Fallen Page 8

  A Woman’s Worth

  It is laughable to think that a woman might be capable of ruling an entire kingdom – fickle, emotional creatures that they are. People respond to and follow strength. Women are weaker in every way. How, then, are they to inspire the confidence of those they would lead?

  – Acheron of House Galanis, King of Galilae

  Questions assaulted her as soon as the door closed.

  “What happened?” “Did they say anything about what they plan to do with Galilae?” “How long will they keep us caged in here?”

  “Sister!” Koli collided with Persephone’s legs. “You came back.”

  Persephone cringed. “Yes, I came back, I told you I would,” she assured Koli as she stroked her head. “Now, will the rest of you slow down? I can only answer one question at a time.”

  “What do they plan to do with Galilae?” her father demanded imperiously.

  Still angry about her father’s irrational behavior in the Grand Hall, along with his present entitlement, Persephone did not temper the sarcasm that leapt so easily to her tongue. “Shockingly, he chose not to divulge the details of his scheme to me.”

  Her father bristled. “You will speak to me with respect, young lady.”

  “I will speak to you with respect when you do something worth respecting.”

  All mouths dropped and Koli gasped audibly. Persephone was frequently insolent, but for her to be so openly defiant – especially toward the king – was practically unheard of.

  “How dare you!” he thundered towards her.

  Persephone immediately pushed Koli behind her and pulled herself up to her full height, which still only brought her eyes level with her father’s chin. By this point, her mother had stepped in between them, which was enough to bring a semblance of calm back into the room.

  “Persephone, stop baiting your father. And Acheron, we have all been through a great deal tonight; some words must be forgiven. Now let us sit so we may figure out what we are to do.”

  Reluctantly, they separated and everyone settled themselves on the pillows and padded benches around the room. Although nowhere near the plush luxuries they were used to, because they were in the chambers of the king’s own body slave, there were enough amenities to be comfortable. Leaning against a wall as far away from her father and brother as she could position herself, Persephone sat on the floor. She was quickly joined by Kolimpri, who crawled onto Persephone’s lap, humming a tune of her own creation.

  “Now, Persephone, will you please fill us in on what happened?”

  At this point, if it had been anyone but her mother who had asked, she probably would have refused to answer out of sheer spite. But Persephone would never deliberately antagonize her mother and she certainly didn’t want to exacerbate her worry.

  “Obviously, the general was unhappy with my execution of Prodotin. We discussed how my punishment is to be carried out.”

  “And Seraphime?”

  “Will be involved, but not in the way that was threatened. For now she is safe.” Persephone’s heart swelled at her mother’s concern, even as it simultaneously broke at the king’s indifference.

  “A slave? Why are we talking about a slave? Forget about her! What about us?”

  Were Kolimpri not sitting on her lap, Persephone might have killed her brother.

  Her mother must have sensed the danger. “For the time being, it seems we are being dealt with as royal hostages. As such, we will likely be treated with a certain level of dignity.”

  Acheron snorted at his wife’s explanation. “Dignity?!”

  Wisely, her mother cut him off before he could derail the conversation into a rant about his wounded pride. “The real question, then, is what will we do moving forward?”

  Sighing, Persephone prepared to divulge her plan, knowing it wouldn’t be well received. “They want something from us. If they did not, we would already be dead. Tonight I will have an opportunity to speak with the general. I will use that time to bargain for our safety until we have enough information to determine a more comprehensive plan.” She had to look away, otherwise the pained understanding in her mother’s face might have brought her to tears.

  “What are you possibly going to use to bargain?”

  Persephone made eye contact with her father before answering him dispassionately. “The only thing I have.” It was clear he still didn’t grasp what she suggested. “Come now, Father, you should understand. After all, you were the one who taught me that a woman only has value in her marriage bed.”

  “But you are not –” His cheeks colored as comprehension finally dawned. “You cannot possibly mean to –” He continued to flounder for words.

  “I can, and I will.” She spoke with quiet authority.

  The king was still looking aghast. “But you will ruin any prospects you have of securing a proper marriage.”

  “You and I both know the opportunity for that is long past.” Her hostile tone contradicted her still-emotionless countenance.

  He broke first, looking away as shame clouded his features. Persephone couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him show remorse of any kind. The fact that he felt regret at his cavalier treatment of her offered a little comfort. But only a very little.

  “That is it?!” her brother demanded. “That is our plan? You will play the whore?!”

  Kolimpri, who had been peaceful in Persephone’s lap, startled at the vulgar language spat their direction, her humming momentarily interrupted as she looked between them. Glaring at Antaios, Persephone wrapped Kolimpri in a hug, which she used as a ruse to smother Koli’s hearing.

  “Better a whore than a coward.”

  * * * *

  After only a few hours’ rest, Cato woke with the rest of the soldiers to continue the tasks ahead of them. With the royal family secured, they could turn their attentions to preparing the palace for the arrival of the thirty-three Council members who would be in and out of the palace starting two days hence. Augustine had determined the first order of business was to clear the dungeons. Prisoners were not typically held within the palace itself, so the dungeons had been ill-equipped to handle the volume of servants and slaves living within its walls along with any of the guards that had not been executed outright. Concerns that disease would spread if so many were left in such a confined space meant that assessing the usefulness and pliability of each individual was a top priority. Those that could be used, would be. Everyone else was to be discreetly disposed of.

