Dedication

This book is dedicated to my soul sister; our bond goes back through eternity. She is my motivation, my comfort, my inspiration and my support in all things my husband cannot help me with. I thank you for every conversation,every inspiration, and every smile. It is so wonderful to have you in my life.

Thank you Cat Nemois!

Your Lisa Skydla

 

 

 

 

 

 

The story is the canvas,
the language the colours,
the translator a brush,
but the author however,
remains always the artist.

Prince Felix

Chapter 1 - A Bloody Attack

Sinja gazed intently over the Tenebraes steppe; something was in the air, even the yakutas were standing still, the herd normally going from one corner of the pasture to the other, eating the bright pink grass. These animals provided furs, leather, meat and milk, and were the most highly prized things in the life of a nomad. She looked again up to the heavens and the gradual transition to azure blue, the first sign of the coming dawn, her royal blue eyes scanning the horizon; she could see nothing, but could feel the threat hanging heavily in the air. The Iron Mountains framing the steppe were only visible through a white haze, but Sinja knew the great cities lay there. They had shunned the cities until now and traded their wares with small settlements or travelling merchants, the people in the cities looking down on the nomads as an inferior race.
A heavy hand laid on Sinja’s shoulder brought her back from her thoughts. Smiling, she looked into the beloved face of her father, who had come up from behind her. He too could sense the threat, and frowned. “What’s going on?” his daughter wanted to know. “I have no idea my child, but it’s nothing good” he replied evasively with an intent glance. Sinja nodded thoughtfully, half open-mouthed to ask another question as he interrupted her; “go to the yurt, this is no place for you right now.” A low rumbling made any reply stick in her throat and she turned her mesmerized gaze to the horizon from where an enormous black cloud was approaching, covering everything in its path. She recognised silver horses within the cloud, and her heart missed a beat with fear. Such horses were only ridden by the zjertas, vicious semi-demons, who took anything they wanted. “Go, now” shouted her father with an urgent push as he ran into the camp to raise the alarm.
Frightened but curious, Sinja took refuge with her aunt and mother in the largest yurt. She would have liked to help the men, but none of them was any match for these devils. It was not long until the first battle cries rang out, hissing, growling and howling accompanying the fight. It was pitch black inside the yurt and the three women clung anxiously together listening to the noises from outside. The minutes seemed like hours, and Sinja’s heart pounded up to her throat, fear holding her firmly in its grip as the dark sense of foreboding was transformed into certainty, her aunt screaming in panic as the yurt was ripped through and the interior lit up with a flaming torch. Three zjertas approached, eyes glowing brightly red in the half-darkness as their faces turned to grimaces. The semi-demons were wrapped in dark cloaks, sparing the women the sight of what lay beneath, but their faces resembled charred flesh, with noses flat as if burnt away. Sinja was struck with terror, not even able to scream as the fiends stood directly over them. One of the three growled a command, sounding like deep thunder from a distant storm, and horrified, the young nomad saw two of the demons drag her mother and aunt from the yurt; probably the last she would ever see of them.
The third zjerta approached her, licking his black lips with tongue forked and unnaturally green. Sinja recoiled anxiously, raising her hands in defence and shaking her head, but still no sound came from her mouth. The devil grabbed her with a harsh laugh and ran slowly over her slender body, Sinja sensing the claw-like hands more than seeing them. At the very moment his claw reached her breast another demon leapt into the yurt, and struck off her tormentor’s head. Completely paralysed with horror she watched the now lifeless carcass tilt forward as the black blood gushed over her gown, a scream finally breaking from her throat as she lost consciousness.
As Sinja’s awareness returned she at first thought it was all a terrible nightmare, but then saw the ripped fabric and suddenly realised this was no dream at all. A zjerta sat outside the entrance, watching her inimically, otherwise there was deathly silence. It was dark outside, which however said nothing about the time of day as the black haze obscured everything. The sages had said this cloud was fed by the evil which brought the zjertas into this world; and right now Sinja had every faith in that. Torches were set up, and her guard dragged her out of the yurt, his claws scratching the skin on her arm, but she no longer felt it. For a moment the fire threw a little light on the battlefield which had once been their camp, and she recognised the corpses of her brothers and father. Sinja was so unprepared for the shock she could neither cry out nor weep, simply staring, stunned, at the loved ones who would never smile at her again. No one had taken the trouble to close their eyes; her father seemed to be gazing at her, begging forgiveness, and she knew he had defended them to his last breath. Still no tears broke free, everything felt numbly unreal. The demon pushed her onwards, kicking the bodies aside without a care for her suffering as Sinja stood in shock, and his grip tightened to drag her half stumbling after him, unable to really take in what she had seen.
The demon paused in front of a group of four other zjertas and three humans; one of the devils bore a silver star on his forehead and she realised this must be their clan chief. They began to talk, a mixture of hissing, rumbling and clacking Sinja couldn’t understand. It took a while, then the leader nodded, and she was met with a cold but human glance. The men immediately sprang into motion, two holding her while the third closed iron shackles around her neck and wrists, the heavy iron chaffing painfully on her delicate skin and she could hardly lift her hands, so great was the weight of the manacles. She already knew the significance of these shackles, the mark of slavery; she had been sold to slave traders, but even this realisation could not touch her. A chain was attached to the iron collar and Sinja was dragged away from her former camp. Considerate treatment was not to be expected, so she tried to keep up with the long strides of the men, and after an exhausting forced march of over a kilometre they emerged from the black cloud of the zjertas to be dazzled by bright sunshine. The steppe was still pink, but where the demons had ridden the ground was an icy strip; the farther they moved away from the dark haze the brighter the grass became, until it had regained its natural sparkle.
Sinja was pushed roughly into a tent, where several people already sat huddled together. No one looked up, no one moved, not even as she was chained by the right ankle to another prisoner, the dull eyes of the new slaves only being turned toward her when the entrance closed behind her, but still no one spoke. Why this should be was something Sinja could not yet even suspect. She looked at the others, hoping one of her relatives was among them, but recognised no one. The pain clenched in her heart as she realised she was probably the only survivor. For quite some time they simply sat, the heat in the tent becoming unbearable, partly because too many people were crowded together under the tent. Hunger and thirst rumbled in their insides, but no one got up to demand something to eat or drink. Sinja’s eyes flashed angrily, replacing the numbness inflicted by the loss of her entire family, perhaps precisely that making her careless. With difficulty, she stood, but the man next to her shook his head. “Don’t, they will only make you suffer” he whispered, then the tent was again pervaded by unspeaking silence. Her mother had often told them tales of the slavers and their cruelty, partly to keep her children from going too far into the steppe. These stories now came back into her mind, and she decided not to risk her luck.
It was already dusk when a bowl of water and a crust of bread were thrust into her hand. It wasn’t much, but would secure her survival; that more would not be coming was immediately clear, Sinja quickly drinking the water and chewing the crust before anyone could take it away again. Shortly afterwards they were driven out into the open and ordered to dismantle the tents, irrespective of her gender, no one was spared. The heavy tents were loaded onto a few yakutas, the young nomad constantly stumbling over the chains, receiving kicks and punches as reward for her clumsiness. She staunchly held back the tears, with no more than a contemptuous look for her captors. When the tents and supplies were loaded they were driven out into the wilderness, chained together like animals. Through clenched teeth the slaves tried to stay on their feet; if one fell, more often than not they would take their neighbours with them, and then they all had to endure the fury of the slave traders.
They moved toward the mountains throughout the night, with the moon bathing the steppe in turquoise rays. Particularly at night, the Iron Mountains gleamed in a mystical dark light, and Sinja remembered the tales she had heard about the cities. Previously she had begged her parents to visit one of these settlements with her; today she would gladly forgo the experience. The mountains alone scared her, and the idea of being taken to one of these huge cities, hewn into the rock, made her tremble. Silently they walked through the desert, each trapped in their own nightmare, driven by the three slavers on their horses. Shortly before sunrise they were forced to build the camp again, and then herded back into the tent. There was no bread and water this time, and so Sinja fell asleep, exhausted, but fear of the future and grief for her family followed her.
“Hey you, wake up, and follow me” came a voice from in front of her. Somewhat dazed she opened her eyes, only to look straight into the face of a slaver. Before she could move, he grabbed her by the arm and dragged her up. Sinja noticed someone had removed the chain on her ankle, but before she could even think of escape she was thrust into the next tent. Stumbling, she only just kept her balance, but at the same moment her legs were kicked away from under her so she dropped painfully to the ground. “You must learn how a slave is to behave. The first lesson should already be clear; when the master is in the room, you kneel.” “You’re not worthy of looking at your owner” came another voice. Sinja hastened to obey, as everything hurt from the heavy impact. Upright now, she knelt before the slavers, firmly keeping her eyes lowered so as not to give them any reason to punish her more. The end of a riding crop was pushed under her chin, forcing her to raise her head until she was looking into the almost black eyes of the slaver. “Are you a virgin?” he asked. Sinja’s cheeks turned red, she had never been asked so brazen a question. Everything in her strained against giving this brute a response; she should rather stand and spit it in his face her pride demanded, urgently, but she knew he would have no compunction against killing her on the spot. The riding crop under her chin disappeared, and the next moment his open hand slapped into her face, snapping her head sideways. “Second lesson, you answer questions immediately, without hesitation, without lies” the man told her, quite calmly. Still shocked, she stared at him, unable to respond. Her pride and fear were struggling against each other within her, particularly as she did not have much to lose. Another slap, followed by a powerful kick in the stomach, and she forgot any resistance, struggling painfully to her feet to kneel before him again. “Yes master, I’m still a virgin” she whispered, looking stubbornly down at her knees, not wanting to witness his triumphant grin. She had now slipped so far she sat crouched on the floor, no longer daring to show contempt for her tormentors. “You’ll bring me a pretty penny then” the slaver proclaimed with satisfaction. Sinja did not know what to reply, and so remained silent. He let her kneel in front of him for a while before calling one of his subordinates to take her away. Relieved that nothing worse had happened, Sinja sat back in her place to lapse into dark brooding; it appeared her virginity was to be sold, as if some base whore, but there was nothing she could do to prevent it.
