Well before dawn, Hessa opened her eyes and groaned. She didn’t want to slip from the heated blanket. In its embrace she imagined she was still in her dream, safe, loved, precious to someone. But rise she did. She washed the sleep from her eyes and pulled on fresh clothes-a simple dress of unbleached cloth, and underbreeches. She slipped on her leather shoes. In the cracked looking glass she examined the scars on the side of her face as she combed through her black hair. Her skin was darker than most from spending midday in the sun, raking up the animal dung behind the pits. Her teeth were bright and white when she smiled. Hessa tied off the braid in her hair and took a deep breath, hopeful at what this morning would bring.
She went to the kitchen stores to fill her bags of food for the prisoners. The cooks were busy preparing for the day’s festivities to feed the crowd that always came to watch the fights. Men against men, men against monsters, it was whatever appeased the bloodthirsty populace of Bisura, and already being murderers, that task proved a daily challenge.
The sun rested just beyond the horizon when she stepped into the hall of cells. She passed out her food and hurried down into the darkness. All of the men there were still asleep-save one. Her warrior rose from his pallet and came to stand at the bars to greet her.
“Hessa,” he whispered, a smile parting his lips. He reached out his hand to her, and she set the bread in his palm. His other hand shot through the bars to cup her cheek. “Did you dream last night?”
She nodded.
“Of me?” he asked, his voice devilish.
She blushed and pulled out the cheese. He took that as well and set both provisions on the small table in his cell. When he returned to her, Gunnar reached through the bars that parted them and threaded the fingers of his left hand with hers. Heat spread through her from his touch, radiating in her body, and waking her completely to his presence. She breathed deep and smelled his scent, warm and musky.
“I will tell you how I came to this place as we agreed. I was fishing off the coast of Chalois when my ship was taken by thieves. The day was windy, and a fog had settled in. Sunlight spilled through the haze in rays.” His thumb played across the side of her hand. “I remember thinking I could take them all, that I could bludgeon them and toss them over the ship’s side into the sea.” He frowned, his eyes distant for a moment. “But I was wrong. There were so many of them. At least thirty men.”
His free hand curled around her waist. For a moment, she panicked. He could hurt her if he wanted to-even imprisoned as he was. She sucked in a tight breath. Gunnar urged her closer until her body pressed against the cell bars. His hand massaged her lower back while he kept spinning his tale. Each circle warmed her more than before.
“I fought hard and well, and I did offer many to the water goddess, but they soon overcame me, and even with my magic, I couldn’t escape.”
Hessa frowned. “Magic?”
He nodded, his eyes fixating on her mouth. “Yes, magic. Old magic. Passed down by blood from my ancestors. I’m an air singer. That’s why they came for me. Omi House pays high for magical breeders…especially those that survive the pit fighting. High enough that they seek out others of my kind no matter how far they must travel or what they must face.”
She knew what he said was true. Many a priest from the neighboring city of Shan-Sei had been stolen or at the least, seduced in the hopes of a child with magical abilities to be raised in an assassin guild. But she had never heard of an air singer.
He went on, leaving her no time to ask what he meant. “They bound my hands in slip-rope so that I couldn’t escape. I was gagged so I couldn’t sing, and they hooded my face to keep me from knowing where I was. I remember listening to the gulls calling high above, the cold, damp feel of the deck beneath me, biting into my skin. The boat tossed and turned on the waves. They fed me little, much less than you offer.” His hand moved up her spine to the back of her neck. Those hot, rough fingers of his drew patterns on her skin beneath the thick braid of her hair.
“I arrived on the mainland and was kept in a cage along with other prisoners or animals from the far reaches of the world. For weeks the caravan traveled, and I lived in filth with little to eat and nothing to sustain my spirit. The winds answered me on the rare occasions I was left alone and able to call to them, but the guards soon silenced me with drugs or a blow to the back of my head.”
Hessa winced.
Gunnar nodded. “I survived. That’s all that matters. All things in life test our will. My time here is no exception.”
