A banging on her door pulled Evelda from her sleep. Normally it was hunger, but that night she’d had the first decent meal of her life. She was buried beneath every article of clothing she owned, as well as one fur blanket, so she was warm too. It hadn’t rained or howled last night, which was a blessing when your home was missing half its roof. Alas, the banging of her door wouldn’t leave her to rest.
“Hmmm?”
“Evelda?! You need to get up now!” It took her a few moments for her sleepy mind to recognise that voice. It was Lord Bryne. And he sounded afraid. “Hurry! The demon comes. You have to-he’s here! Hurry!”
Just as Evelda sat up to squint at the door, it opened. Demon Lord Turuk bowed his head just enough to fit through the doorway. Perhaps it was because her mind was still foggy from sleep, but Evelda just stared up at the dark spectre as he came to stand before her. He towered over her and the air in the room seemed to drop because of his presence. His black hooded cloak twisted around him and the raggy tendrils probed the floor around his feet.
“…this is where you live?” His fiery eyes took in her surroundings. “Alone?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t find the courage to move.
“I see.” He didn’t seem impressed with her home. Then again, who would be? Her little home was made of wood, and most of the time it was drafty and damp as hell. Half her roof missing. Hardly any furniture to speak of, and her bed was a large sack stuffed with old hay. She still sat on her bed, under her clothes and fur cover. Her coppery clocks were shaggy around her head from sleep, and she blinked her hazel eyes up at him. “Douma appears to be on the brink of extinction.”
“Yes.” What else did he expect her to say? Yes, thanks for that. Cursing an entire village because one person broke a deal with you?
“I would have thought with how desperate your people have been that one of you would have sought me out much sooner than this?”
There was no way Evelda was answering that.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t ready for you. I can’t remember the last time I slept so well.”
“You’re welcome.” He bowed his head. Evelda bit her bottom lip and looked down at her makeshift bed. I wasn’t saying thank you for the right to eat like a normal person. Arsehole.
“I’ll dress quickly.” She got to her feet, still wearing the baggy white dress from yesterday. Her hands sifted through the pile of clothes, still warm from being part of her bed, and pulled the blue and white dress out.
“Are these your only clothes?”
“Yes sir.”
“Call me Master.” He chuckled darkly and extended one armoured hand from his cloak. “You’re not wearing these rags anymore. Or living in this house.”
“I…I don’t have anything to trade for better clothes, Master.” Evelda pressed her back against the wooden wall behind her bed as he approached her. The blue dress was still clutched to her chest, and she trembled when he continued to advance on her.
“You work for me now. You will not be an eyesore whilst at my side.”
He waved his mighty hand over her, and the sharp metal tips of his claws blurred with a black shroud. It was like living darkness was shimmering over his hand. It was short-lived, however, as the shadows blurred away. “That is much better.” He returned his hand to the expanse of his cloak and nodded with approval at her. “You will sleep elsewhere tonight. That will allow my familiars to repair this…hovel.”
Evelda looked down at herself and rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t still asleep. A deep green dress with long sleeves and a square neckline. Her waist was drawn in with brown leather with loops for hanging tools and weapons from. Her wrists were bound with brown leather as well, and as she wriggled her toes she realised she was wearing thick brown boots. Her long coppery hair was suddenly soft like it had been combed and fell down her back in waves. “That is much better. Not glamorous enough to draw attention from your fellow Doumians, but much better than the old rags you were going to insult me with. I will have my familiars replace the rest of this lot with suitable and modest dresses whilst we work.”
“Thank you, Master.” Evelda took a step towards him, and jerked when he reached for her neck. Panic wobbled her voice. “I-I said thank you I-”
“Be silent.” He didn’t shout at her but his tone was final. He slid two of his armoured fingers across her collar bone and under the fabric covering her left shoulder. “There.” As he retracted his hand he brought the thick golden chain of her necklace with him. “Much better.” The pendant landed against her bosom, and she gulped. Lord Bryne had told her to hide this token of her servitude. Clearly, Turuk had other ideas. “I desire a tour of your village. Show me the layout of Douma and where I might find women of your age socialising.”
“…yes Master.” Evelda felt a lead weight in her stomach. He wasn’t going to waste any time. “A-after you.”
“Where are we?”
“The women's work area, Master.” Evelda kept her voice down for fear of her fellow Doumians from overhearing her. They stood back from an open communal area by the fields. Many women of ages young to old were spinning, weaving, and grinding flour. “Traditionally we carry out the domestic chores within our families. Making clothing, rope, preparing food, and dying robes. Not to mention repairing cloth and leatherwork and-”
“So this is where you labour?” Turuk cut her off and from his tone, he was not impressed. “Why do the men not work as well?”
“They toil elsewhere Master.” Evelda shuffled from one foot to the next, her hands clasped together over her green dress, holding her middle nervously. Some of the women had noticed they were there, and were gossiping already. “The men build, forge in smithies, cut wood for our fires, and hunt. They also train for battle to protect our people.”
He turned his hooded face to look down at her with a look that clearly said he doubted their battle prowess.
“Who tends to your fields and livestock?” Turuk returned to looking at the many women, who were growing more uncomfortable under his gaze.
“The farming families, Master. Well, traditionally the heavier work like ploughing the field with horses or oxen is the man’s role. The women would remove weeds, milk cows, and keep house.”
“And as you have no family, what do you do?”
“I…take whatever labour is going. To earn my evening meal in the great hall.”
“Are you not paid for your efforts?” Evelda chewed her lips, choosing her words carefully. The pendent she wore meant she couldn’t lie, so she was being very careful not to just say what she really thought. Like, ‘with what money? You left us destitute and drowning in our own misery for generations, you vengeful bastard’.
