Unbound (Elf Slave #2) Read online

  Larric’s cheek twitched, though whether it was in annoyance or frustration I couldn’t tell. Regardless, I could feel the situation quickly slipping away, and I knew I had to do something…

  As I mentally scrambled for an excuse—any excuse—to step forward and interject myself into the discussion, the slave woman shuffled over to Larric. She helpfully topped off his glass, placed a few pieces of fruit on his plate…and then dropped to her knees and began working to unfasten the front of his trousers.

  “That’s…not necessary,” the bodyguard stammered as he grabbed ahold of her wrists. She blinked in confusion before glancing back over her should to Verne.

  “Please, I insist,” the artificer said with a bemused smirk. “It’s not every day I get to entertain the emissary of a Grand Duke, after all. The least I can do is act like a proper host.”

  For a moment, I thought Larric might actually push the woman away. It was all a setup, of course—Verne just wanted to distract Larric and earn himself and even better bargaining position. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and from the subtle glint in the bodyguard’s eyes I knew he had figured that out as well. If the First Artificer was truly just going to reject Master Kristoff’s proposal outright, he wouldn’t have bothered continuing to play the game; he would have simply tossed us out of the tower. But if he was still jockeying for position, it meant he was willing to deal after all. He was just hoping to get the best offer possible.

  And so with that reality in mind, Larric forced a smile and released his grip on the other avenari. She glanced back to her master for approval once again, and when Verne nodded she leaned forward and deftly worked Larric’s manhood free.

  “Don’t worry: she’s quite skilled,” the artificer said as he leaned back in his chair and popped a grape into his mouth. “Maybe not as adept as Kristoff’s personal pet, but skilled enough all the same.”

  I wasn’t sure why I found the sight of this woman kneeling between Larric’s legs so strange or unsettling. During the past few months in Sanctum I had seen plenty of other slaves servicing nobles or soldiers or even merchants. And more to the point, Larric was a former Inquisitor; he was undoubtedly accustomed such privileges. Just because I had never personally seen him with a slave or prostitute before didn’t really mean anything.

  But for reasons I couldn’t explain or understand, my heart fluttered each time the avenari licked and kissed the tip of Larric’s cock…and my legs grew weak when she leaned forward and swallowed him to the hilt.

  “Enjoying the competition, girl?” Verne asked, his voice light with obvious amusement. Dimly, I wondered if he’d noticed my reaction or just felt like continuing to flaunt his position. “You can always help her if you like.”

  I glanced over to Larric, and he warned me off with a single glance even as his breaths became short and beads of sweat began to trickle down his cheeks.

  “That’s all right; he’s probably tired of you anyway,” the artificer said with a grunt before turning back to Larric. “In any event, you were saying something about His Excellency wanting to offer us amnesty. But I’m afraid we’ll need more than empty promises to risk helping you against the Covenant’s wishes.”

  The bodyguard swallowed visibly as he tried to split his concentration. “Duke Kristoff has a sizeable mercenary at his command in the city,” he managed, “and I’m sure he’d be willing to commit them to your protection.”

  “A handful of mercenaries aren’t going to help against the army of Inquisitors who’ll arrive on our doorstep the moment the dark elves are contained,” Verne said. “We’ll need more—much more.”

  Larric nodded distantly as the slave bobbed up and down in his lap. She really was skilled, and judging from the way she kept methodically pulling back and slowing her pace, she had obviously received specific instructions from her master to drag this out as long as possible. Verne was good, I’d give him that. He must have been preparing for this meeting from the moment he’d learned about it, and he’d obviously planned for every contingency.

  Except for me.

  Taking a deep breath, I called out to the Aether. Its power crackled through me, and I concentrated on breaching into Verne’s mind. Normally, I needed to make direct physical contact to probe into another’s thoughts and memories; so far I had only been able to sense the most basic surface emotions from a distance. But Master had told me that a few of most powerful Covenant priests had the ability to manipulate the perceptions of their congregation from all the way across the worship chamber…and as an Unbound, I should have been able to accomplish even more.

