He is probably far too squeamish to even own a boiling kettle.He is probably far too squeamish to even own a boiling kettle. Now go to sleep, slave girl." "I am not a slave. I am Princess Brianna of Tavect. I--" "Give it a rest. The Dark Lord says you are to be a slave girl, and he paid me to make you one. Besides, I wouldn't be throwing my identity around so casually if I were you. We will be travelling through territory hostile to Tavect. Some folks would like nothing better than to get their hands on the missing princess, hold her for ransom and deliver a raped, mutilated corpse to the drop. Tomorrow we'll be off of this ship and you'll be on your way to an iron collar. That big bitch in charge of the harem will like you a lot. Too much for your own good maybe." "What do you mean?" Brianna asked, a little nervous. Jess's words had summoned up the image of the Dark Lord's harem. She couldn't remember which one had been in charge. Only two of the girls had seemed very large: the one with the stripes on her back and the aloof one. "She likes them young and soft," Jess leered, trying to frighten Brianna into silence, "or so I hear tell from the girls I have sold from the castle. After the Dark Lord takes you, it's her turn." Leaving Brianna to digest this new information, Jess turned onto her side and got as comfortable as her chains would allow. It was not long before the clash of battle from above filtered down to the brig. Brianna listened fearfully to the unfamiliar sound of great numbers of weapons clashing and men screaming in terror and triumph. Jessica noted the princess' posture and smiled solemnly up at the clamor. Brianna shuddered as she saw the edges of the scars on her captor's face spread open. |