I’m just curious if this Ran of which I’ve
heard is as handsome. It might not be such a terrible thing to
serve a handsome man.” Smiling as prettily as I could, I ran my
fingers through my hair to tease him. Oh, how his eyes lit up at
that; I realized these yellow-haired men liked the red Aleshan
locks. I fiddled with the messy mop, dividing it roughly in half
along the back, braiding one side slowly, then the other, as I
smiled at him.

He moved himself
in his seat, and I knew I had aroused him.
Careful now,
I coached myself.
Don’t make him suspicious. And don’t
show revulsion. This is for the child, my child, my innocent
child.

I rose to my feet with
as much grace as I could muster in my condition and walked to the
bars. I wrapped my hands around them, and moved one finger up and
down along the bar that I held in my right hand. “You see,” I said
in a voice faking both sweetness and lust, “the truth is I am very
poor. I have no means to support this child, and the father denies
it is his. I’m a lowly barmaid, and my work has been hard and
unpleasant. But if this Ran of yours is a handsome man and if Ras
Risha speaks the truth, that good behaviour is rewarded, well
then,” I giggled, “I’m willing to earn their graces, as it
were.”

“I thought you were
claiming to be the wife of the High Ran of Keshaerlan, or some such
thing,” he said in suspicion, but still hanging on my every
word.

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