Merciless

“What a piece.” The would-be king’s voice boomed through the hall, Mercy was forced down on her hands and knees to bow to the man. To be had by a king, a slave girl had told her, is quite possibly the best any of us could hope for.

“A gift for you, your majesty.” The nobleman bowed at the waist. “I acquired her from a slaver near the Forest of the Light Foot. She’s a precious jewel from the high mountains there. Completely untouched by man, woman, or other.”

“A fine prize indeed.” The man got up from his thrown to examine Mercy closer. “Why, pray tell, did you not keep her for yourself?”

“I intended to until I was reminded of your up-coming coronation. I much prefer to give than to receive.” The noble bowed graciously but not without a flourish. He was very pleased with himself.

A rough hand gripped Mercy’s chin and pulled her face up. A scowl was still there from being practically thrown to the floor. When the soon-to-be king saw this he only chuckled in amusement. It made Mercy burn with more hatred than before, if is was even possible.

“A jewel indeed. Thank you, sir.”

Mercy was pulled roughly to her feet but the unyielding hands of the nobleman’s guard were replaced by that of a gentle handmaiden. She lead Mercy through the palace to a hall apart, hidden from the untrained eye. A harem. The rooms were beautiful and the garden was beyond repute, but a golden gate at the entrance kept them inside and away from anyone other than the king. The woman released her bound hands and feet and gestured into a large bedroom at the end of the long hall.

“This will be your room. There’s a clean shift in the wardrobe. I hope you will come to feel at home here.” She smiled genuinely. For this reason Mercy waited until the woman had gone to mumble under her breath.

“This will never be my home.”

That same night Mercy was summoned to the would-be king’s private dining hall. His closest friends and allies would be there, laughing while she waited on them. It made Mercy gag, even more so than the way their eyes followed her as she made her way through the room.

“What’s your name, little one?” The man asked when she came to his side.

Mercy clenched her teeth. “My name is Mercy.”

The man rose a single eyebrow.

“My king,” the servant nearest Mercy whispered harshly at her.

“My king,” She finished.

“Mercy, there is a place for you here, by my side. You may sit when not engaged. But, first, would you, please, refill my glass?” His words were patient but his tone was sarcastic. Mercy couldn’t keep her hatred from showing plainly on her face.

She refilled his cup with wine and went to sit on the cushion behind and to the left of the man. She felt like screaming. To be sitting on the floor like a dog. To be serving a man. If she did not have hope of returning to her people she might have walked out with the dignity these people were trying to steal from her.

The men around the table laughed and ate like animals. Many of them harassed the servants in several ways and others left the room intending to bed the slaves. Mercy knew why none of them dared touch her, but they all looked. A jewel, they thought her. She could kill them all. Literally.

“Mercy,” The man rumbled. “I think I will retire. Help me to my chambers.”

She walked behind the man with clenched fists up to his personal chambers. There was a separate suite for when the king kept company that wasn’t his queen. Mercy knew this. She also didn’t intend to be taken at all.

When they came upon the would-be king’s chambers Mercy stopped short of entering. He turned back to look at her. She met his gaze defiantly. “You can’t possibly be nervous.”

“It’s not I who should be.” She snapped back.

“Aren’t you a little spitfire?” He snorted. “I’ll have you whether you like it or not. It will be best to comply.”

“I don’t comply to anyone.” Mercy said. “I don’t intend to start now just to appease you.”

His eyes flared with anger. “You belong to me, little one. You will do as I say.”

“I belong to no one.” She hissed back. She knew she’d probably be killed or worse for this, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Being dead would be better than being obedient.

“Is that so?” His mood suddenly shifted. “Of what origin could you possibly be to be so high and mighty to your king?”

“You are not my king.” Mercy said first, slowly and carefully. “I am the leader of the Lost People in the Mountains That Touch the Sky.”

“The Lost People?”

Mercy nodded.

“You’re one of the Higher Mind. Both male and female." He said suddenly. “The Lost People are always ruled by those of Higher Mind. How were you sold into slavery if you are royalty?”

He was interested now. Mercy took advantage of that. “The Lost People are not ruled, they are lead. I am not royalty. We don’t believe in noble birth, like you. We are one as well as many.”

He stepped closer to her. “You aren’t in the east anymore and you will no longer need to lead anyone.” Mercy felt her anger boil over. Yet the would-be king continued. ”Do you have both parts? Or is it just your mind?"

Mercy stayed silent, annihilating him with her jewel eyes.

“I think I’ll save you.” He said. He seemed to be both pleased and upset with himself over the decision. After a moment the conflict gave way to a slight nod and clear eyes. “To have one such as yourself so quickly would be a shame and a waste.”

Mercy took a step back, but he grabbed her arm like a vice and breathed into her ear. “I’ll have you the night of my coronation. And you will not refuse me.”