The next week passed in a similar manner, resting during the day, driven over the steppe like cattle at night, Sinja seeming to draw no more attention than the other slaves. There was a bowl of water and a crust of bread once a day, no more, no less; enough to keep them alive, but not to stay strong enough to rebel against their tormentors. She wondered repeatedly what the future held, was this to be her fate? Would her new master be just as callous and inhuman? Or would he torture and abuse her as a sex slave? She often lay awake during the day, tormented by fear, but still not letting it show; she could do without any further humiliation, especially as there was a painful daily lesson on how a slave was to behave; kicks, slaps and humiliation being the order of the day, and with her, it seemed the slavers enjoyed it even more. Perhaps because she was a girl, but she was the only woman these people had captured, and accordingly valuable; from a few overheard snatches of conversation she discovered that not many females survived zjerta attacks, a cold shiver shaking through her as she remembered her own encounter with the monsters. The sight of the demon’s head flying by and the bleeding corpse falling toward her was etched into her memory; reliving it in her dreams every night to wake drenched in sweat.
They finally arrived at the city, and Sinja looked up at the huge gates rising majestically before them; no one could enter the city as long as these gates were closed. They shone with a metallic silver, only a shade darker than the rocks of the Iron Mountains in the background. A push in the back reminded her that the tents had to be put up, as no one was allowed into the city in the middle of the night. She quickly turned her attention back to the heavy tents, which they lifted from the yakutas and dragged to the specified place. She had in the meantime become accustomed to this work, and did not stumble over the ropes so often. Today she was not so exhausted as they had camped much earlier, which did however also take away any hope of finally being able to sleep the night through although even total exhaustion had not been able to free her from the nightmares; but it was already dusk as they were driven together again for the night. Dropping wearily to the ground, she closed her eyes and sank into a finally dreamless sleep.
A few hours later Sinja was awakened with a kick and instructed to dismantle the tents and load them back onto the yakutas. She rubbed her eyes nervously, how gladly she would have slept a little longer, particularly since she had for once not been disturbed by any nightmares, but there was no way to sleep any longer so she scrambled up and went together with the others to carry out their tasks. The chain which bound them together was just long enough for them to carry out their tasks, but also meant everything else was done chained as well, embarrassing as it was for her when she had to satisfy the call of nature. This was a humiliation she would never get used to.
Caught up in her thoughts about the intolerable situation, she was startled by a pathetic roaring, immediately turning in the direction from which the sound came. Horrified, she saw a tall man torturing a dragon with an electroblade, holding the dragon on a kind of leash, the animal writhing in pain, cowering with every move of its tormentor, and Sinja’s heart clenched. Why did he have to display his superiority in this way? Why did he have to torment the poor creature? Disgusted, she turned her head aside and would have gladly blocked her ears to no longer have to listen to the miserable whining. A whip hit her suddenly across the back, and she stifled the scream before glancing at her tormentor. Quickly remembering the lessons she had been taught Sinja lowered her eyes and hastened to perform her task. The roar of the dragon fell silent, and she prayed that the brutal swine had not killed the animal.
Shortly thereafter the small caravan moved into the city once the slaver had identified himself, moving purposefully toward a marketplace, so Sinja had no opportunity to look around, but her first impression was overwhelming. She had never seen so many buildings before, stacked one against the other. Some were bigger than their entire nomad camp had been. She kept looking upwards to see if the sky was still visible above her. The beauty of the palaces and mansions impressed her, but the pageantry also weighed down on her. She was a child of the steppe and had always been free; the confinement, the crowds, and the towering walls all intimidated her.
On the market square, a small platform and two tents were ready for the slave traders, reminding her she would soon meet her new master. She glanced timidly at the gathering crowd as she was driven into the right hand tent, her courage gradually failing. The flap marking the entrance remained a fraction open, so she continued looking outside, but her hopes for a gracious new owner declined with each new member joining the crowd. The men behaved churlishly, some seemed drunk, and brutality was written in their faces, most even appearing filthy. Sinja shook her head, she was filthy too, and longing for a bath or at least some water for washing, so she should not look down on these men. She would of course rather serve a master who was dirty but kind than one who was clean but beat her and made her suffer, but the crowd out there brought out her worst fears.
She looked out again and was able to make out a small group of kolschas; the creatures were immediately noticeable from their giant balloon-like heads, with one eye on the forehead. They were hardly bigger than herself, and with her one metre-sixty, she was quite petite. Her father had told her about these creatures, they had a very high intellect, superior to most living things, but were animated by an incredible coldness; these monsters knew no pity. Her gaze crossed two seekers, former humans who had been transformed by the kolschas, used as servants to find minerals, or particular people, should someone have risked their disfavour; Sinja trembling at the thought that she might be given to these creatures. Also in the group were some dugies, shrouded in their mandatory black cloaks, only the white faces recognisable. These beings floated over the ground as they moved, with heads oddly elongated. Her father had never described the dugies, saying only that one should stay out of their way as they were abysmally evil. Before she could get a better idea of what was awaiting her, the canvas was closed, obscuring her view. Perhaps it was actually a blessing, as she was now trembling before what was to come, cowering terrified by what she had seen. The hope of being at least bought by a human faded by the minute, as the creatures out there had much more money and power than any mere mortal. Horrified, she heard one of the slavers announce the auction as holding a great surprise, and she immediately knew he meant her. She was startled as the tent canvas was beaten aside, crying out as the leader of the slavers entered the tent. He was followed by a man who at first Sinja could not really see, as her eyes were hurriedly lowered, just as she had so forcefully been taught. The slaves quickly stood, not risking another beating, and stared at the ground, Sinja only daring to peer at the visitor through lowered eyelashes.
Her first impression was that he was big, very big; then she noticed the long silver hair spilling smoothly over his shoulders. Above he wore only shoulder armour: heavy leather pauldrons, with a dark cloak attached, hanging down over his back. His pants were likewise in shining black leather, as were his tall boots, and in his hand he held an electroblade, like the dragon rider before the city gates. So he was also one of these animal tormentors Sinja concluded, her hidden view now wandering more closely over his stature; clearly defined chest and abdominal muscles, without an ounce of excess fat on him. He also appeared to combine both power and money, as even the slave traders were looking uncertain, anxious to fulfil their guest’s every wish. The two men went through the entire tent, the dragon rider taking in each of the slaves, choosing two, who were immediately freed from their anklets by the slavers and dragged outside. Sinja shivered as they approached, the imagery of the previous day still fresh in her mind, when the other man had so cruelly tormented the dragon, though this one here looked even more authoritarian. Despite her praying he would finally pass her by he stopped, directly in front of her. To Sinja’s horror he put a hand under her chin, lifting her head until she was forced to look up at him. Cold, grey eyes bored deeply into her own royal blue, and for a while, he just stared at her.
“I want to talk to her alone” he suddenly demanded with a deep, but surprisingly pleasant voice. “But please my lord, that’s really asking too much. No one will believe she’s a virgin if the customers see you disappear into a tent with her” the slaver protested. An icy cold glance from the steely-grey eyes met him, and the slaver could only stammer out disjointed half-sentences, lacking the courage to openly confront the dragon rider, but still did not want to let his business be ruined. “I want to talk to her, - alone” the man repeated, dangerously quietly, his heavy tone carrying both threat and warning. Sinja would have gladly thrown herself at the slavers feet not to have to go with this frightening master, but the slaver duly nodded, stooping to unlock the chain which bound her to the remaining slaves. “Take off the shackles” ordered the dragon rider. With a resigned sigh the man obeyed, unlocked the manacles, and put them aside. It was clear from his face that he would have liked to give the arrogant man a piece of his mind, but would never dare, quickly grabbing the chain attached to her collar and dragging her from the tent. Trembling and stumbling, she had no option but to follow him to the second tent, where he pushed her to the ground, hissing “I’ll be waiting outside” to remind her that any thought of escape was pointless.
For a moment there was silence before the dragon rider pulled her to her feet and forcefully examined her. No detail seemed to escape him, from the long black hair, the royal blue eyes, to her trim, petite figure. “Promise not to flee, to obey me, and I will take you with me” he demanded quietly. Sinja’s eyes opened wide and looked at him as if he had lost his mind. A nomad neither broke their word nor forgot their pride; voluntary submission did not come into question. Slowly she shook her head, “no way” she uttered, forgetting for a moment everything the slavers had so painfully taught her, suddenly remembering that she had no right to look him in the face, and certainly not to give such a response, but he only laughed derisively. “Look at the scum standing in front of the platform. I assure you that none of these bastards has any interest in your safety” he made clear, pushing the cover a little aside from the entrance. Through the opening Sinja could again see the collection of monstrous creatures, and shook once more in disgust. The dragon rider offered her his hand and waited, motionless, for her decision. It was bizarre enough that he was giving her a choice; she had expected him to simply take what he wanted, but was it at all possible for her to keep that promise? By giving her word, she would be binding herself to him indefinitely. Her nervous gaze kept flicking to the crowd raging in front of the platform, loudly demanding to see the slaves, finally deciding he was the lesser of two evils. After all, he wasn’t forcing her; he was leaving it up to her whether she went with him, even though he could have decided entirely for himself. “I promise” she whispered, bowing her head as she took his hand. With a jerk he pulled her to him, put an arm around her, and pressed her tightly to his bare muscular chest. Startled, she opened her eyes and at first tried to resist, but a hardly noticeable shake of the head stopped her. Horrified, she felt his fingertips gliding gently over her body, but somehow, also feeling safe for the first time since the attack. Abruptly he let go, then grabbed the iron chain on her collar to lead her out of the tent. The slaver was on the spot immediately, but the man no longer paid him any attention, simply tossing him a heavy purse in passing. Sinja followed with downcast eyes while he held the chain firmly in his grip. The two slaves he had bought trotted after them, overseen by some unassuming little man. On the opposite side of the square stood a sedan, and the dragon rider walked toward it. As he came into view, the bearers rushed to their places and hastened to open the door. With an inviting gesture he indicated that Sinja should get in. For a moment she considered otherwise, but bound by her word, she accepted his invitation. He climbed in behind her and immediately gave the command to leave.