  For the first few seconds, nothing happened. The two men continued to banter back and forth, but the words faded into the background as I glared at the side of Verne’s head. I half expected him to turn towards me and recognize what I was attempting…but he didn’t. And after a solid minute of concentration, I finally broke through.

  At first, the artificer’s thoughts were a vague, indistinct mumble, almost like I was listening to a conversation through a wall. But when he didn’t react to my intrusion, I eased myself in deeper and deeper until the “words” began to take on a distinct shape. I felt his smug satisfaction at how successfully his plans were unfolding so far, and I felt his unbridled rage at the Covenant and everyone who supported them. I saw flashes of schemes and memories and raw passions given shape—

  And then suddenly it all washed over me at once. I found the dam’s shatter point, and what had once been a small leak burst into a full-blown rupture. A tidal wave of thoughts and emotions flooded over me…and in a single instant, I knew everything there was to know about First Artificer Tacitus Verne.

  He was thirty-seven years old, the son of a blacksmith and a sailor from a village near the Gulf of Tuvari. The local priest had conscripted him into the ranks of the Artificers when he turned fifteen, and when his mother had protested they’d locked her in the dungeon and thrown away the key. For over twenty years Verne had slaved away inside the Infintium, and he’d slowly risen through the ranks all while carefully nurturing his hatred of the Covenant, the Imperial Court, and even the Empire as a whole. He was a man forged by rage and sharpened by pain…and he believed that his time had finally come.

  My eyes abruptly flicked open—I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them—and I felt beads of sweat dripping from my forehead. The two men were still speaking, and mercifully neither of them was paying any attention to me. Verne chuckled to himself as he finished off his grapes, and Larric groaned softly in pleasure as the avenari continued her ministrations. They still hadn’t agreed to anything, and I realized there would probably never be a better time to put the limits of my powers to the test.

  Having implanted suggestions in the minds of Duke Arland, his wife, and a dozen other nobles over the past month, I had grown quite adept at the technique, but here my refined expertise almost wasn’t necessary. Now that I knew everything about Verne, his mind was a wet lump of clay. I could do far more than subtly manipulate him; I could almost completely control him. And that’s exactly what I did.

  “If Kristoff is willing to promise us protection and a place in Stormcrest once the city is retaken, we’ll gladly send everything we can spare to Mavarinth,” Verne said in a hushed, conciliatory tone as if he were ashamed he’d ever contested the idea. “There’s very little security here at the moment, as you’ve noticed. As long as your people are willing to come to us, there’s no reason we shouldn’t be able to slip out the supplies overnight.”

  Larric, nearly consumed by his rapidly-approaching climax, nevertheless managed to open his eyes and blink curiously at his counterpart’s abrupt change of heart. “I’m…sure we can arrange that.”

  “Good. The others would probably like some more direct compensation, but as long as you give me your personal assurances that Kristoff won’t back out on his promise, I should be able to convince them easily enough.”

  “His Excellency always honors his word,” Larric said, his voice stil
l floundering. “You will get your protection.”

  Verne smiled. “I knew we’d eventually see eye to eye. Old friends always find a way.” He glanced down to the slave girl. “Now hurry up, dear. You don’t want him to get bored, do you?”

  Even she glanced back to her master in confusion for a moment, but then she quickly remembered her duty and swallowed Larric whole once more. He pressed his hand firmly against the back of her head, clamped down on his jaw…and then swiftly spilled his seed down her throat.

  “I told you she was skilled enough,” Verne said of his own accord. I allowed him the moment of smug satisfaction; in his mind, he believed he’d negotiated exactly the agreement he’d wanted. “We make certain she earns her keep each and every day.”