“In times gone past I would have been paid coin. However, there…has been little need for currency in Douma’s recent history. By sharing our resources, and everyone contributing towards the continued survival of the town, we have a support structure in place that ensures everyone is fed. Which is more important than how much coin one has. To be poor and alive is better than rich and dead, Master.”
“I see.”
Evelda gulped. Could he read the meaning between her words? “So you would…do what exactly?”
“I would normally be over there.” She nodded with her head. Her hazel eyes locked onto a set of stools at the far right of the female workforce. Valdis was weaving against a rickety-looking loom. It was sideways on from where they stood, so her friend looked over to her warily. Talita was also beside her, but she was repairing a large wolf pelt cloak. The blonde darted her green eyes over to Evelda, but instantly flinched and returned to staring down at the pelt. “Or in the fields sowing seeds.”
“You said you live alone.” It was then Evelda felt his gaze strongly on her. “Why is that?”
“My parents died when I was very young. I have lived alone ever since.”
“How did they die?”
“Of
starvation and illness, Master.” Evelda’s tone was sharper than she had meant
it. “Thinking of my parents upsets me, Master.”
“Clearly.” He chuckled darkly, amused by her outburst. “And you were not taken
in by anyone else?”
“No one could afford to share their food with another mouth, Master.” She ran a hand back through her long wavy ginger hair, almost wishing he would ask her about anyone else. This level of scrutiny was not welcome.
“I see. That support structure you mentioned earlier is only inclusive to a point, it seems.”
She didn’t hear a question there, so Evelda continued to stare forward, wishing so much to walk away from her tormentor and huddle with her friends instead. Every time they turned to look at her, or any of the other women glanced at her, she felt their questions in the way they stared. “You look regularly to two women over there.”
Dear lord.
Turuk lifted his arm from his robe and pointed at Valdis and Talita with one clawed finger from his silver gauntlet. If it was possible, Evelda felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach and flutter there.
“I…suppose I do.” She gulped and rubbed her hands together behind her back.
“The one with hair of gold.” Evelda turned to look up at Turuk with wide hazel eyes. “Who is she?” He sounded more than a little curious.
“…She…is a friend of mine.”
“That is not what I asked.”
“…wasn’t it?”
When she didn’t answer him in the way he wanted Turuk returned his arm to the confines of his shroud and stared down at her with those flaming eyes. Their heat seemed to ebb into her bones and she trembled. Now she’d done it. He was pissed.
“You know what I asked. Friend or not, you will answer my questions. Or?” He towered over her from his superior height and leaned very close to the top of her head. “Are you forgetting our deal? I trust you are aware that to break a contract with a Demon is forfeit your life?”
“I-I-” Evelda trembled, and when he dropped an armoured hand onto her shoulder, she squealed. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, and all the women in the field turned to watch her in horror.
“I trust you will quell any rebellious notion that you can shield your friends from my interest in the future?”
“Mmm hmmm.” She didn’t dare speak. Evelda shook so badly she was starting to hyperventilate. The hand on her shoulder felt like the weight of her current predicament was given form. Weighing her down, dominating and totally owning her every breathing moment. Her lips trembled and she bit them together behind her hands to stop herself from letting her misery take note. She couldn’t stop the tears from flowing from her hazel eyes though.
When he removed his hand she clenched her eyes shut, bracing herself for a backhand or some sort of violent retribution for her defiance. Not that she’d had much chance to defy him.
“Wipe your face.” Evelda still had her eyes closed, so she started using her sleeves. “No, with this.” She paused mid-swipe with her left wrist to crack her eyes open and peer over it. Turuk was holding a long white handkerchief in front of her face. “When you are dry and calm, you will tell me the name of your blonde friend.” His voice was cold and distant.
Her hands shook as she reached for the clean rag and was relieved when he released it without any resistance. She rubbed her face with it, not caring how raw her pale freckly cheeks became as she hurried to ready herself. Evelda sniffled and took a few deep breaths.
Well, that will teach me. I hesitated to tell him about Talita, once, and he was so angry I thought he was going to snap my neck.
“H-her.” Evelda swallowed her choppy voice and took a few more calming breaths. This allowed her to look upon her friends and frown.
Valdis, Talita, and in fact every woman she could see were watching in total silence. They looked seconds away from running for the hills. One more reaction like the one Evelda just showed, and they might scatter like startled rabbits. “T-Talita Bryne.” With shame she spoke. Evelda could tell from the expression on her friend’s face that she’d seen her lips form Talita’s name. They knew she was talking about her.
“Bryne?” His curiosity peaked at that, and he turned his fiery gaze to look right at her. “I see. She is fairer than the Bryne woman I chose last time. Tell me about her.”
Evelda didn’t want to look into the eyes of her tender friend as they discussed her as a potential ‘prize’. So she turned to her left, bowed her head and spoke down to the tails of his cloak instead.
“She is the chieftain’s daughter. His eldest living child. She is also sister to Sigurd, the one you gave me medicine to save.”
“Interesting.” He seemed to fold his arms under his cloak, still watching the blonde with intense fiery eyes. “Perhaps she will be grateful for my assistance?” Evelda didn’t respond. She hoped to hell that hadn’t been a question… “Tell me about her.”
“M-Master.” Evelda gulped and held her trembling hands together over her front. “Can you tell me what you mean by that?”
“What do you think I mean?” At first his tone was razor-sharp. Clearly he thought she was being rebellious again.
“I simply want to answer you properly Master.” She exhaled choppily. “D-do you mean her personality, or perhaps her role as heir to Douma or even how she-”
“All of it.” He turned to look down at her with a narrow gaze. It hadn’t escaped his notice that she couldn’t bring herself to look at the women they discussed… “Leave nothing out."
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