Stolen (The Blueblood Stories Book 1) Read online

  The girl who had spoken was called Fluna. She had been disqualified from the harem because she was too young. She looked about seventeen years old, and had a heart shaped face with short bright orange hair. She was pale, very pale, with many freckles dotting her face.

  “Fluna, how can you say that? Would you really rather give your body to any man who crosses your path?” asked the other girl, hard at work scrubbing a ceramic pot. Molsa was older than either Fluna or myself. She was betrothed to a farmer in the village. She was tall, with black hair and thin eyebrows.

  “You would say that Molsa. You afraid Potor won’t take you after you’ve shared some Spinton’s bed? Poor, precious Potor. So upset to find his perfect Molsa in the arms of another,” Fluna jeered. “Don’t look at me like that Molsa.” Fluna then turned to face me, flinging soap bubbles as she pointed in my direction, “So, you’re called Nat? Strange name. You from the city? I ain’t never seen you here before.”

  “My brother and I were travelling from our farm for the day of Thantos,” I said quickly, trying to remember the story Marcus had told the assigner. It wasn’t easy — while the effect of the alcohol had largely worn off, my head had been pounding for the better part of an hour.

  After that we didn’t speak much. Fluna was so arrogant and we had almost nothing in common. Molsa at least was more down to earth. After we had cleaned all the dishes, something I was terrible at, we were instructed to find Catena. I was secretly desperate for sleep.

  Catena and the rest of the harem girls were still dancing and drinking in the courtyard. My cheeks burned crimson when I realized that one girl was slowly stripping to the applause of a group of men, while another girl had climbed onto a soldier’s lap and was performing some sort of advanced gymnastics, showing off her every asset.

  “And what are you three doing — lurking around?” said Catena, when she had spied us waiting for her at the edge of the courtyard.

  We all jumped in surprise. Fortunately, Fluna kept her wits about her and was quick to reply. “Cook sent us. She thought you might have need of us?”

  Fluna glanced around the courtyard, where a dozen or so soldiers were bathing, her eyes hungry large saucers as she examined them. She spoke far nicer than she had to Molsa or myself; it was a little irritating.

  “There’s a bedroom on the second level you can share,” Catena drawled, waving her hand indifferently. “Sindra?” she called; the little blonde girl raced over to us. “Show the house wenches that little bedroom we were going to give Kotty.”

  “Excuse me Catena,” Fluna chimed in, taking a tentative step forwards, “can I have a word?”

  “If you make it fast.”

  “It’s just . . . I’m eighteen in a few weeks and I was sort of hoping —”

  “You want to be part of the harem rather than a kitchen wench?” said Catena, cutting her off mid-sentence. Fluna nodded. “We can re-evaluate your post once you come of age. Master Drake doesn’t usually go back on his word, but if you please him, perhaps he’ll make an exception.”

  “Oh — thank you Catena,” Fluna gushed, dropping to her knees and bowing in the exact same submissive way Catena had done earlier.

  Catena stepped right over Fluna, apparently indifferent, and rounded on Molsa and me. “And as for you two — I expect you to provide this household with your best manners. You answer to me now and you’ll do whatever tasks I see fit. Before you go to sleep tonight, you’re to go through all the rooms and light the fireplaces. You’ll do that every morning too, then report to the cook for breakfast duties. I’m your master from now on — understand?”

  We both nodded and followed Sindra up the grand staircase and down a long hallway. There were no windows here, just row after row of doors. The occasional portrait hung on the wall, mostly images of an elderly man I didn’t recognize. One painting however was very familiar to me. It was a replication of an oil painting that hung in the temple.

  The image portrayed a wall of fire sweeping through the city. Here and there were the scared and singed faces of the city folk, all fleeing from the horrendous flames. In the center of the portrait, his hands held out in a wielding fashion, was my grandfather. Water poured out from his hands, spraying up at the flames and keeping them at bay. The painting was captioned; ‘High Priest Samsith protecting the city from the great fire of 1072.’ I knew right away it was not an original. Every original had a phrase in the bottom right corner: without darkness there can be no light.

