Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 524(@200wpm)___ 419(@250wpm)___ 349(@300wpm)
She glanced at Zev, who was giving all his attention to the horizon.
“Is it okay if she tells me?” I asked him, checking again.
“You’re the prince’s consort,” he said flatly. “It’s not for me to give you my permission for anything.”
“But I want it,” I insisted.
He shrugged, still without looking at me. “It was centuries ago.”
“That doesn’t make it hurt any less,” Sabira reminded him gently.
“No,” he allowed, and finally turned to me. “But why I should care is a mystery.”
“She was your mother,” I said quietly.
An almost imperceptible shake of his head. “She bore me. She was no mother.”
That fast, I didn’t want to know any more. The fact of the matter was, things that happened in antiquity, I saw them through my modern sensibility, and it was always horrific. This wasn’t going to be any better.
“You know what, it’s—”
“She was kidnapped by men on Decimus’s order and taken to Ophir,” Sabira told me. “There she became his unwilling courtesan.”
I nodded.
“He didn’t share her with anyone else, not his sons, not visitors to court, no one, and he never allowed her free rein of his castle. From what I understand, she was shackled in his chambers from the day she was brought to him.”
I should have stopped her then. I knew it was about to get even worse.
“Alruna, Decimus’s first courtesan, who was wildly jealous of Leda, beat her constantly, and that, Decimus allowed. He liked to see her bruised and bloody.”
I already hated the man from what Sorin had reported and the little Zev had recounted, and this was further reinforcing that. Crossing my arms, I tried to imagine what Leda looked like. Not hurt or defiled, but at court, as beautiful and brilliant as she’d been.
“I don’t get it,” I told Sabira. “Where was his mate in all this? Decimus’s wife?”
“He never chose a wife.”
“There was no lady of Ophir?”
“No.”
“Did he want Leda to be his wife?”
“One cannot take a courtier or courtesan to be a mate. The mate of a noble must come from a noble house.”
“So no one gets to be elevated to that status?”
She shook her head.
“But we call all the courtesans in the palace lady so-and-so.”
“Yes, but that’s only done here, and it must be differentiated from the title of the holding. Take Lady Rowena, for example, a dear friend of mine. Here she is Lady Rowena Huxley of Shelton Moor. Anywhere else, she’s simply Lady Rowena.”
“Okay. So then if it’s Lady Chione—”
She hissed like a cat, and I smiled at her.
“If I said Lady Chione, nothing more, then you’d know she’s a courtesan.”
“Correct. And only at the palace are courtesans even allowed near nobles,” she made clear. “Nowhere else is it allowed for them to be at balls or anything else. Once Varic becomes king and there are no more revolting whores walking among us, the rest of the dene will be quite pleased not to have to worry about rubbing elbows with the rabble.”
She was a snob, but she also hated all the women who came between her sister and her husband. I understood, though the women were guiltless.
“Please go on about Zev,” I prodded her.
“Well, sadly, but not surprisingly, when Zev was born, Leda didn’t want him, and so he was placed first with a wet nurse and then into the general area with the others who live and work inside the fortress.”
I couldn’t even look at Zev.
“He was told who his mother was, but whenever someone had taken him to see her…”
“She beat me,” he murmured. “Once, when I was very young, we were left alone, and she told me all the vile things Decimus had done to her.”
“I—”
“He liked to take her while others watched and goaded him on.” He looked away.
I cleared my throat, needing to move the story along to the end, to the time when he was saved. “And when Isabella came?”
Deep breath, like he was rising from some dark place, and when his gaze returned to me, he was himself again. The smirk was back, and I heard Sabira sigh.
“I was running, you know? Because I was small. I mean, I was always underweight, malnourished, because I was only given enough blood to move, to complete my tasks, and any I could steal from a goblet or a bowl.”
“Why not eat?” I said, knowing that was done in Ophir.
“Eat?” Sabira sounded confused.
“He means feed,” Zev corrected, shooting me a look to keep my mouth shut. “But I was still Decimus’s child, so I was given only blood.”
“What would there be besides blood?” Sabira wanted to know.
“Nothing,” he told her, then to me, “So, I was moving as fast as I could, serving blood, pouring it from a pitcher, and suddenly a hand wrapped around my wrist so tight, I screamed.”
I could imagine how scared he’d been.