Suddenly he spoke to her “Sorry, but I had to make that little display so no one gets the idea I may have gone soft.” The nomad looked at him quizzically, not knowing what he meant, having become accustomed to such treatment over the last few days. “No, normally I do not drag a young woman through the marketplace in chains, it is barbaric” he said, answering her unspoken question. For the first time a slight grin crossed his face, but disappeared again so quickly she thought she must have imagined it. She allowed herself to observe him again and noticed he bore a tattoo on his chest, the sigil identifying him indeed as a dragon rider, and fear tightened her throat. These people were decried throughout the land as brutal, ruthless, but very powerful, and she had given him her word. She closed her eyes in horror, but felt how he immediately pressed her against himself, with tender caresses. She had not expected such contact from him; this behaviour both puzzled and disturbed her, heightening her fear of being raped.
The sedan was eventually set down, and the door opened, the dragon rider signalling with a gentle tap on her arm, and she opened her eyes. Sinja looked at him with surprise, as he didn’t simply drag her out, but treated her quite considerately. “You should get out, so I can show you your new home” he suggested quietly. She nodded understandingly and stepped down from the sedan, he gallantly offering her his arm as support. Yet another gesture she had not expected from him. As she looked up she saw they were standing before a great palace. If this was his home, he had to be inconceivably rich and powerful. The building had been partially driven into the rocks of the Iron Mountains, glittering silver in the sun. Several balconies rose above them, and further up the building merged into the mountains. He took her carefully by the arm and brought them to the entrance, and upon opening, let her through first into a vast hall. “Welcome to my home” he greeted her with a smile, as the door locked closed behind him. Torches burned everywhere in the entrance hall, giving light as bright as day, the light of the many flames also being reflected by the matt silver of the walls. Sinja stared open mouthed, head tilted back, astonished at the vaulted ceiling, studying the fine adorning ornaments with amazement, then noting the magnificent building had indeed been driven into the mountainside, the many corridors leading distantly away before her in a ring from the hall. The corridors were too dark to actually see where they led, but just the size of the palace stunned her. Directly opposite the entrance was a staircase leading up to a balustrade. She saw more doors, at regular intervals; there had to be an awful lot of rooms in this building.
“Drakoij” called out her new master loudly, which was soon followed by a distant snort, and approaching thumping and rumbling. The closer the noise came, the more the floor shook, and Sinja realised he must have called his dragon. Fearfully she stepped back, instinctively moving behind him as the enormous anthracite-scaled beast entered the hall. At least now she knew why the palace was so big. The dragon rider’s back offered her little protection however, as he brought her forward to stand beside him, waiting steady with feet apart for his mount. Sinja cowered at his side, completely transfixed with fear, looking up to the great behemoth before her, and hoped very much the rider had not simply bought her as dragon food. The creature lowered its broad snout to sniff and separate her scent from the filth and zjerta blood, at which moment the man raised his hand holding the electroblade.
Without a thought Sinja leapt forward, knocking the electroblade away and standing protectively before the dragon’s snout; only to then realise what she had just done. Staring fearfully at her new master, royal blue and smoky grey met eye to eye, one pair wide with terror, the other more in amazement, but before he could recover from his surprise Sinja threw herself at his feet, clutching to his leg with face to the floor. “Please master, don’t hurt him, I beg of you” she stammered, despite her fear. She did not want to again be witness to how such a proud animal was tortured, even if she was actually terrified by the dragon. She was still on her knees deliberating on how she could actually hold this big, fearsome man back from hurting the creature as she heard the thundering laughter. Sinja looked up, confused, and realised it was the dragon that was laughing; looking down at her and - laughing. Before she could gather her wits she was being held up again by the shoulders; frightened, she let go of her new master's legs and was suddenly standing on her own two feet again. “May I introduce my friend Drakoij?” the dragon rider enquired, trying not to laugh. He was aware that she must be prepared for the worst, and it would take some time before she trusted him, but that she, this tiny little thing, was trying to protect an enormous dragon from - him, a dragon rider; well, it just had to make him smile, especially as it showed her heart was indeed in the right place. “Pleased to make your acquaintance and, um, thank you for trying to protect me” rumbled Drakoij deeply, majestically.
“You can talk!” Sinja blurted out, earning another coarse chortle. “Yes, of course I can, though I would be very much obliged if you kept it to yourself. Outside these walls I will not talk, it is far too dangerous” he replied, with an exaggerated wink. Hesitantly Sinja raised her hand to stroke his snout but stopped just before making contact. “Forgive me but, may I touch you? It’s the first time I’ve seen a dragon up close” she asked, in awed respect. For a moment she had forgotten her predicament and the confusing man who had bought her, completely fascinated by the mighty creature. “Yes, please do, I love it, which is why Artyom wanted to greet me that way just now; even when he had the electroblade in his hand, believe me, he would never hurt me” Drakoij clarified, rumbling softly for a dragon. An annoyed sniff made them both look up, just as Sinja was gently stroking the dragon’s snout. “You talk too much old friend” Artyom growled, fortunately not looking seriously annoyed as he said so. The dragon grinned, sniffed curiously at the little nomad again, then leaned toward his rider, whispering “You have made a wise choice. She is not only pretty, and smart, but also has her heart in the right place” but loud enough that Sinja had to be able to hear it. “It pleases me that you are to be one of us now. Should you ever need me, just call, but for now I will leave you two alone” with which he turned his huge bulk around and disappeared again down one of the many corridors.
Sinja watched him go with incredulity, but then sensed the dragon rider standing behind her, glancing uncertainly at him over her shoulder. “I’m sorry master, but in front of the gates I saw a man torturing a dragon with an electroblade; I couldn’t bear to see something like that again” she tried to explain. Instead of answering, he laid his hands heavily on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. His eyes drilled into hers, and he simply held her, seeming to be trying to read her. He finally let go and gently removed the iron collar, throwing it heedlessly into a corner as if repelled by such restraint. Still he did not speak, unsettling her again, but she had herself under control and met his gaze fearlessly. He slowly raised his hands to her neck, his fingers delicately gliding over the chaffed areas while reciting a strange chant, gently touching each wound, and Sinja could feel how the skin closed. Then he did the same with the broken skin on her wrists and ankles. With a flash she realised he was a healer, but that just wasn’t possible. Dragon riders were always warriors, and not capable of magic, at least that was what she had learnt, but then, how should she know? Up to now she’d never met a dragon, or its rider. “You’re a healer” she whispered in amazement. Artyom gently raised a finger to his lips, staring intently back at her, whispered softly “Not everything has to be spoken aloud.” Sinja nodded understandingly, making a mental note to guard his secrets as if they were her own, wanting to give him no reason to sell her again.
“There is someone else I want you to meet” he said, and let out a shrill whistle. She looked around nervously, but it was impossible to keep an eye on all the corridors. A chrischnik suddenly appeared lithely from a corridor to her left, striding majestically toward the dragon rider without the slightest sound. Sinja again felt the urge to run away, a chrischnik was a very dangerous predator, and she had lost quite a few yakutas to these hunters, and yet she couldn’t help but admire his beautiful coat, glistening in the torchlight. He had the typical dark blue and silver stripes to disguise himself perfectly at night on the steppe; at the moment he had his claws drawn in, and his tail twitched just a little restlessly as he padded unhesitatingly to his master. Afraid, Sinja clung to Artyom’s cape, not letting the huge carnivore out of her sight. This specimen came up to her waist, average for a chrischnik, but it was fascinating to see him up so close.
“This is Mika; I saved him as a kit from his owner, who wanted to drown him” her master related softly. Yet another facet to this dragon rider she had not expected, her respect for the man was growing by the minute. Mika had now reached his master, nuzzling his big head against Artyom’s legs, almost pushing him over. “Slow down boy” he greeted Mika with a smile, scratching him extensively behind the ears. “Say hello to your new mistress” he whispered to the animal, which immediately turned to Sinja. She looked with incredulous doubt at the pair, unable to make the slightest movement. Rooted to the spot, she simply stood as the chrischnik turned to look toward her through eyes flickering green in the torchlight. His gaze was curious, but not aggressive, and she lost some of her fear. With a faint whimper the chrischnik licked her hand; Sinja winced fearfully, and retreated a step. “He will not hurt you” sounded Artyom’s voice. Sinja looked at him, trembling, and swallowed, hard. “Mika, you can see she is afraid of you. Give her a couple of days, then she will play with you” the dragon rider admonished. Hanging his head, the animal turned and disappeared again down one of the corridors. Only now could the little nomad stop shaking, and looked gratefully up to her master. “Thank you master, I was really afraid of him” she whispered, cowering. “You will get used to him; he is actually just a big smooch” Artyom predicted with an almost imperceptible smile.
“Come, let me show you to your room” he suddenly exclaimed, offering her his hand. Another surprise, as she hadn’t expected a separate room; with a little hesitation she took his hand and he pulled her for a brief moment to him, his bare arms closing around her and she realised it felt, strangely, reassuring. Far too quickly he let her go again, intertwining his fingers with hers, and turned toward the stairs climbing up directly before them. They went up past several doors until he stopped and opened a room for them. Courteously, he let ladies go first. “This is your room for the time being, where you can have some space” he informed her. She had expected many things, but never such a beautiful room, and all to herself? She entered, astonished, doing a little turn on the spot. Against the back wall was a big, white, four-poster bed with matching canopy, and bedside table in the same white, with light blue ornaments matching those on the bed frame; a wardrobe and desk with chair completing the furnishings. It was a corner room, and so there were windows looking out onto the city, and others onto the steppe over the first rocks of the mountains. “Should you need anything, just let me know” boomed Artyom, and left her alone in her tiny empire. 