  Larric held her head in place for a few seconds while he recovered, and when he finally removed his hand she leaned back on her haunches, licked him clean, and then tied his trousers—all without meeting his eyes a single time.

  “Thank you, my lord,” she said softly.

  “You’re….welcome,” Larric managed. The woman stood and backed away, and Verne waved a hand at her.

  “You may leave, dear,” the artificer said. “Go and see if they need any help in the kitchen for tonight’s dinner.”

  “Yes, master.”

  She vanished almost immediately, and Verne grunted. “You’re welcome to stay and celebrate, if you like. She’ll be available if you want to fuck her, and two of the brothel girls are actually still here as well.” He glanced back over to me for the first time since I’d penetrated his mind. “Besides, I’m sure plenty of my men would like a turn with this one.”

  “We’ll be heading back shortly,” Larric said as he sat up straight. The reality of the moment—and what he had miraculously accomplished—looked like it was finally settling in. “Duke Kristoff will wish to hear the news as soon as possible.”

  Verne was actually going to protest, but all it took was a subtle tug from my mental leash to set him straight. “Of course, I understand completely,” he said with another contented smile. “I’m just glad we were able find a common ground so easily.”

  Larric nodded idly as his eyes flicked over to me. For an instant, I feared he might have actually suspected something…but of course he couldn’t have possibly guessed my true nature. Who could have? The very notion that Master Kristoff was been harboring an Unbound slave was ridiculous.

  And that, more than anything else, was precisely why I was so dangerous.

  “So am I,” Larric murmured as he stepped over grabbed ahold of my leash. “So am I.”

  Chapter Four

  “Leaving already, sir?” one of the house guards said as Larric and I walked back towards the line of horses waiting outside the tower. It appeared as though they’d only just finished setting up a small camp to wait for us.

  “Yes,” Larric told them. “We got what we needed. Now pack up—we should be able to make it back to the city before dusk.”

  The other guard frowned and glanced up into the clear midday sky. With the days slowly growing longer, we would probably be back several hours before dusk at least. But the man didn’t comment, and he had the others picked up and back on their horses within just a few minutes.

  “Something is wrong,” Larric murmured while they were working. “Verne shouldn’t have agreed that easily, not when he knew he could get a lot more out of us.”

  “Getting his people away from this place seemed like the most important thing to him,” I commented. “You gave him that.”

  He glanced over to me, eyes narrowed, as if he just remembered that I was there. “I knew bringing you would be pointless. Kristoff seems to think he can have you fuck his way into getting whatever he wants, but it’s not that easy. Just because Arland is a fool doesn’t mean everyone else is. Duke Darkstone certainly isn’t.”

  I wanted to remind him that we’d gotten everything we wanted, but as usual I kept my thoughts to myself. I also belatedly realized that I needed to be more subtle with my telepathic suggestions in the future. Verne wouldn’t think twice about his abrupt about-face—I had manipulated his mind enough that he legitimately believed he’d gotten the exact deal he’d wanted. But Larric obviously wasn’t buying the unforeseen turn, and some of the other Artificers might not either.

  “Get on your horse,” Larric growled with a dismissive wave. “We’re leaving.”

  I did as he asked, but the entire time we trotted out of the tower courtyard I felt a nervous lump rising in my throat. I might have just made my first serious mistake. I had allowed the intensity of the moment overwhelm me; I had been so excited at the prospect of delving into Verne’s mind without physical contact that I hadn’t really thought the situation through. What if the other artificers rejected his deal? What if Larric realized I wasn’t what he thought I was? What if there was enough of a fuss that the Inquisitors investigated?

  I had nearly worked myself into a panic by the time we turned back onto the White Road and angled towards Sanctum, and I started to worry if the guards might notice my odd discomfort. Larric, for his part, rode far enough ahead of us that the men couldn’t chat with him about what had happened even if they’d wanted to, and a part of me—a very stupid part of me—was actually tempted to try and reach out to his mind to see what he was thinking. I had all kinds of questions about his past and his beliefs, and touching his thoughts would get the answers I sought. It would also allow me to assuage his fears if he really had started to connect Verne’s sudden shift in behavior to me.