  They’d assembled in the throne room for the process. It was where the King of Galilae held audience with citizens requesting his attention, and was practical for the purpose. Augustine sat in the throne as individual after individual was brought forward. Occupying the throne was symbolic rather than reflective of an actual desire to rule. It solidified in the Galilaeans’ minds that their king had fallen. That his leadership had been replaced.

  Per their rank, Cato stood to Augustine’s right, Decimus to his left. Seraphime sat on the top step at Augustine’s feet. Augustine had claimed to summon her because she knew everyone residing in the palace and could prove useful in categorizing them. Undoubtedly, this was true, though Cato suspected Augustine’s reason was just as symbolic as claiming the throne had been. Many of the slaves in the Grand Hall had watched Persephone raptly. Almost as frequently, their eyes had strayed to Seraphime. Clearly, the two women were somehow extremely important to them even if it was not yet completely clear why or in what way.

  Both Augustine and Cato had noted the excessive attention directed toward Persephone and Seraphime the previous night, and though Cato felt the full explanation eluded them, pieces of it fit together as the day progressed. At the forefront, it would seem that Persephone inspired incredible loyalty. More questions and concerns had been vocalized regarding her well-being than even the king’s. Another surprise to add to the growing mystery that was the princess. As her body slave, Seraphime obtained considerable status via association, but there seem
ed to be more to it than that alone. Seraphime seemed to be a leader of sorts in her own right – a notion that was supported when slave after slave watched Seraphime and directed their questions to her rather than the soldiers around them.

  A boy, likely between ten and twelve in years, was brought forward, his expression angry. Defiant. Without asking a question of the child, or of Seraphime, Augustine snapped his fingers and pointed left. He was to be executed – a fate that would have been chosen for him regardless of his malleability. Children talked, making them a liability. Fortunately, there were not many. Striking down the young did not please any of them.

  Next, Seneca brought an older man forward. With the Galanis family currently under lock and key, Seneca was not needed to monitor Persephone. The slave he escorted held himself proudly, refusing to look away as was expected of Galilaean slaves, thus making it known that he was not acknowledging them as his new masters.

  “Pontius, the king’s body slave,” Seraphime said quietly.

  The slave, Pontius, glared openly at Seraphime. “You shame yourself and this house by making yourself their pet.”

  “I do as commanded. As should you.” Despite the vitriol in his accusation, Seraphime maintained Pontius’s accusing glare.

  Cato noticed that she held all the slaves’ gazes, refusing to turn away from them regardless of the fate assigned. Regardless of whether their looks condemned or beseeched her – she had received both types in equal measure. He respected her for her fortitude.

  “I would rather die than bend knee to these swine.”

  Seneca kicked the back of the man’s knee, dropping him, and punched him across the mouth. Blood leaking from the new split in his lip, Pontius righted himself and glared at Augustine.

  “There are worse fates than death. Shall I think one up for you?” Augustine asked indifferently.

  The slave spat on the floor. “Gods fuck your ass.”

  Another blow to the face snapped Pontius’s head back. His eyes watered and blood streamed from both nostrils. Likely his nose was broken.

  “Care to revise your answer?” Augustine sounded bored.

  Pontius said nothing. Probably for the best.

  Augustine smiled coolly. “Well, then, do not let me delay you from your fate.” With a snap of Augustine’s fingers and a thumb jabbed to the left, Seneca led Pontius away.

  “Who would be next in line to serve as the king’s body slave?” Augustine directed the question at Seraphime.

  “Panos has been Pontius’s Second.”

  Cato didn’t recognize the name. Either he hadn’t been brought through yet, or he had been dismissed on sight for execution. Likely the former, as Seraphime should have said something if he had been through already.

  “How old is he?”

  “Nearly twenty, I believe.”

  Not ideal. They’d been hoping to eliminate the younger, healthier men as they’d assumed those were the slaves capable of being the most troublesome if they offered resistance. However, placing someone next to the king who had been groomed for the position was important for keeping up appearances. They would just have to make the judgment about whether or not to keep him after assessing him.

  “You will draw attention to him when he is brought forward.”

  Seraphime inclined her head respectfully. “As you will it.”

  Satisfied with her answers, Augustine indicated that they should proceed. The next slave was a young woman, maybe fifteen or sixteen. Pretty. She would be popular. Likely, she already had been if her black eye and split lip were any indication. Cato pitied her. Such use of women, even during conquest, was distasteful to him. A necessary evil, though. The spoils spurred many a man to fight.

  With a hand on her arm, Falco half-dragged, half-carried the girl over her stumbling feet. The set of Seraphime’s shoulders tightened and her back straightened a little further at the sight.

  “Seraphime?” The newcomer’s voice quavered as she looked pleadingly at Persephone’s body slave.

  “Friend of yours?” Augustine directed the question at Seraphime.