Chapter 2 - Palace of the Dragon Rider

 Sinja could not believe her luck; she had never had such a room, particularly not travelling with her family over the steppe. Tears came to her eyes as her thoughts moved in that direction, realising it was actually just a gilded cage, and she would never be free again. The images of her slain relatives also tortured her repeatedly. She looked thoroughly around the room to distract herself, and discovered there was even a balcony. Delighted she tried to open the door, but it was locked. She sank gloomily into the chair and tried to control her tears. Crying would get her nowhere, no matter how miserable she felt, and she had been lucky, or at least so it seemed at the moment. Tired, she put her head in her hands and wondered what to do next. Her master definitely expected something from her, she just didn’t know what. She looked around the room again uncertainly, would have liked to settle into the white bed sheets and just fall asleep, but she was still completely covered in filth. She glanced around searching, and noticed another door. Curious, she stood and pushed the handle, relieved to find the door opened easily. Behind was a bathroom with a large tub, double washbasin, and even a toilet. Sinja had never known such luxury before, but she would still have liked to turn back time, were it only possible. She wondered for a moment whether her new master would be very angry if she used the tub, on the way to the city they had beaten into her that she was worthless, with corresponding lack of rights.
Sinja was still staring longingly at the bathtub when the opposite door opened and in walked Artyom. He looked at her with surprise, and gestured welcomingly toward the tub, which had already been filled with warm water. “You go first” he offered politely. “No master, that’s not right” she immediately blocked, “I’ll go to the other slaves and wash myself there, if you don’t mind.” With a single long stride he was by her, and carefully took her wrist. “Stay here” he ordered, firmly. Sinja acknowledged, bowing her head instantly and allowed herself to be drawn further into the bathroom. He stopped in front of a cabinet and opened the doors. “You will find everything you need in here” he informed her. Besides towels, she was amazed to see a multitude of soaps. The art of soap making was highly prized, and a bar of soap was correspondingly precious. She realised once again that her master really must have a lot of money, which in turn meant he must be in the ruler’s favour, as he could only get such wealth from there. He took her firmly under the chin and turned her to look at him. “You will use it, and when you are done, come to my bedroom” he ordered coldly. Intimidated, she nodded, and wanted to turn to the bath, but instead turned back to him. “But master, where is your room?” she asked uncertainly. Without averting his gaze, he pointed to the door through which he had come. “Thank you master” she muttered and went finally over to the tub, not noticing as Artyom left the room.
Completely confused by his behaviour, she had completely forgotten to take what she needed. She turned quickly back again to choose one of the soaps. Among the many bars she found one with the scent of the Rose of the Steppe; this flower blossomed only once in five years, exuding a beguiling scent which awakened a longing for love in any human being. At least, that’s what the sages had said. She herself had only seen such a flower once. It had been a special kind of experience, the moon beaming turquoise over the steppe as the rose opened its blossoms. The outer leaves were so deeply red they looked almost black, but she had immediately noticed the inner petals, golden, and glowing; the entire flower was lit up from inside. Sinja became lost in thought in the bathroom, remembering that wonderful night, but then forced herself back to the present. She did not want to annoy her master by keeping him waiting. With forethought, she laid out a bath towel, then quickly climbed into the hot water and scrubbed the dirt from her skin, also washing her long jet black hair until it squeaked cleanly between her fingers. With slight regret, she left the tub, wrapped herself in the towel, and took another to wrap around her hair. She put the soap carefully back in the cabinet and looked for a bucket to empty the tub. Finding nothing, she shrugged her shoulders; the dragon rider would surely not kill her because she had found no way to dispose of the dirty water. She looked with disgust at her clothes, still sullied by the blood of the zjerta, stinking terribly, with many rips and stains. It was of course not an option to ask her new master for new clothes, but she decided it was probably better to ask permission first before she washed them. He seemed to be fair, with some compassion, at least, as far as she could tell, but she still didn’t know what he intended to do with her.
Sinja quickly towelled her hair, so well it was soon already dry, then wiped over her footsteps with the damp towel and hung it up to dry; she would wash it later together with her things, if she was allowed. With heart pounding and knees weak she ran timidly to the door through which her master had gone, and knocked. A dark “come in” rang out, and she needed all her courage to obey the command, but there was no other option, so she opened the door, took two steps into the room, and stood with head bowed, wanting at this crucial moment to do everything right, not even attempting to look around the room.
Sinja stood there for some time, shifting her weight uncertainly from one leg to the other, not daring to look up, but nothing happened. Artyom was sitting on his bed, watching the lovely creature who had immediately caught his eye in the slave tent. He had already stripped off his boots, cloak and pants. “You will get tired if you just keep standing there” he observed coolly. “But I don’t know what you expect from me master” Sinja stammered. A quiet grunt made her wince; it seemed her reply had annoyed him. “Come here, I am not going to eat you” he commanded impatiently. She immediately started shuffling toward his voice, nearly stumbling into a stool with her still lowered gaze. “Do us both a favour and take a look around; there is no reason to constantly stare at the floor, unless of course you find the carpet so appealing” Artyom mocked. Sinja gulped and raised her head. She looked around his bedroom and was once again amazed to find it decorated in a bright yellow, radiating joy, which she had not expected from a man with the charisma of an iceberg. She glanced around quickly; desk, chair, bed with cabinet, without taking in the details. Then she looked at him, sitting on his bed in nothing but a pair of narrow briefs, with the chrischnik under his arm. The huge animal was snuggled up to him, and Mika appeared to be rolling his eyes in pleasure from being stroked. Sinja stopped immediately, not daring to go any further. “Please tell me what I should do. I am your willing servant” she managed to get out as she stood before him. Again she heard a faint grunt, and the next moment his powerful arms snaked around her and pulled her onto the bed. She lay transfixed with fear in his arms, hoping the towel wouldn’t slip; her master appeared to have bought her for some rather special tasks.
“Why are you not wearing anything?” he enquired. Confused once more, she looked at him with another hard gulp, “I’m sorry master, but my clothes are dirty, and they stink. I beg your permission to wash them. Perhaps you will have the mercy to allow me a little yarn so I may darn them” she whispered, not letting the chrischnik out of her sight. “Sit up and calm down, neither Mika nor I will hurt you” Artyom lorded over her. She obeyed instantly, and sat carefully on the edge of the bed, tightening the towel firmly at the same time. “Of course you can wash your clothes, but unless I am very much mistaken it will not be worth the effort. I will get you some clothes to wear for the time being, and tomorrow we will go to the market shopping” he answered quietly. She looked back at him gratefully, and for the first time he smiled, gleaming white teeth flashing across his darkly tanned face, and in his eyes she saw an amused sparkle. “Thank you master” she whispered. Artyom spoke again, “I want you to recover and get some rest. In public I will treat you as a slave, but here with me you will be in safety” he told her, gently taking her hand and delicately stroking the back, then turned her around and followed the calluses which had formed over the previous days. He looked her longingly in the eyes, and lowered his head to kiss her palm, tenderly stroking the soft skin with his tongue while still holding her with gentle firmness. She desperately tried to pull her fingers away, her heart pounding as she realised she was actually enjoying this tenderness, and far too much; which wasn’t right, and in the end would not bode well for her, but wasn’t he forcing her to accept his caresses? Finally he let go of her, putting his hand over her cheek to delicately stroke with his thumb, and again looked her penetratingly in the eye.
The way he was treating her with all this caring affection did not however leave Sinja cold, quite to the contrary; her mind was screaming to keep her distance, but her battered soul desperately needed this closeness. Without consciously thinking, she nestled up to his palm, and closed her eyes. No matter what came next, for that one moment she felt safe and secure. Only when Artyom drew back his hand did she open her eyes again, looking at him questioningly, but he only took her hand once more, laying it on the coat of the chrischnik who immediately turned toward her. Startled, her eyes widened, fear snatching at her throat. “Trust me, he will not hurt you, quite the opposite” her master whispered softly. Without resisting, but still trembling with fear, she allowed him to lead her fingers over the soft fur. She had expected it to be hard and bristly, not soft as silk. She slowly began to relax and looked the beast which appeared so faithful to its master in the eyes. “He likes you” whispered the dragon rider, whom she had momentarily almost forgotten, and only at that moment did she realise he had let go of her hand, and she was stroking Mika all by herself. She stroked tenderly over the chrischnik’s head, and he closed his eyes with a softly satisfied grunt. “He really is quite tame” she realised, astonished. Artyom was watching her with fascination, this tiny thing, stroking his gigantic pet. Immersed in the sight of her, he at first didn’t notice that she had addressed him. “Didn’t you want to bathe, master?” she repeated. Lost in thought, he nodded, and with a light slap drove Mika from the bed. He wanted to talk and set a few little rules, without Mika distracting them. With a low growl the chrischnik obeyed, but it was clear he wasn’t entirely happy about the command.
“What is your name?” asked Artyom. “Sinja” she replied immediately, lowering her eyes. His hand took her chin and turned her head to face him. “Forget what they taught you. I want you to look at me when you speak to me, understood?” he ordered calmly. She nodded quickly, but still didn’t know exactly why he had bought her in the first place. “As I said, outside these walls I will treat you as my slave. Not of course that I will punish you or treat you badly, but you will wear special clothes and a collar” he informed her, matter of fact, immediately touching her neck where, after the healing, there were no longer any traces of the iron collar, but the memory of pain and humiliation was nevertheless still fresh. He delicately laid his large hand on her, gently shaking his head. “It will not be a steel shackle that chaffs your skin” he promised, with a tender glint in his eyes. “Here in the palace you can move around freely” he reassured her, and then noticed the scent “Sinja, my little rose of the steppe” but as she nodded, her stomach growled loudly and she instantly blushed. Artyom softly laughed and stood. “Wait here a minute, I will quickly bathe, and then we can go together to the dining room” he instructed. “Please master, I didn’t know where to find a bucket, and so the bath hasn’t been emptied yet” she began, but he only laid a delicate finger over her lips. “Do not worry yourself about it. I have a very capable man who built me a facility to drain the water and also refill the bathtub” he explained, calmingly. For a moment she thought he was joking, but then realised he was completely serious. “I will show you how it works later. At the moment I want you to stay here and wait for me” he instructed calmly. Obediently, she nodded and watched as he left the room. With relief, she lay back and closed her eyes. The mattress seemed wonderfully soft after all the nights spent on the bare ground, and with a quiet sigh, she fell asleep.
