Chapter 1: Life and Freedom

Narran looked at her, his green eyes sparkling like emeralds. “Runa,” he smiled, leaning closer to her, his whispering breath dancing along her lips, “maybe you could ... sta-“

“RUNA!” Narran cried, thrashing against his assailants. He reached one dark-skinned hand toward her.

Runa started awake. She was laying on her side on her cot, staring at the brick wall opposite her. Her pale hair pooled around her head where she lay.

Her heart pounded in her chest. That feeling was quickly replaced with a tightening pain as she thought about him. She hadn’t been able to sleep properly for the past six months, plagued by him at night and full of guilt during the day.

Dust spun through the air, suspended on sunbeams that shone through the brick slats in her cell.

She coughed as she sat up. The dust was a part of her as it was a part of all things here. In the palace, she was able to bathe as often as she liked. It was a perk of her job.

Here, she was given a bucket of well water once a month. Aside from that, she was covered in sand, dust, and grime at all times. It filled her nostrils, her eyes, and her throat.

She stood, her body aching from the uncomfortable cot, and began to stretch. She wasn’t sure how long she would be in the cell, but she would be prepared for anything. She hadn’t been able to truly exercise the way she used to, but this was good enough for now.

She was about to sink to her knees to begin push-ups when she heard the sound of a door opening. It was the door at the top of the stairs that led down to the hall of cells she lived in.

‘It’s too early for it to be lunch,’ she thought to herself as she looked at the small window in her cell. She had been fed twice a day for close to three weeks when she was first put in her cell, but that stopped fairly quickly as food became scarce in the city due to trade relations breaking down with someone or perhaps a merchant lord was murdered or something else. The guards seemed to not know at all and they wouldn’t talk to Runa.

After that, they had shifted to only feeding the prisoners once per day, at the sun’s highest peak. ‘It could be a new prisoner.’

That would be interesting. Possibly, at least. After around a week she would get tired of it. That was around the time most people realized they would only be leaving by some great miracle or at the call of the noose. Or worse yet, the arena. But maybe she could talk to the new person for a good day or two before they began cracking.

A few of the other prisoners had roused themselves, coming to the doors of their cells to rattle bars or call out to whoever was coming. Mostly, they would just be excited to see someone new, if it was indeed someone new.

“Which cell is she in?” a female voice like the song of a night lark asked. Runa’s blood ran cold. She knew that voice all too well.

“Down at the end, your Majesty,” the rough voice of Halleb, the day guard for her hallway said. “On the right.”

Runa could hear people whistling at the woman as her footfalls came nearer Runa’s cell.

Runa, for her part, quickly dusted herself off as best she could. She tried to run her fingers through her hair but they got tangled quickly. She gave up on the notion of untangled hair, wiping any dust she could from her face.

The woman that came into sight had skin the color of dark wood bark. Her curling hair was black as charcoal except where flecks of gray spotted the curls. Her hair was arranged in a long strip down the middle of her head and her pointed ears were as long and sharp as Runa’s. The sign of Elvish heritage that both she and Runa shared, was covered in a cuff of gold with beads and disks of silver dangling from it. Her entire body was covered in jewelry of gold and silver, precious stones and beads.

“Queen Enkkansha,” Runa sank to her knees, bowing her head. “I am honored by your presence.”

The queen set a stool that she had been carrying down, sitting on it primly. “Come here, child.” She put her hand through the bars of wood, beckoning to Runa.

Runa half crawled across the floor before kneeling, head bowed, within reach of the queen. She felt lithe fingers tangle with her hair, never pulling too hard.

“Look at you.” The queen tilted her face up so Runa was looking up at her. “You’re filthy, dear.” She cupped Runa's face, running her thumb over her cheek slowly. “This place has not been too kind to you, has it?”

Runa felt her face flush. The queen was beautiful. A pure elf, she was in her mid fifth century, soft light seemed to fill any room she was in.

She reminded Runa so much of her son. From the way she gently ran her fingers through Runa’s hair to the soft touch on her face. Their faces were nearly identical.

