Sorry that Chapters 2-3 were so long. They were both over 6,000 words. As requested, I will try to make my chapters a little bit shorter. My goal is going to be between 3,500 -- 4,000 words, so about a page to a page and a half on Lit. Let me know how you like the length of this Chapter!
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Trivalm froze, unsure what to think or do. During their interlude in the bathing chamber, he had completely forgotten about his fellow enslaved Generals. Guilt, an emotion he rarely felt, washed over him in waves. What had the other men been subjected to while he was busy having sex, blissfully ignorant of what was happening to his comrades? How long had they been kneeling on the hard ground while he enjoyed a nice, warm water to soothe his sore muscles?
Ebon, it seemed, didn't care, as he pushed Trivalm farther into the room and closed the door behind them.
"Come here to me, little slave."
Trivalm's gaze snapped to where Sarantha lounged on her bed. Ivory was already crawling onto her lap, settling herself comfortably to have her head stroked, ignoring the golden painted woman who laid near. Trivalm couldn't do anything except stand there, his gaze sliding between the men kneeling on the floor, glaring at him, and his new Mistress. When he didn't move, Ebon gave him a rough nudge.
He didn't need any further instruction, moving forward as if in a daze. Finally, he reached the side of the bed.
"Sit." Once he obeyed, Sarantha leaned forward to stroke his dark hair back. "Do you like your surprise, little slave? Since you've been such a good little slave, I've brought your friends to keep you company."
He stared as she smiled down at him. Gently. Happily. As if she honestly thought that he should be grateful that she was putting him in this position.
When he didn't answer right away, Sarantha tilted her head to the side, her eyebrows rising. That glint entered her eyes, the one that reminded him that as gentle as she was, she had a temper, and very clear expectations of her slaves.
"Yes, Mistress, I like my surprise." He glanced at them, but didn't meet their eyes. "May I speak to them, Mistress?"
She smiled slightly, as if his answer pleased her, as if it brought her joy to have given him a gift that pleased him. "From here, for a moment. Then we are going to play a game." She settled back, petting Ivory in that soothing way of hers.
Trivalm looked to Raikol and Drimelk. "You are well?" He hoped they understood the need for shortness, simple questions and answers. There was a need, right? As accommodating as Sarantha was being, she was still an enemy, his owner. Not a friend. Not to be trusted. Right?
When they simply nodded he let out a sigh of relief.
"Why would they not be well, little slave?" Sarantha sounded genuinely confused. She sat up, her hand stilling on Ivory's head. "Why would they not be cared for? Just because they were punished, does not mean they were not cared for."
"Because we are slaves, war slaves." Trivalm didn't understand why they were being treated so well, and it seemed Sarantha didn't understand why he was suspicious.
Sarantha looked to her brother and sister's slaves. Her eyes held an odd mixture of curiosity and irritation. "And you? Did you expect to be mistreated? What treatment did you expect? You mistreated your slaves before coming here?"
When Raikol seemed unable to answer, Drimelk, with his natural ability with words, spoke for him. "We are slaves, war slaves, nothing more than a physical representation of your country's victory and our country's submission. We are nothing more than a show of power. Yet we eat the same meals as the keepers, are bathed daily, given clean clothes, as much water as we desire, and even comfortable beds. That is not normal."
Sarantha tilted her head, her lips pursing as the curiosity left her gaze, leaving only temper to darken her ice green eyes. "It is normal here. All of the free eat the same food, and most personal slaves too. Though there is an order as to who is served first. Keepers and higher ranked military personnel are first. After that, I don't know. I don't know what the other slaves eat. I honestly don't care. We are done talking. I will not be insulted in such a way."
It was Raikol's turn to speak. It was obvious that he chose his words carefully. "Apologies." There was sincerity in his voice. "We meant no insult. It seems that slaves here are much better cared for than in our own country."
"My slaves are obedient. They are happy. If you are unhappy it is your own doing. Perhaps if you behaved, you wouldn't need to be punished and chained. I even told you to come sit comfortably on my bed! You decided to stay on the cold floor! You chose to make yourselves uncomfortable, then have the audacity to accuse me of being a bad owner because you are a bad slave!" Her voice continued to rise with each word. She paused a moment. Suddenly, the anger melted away, leaving the airy, happy, Sarantha that Trivalm was learning heralded trouble. "We are done talking. It is time to play our game!" She turned to where Ebon had taken his position at the edge of the bed, his gaze, as always, locked on Ivory. "We will need... Six sticks for two teams."
Ebon looked unsure, something that made Trivalm uneasy, but obediently moved to the bookshelf. He pulled a small cup filled with many different sized sticks. He shifted though them before finding three long and three short ones. He obviously knew the type of game or at least how to set up the teams, because he held two of them in his hand, the tops level so they couldn't be told apart. He held his hand out to Ivory, who quickly plucked one out. She held it up to show that she had chosen the shorter one as Ebon handed the longer one to the golden woman.
He held the other four sticks in a similar fashion. Trivalm pulled one, displayed his short stick. Moving to Drimelk and Raikol, Ebon held out his hand. Faces broadcasting their suspicion and confusion, each pulled one out. Drimelk held up his short stick as Raikol held up his longer one. Ebon's face fell as he opened his fist to reveal the last longer stick.
"Hmm. Interesting." Sarantha sounded excited. "Goldie, my Ebon and Raikol verses my Ivory, Trivalm and Drimelk." She settled back. "Hmm... now which game?" She looked down at Ivory's smiling face. "Should we challenge the girls? Or the boys?" She tilted her head as Ivory nuzzled against her, smiling. "The girls, then." She clapped her hands, then shooed her wrists. "Go! Go! Go to your teams!"
Trivalm obeyed without question, just wanting this over. He wanted to talk to the other war slaves, explain to them... what? He didn't know, but he had to explain. His behavior was wrong. He didn't know why, but it was. But was it? He was a slave. He was behaving as a slave. Why did they both look so upset about that? Why couldn't they fall into their roles?
When they stood in two groups, Sarantha gave an apologetic smile. "Apologies. My brother did not give me the key to your shackles. Don't misunderstand, I wouldn't release you anyway. I don't trust either of you, and my brother refuses to allow you potions." She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, but continued before anyone could respond, suddenly perking up again. "Hmm... now for our game! Let's see which of our girls can give her teammates pleasure first. But the men cannot touch the girls at all. If you do, your girl can't touch you again until both men..." Her gaze slid over the men, taking in their physiques, "do ten pushups. She cannot please her teammates in the same way and she may only please one at a time. Questions?"
Trivalm glanced over at the golden painted woman, Goldie as Sarantha called her, standing by Raikol and Ebon. Ebon's gaze was on Ivory, and he did not look happy. He sent one contemptuous look to Drimelk before sliding his gaze back to Ivory. He never even glanced at the woman on his own team.
"We're going to win." Trivalm murmured, quietly enough that he hoped only Drimelk would hear him.
His didn't see the look of confusion and disbelief Drimelk threw at him.
"Ready?" Again, Sarantha did not wait for a response, "Go!"