When he came out of the bathroom Artyom found his slave tightly curled up at the foot of his bed, next to Mika. Smiling, he stood before the bed watching her. It was sad that they had met this way, but fate often took odd paths. He quickly slipped into some fresh clothes and then went down to find some clothes for Sinja. One of the younger slave girls had to have something spare in the right size. He hated the slave trade, but to survive in this society he had no choice but to accept it. However, he could ensure that at least his people were treated with respect and not abused. He regularly bought new slaves at the market, maintaining the persistent rumour that his slaves often fell victim to the dragon, which was precisely the way he wanted it, so no one would ask why he bought so many people. None of the respectable citizens would understand him wanting to avoid a brutal fate for at least a few of the wretches.
He finally arrived at the servants rooms, looking indecisive. No one there had anything like the petite figure of his little rose of the steppe. “Can we help you Artyom? Looks like something is bothering you” remarked an older servant woman affably. “I bought a new slave girl and she needs clean clothes, but she is still very young, and very slim” replied their master with a smile. The woman nodded understandingly, then walked away to return shortly with a wrap-around skirt and matching blouse. “This will have to do for now, she can pull the ribbons tightly enough that nothing slips. Underwear is a problem though, unfortunately there’s nothing fittings your description” she explained, handing him the clothes. Artyom thanked her graciously “My thanks Darina, you are a great help.” “If you bring her to me, I’ll measure her up and we can at least sew her a skirt and top in your colours. There’s still plenty of fabric” she reminded him. Artyom nodded, it was important that she wore the colours of his house, they served as protection. “I will bring her to you after dinner” he agreed. Smiling, she watched him go as he made his way back. For the first time he was keeping a female slave with him, and for the first time he hadn’t introduced her to the others, at least not yet. This woman must have made a great impression on him indeed, but Darina only wished the best for her master, who had saved her from rape and abuse. Had he not intervened when her previous owner had beaten her almost to death, things would have been completely different today. Smiling she went she back to her work, she would get to see the new slave girl soon enough.
Artyom entered his bedroom with a smile on his face, but then remembered his little nomad had been through hell over the last few days. It would take quite some time before she could trust, or even laugh again. Asleep, she looked so sweet and peaceful, yet he decided to wake her, gently touching her shoulder. “Wake up, rose of the steppe” he whispered. Confused, Sinja opened her eyes and looked at him with terror. “I’m sorry master, I didn’t mean to fall asleep” she stuttered. Her frightened reaction confirmed to him how she had been mistreated, and he shook his head gently. “Not a problem, you can sleep when you are tired. Everything is going to be alright” he calmed her with his dark voice. She was secretly relieved, and looked at him again, this time observantly. He had still not assigned her any task in his household, and she hoped he would not sell her again. “I brought you some clothes, and then we can also have dinner, if you like” he informed her. “Thank you master” she murmured. “Well, get dressed then, I will be waiting down the hall” leaving her thus alone so she could dress in private. Surprised, Sinja watched him as he left, the thought that her owner was behaving more like a host, even a lover, shot through her head, but perhaps he just wanted to soften her up with kindness. The phrase sex slave leapt to mind, but if she was completely honest there were worse things, and maybe with a man like him... She immediately suppressed such thoughts; a man like him certainly had no need to buy a woman for such pleasures. She found dressing a little difficult, as she wasn’t familiar with wrap blouses or this kind of skirt. She fumbled nervously with the straps and hopelessly entangled them, constantly aware that her master was waiting in the hall. At some point his patience would also be at an end and for her first day she had not exactly covered herself in glory.
The clothes finally held in place and she stormed barefoot with tousled hair out of the room only to almost stumble over Mika laying directly in front of the door. He jumped up with a low growl, but upon recognising her snuggled his huge head against her legs. Sinja swallowed her fear and stroked him gently on the back, and then went carefully around him. She in no case wanted her master to wait even longer. He was standing in the hall as he had said, and looked toward her. She couldn’t read his eyes, and as he said nothing, she thought he must be angry with her. Quickly she knelt before him and lowered her eyes in the quiet hope of encouraging his mercy, but again he surprised her with his behaviour, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her onto her feet. “Why do you keep doing that?” he inquired. “I kept you waiting, which is not appropriate for a slave. I was hoping to appease you” she answered honestly. Artyom took a deep breath and shook his head again. She didn’t know him, and wasn’t aware that she only made him angry with such gestures. In his opinion, no one had the right to force anyone to their knees. Should she ever voluntarily submit and kneel before him, well, that was entirely a different matter. “You are so tiny, if I do not wish to wait for you, I will just pick you up and take you with me” he replied with a quick smirk. She looked at him terrified, trying to judge whether he was really serious. Unfortunately, the grin was already gone, so Sinja believed he could indeed behave that way.
“Let us go to the dining room, I am definitely hungry, and you look as if you were starving” he suggested. He gently turned her round and put an arm around her shoulders. They went together to one of the dark corridors, Sinja allowing herself to be led by her master. Just before they entered the hall, Artyom took a flaming torch from the wall. With the light she could see there were also many rooms here. She wondered whether anyone really needed so many rooms and whether they could ever use them all. She did not of course dare to speak the question aloud. He finally opened a door and she saw that behind it was the kitchen. The four women who worked in this area immediately welcomed their master, but the nomad noticed with further amazement that their tone was pleasant and amicable. Artyom had a kind word for each, then introduced her, saying simply “This is Sinja.” More about her, or how he had acquired her, remained unsaid. However, no one asked either, and the women simply smiled at her and then went back to their work. “Bring us something to eat please” her master asked politely, leaving the kitchen again. He led her back into the dark passage, but put the torch back in the wall bracket and opened the directly adjoining door. “The dining rooms are normally on the upper floors, but I do not like that.” he said, “I would rather enjoy my food warm” and brought them into the dining room. Curiously, Sinja looked around, and was again astonished by the sheer size, as judging from this room her master must often have many guests. There was a huge table, with places for at least twenty people, with matching chairs from a dark wood which even she as a nomad didn’t recognise. This room was also lit by torches, and the walls were hewn directly into the rock of the Iron Mountains. A sideboard in the same dark wood stood at the other end of the dining room, otherwise there was only a connecting door to the kitchen. Artyom led Sinja to the table and indicated a chair, pushing it gallantly beneath her as she sat down. He himself chose to sit beside her, then looked at the clock and smiled; due to his trip to the slave market he was later than usual. They did not have to wait long before the door opened and the servants brought in the food. One servant laid out plates and cutlery, while the others placed platters and bowls on the table. Embarrassed, Sinja stared straight ahead at the table; it was her duty to serve her master, not to be served herself. At least that’s what they had beaten into her. Quite lost in thought remembering her abduction, she didn’t even notice when the women left the room again.
Artyom tapped her lightly on the arm and held a plate of juicy pieces of meat under her nose. “You look hungry, you should eat something” he suggested. Hesitantly, she nodded and took a small piece of meat, which already had her mouth watering. Then her master gave her a bowl of potatoes, and another with vegetables. Encouraged, she dug into the rich meal with gusto, especially after the long period where there had been nothing but bread and water. It was delicious, but she had to keep looking at her strange new master who seemed so cold and merciless on the outside. “Everything alright?” inquired Artyom politely as he saw she was looking thoughtfully at him instead of eating. She nodded quickly, gave him a shy smile, and turned to the vegetables on her plate while pondering over whether to simply ask him what her task here was actually meant to be. It certainly didn’t seem as if that would be a problem for him.
After a while she summoned all her courage and gently touched him on the upper arm. He was now wearing a kaftan in black, matching pants, and his boots. “May I ask a question?” she began shyly. He nodded casually and looked at her attentively. “What task do you intend for me?” she asked. “I do not yet know, first of all you need to get used to living here” he evaded. She bowed her head back with a sigh and stared at her plate, this uncertainty was indeed disturbing. So far, everything had happened differently to what she had feared, but there had to be a catch somewhere; this man had surely not just bought her for a laugh. When he had finished eating he laid his cutlery to the side, Sinja following his example. She remembered her lesson from the slave traders far too clearly, and would not allow herself to continue eating. Artyom looked at her with a frown, then at her plate. “What is the problem rose of the steppe? You have hardly eaten anything, are you really telling me you are not hungry after the last few days?” he inquired suspiciously. She quickly shook her head, not daring to look at him. “No master, that would be lying, and lying is not my way, but you have finished your meal, so I have no right to eat more” she hastily replied. He cursed quietly, those damned bastards had done a good job, and it would take quite some time before he could get her to behave normally. “I remember commanding you to forget those rules. They do not apply here, so do us both a favour and clear your plate” he ordered strictly. She obeyed instantly but rushed so much that she choked. Coughing, with tears in her eyes, she struggled for air. Concerned, he slapped her on the back and handed her a glass of water. “Are you alright?” he asked anxiously, as she began to breath normally again. “Yes, thank you, and, I’m sorry, I’m not actually that clumsy” she mumbled. Without looking back at him she took up her cutlery again to eat more, but he put a hand on her arm. “Please take your time, there is no reason to wolf it down like that. I am not going to take it away again” he reassured her. Embarrassed Sinja nodded, but inwardly cringed, as she had only rushed so he didn’t have to wait for her. Now he not only considered her clumsy, but greedy as well. No wonder he didn’t know what job he wanted to give her. The way she was presenting herself she wasn’t good for anything.