“Yes, my lady,” she whispered. “But I have done my best to remain unbroken and fit for service to the house.”

The queen raised an eyebrow, smiling softly. “You are still devoted? Still willing to serve even after I threw you in here?”

It was true, the queen had ordered Runa arrested and was the reason she sat in prison now. But Runa was sworn to the Queen and her house. She loved the queen as she loved her son and in nearly the same way. She even loved the new king.

She was a Yeniczar, a “death guard” of the royal family. She was nothing without the prince or the queen. She would die before breaking her oath of service.

“I am yours, my Queen.” Runa felt her heart brimming with hope. Perhaps the queen would see that she was willing to atone for her sin.

The queen smiled. “So loyal.” She brushed a hand over Runa’s head. “Narran ... ” her smile faltered. “My son ... he loved you so much. He spoke of you so highly. You were his favorite, you know?”

Runa nodded eagerly. Narran hated when she behaved like his servant. Behind closed doors, she was supposed to behave as if she was his equal. Runa never forgot what she was, though. She felt pride, knowing she was his favorite of all his servants and perhaps even his concubines, and her chest tightened at the memory of failing him so utterly.

But she felt very warm and very nice knowing that he loved her.

“You were almost like a daughter to me.” The queen’s hand drifted to Runa’s neck and she sharply inhaled at the trailing electricity she felt at the woman’s touch.

“Now,” the warmth that had been in the queen’s demeanor and tone was gone, her hand slowly tightening around Runa’s throat, “all I feel when I see you is anger.” Runa did not move as the pressure became painful and her vision began to narrow. “You would know nothing of a mother’s love, would you?”

Runa weakly shook her head. She deserved this. She had failed in the one duty she had.

“Because of you, my son is gone. Because of your failure, I don’t know if he is alive or dead. I want you to suffer. You are nothing to me without him, only a little street rat. If your back was unpainted, I would be able to discard you like a broken pot. But as you are marked, discarding something like you would be unseemly.”

The queen said flatly as Runa began to see darkness closing in. She was referring to Runa’s tattoos, earned when she became a Yeniczar. It gave her meaning and value.

Abruptly, the pressure was gone. Runa fell forward onto her hands, gasping for breath and hearing the drumming of her blood in her ears.

“I have a better use for you, though.” The queen leaned down as Runa looked up at her again. “One that won’t waste something as useful as you.”

Runa felt tears well in her eyes as confusion swam in her. Why hadn’t the queen killed her? She was ready. She deserved it. But if the queen wished something else for her, she would obey.

“You will find my son. I have a suspicion that he was taken by Empress Shemhat.” She sighed. “No one will know of your purpose and you will do this in your name alone.” The queen almost whispered it.

“Perhaps if my son forgives you for failing him, you may yet be my daughter. Though perhaps being his pet is a better suited job, as you do not seem worthy of being his bride.”

Runa closed her eyes and bowed her head. “Thank you, your Majesty. I will not fail you.”

The queen stood. “See that you do not. I give you the gift of life and freedom.”

She turned to leave but Runa spoke. “My Queen ... ”

The queen raised her brow. “Yes, Runa?” Her tone oozed with strained patience.

Runa knelt, brushing her hands on her pants. “I would beg for aid. I do not think I can hope to save your son alone. Please, three Yeniczars are all I require.”

The queen scoffed. “Do you think I would-”

“I’ll do it. For a pardon,” a voice cut the queen off.

Runa saw it belonged to a blue woman in the cell across from her. Her head sprouted horns and a tail swished gently behind her. Her smile contained fangs. “I’ll bring back your sweet boy for a pardon.” She gave a half-assed bow. “My Queen.”

The queen’s face was a mask of rage before a malicious smile broke out and she laughed lightly. “Yes ... ” she nodded, turning to Runa. “You will have her. And that is all I give you.”

Runa swallowed and bowed her head, resting it against the wooden bars. If all else failed, she could take her own life the honorable way. She felt like she would burst into tears at any moment.

But the prince needed her. Narran needed her.

“As you command,” she managed shakily.