  But Inquisitors were trained to resist Aetheric manipulation, or so I’d been told, and it was far too much of a risk. It was baffling that I was even considering such a thing considering the trouble I may have already gotten myself into…

  I continued to inwardly chide myself for several minutes before realizing that the house guards had finally broken the odd silence around us. And it only took a few more seconds to realize that they weren’t simply engaging in idle chatter. Something was wrong, and Larric gradually slowed and brought his steed in line with the others.

  “Sir, I think I spotted movement along the tree line,” one of the men whispered. “I thought I noticed something a few minutes ago too, but then it vanished.”

  “We’re being watched,” Larric replied gravely. His tone, I noticed, had reverted to that of the cold, stoic warrior I was used to. And for once I actually found it a little comforting. “Someone has been following us for a while now.”

  “What…” I blurted out. “What do we do?”

  His eyes fastened onto mine and narrowed. “You are going to keep your mouth shut. We are going to do our jobs.”

  He gestured with his chin, and two of the guards slowly fanned out to opposite ends of the road while the others remained in formation around me. They didn’t draw their weapons, presumably to make it seem like they didn’t realize anything was wrong, but unsurprisingly they were poor actors. Their postures stiffened, their hands clenched and unclenched in their saddles, and one of them even brushed his fingers across the pommel of his blade from time to time. I had no idea if our stalkers would notice such details or not, but I had been trained to read body language as well as minds. And the fact that a battle-hardened squad of men had suddenly gotten this nervous made the hairs on the back of my neck stand.

  Only Larric seemed unaffected…though that might have had more to do with the fact that he always looked like he was ready for combat. His eyes scoured the tree line, and he gently nudged his horse forward until he returned to the font of the formation. Meanwhile, it was all I could do to clutch more tightly onto my reigns and try not to shake myself out of the saddle.

  I felt more helpless than when my wrists and ankles were shackled. I hadn’t the faintest clue how to fight. I had never lifted a blade or bow or even a knife in my entire life, and Master had only taught me the most basic defensive spells. Not that channeling Aether out here in the open was much of an option anyway. Reading minds was subtle and diff
icult to detect, but sheathing myself inside a glimmering, plainly visible protective barrier would probably just make the house guards turn and run me through right here and now.

  I paused as a thought belatedly struck me. Reading minds….

  Closing my eyes, I closed my eyes and allowed the Aether to flow through me. I focused on replicating the same technique I’d used earlier with Verne; I slowly stretched out with my mind, first to nudge against the simplistic bestial consciousness of my horse and then outwards until I felt the faintest emotional ripples of the other guards. I didn’t delve into their actual thoughts, but I didn’t need to. All I wanted was a reference point for when I extended my senses out into the surrounding forest…

  And there it was. Or rather, there they were—eight minds lurking in the bushes and split up evenly on either side of the road. I couldn’t tell specifically what they were thinking, but I could tell that they were there…and that was enough to make my heart skip a beat inside my chest.

  My eyes blinked open as I dismissed the spell, and I noticed that Larric’s mount had drifted back to within a few feet of mine again. I opened my mouth to warn him, but then I realized I had nothing to say. How was I going to tell him what I’d sensed without revealing my powers to him? Was it worth the risk if we were about to be attacked anyway?

  Before I could make up my mind, he tilted his head towards me. “Be ready to ride,” he whispered as his fingers casually slipped down to the handle of his sword. “Whitestone Tower is just a mile down the road, and you should—”

  The words died on his lips when one of the other guards shrieked in agony and clutched at the arrow suddenly jutting out of his breastplate. He tried desperately to heft up his shield, but it was already too late—a storm of arrows rained down from the tree line, and he and most of the others were dead before they even had a chance to draw their blades.