She finished her meal rather more moderately, and then collected the dishes together. “May I take them to the kitchen?” she asked softly. “No” her master blocked with an unfriendly tone “that is not your task.” Concerned, she looked down again into her lap, where she folded her fingers together. It was clear he didn’t even want to use her for this simple task if she acted that stupidly. Artyom stood and offered her a hand. “Come along, I am taking you to Darina.” Frightened, she stood and shyly took his hand, which despite everything still gave her courage somehow, but inwardly she was shaking with fear again as she didn’t know who this Darina was. Would he sell her again that quickly? Or was this woman responsible for punishing the slaves? He led them from the dining room, took the torch from the wall again, and clasped her hand in his. Hesitant and fearful she went with him, all the while praying he would at least keep her. Artyom looked thoughtfully down at her a few times, but said nothing, just his thumb tenderly stroking the back of her hand, which confused her even more.
They went back into the great hall, and from there he turned right into the next corridor. They walked quite some distance before he opened a door and she saw some servants sewing and mending clothes. “Darina, this is Sinja” he introduced her. The nomad curtsied before the older woman and immediately lowered her head, so she didn’t see how the two exchanged compassionate glances. “It’s alright to look at me dearest, I’m Darina, and I belong to Artyom too, just like you” the servant told her encouragingly. Confused by the friendly manner, Sinja looked up to her questioningly. She could make neither rhyme nor reason of all this, and wished her master would explain this behaviour to her. She pushed the thought quickly aside; he didn’t have to tell her anything. “Come over here Sinja, and I’ll take your measurements so we can sew you some clothes in our house colours” the seamstress explained. Artyom let go of her hand and she took two steps into the room. Darina asked her to raise her arms, turn, and stretch, noting down everything she needed. This surprised the little nomad as her master had said he wanted to buy her clothes on the market. She raised her eyebrows at him questioningly; she didn’t understand anything about this place. Seeing her perplexed expression Artyom explained; “You need clothes in my house colours; they will protect you if you leave these walls. No one would dare to touch my property. However, tomorrow we will get some other clothes, underwear and fabrics, but here among us it is not necessary to wear the uniform of a slave.” Darina grinned broadly, it was just as she had thought, her master saw something special in the little one. Now he only had to take away her distrust.
“Think you can find the way back alone? I have work to do” he stated in a tone which tolerated no dissent. Sinja nodded obediently although she was not actually sure at all, but could probably ask for directions. Artyom disappeared so quickly she had the impression he could no longer tolerate her presence. Concerned, she bowed her head and sighed softly. “Don’t take it personally, our master has his own story” comforted Darina. Sinja raised a smile, and looked inquisitively at the older woman. “Can you tell me something about him? He hasn’t assigned me a task, and I’m afraid he’s already regretting his purchase and will sell me again” she said, pouring out her heart to the seamstress, who laughed out loud and briefly hugged the little nomad against her motherly form. “Your fears are totally unfounded dearest. So far he hasn’t sold or sent anyone away” the older slave explained calmingly. “I won’t say much about him because I know he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like anyone gossiping about him, but if you could trust him just a little bit, it would help you both” Darina advised thoughtfully. Sinja took a deep breath, her sad eyes filling with tears, which she frantically tried to blink away. She felt completely lost, as if on stage in a play where everyone knew their lines; except her. Once again, the elderly woman hugged Sinja against her, and winked encouragingly. “Maybe you should look around a bit, or go and talk to Drakoij. He has introduced you to his dragon, hasn’t he?” she asked. The nomad nodded quickly, said goodbye, and made her way back to the great hall. With surprise she found her master had left the torch there for her so she could find her way more easily.
In the hall she called softly for Drakoij and waited to see whether he would come to her, as he had promised. It didn’t take long before he trundled out from a hallway left of the steps, sniffed, and winked. “What I can do for you little one?” he asked, as softly as a dragon could. Sinja shrugged her shoulders with a sigh, looking up to him helplessly. Before she could formulate a response, the huge animal gestured with his sizeable head to the passage from which he had appeared. “Just come along with me, and then we can talk in peace. Artyom surely has his nose in his papers again; he will not be needing you” the dragon suggested. She looked at him gratefully with a little nod. Drakoij turned himself around to go back to his den, Sinja following him at some distance, not to be accidentally knocked aside by his long swishing tail. She peered carefully into the completely dark corridor, and hoped she wouldn’t walk into a wall, but at that moment a stream of flame burst brightly forth from his maw, and lit all the torches mounted along the walls of the passage. Sinja yelped, startled, but then gave Drakoij a smile and followed him. She was curious, as apart from the many myths, she didn’t know how dragons actually lived; up to now she had believed they either lived in a cave, or some kind of stable.
They went along a stretch of passageway, which expanded into a hall-like room. There was a sooty black fireplace, some chairs, and a rather large lounger, which the dragon laid himself onto. “Please, take a seat” he asked politely. Carefully, she followed his suggestion, only to sigh once more. “May I ask your name?” enquired Drakoij cordially. “Of course, I’m Sinja. Sorry, but I’m so confused I forget the simplest things” she added quickly. “Sinja, such a pretty name, and an even more beautiful girl” muttered the dragon deeply as he looked at her. “I see Artyom has removed that horrible collar, and also taken care of your wounds” he stated matter-of-factly. “Yes, only I don’t get it. As a slave I’m not worth him wasting his powers on me” she whispered. The dragon’s heavy laughter echoed through the room as he shook his huge head. “That is only what those brutes beat into you; you should quickly forget about all that. A beautiful woman with such feelings as you is definitely not worthless” Drakoij comforted her. “But I am a slave, and he is my owner. I don’t know my way in his world, and I’ve never been in a city before. I feel completely alone, and ignorant” she admitted with heavy heart. This the dragon understood only too well, and made a mental note to speak with his master so he would take a little more care of his little one. On the other hand, he was convinced Artyom would indeed do just that over the next few days, he just had to find a way to sort out his own feelings. “You will get used to this place quickly, and there are no slaves in this palace. Artyom treats everyone equally, and no one has to suffer. He would not want you to feel like a slave” the dragon told her. She looked at him amazed, with eyebrows raised. “But then why does he buy the people if he doesn’t want to keep them as slaves?” she enquired curiously. “Can you not answer that for yourself? He is not able to stand against the laws of the ruler, only in this way can he help at least some people to lead a reasonably normal life” came the reply. Sinja nodded understandingly, and gave the dragon a pleading look. “Please, tell me more about him. It’s difficult for me to weigh him up, and I don’t know what he expects of me” she begged. Drakoij studied her for a moment before slowly shaking his head. “I am sorry little one, but I cannot and will not go behind his back in such a way. He must tell his story himself, as well as what he intends to do with you. There is no need to be afraid, he is patient, and fair. He will definitely not sell you, or send you away, that much I can even promise” stated the dragon, trying to allay her fears. This was not what she had hoped for, but the assurance from the dragon helped to calm her down. At least she did not have to fear an awful fate, but again the thought crept up that he hadn’t bought a virgin for nothing. “Is the master bound to a woman?” she dared to ask. Drakoij laughed again. “No, he is not, but that could change if you learn to trust him” he replied with a wink. Trust was something she had forgotten, and she didn’t know how she could do that, the way she had been torn from her former life also left no way for her to get her nightmares under control. “Give yourself some time, and him too” the dragon advised. She nodded slowly, but smiled at him sadly. “Thank you for your consideration” she said as she got up to leave, but at that moment she heard Artyom calling his friend. “Please, stay a moment” her host requested. “Artyom, come over, I am in here” Drakoij replied to the call of his master.
Shortly afterwards the dragon rider entered the room and, relieved, looked at Sinja, who immediately leapt up. “I’m sorry master, I will leave immediately, I did not want to keep him from his duties” she stuttered and turned toward the exit, but before she could take a step Artyom grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward him. He looked her over inquisitively, saw the sadness in her eyes and felt how she was quaking with fear. “I was looking for you, not for Drakoij” he explained softly. Sinja’s heart pounded even faster and she gulped in fear. They had made absolutely clear to her what would happen if she was not constantly available to her master. “Please, I didn’t know that you needed me. I just felt alone” she managed to get out. Her master simply lifted her from the ground in his arms and sat down with her together in one of the comfortable chairs, positioning her on his lap and holding her in a gentle embrace. “Calm down, my little rose of the steppe, everything is going to be alright. I was only worried you had perhaps got lost when I did not find you in your room” he assured her. She looked at him in amazement again, all the while being very aware of his close proximity. She felt the warmth of his body through her clothing germinating a feeling of security in her again. “I told you he will not sell you; - my little rose of the steppe” muttered Drakoij, grinning at Artyom, who looked back at him questioningly, but the dragon only shook his head. He would speak with Artyom later. “It is getting late, and you must be tired after a busy day. Come, I will take you to your room” her master ordered. She wanted to obediently slip down from his lap, but he held her firmly, carrying her from Drakoij’s den and up the stairs. Only as he was standing before her bed did he put her down, looking deeply into royal blue eyes, whispering “Have no fear, I take very good care of my property.” Embarrassed, she nodded and bowed her head; at the moment everything was just too confusing. Artyom kissed her on the forehead, and left her alone in her room. Wearily, she untangled the clothes from her body, carefully laid them together, and fell into bed. A glance through the window revealed the moon already beaming turquoise rays over the land. She had not noticed how quickly time had passed, and before she could conjecture any further, she fell asleep, still exhausted.