  The temple was filled with historical replications of my ancestor’s feats against the forces of nature. Floods, fires, whirlwinds, all manner of natural disasters had tested Carnell, but always the bluebloods had been there to protect the people . . . until now. How had the Spinton’s managed to defeat us? True, their ability to bind men made them powerful, but surely my family would have fought.

  Halfway down the hallway, Sindra indicated a small door. “Here’s your room.” Fluna was just about to walk inside when Sindra wiggled her finger annoyingly. “Aren’t you forgetting the fireplaces?”

  “Woops,” Fluna said, jumping back from the door as though stung.

  “No matter,” Sindra smirked. “But if you want a spot in the harem, I wouldn’t sleep until all the fires are lit. Master Drake may be in command, but Catena’s been his favorite for ages. She’s in charge of everything domestic. Don’t get on her wrong side,” she warned, turning to me.

  The first room I went to was unoccupied and had no fire place. As I left, I noticed a small hidden staircase at the very end of the hallway. Throwing caution to the wind, I climbed the steps and found myself on the third level. There was only one door, which led to a loft. The room looked to be empty. There was a bed in one corner and a sectioned off lavatory, but not a soul in site.

  My eyes danced hopefully to the small window at the opposite side of the room. Quickly I shook my head. There was no point in trying to escape now; not without Marcus. Moving over to the fireplace, I wondered exactly how I should attempt to light it. It was not something I’d ever had to do before. Ordinarily the palace attendants took care of such household matters.

  Crossing my legs, I sat in front of the hearth, spying the small basket filled with wood and cotton blossom. Experimentally, I placed most of the blossom inside the fireplace and lit it. It burnt quickly, and turned to ash just as fast, filling the room with smoke. Coughing loudly, I threw my hands up, trying to waft the smoke up the chimney.

  “Are you trying to light the house on fire?”

  I froze. The voice was masculine, that much I was sure of. Turning slowly, my eyes widened in fear — Master Drake stood a few paces behind me. My immediate reaction was to run. This man was cruel. I had seen him steal the mind of another. How could he live with himself doing such a thing?

  “I’m — I am sorry,” I stuttered, quickly throwing a few of the logs onto the cotton, hoping it might stop the smoke so I could leave.

  “Have you ever lit a fire before?”

  “I — err, I’ve never been very good at it.”

  “Surprising,” he mused.

  I looked up at him, confused. Was he being sarcastic? How was it possible for such a man . . . such a monster, to joke? “Well, now there’s a few logs down it should take.” Jumping up, I backed quickly away from the fireplace. “I’ll leave you to enjoy the, err, warmth.”

  “I think you mean smoke,” he said, frowning at the fireplace. “Come here.”

  I didn’t move. I was completely frozen. His tone had changed; I couldn’t tell if he were toying with me or genuinely angry.

  “Did you not hear me?” he asked, turning to face me.

  When he looked at me, his eyes were serious; I moved forwards at once. No longer was there a trace of humor. Had I imagined it was there before? My mind flashed to the blacksmith from earlier, covered in coal as his will was stolen from him. Drake’s eyes had been empty when he had taken everything away from that poor man. And, he could just as easily do the same to me. A cold chill chas
ed itself up my spine.

  “I’m not surprised you’re shivering,” he said, watching me. “This kingdom knows cold at night, hence the need for a good fire. So, how is it that a peasant girl from Carnell has never had occasion to light a fire?”

  My mind was blank. Finally, I forced myself to speak. “My brother . . . he does all that sort of stuff at home.”

  “Well, this is your home now. You’ll need to know how it’s done.”

  When I bent towards the fireplace, I was careful to keep a healthy distance between us. Drake reached into the hearth and pulled out all the wood I had thrown inside. I couldn’t help marveling at his hands. They were large and rough, as though he had spent years in the fields. Quickly I shook my head. No — not in the fields . . . this man was not a farmer; he was a soldier . . . most likely a murderer. What was wrong with me? Hurriedly I forced myself to pay more attention to the task at hand. Reaching for the basket, he retrieved the few remaining cotton blossoms, placing them at the base of the fireplace.