  He must have noticed the shift in Seraphime’s posture as well. Many slaves had entreated her similarly without eliciting a visible reaction. Was Augustine correct? Were they friends or was this girl important for another reason?

  “As in all households, friendships between slaves are not permitted, sir.”

  “And yet, they happen,” he pressed.

  “As you say, sir.” Seraphime had dropped her chin and her eyes when speaking to Augustine, even though he sat behind her.

  Cato couldn’t decide if he believed her submission to be sincere. She was incredibly consistent, which meant either it was authentic, or she pretended very well. Cato found himself inclined to believe it a charade, though he could acknowledge it might be her similarity in looks to Persephone that influenced his misgivings about her. In less than a day, Persephone had already proved that both her appearance and her behavior were quite deceptive.

  Augustine didn’t push further. “Her name and position.”

  “Paraskeve. Known to us mostly as Para. She is assigned to the kitchens.”

  As Cato knew he would, Augustine snapped and pointed right.

  “Wait!” The slave’s eyes were wide with panic. “Seraphime, what does that mean?”

  Many slaves had entreated Seraphime, so in and of itself the outburst was not surprising. That Para would address her after an obvious dismissal spoke volumes of Seraphime’s perceived standing among them.

  Falco’s arms banded around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides. “It means we get to have more fun, pretty thing.”

  Paraskeve’s previously quiet tears morphed into loud sobs. “Please.” She was still looking at Seraphime. “The princess –”

  “Cannot help us,” Seraphime interrupted her. “Do not resist, it will go easier for you. Pretend it happens to someone else.” Her words, issued as a command, were spoken with grave authority.

  Cato wondered if her advice was spoken from experience. Given her vehement protection of Seraphime in the Grand Hall, it seemed unlikely that Persephone would have allowed such a thing. But Seraphime was yet a slave, perceived by most as a tool to be used, so the possibility existed.

  “We shall be sure you are unable to pretend.” Falco directed the comment at Seraphime. “You are the one we all wait for, and the wait is almost over.”

  If Falco’s threat concerned her, Seraphime did not show it. Her eyes never left the sobbing Para’s. Cato’s respect for her swelled further.

  “Out.” The command was punctuated with a tilt of Augustine’s head.

  Laughing, Falco made toward the exit. Seraphime’s breath hitched – betraying the distress her words had not – when Falco picked Para up and carried her away screaming and crying. She flinched sideways, needing to steady herself on a hand when Augustine leaned forward to grab her chin and turn her face toward his. It was unclear if he had merely surprised her or if she feared being struck.

  “Why, might I ask, would she entreat the princess at such a time?”

  “Princess Persephone sees to it that the slaves in this house are not misused,” Seraphime admitted, although it seemed she did so reluctantly.

  “All of them?”

  Though Augustine had turned her face to his, Seraphime had kept her eyes averted as would be expected of her. With her gaze still cast downward, she nodded once in reply.

  “And your words?”

  “A lie meant to comfort her mind.”

  “Why lie?”

  Seraphime shook her head. “She has to endure her fate. It would be cruel to tell her the truth.”

  “And what is the truth?” Augustine pressed.

  “Death would have been kinder.”

  It was bold of her to say so, even though they all knew it to be true.

  Releasing her, Augustine leaned back. “Likely so,” he admitted.

  Chapter 6:

  All’s Fair

 
The quickest and most effective – though typically the least moral – means of breaking an enemy’s resistance is to find their vulnerabilities and exploit them. Every. Last. One.

  – Cato Numitor, Captain of the Nex Division

  They’d been locked in the same room all day. With only meals to pass the time, it had been very boring. Kolimpri had wanted to play, but everyone had been distracted. Too busy to bother with her. Even Persephone, who always made time, had encouraged Koli to play by herself while she spoke in hushed whispers with their parents and brother. Koli wanted to know what was happening, but had been told repeatedly they spoke of adult things.

  “Come over here, Little Bird.”

  Kolimpri glanced across the room at her sister. Persephone was smiling warmly, sparking Koli’s excitement. Maybe they would finally play a proper game. She looked eagerly to Mama, who had been gently combing her hair, for permission. When she got the nod of approval she’d hoped for, Koli sprang from the ground and ran to her sister.

  Persephone was seated on the floor, watching carefully. They both knew what was coming. Running as fast as her legs would carry her, Koli waited until the last minute before jumping and throwing her arms around her sister’s neck. Persephone caught her – she always caught her – and tumbled over backwards, taking Koli with her in a tight hug. Koli squealed delightedly as Persephone rolled, tickling her all the while.

  When Koli lay breathless, Persephone sat up and gathered her onto her lap. Koli snuggled contentedly against her. The beating of her sister’s heart was loud and reassuring against her ear.

  “I must tell you something, Little Bird.” Tilting her head upward, Koli looked at her sister expectantly. “In a little while, you and I will be called down to the courtyard. The general and some of his men are going to be there.”

  “NO!” Her entire body went rigid and the word raced from her lips.

  Persephone ran a hand tenderly over her face and through her hair while holding her closely.

  “Hush, Little Bird. All will be well.”