Chapter 3 - Confused Feelings

 Sinja stared into the darkness. She had heard a noise, but could see absolutely nothing. A fire suddenly lit up and she recognised the burning red pupils of a zjerta, approaching her with a sickening grin, and carrying her father’s head in his claw-like fingers as a trophy. His stench enveloped her, his other claw reaching out for her. She screamed in terror, flailing about, defending herself as best she could. Artyom’s voice sounded in her dream, and she woke up drenched in sweat, her heart racing, looking directly into the face of her master. He was kneeling over her, holding her arms together above her head with one hand, pressing her into the mattress with his weight, while tenderly stroking her cheek with the other. “It is only a dream” he calmed quietly. She looked at him completely distraught, remembering the dream and a shudder of fear shook through her. The dragon rider slowly let her hands go, climbing down from her and the bed, but as he stood she reached timidly for his hand. “Please master, stay awhile” she whispered fearfully. The moon lit the room in turquoise, providing enough light for her to see his concerned expression. He nodded, and sat on the edge of the bed, looking worried. “Would you like to tell me about the dream? It would be good for you” he offered affectionately, she only shaking her head with a forced smile. “No master, I do not want to burden you” she declined quietly. She would have gladly told him about her nightmares and sought his advice on how she could sleep normally again, but she unfortunately didn’t dare. “Please little one, it really is no problem, and perhaps it will help you” he replied calmly, gently stroking her cheek again, lending her a feeling of closeness. “It’s always the same dream. I stare into the darkness and see nothing, absolutely nothing. Then the glowing eye of a zjerta emerges from the darkness, and he’s holding my father’s head in his hand” she managed to get out, the tears running down her cheeks. “He reaches out for me, and I have the dead face of my daddy right before my eyes” she sobbed, before breaking off. Artyom pulled her gently onto his lap, wrapping both arms around her and holding her head to his bare chest, rocking her back and forth like a small child. “I will not let anyone hurt you” he whispered into her ear. She clung to him, trembling with the tears. So far she had been strong, suppressing her feelings, but right now, at this early hour, she just couldn’t take it anymore, the experiences of the last few days breaking powerfully over her as a torrent of tears, the fear, the sorrow, and the anger all coming forcibly to the surface, while her master held her pressed closely to him. “Cry your eyes out, it will do you good” he murmured, reassuringly stroking her back, with her tears running down his chest as she desperately clung to him.
It was quite some time before she lifted her head to look up to him from swollen eyes. “I’m sorry” she began, but Artyom put a finger delicately to her lips. “There is no need to be sorry. I am here for you” he promised her softly. Before she could say anything, he stood, with Sinja still in his arms, and carried her through the bathroom to his own bedroom, putting her carefully down on the bed and pulling the blanket from underneath to cover her. “Tonight, I will take care of you, rose of the steppe” he assured her. She nodded, relieved, and shortly afterwards he slipped under the covers, holding her against him again. Here, feeling him close by her, she felt safe again. His hands brushed gently down over her bare back, but she did not for a second realise she was lying completely naked in his arms, only becoming aware of it as she felt his hardness beginning to press against her naked belly. Sinja tried to gradually squirm from his embrace and put some distance between their bodies, but his arms were firmly snaked around her, easily keeping her in place. “Have no fear little one, I can absolutely control myself if I want to” whispered Artyom. “I’m sorry master, I didn’t mean to seduce you, but I have no gown, and no underwear” she whispered back in shame. A quiet chuckle reassured her and, relieved, she snuggled back into his arms where she felt so safe and secure. “You do not need to be naked to seduce me” he said, somehow distantly, miles away in thought. She wondered what she could answer to that; or, rather go back to her own bed? Then she felt his warm hands gently holding her head before he tenderly kissed her, his lips brushing questioningly over hers, and sensing no resistance he licked tenderly into the corner of her mouth. The tension of arousal was mounting inside Sinja, and she closed her eyes, trembling. As his tongue stroked her lips again, they parted slightly in response. Her master followed her invitation immediately, carefully sliding his tongue over her teeth, savouring her flavour, his tenderness igniting a veritable inferno of feelings within her, his tongue challenging hers to a twisting duel she gladly accepted, passionately pressing herself against him, excited now by the feel of his cool, bare skin directly against her own, no longer afraid of his hardness, quite the contrary. Without ending the kiss, he let go of her head and put a hand around to support the back of her neck, holding her as he continued the passionate kissing. The fingers of his other hand slid down her back, brushing over her firm behind, then back up again. As if with a mind of their own Sinja’s arms wrapped themselves around his neck as she warmly returned his intimate kiss.
Artyom let go, completely out of breath, leaning on one elbow to look down at her. “Look at me, little rose of the steppe” he uttered huskily. She opened her eyes, and immediately the uncertainty came back, along with the fear. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment, his gaze plunging deeply beyond her pupils, as if reading her soul, then gently smiled, murmuring “let us get some sleep, it is much too early in the morning for anything else.” He put his arms tenderly around her again, but this time only to comfort her as she fell asleep. Sinja struggled briefly but uncomfortably with her own arousal before her eyes closed and she indeed drifted into a deep, reassured slumber.
The next morning she woke to the sound of purring resounding loudly in her ear. Opening her eyes rather slowly and curiously, she was directly facing Mika, who had nestled closely up against her. She saw with a moment’s regret that Artyom was already up, and with a blistering shock it occurred to her that it was not proper for a slave to sleep longer than her master, but then also remembered the previous night, and how affectionate he had been. This man kept confusing her more and more, on one hand he appeared cold and aloof, but then again on the other he behaved so tenderly caring. Smiling, she tried to push Mika away, who was now enthusiastically licking her face. For a moment she did not begrudge him, scratching thoroughly behind his ears before casting the covers aside and quickly getting up to scurry to the bathroom and wash, only to run directly into Artyom, who was about to return to his bedroom. “Excuse me master” she muttered, lowering her eyes, this gesture however angering him again; the slave traders had succeeded in transforming her into a mindless puppet, and he couldn’t prevent himself from frowning. “No need to apologise, it is not a problem” he snapped impatiently. Startled, she took a step back and wondered what she could have done for him to now respond in such a manner. He must surely be annoyed because she had behaved so childishly last night, or because they had slept for so long. “Wash yourself and wait for me in your room. Once my work is done, we will go into the city” he prescribed coldly, already almost out of the room.
Stunned, she stared at the closed door, completely unable to figure it out. Last night he had treated her so tenderly, and comforted her, and she remembered his promise to protect her. With a sigh she went to the closet and took out soap, toothbrush, toothpaste, and towel, washed thoroughly, and brushed her teeth. When she was done she put everything back in place, dried the washbasin she had used with the towel, and hung it over the edge. She looked around uncertainly again, but still found nothing with which she could properly clean the bathroom, so she went to her room, put on the clothes from the previous day again, and sat on the bed to wait. There was nothing to do, and the inactivity tested her, but her master had clearly said she should wait for him. Her stomach growled, and she hoped Artyom would find time for her soon.
Artyom finally opened the door to her room and stepped inside. On this day he was again wearing the attire of a dragon rider, the black pants fitting closely over his legs and rear, leather boots, and the pauldrons over his shoulders to which his cloak was fastened. He looked at her for a moment, then held out a hand. “Come here, little one” he said softly. She looked up at him with wide eyes, trying to fathom what kind of mood he was in this time, before taking his hand and letting herself be helped up. He pulled her to him, his arms wrapping protectively around her, and she immediately felt the security no one had been able to give her, until now.
“I am sorry I let my anger out on you. You are not to blame, I was just so angry that those slavers have broken your will” he said quietly, resting his chin on her head. She had expected many things, but not that he would apologise. Nothing fit into the picture these brutal men had beaten into her. She sighed softly, but her stomach growled loudly. Artyom looked at her with surprise. “Have you not had any breakfast?” he asked, lifting her chin with the back of his hand. She shook her head timidly. “No master, you ordered me to stay in my room and wait for you” she reminded him, a little intimidated. “That is not the way I meant it, it was not meant to be punishment” he muttered. Sinja looked at him in wonder; that he felt guilty because she had misunderstood his command? “It’s nothing, master, I can go without breakfast, besides, it was all my own fault because I obviously misunderstood you” attempting to take the blame. “No little one, it is my fault, I was not thinking because I was angry with the slave traders, and I am sorry it came out on you; I apologise for that. I did not intend to make you go hungry. Come, let us get you something to eat first” he said, releasing her from his embrace, taking her hand and leading her from the room into the hall where they had eaten the day before, courteously adjusting her chair before disappearing through the connecting door to the kitchen. Sinja sat waiting a while before he came back carrying a tray, and laid everything required for a stately breakfast on the table before her. “Please help yourself and - please, take your time” he pronounced amicably. Sinja gave him a smile, but this time her eyes smiled too, and it was like sunrise in the room.
Happy not to have upset him, Sinja took her pick from the delicious spread, choosing two small pancakes with syrup and a muffin with chocolate chips. She ate with relish, savouring every bite; with the nomads she had rarely known such a rich breakfast, but apart from anything else, the pancakes were simply delicious. She looked up to him gratefully, satisfied, and put the things back on the tray. “Let me just take this back to the kitchen, then Darina is waiting for us; your new clothes in my colours are ready” he told her, Sinja nodding shyly, as in her eyes it was not right that another woman should sew clothes for her, but before she could think any more about it he was back at the table, gallantly offering his hand and pulling back her chair as she stood.
Again he led them through the corridors, his fingers intertwined with hers, this tender gesture alone taking away much of her fear. Darina greeted them cheerfully, and immediately rushed into an adjoining room to get the clothes. “Sinja, try them on please, so I can see if anything needs altering” she requested. The dragon rider released Sinja’s hand with an encouraging nod, but the nomad just looked around, as she was wearing nothing under her current clothes, and was embarrassed to so present herself, despite her master holding her naked in his arms last night. With the same realisation, a gleeful grin crossed Artyom’s face, but disappeared again so quickly she wasn’t sure she hadn’t imagined it, and with a resigned sigh she reached for the straps which held her blouse, but was gently restrained. “Go to the next room, Darina will help you” ordered her master, the grin now clearly apparent.
