5

The king’s concubine.

In her honored naked state, the rest of the festivities passed Mare in a blur. Every event, the flowing wine, the never-ending platter of food, the never-ending beat of the drums, and the sound of the horns. She remembered standing beside the king’s seat looking out as the days bled into days.

She remembered the king’s command to his eunuchs to get her started on a beauty treatment. She remembered fighting off the courtesan beautician, a eunuch named Hegi. She remembered the feel of his flesh under her nails when she scratched his face, the warmth of his blood on her hand. She remembered the sting of the king’s hand across her cheek and the cold press of a sword on her neck for her defiance.

“Break her if you must but when the beauty treatment is done I want a sublime concubine, not this wild cat!” Vallezarii commanded the eunuch who, glaring at Mare, grabbed her and shoved her roughly through the place halls to the West wing of the castle where she would be kept for the next three months.

For all his hatred for Mare’s defiance, Hegi appreciated her beauty. His practiced eyes sought out the best treatments to bring out the glow of her skin. He put her on a diet that softened the hard muscles gained from years on the fields. He taught Mare how to eat like a lady and walk like a lady with her hidden in the sleeves of her gowns while resting on her midsection. Even though he could not get rid of her Baryn accent he taught her to speak less brashly.

Mare fought him even then. Her defiance did not go unnoticed by Vallezarii and every time news got to him of the troubles she caused he had his soldiers beat her until she bled. But as the months passed Mare's spirit broke and she became mellow.

Three months of care under Hegi changed her from a slave girl in threadbare tunics to the king’s concubine dressed in silk and satin and with the manners of a queen. But deep in her heart Mare was Baryn. She didn’t forget that. Just as she didn’t forget her friends. She wondered how Veren and Llod fared. She hadn’t been allowed outside her chambers in the West wing. She was confined like a prisoner only allowed outside when Hegi was with her and he never came without his whip to beat her when she walked with her black slumped.

Of all the things Hegi liked about Mare, he liked her hair the most and he spent extra care making the glossy strands even more shiny. But as much as he loved those glossy tresses it was his means of punishing her when she misbehaved. If she so much as glared at him during a session of her training he pulled her hair so hard her scalp bled at times.

Finally when three months were over with her mannerisms tuned to a sharp, refined point Mare was presented to the king.

A concubine dressed in finery, she mused at herself in the mirror. Hegi had chosen the soft lush pink kirtle she wore, the satin veil on her head had been Hegi’s own gift to her. Soft slippers she wore cushioned feet that were now free of cracks and hard skin. Gone was the smell of heat and horse and misery that clung over her throughout her life, now she smelled of rosewater and jasmine.

Mare scoffed cynically. A glorified slave.

But as much as she suffered and endured what her future must be in the palace she knew that the rest of Baryn suffered even more. The king’s declaration had made their already miserable lives even worse. Arlankis and Sefers alike preyed even harder on them. They raided villages and raped men, women and children. Their burdens were heavier, their days on the fields longer.

Mare stared at herself in the looking glass and could not help the guilt that assailed her. She remembered her father's words.

“You are born for greatness,” he would say and touch her hair gently, lovingly. “But sometimes I cannot help but imagine your greatness would be your doom.”

Now she understood her father's words. But alas it wasn’t just her doom, her actions brought a worse fate for her people.

Maybe the prophecy was a lie after all.

There was never a prophecy.

“The king is in the king's hall, the court is waiting. You must remember all that I have taught you. Wipe that stubborn look from your face!”

Mare glared at Hegi.

He sighed exasperatedly. “Mayhap the saying is right, you cannot overflog the horse,” he said under his breath. “You do not realize the position you are in. The king would never behold the sight of a Baryn but you he chose as his concubine.”

“I am honored. The girls of Baryns are throwing themselves at the castle doors to be in my position.”

Hegi’s face crinkled into a look of disapproval at her tone. He shook his head again and murmured, “You are a lost one. But the king would not take kindly to your tone as I have, you must bridle your tongue lest you find yourself standing on the gallows. This time the king would not show you mercy.”

Stretching her lips into a sardonic smile Mare responded. “I truly appreciate your mercy, my scalp glows because of your leniency.”

“I am only doing my job. Now, if you are quite done sharpening your tongue again, making a mockery of my efforts on you let us present you to the king.”

Despite her distaste at her current situation, Mare held her hand in front of her midsection, straightened her back like Hegi taught her to, and stepped noiselessly out of the chambers.

The halls were the same as she remembered. Funny to think that three months ago she had walked these halls in disguise on a mission to kill the king and save her people. Now she was marching to be presented as his property. She was the king’s property, bought without a price.

She ground her teeth to stave off the tears burning behind her eyes. So what if the prophecy was wrong? What if Baryns were condemned to eternal slavery? What if they could never escape the cruel power of Vallezarii?

Her father always said nothing happens without a reason.

Her being a concubine was nothing short of a divine intervention. If she couldn’t kill the king as a slave would she not have the chance to do so as a concubine, damning the consequences?

 For her humiliation alone she would drive a knife straight into his heart. If she was to die for it then die she must but his death would bring the freedom her people needed. Let his lust be his demise.

Her resolve firm in her heart she turned the last corner aware of Hegi’s presence behind her, aware of every guards’ eyes on her, aware that they were ready to thrust a sword into her if she so much as missed a step.

She came to the door of the king's hall and it was thrown open to reveal the expansive hall lined with red curtains, coat of arms. In the crevices of the wall, she knew archers watched. The great table in the center of the hall held 12 chairs and one gilded chair at the head where Vallezarii sat with a lecherous smile on his face. Five of those chairs were occupied by the heads of the king’s court. Dymas Milelot’s seat was unoccupied. There was no sign of Veren and Llod either.

She could feel the lust in the room as they beheld her. Their eyes fixed on the low-cut bodice of her gown.

She held her head high.

“Ah,” Vallezarii breathed and she heard the satisfaction in that simple word.

She stopped just before the table and bowed as Hegi told her to.

“Even a slave can be made to look like a queen,” Vallezarii said. He snapped his fingers as he stood up and a servant hurried to hand him a wrapped package which he unwrapped as he came to tower before her. Before she could think he clasped a heavy metal band about her throat. “But a slave will always remain a slave.”