  “The trick is to look for the twigs,” he explained. “They go on top of the cotton and then you layer it with the wood. If you just burn the cotton, the flame won’t last — it’s the wood that needs to catch light, but it needs to breathe, which is why you need the twigs.” Watching him work was mesmerizing. When he was done, the wood was placed so perfectly, it looked like a piece of art. “The flint?”

  When he placed his hand in mine to retrieve it, my pulse quickened. His fingertips were electric against my skin. A black tattoo of a tree branch ran the length of his arm, sneaking just past his wrists. It was fine work, the branches winding this way and that, with strange little leaves that seemed to knot on themselves.

  I’d been so rapt by it, I jumped when he took a blade from his belt. I knew he’d noticed, because a smile curled the corner of his mouth. He didn’t say anything about my reaction, simply brought the flint against his blade so that sparks flew into the hearth.

  Still watching his blade, I stood and said, “Thanks for the lesson.”

  “Nat,” he said, surprising me that he had remembered my name. He sheathed his blade and turned to face me. His eyes were so green, I found myself lost in them. Was I imagining it, or had I just been shown a slither of kindness? “You need not fear this blade. But if I have to tell you again to call me Master Drake, I will be forced to discipline you.”

  My eyes widened in confusion. One moment Drake was helping me and the next, he was threatening me. It made no sense.

  Staring up resolutely, I said, “I’m sorry Master Drake. It’s just, just that I’ve never had to address anyone before in such a way — and it feels, well, it feels wrong. In Carnell, it’s not our custom to address men so much higher than women. We consider both sexes as equals.”

  He was less than a foot away from me when he stopped dead in his tracks. He peered at me, seeming to see me for the first time. He drank in my every curve, settling finally on my eyes. The longer he stared at me, the more confused I became — what was he looking for?

  “And yet you had a royal family, did you not?” he asked, when finally he spoke next. “How would you have addressed your rulers, should you have spoken with them?”

  My first instinct was to laugh. That notion flew out the window when I realized he’d spoken about my family in the past tense. Suddenly my heart was pounding. “What do you mean — had a royal family?” I asked, searching his face for a response. “Did they — were they injured during the invasion?”

  “What I mean is that they’re no longer in command of this kingdom. As to their fate, I don’t know. I wasn’t at the palace during the invasion. Now, seeing as I have answered your questions, perhaps you can explain to me why you are still failing to address me correctly.” He advanced on me, pushing forwards until his body pressed mine against the door. “And what do you think I should do, to ensure you remember how to address me?”

  “Let me off with a warning?”

  To my surprise, his face broke into a smile and he laughed. “You have spirit,” he said, his face so close to mine, I could taste his breath in the air. “But there is something else . . . you’re the first girl ever to decline entering my harem. Always there are disqualifications, but you’re the first one to step back, because you didn’t want to join. It’s not often I’m surprised.”

  I was breathing fast now. The longer he stared at me, the more my resolve faltered. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to happen. A thousand thoughts rushed at me — run — attack — stay — submit.

  “Lest you wish to catch my attention again,” he said, his lips so close to mine I could just about feel them, “I suggest you put aside your old customs. Carnell is changing. You would do well to change with it.”

  He reached behind me, opening the door. Screaming in surprise, I fell backwards, only just managing to stay upright. He didn’t wait to check if I was ok but slammed the door shut. Staring up, a trickle of sweat slipped down my cheek. Then, without a backwards glance, I raced down the stairs.

  Chapter Six

  When I woke the next morning, I was hot and sweaty. I hadn’t slept very well — my dreams had been strange and corrupt, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Master Drake. Every time I closed my eyes, I pictured his hands — his enormous masculine hands, touching me. It was so frustrating! The man was a monster — had literally branded a person in front of me and here I was, daydreaming about the brute. It made no sense. Besides, I had better things to think about — more important things . . . like what was I going to do to get out of here.