She reached past the bars to touch his chest, and reveled in the way he felt against her skin. Her dream of pressing her naked body to his was the closest she ever though it could be. Her fingertips brushed over one of his small, hard nipples. He exhaled, and his breath blew across her cheek. Down his side and along his abdomen, she explored his body. He had stopped telling his tale in order to watch her touch him. She circled his navel three times, imagining what it would have been like to have parents, to be cared for as a child rather than taught to work. She closed her eyes, her fingers dipping to the edge of his loincloth. Hessa imagined the scent of the sea and the fresh air of freedom. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in the vision.
“I wish I could set you free, but I’m just a servant here. What could I do?” His hand swept over her shoulder to brush one of her breasts. She sucked in a breath.
“Everyone has some sway.” His thumb rimmed her nipple, kept from her skin by her thin dress. He toyed with her until the flesh hardened. “Even a servant in the Omi House knows secrets.”
“Not me.” She struggled to hold still as he took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, swirling both digits until her sensitive skin peaked even more. “I am no one of importance. I have no magic, no knowledge beyond that of my duties.”
“Can you find out who the woman is they will send to me?” His hand cradled her breast, thumb tapping at its center. “Surely, you can discover that much.”
Her head swam for a brief moment of bliss, brought on by his touch until what he asked settled in her mind. “Woman…” She frowned. He wanted to know what woman they would make him breed with? It seemed a strange request. If he wanted to escape, he ought to ask for keys or a weapon at least. “Why?”
Footsteps shuffled in the upstairs hall. A man spoke, his voice weary.
Hessa shook her head and backed away from the cell, sudden jealousy burning inside of her. She thrust her hand into her bag.
“Because if I can’t have my freedom, I want you to take that woman’s place,” Gunnar whispered. He gave her a stern look and then went to sit on his pallet.
She swallowed her jealousy and went about her work, dropping food in the cells or into the hands of the prisoners. She went up the steps, but not without a backward glance at her stolen warrior. Gunnar was watching her. He didn’t smile or nod, but she heard his voice softly humming.
When she reached the top of the stairs, the wind rattled the smeared glass high in the upper cells. A storm must be coming, she thought.
“You’re early.” The cell keeper eyed her with suspicion.
“Yes,” she bowed her head lest he take more notice of her. “I have more work than usual behind the tavern today. I wanted to get a head start.”
He snorted and patted her shoulder. “You always work like a horse, woman. If I had spare gold, I’d buy you myself. Keep you in my house.”
A spark of hope shimmered in Hessa’s heart. She raised her chin to look at him. He was old and worn, his body muscle bound. Gray and black hair framed his narrow face. He had small eyes and a large nose. He didn’t make her feel anything at all-unlike Gunnar, but he could be a way out. It was not freedom, but she had never really hoped for that much.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You speak kindly.”
His smile revealed three missing teeth. He had lived a hard life. “I lost my wife three summers back,” he confessed. His eyes clouded over, and the cell keeper ambled away, his shoulders slouching. He didn’t say anything more to her. Hessa finished her chores just as the water bearer entered. They nodded at each other, and then Hessa left the cells to tend to the rest of her work.
She thought of her stolen warrior, of the fire he had ignited in her middle when he touched her breast. She wondered if she could find out who would be sent to him. Could she take that woman’s place? If she did, what would happen? Would he hurt her? Use her? Or something entirely impossible; would he make her fantasy come true?
On her way to clean in the brothel rooms, Hessa hoped for a night alone with Gunnar. She hoped for the chance at stealing a small time of happiness, of closeness. He couldn’t really care for her. She knew that and accepted it, but she wanted the chance all the same.
She set in on the first room, gathering up discarded clothing and piling it for the laundry. She pulled the linens from the soiled bed, the scent of sex heavy in the air. All that had happened in the room during the night only made it worse for Hessa. She tried to stop thinking of Gunnar, but she couldn’t.
She swept, mopped, and then she set the laundry in the baskets in the hall. After the floor dried, she made up the bed with fresh sheets and imagined herself sprawled there, her warrior waiting in the corner of the room wearing nothing at all.
Hessa groaned. She moved on to the next room and started cleaning in there. There was less mess than the first, as if the coupling that had happened hadn’t been as violent or unorganized. The sheets were hardly rumpled and a few flowers had been placed on the table by the bed. The scent of them made the room feel fresh and innocent. Outside the window, clouds gathered in the sky. Hessa closed her eyes and thought she could hear her warrior’s voice dancing in the air.