  Rolling over in bed, I tried to clear my mind. What I found was Fluna, snoring next to me. The room we had been assigned was small, with just one bed, meaning that Fluna, Molsa and I had to share it. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except that Fluna had commandeered the only two pillows, leaving me to improvise and use my arm as a brace against the straw mattress.

  “We had better get started on those fires,” said Molsa, leaving the bed to stretch. “I’ll do the lower level ones.”

  “And I want the ones here, on this floor,” Fluna demanded, moving excitedly to her silk dress and shimming into it. “Catena is only a few doors down — we’ll need to discuss my promotion. She’d better have spoken with Master Drake — it ain’t fair to disqualify me when I’m of age in less than a few months. And I’m gonna remind her of that; I ain’t wasting this opportunity cleaning bedpans.”

  My eyes rolled as I mimicked Molsa and stretched. When I was dressed, I made my way towards the loft, quietly moving up the stairs until I was once again standing outside Master Drake’s room. Taking in a deep breath, I stared at the door. I’d already decided that it was a bad idea to have any more run-ins with him. There was something about him that robbed me of my senses; I couldn’t trust myself around him. Best to get in, light the fire and get out.

  Holding my breath, I knocked on the door and waited. When there was no response, I sighed in relief and quickly entered. I was in such a rush, I raced straight for the fireplace and immediately began throwing the blossom into the hearth. Scraping the bottom of the basket, I scrambled together a few twigs before placing some larger logs on top. Satisfied with the structure, I was just looking for the flint, when someone spoke.

  “Impressive.”

  Spinning around, I was shocked to see Drake sitting up in bed. He was still wearing his bed clothes and his hair was tussled, giving him a carefree appearance. What with being so eager to tend the fire, I hadn’t even checked to make sure the room was in fact empty — big mistake.

  “Oh — I’m sorry Master Drake,” I said, still stunned. “I didn’t realize you were here . . . I’ll just go.”

  Spying the flint, my eyes widened. Quickly I struck it against the metal rod, not even checking if the spark had found the blossom. As I made to leave, I couldn’t help glancing at Drake. He was sitting up in bed, a single white sheet thrown across his lap. But he wasn’t alone — someone was underneath the sheet. My eyes lingered from Drake’s shoulder, do
wn his arm, to where he was grasping onto the hair of a girl. My mouth fell open when I realized what was happening.

  “Something you want?” he asked me, his eyes half closed in pleasure. Surreptitiously, I bit my lip, too mortified to speak. Suddenly, Drake sat upright, his eyes coming into focus. “Thank you. You may leave me now.”

  Nodding, I backed towards the door. Before I could reach it, the girl under the sheets emerged. It was Catena and she was completely naked. When she looked at me, her expression was sour.

  “Shall I come back later Master Drake?” Catena asked, pulling her dress on.

  “I’ll call for you if I have need,” he said, his eyes locked on me the whole time.

  After that Catena left, slamming the door shut a little louder than was necessary. When I heard the bang, I jumped, using the momentum to attempt an escape.

  “Wait a moment,” he called. “You haven’t finished yet.”

  “But you, you just asked me to leave.”

  Drake peered at me curiously. “I was speaking to Catena,” he said, as if this was obvious. “You still need to collect my linens.” Reaching up, he removed his tunic, so that he was naked in the bed.

  My heart faltered. I couldn’t help myself — I drank in all of him. His body was glorious, his toned muscles made even more appealing by the intricate black tattoos that covered him. Like the tattoos on his hands, the art covering his body was also cast from thick black lines. When he turned slightly, I caught a glimpse of his back. In the very center, taking up pride of place and tracing up his neck, was a symbol I didn’t recognize. There was something fluid and bold about it, what with the flowing curvy lines that looked like wings — it reminded me of freedom.

  When he left the bed, my jaw dropped. Despite my best efforts, my eyes kept dancing towards the v shape of his pelvis, below which stood his manhood, long and erect, begging for attention. It was the first time I’d seen a naked man.