Sinja went into the adjoining room together with the older woman to change. The other slave looked her over, inspecting, nodding in satisfaction. “Fits like a glove darling, we don’t need to alter anything” declared Darina softly. “Thank you very much, but I really could have sewn it myself, please let me know beforehand next time” Sinja requested. The seamstress shook her head indignantly. “That’s completely out of the question as long as the master has assigned this task to me; and as far as I can see, he won’t be giving you any servant’s tasks” the seamstress replied, with a wink. The nomad had been afraid of something like that, but tried not to let it show, quickly putting her skirt and blouse over her arm and walking quickly with Darina back to their master. Artyom looked her over closely, and also nodded in equal satisfaction. “You have it just right Darina, for which you have my thanks. We are going to the market, is there anything you need?” he enquired kindly. The older woman pondered a moment before shaking her head. “No, we have everything, and besides, you’re so generous, if there is anything we can just go and get it ourselves” Darina replied with a smile. Sinja looked at the floor, so she was the only one who was not allowed to leave the palace. The realisation struck her hard; didn’t he believe she would keep her word? Did he think she would be so crazy to as to run away into the hands of a zjerta or, even a dugie?
Artyom brought her back to his bedroom and put a black, leather collar on her. It sidled delicately around her neck, but strengthened her gloomy suspicions; so far she had not seen anyone else wearing such a restraint. She struggled with her concerns as they made their way to the market, going barefoot with lowered gaze beside her master, who had taken her hand again. Tenderly he helped her into the waiting sedan, then climbed in after her and closed the door. As they began to move, he took her under her chin and forced her to look him in the eyes. “If I remember correctly, I ordered you to forget the behaviour that was beaten into you and look me in the face” he reminded her, gently. “Yes master, only it’s unfortunately not that easy” she admitted. Again he gazed at her so intently that Sinja wondered whether he really could read her mind. “I cannot allow lies. Do not think there is no punishment in my house” he warned her quietly. “But I’m not aware of any guilt, master” Sinja replied, but her cheeks turned treacherously red. “So you want to tell me you did not look at me because that is what you have been taught? There was no other reason?” Artyom delved deeper. Embarrassed, she tried to avoid his gaze, but he held her chin adamantly. “Tell me” he demanded, hard. “When Darina told you nothing was needed because she could buy anything herself, I realised I’m the only one who’s imprisoned here” she exclaimed sadly. Laughing softly Artyom closed his eyes and shook his head, looking back to her a second later. “You are not a prisoner, and you can also leave the palace, however, only when you know the rules. At the moment it is simply too dangerous for you to go out alone without an escort” her master explained quietly. He let go of her chin and instead carefully put a hand on her cheek. Seeking security she snuggled into his warm fingers; this innocent tenderness was immensely beneficial for her tortured soul. “Please master, may I ask something, even if it may sound ungrateful?” she asked as he took his hand away again. “You may ask me anything you like” he encouraged. “Why is the balcony door in my room locked?” she enquired. “I would be so happy to get a little fresh air now and then.” “That is also for your safety. Today we will buy some veils; on the balcony you can be seen by the citizens, and they will not accept a slave being there, even a concubine cannot show themselves in such a way, that is reserved, and only for a wife” he said, looking at her quite earnestly. Sinja nodded understandingly, but widened her eyes a moment later at the thought. He was granting her the rights of a wife, but she could never hold that position.
“Let us change the subject. You just lied to me and I cannot accept that” he informed her. She immediately went pale and swallowed hard, and had to take a deep breath. “You hold all rights over me, and it is also true that I didn’t tell the truth so as not to annoy you” she admitted bravely. A faint smirk crossed his face, revealing his appreciation. “I am going to have to punish you, but there will be plenty of time for that later. First you have to learn to trust me” he informed her, somehow contradictingly, and his tone brought out goose bumps all over her, but not however from fear.
The sedan was put down and her master carefully helped her from the chair, then took her to the cobbler’s market stall. “How may I serve you today my lord?” asked the shoemaker pleasantly, grinning at Artyom. “Greetings Yegor, all is well with you?” the dragon rider returned the trader’s greeting. “Thanks to your help, we’re fine. The healer has continued to help my wife, and she will return to complete health, for which I stand deeply in your debt” replied the trader with a beaming smile. Artyom dismissed any thanks with a slight shake of the head. “Please Yegor, it is not worth mentioning. I need shoes for Sinja here, a pair matching her current clothing, some elegant shoes she can wear to a ball, and some good solid boots” the dragon rider specified, quickly changing the subject.
The shoemaker nodded, beaming at his lord; this job would secure his income for several months. Even though the shoemaker was deeply indebted, Artyom insisted on paying him for the goods. Yegor would have even fought for Artyom; his wife would have died had it not been for him. When he had told Artyom his wife was seriously ill, but lacked the money to pay a healer, Artyom had responded immediately. Without thinking of his reputation or his own health, he had gone with Yegor to his house, called for a healer, and paid him in advance.
“If you sit my lady, then I can fit the desired shoes” the trader requested courteously. Her master nodded to her and she obeyed so the man could do his job. Within a short time the various shoes were fitted, Yegor even taking her preferences into account, Artyom only insisting on black leather for the pair matching the slave’s uniform. When the shoemaker was finished the dragon rider tenderly helped his slave stand up. Fortunately, the shoemaker had suitable goods in stock, and so put them in a bag, which one of the bearers immediately carried off to the sedan. She kept the simple slippers on however, watching the young man with surprise; she had not noticed him until that moment. “Shouldn’t I take the purchases to the sedan myself?” she asked of her master uncertainly, who immediately shook his head. “No, you are not a slave, even if you have to play one for a while. Forget everything those bastards taught you” Artyom whispered to her. Without waiting for an answer he took her hand again and brought them to a market stall displaying various fabrics. Testing, he put a hand over a bale of white silk, then lifted the cloth and laid some of it over her shoulder, doing the same with a bale of pale blue silk. Satisfied, he nodded and sent both bales to the sedan. He still needed a heavy red velvet, some white cotton, various veils, and silver and royal blue satins. The blue satin matched the colour of her eyes perfectly, and would suit her enchantingly. Completely overwhelmed, she looked at the fabrics from which Darina and some other women should sew clothes for her. “Thank you master” she whispered, her expression glowing. Artyom again took her chin, lifting her face until she was looking into his eyes. “I will take my reward later” he muttered huskily. She could see that he had to control himself not to kiss her, and with this realisation she suddenly felt rather hot, with a tingling in her midriff. For a moment she sank into his grey eyes, and the world around her faded away; there was so much tenderness in his eyes Sinja had to catch her breath. “Come, you still need a few other things” he interposed suddenly, destroying the moment of magic. Regretfully he let go of her chin and took her by the hand once more, taking her to a market stall selling underwear where he acquired some practical pieces, but also two delicate ensembles of white lace, which revealed far more than they concealed. Sinja was almost dizzy from the quantities he was buying for her, as well as the amounts he was spending, without even batting an eyelid. She gave him a grateful look and expected they would be going back now, but he was already heading in a different direction. “I know how women appreciate perfumes, creams and soaps” he told her with a wink. “Please master, you’ve already spent so much on me” she pleaded trying to stop him, but Artyom only shook his head.
The remaining purchases included two more bars of valuable soap, a flask of heady scent, and a cream which made her skin silky smooth. Sinja stared at the collection, stunned, as she sat back in the sedan. She had not possessed so many things at once in her entire life, and at the moment it felt as if she was in a dream. Artyom sat next to her putting an arm around her shoulders. “It is only a fraction of what I would like to give you, but I think it is enough for one day” he said quietly. She looked at him incredulously; he was behaving more and more like a lover, like a husband. She timidly kissed him on the cheek, whispering “thank you master.”
Before she could lean back again his arms snaked around her and pulled her closer to him. “I claim the first instalment right here and now” he whispered, then sank his lips onto hers, his right hand supporting the back of her neck, ensuring she could not evade him as his mouth took possession of hers, the tip of his tongue stroking tenderly over her lips, which parted with a quiet gasp, and he penetrated immediately. A firework of feelings again exploded in her head; her thoughts were swirling, and an involuntary moan of arousal escaped her. His lips pressed down, with his hand still behind her neck, his tongue sliding over hers, teasing, leading, filling her mouth with his taste. She finally gave herself over entirely into his passionate kiss, closing her eyes, immediately feeling him so much more intensely, moaning softly, and
“We’re here, master.”
The voice of one of the bearers suddenly came through into her consciousness, and reluctantly Artyom moved away from her. Completely out of breath and with heart racing she opened her eyes and looked at him in wonder. Why was he so cold and aloof one moment, and the next so full of tenderness and warmth? Would she ever learn to understand him? The dragon rider smiled at her and opened the door of the sedan; Sinja immediately wanted to gather up the purchases, but he put his hand over hers. “Leave it there, the men will bring the things upstairs for you” he ordered calmly. Sinja obeyed and let him help her down from the sedan. They went into the palace together, where Artyom took her to her room. He studied her intensely, then took off her collar, pulled a key from his pocket, and unlocked the door to the balcony. “Promise me you will wear the veil whenever you go outside” he demanded. “I promise” she replied quickly. Just the thought of at last being able to see the steppe inspired her, eagerly imagining feeling the wind stroking through her hair. She looked longingly toward the open door, but the men had not yet brought her things up to her room. Artyom’s presence was also distinctly clear, he put a hand to her cheek, and looked at her full of desire. She snuggled gently into the palm of his hand, closing her eyes to enjoy the tenderness. Almost violently he suddenly broke loose and retreated a step, startling her. Sinja looked at him fearfully. “Everything is alright, we will spend plenty of time together, but for now we would do better taking care that the seamstresses sew you some different clothes” he suggested quietly. Sinja nodded obediently, threw a last longing glance at the balcony, and followed him.
Together they went to Darina, who greeted them quite familiarly. The men had already delivered the rolls of cloth so they could immediately discuss what clothing should be produced from them. Artyom looked through the patterns, selected three and laid them out for Darina, but so that Sinja couldn’t see. “I will leave you two alone, you can manage the rest without me” he told the two women, and next moment was gone. The nomad looked up, frightened again, and wondered what she had again done wrong to make him leave so suddenly. The older servant smiled to herself, she knew precisely that Artyom needed as much time to compose his feelings as his little one. The prospect was thrilling, but she hoped the two would not make it harder than necessary. “What should we conjure up from this white cotton?” inquired Darina as a distraction. Sinja looked at the fabric, and shrugged. “I have no idea what the master has in mind, he chose everything himself” she replied uncertainly. The older woman looked at her with head shaking. “Look at the patterns and then pick what you like, just as he wants you to do, he would otherwise have given precise instructions, believe me.” Sinja smiled at her gratefully for a moment and buried herself in the pictures and fabrics. There were so many she found appealing, and it was hard to choose, but after a few hours everything had been discussed.
“You should go to your room now, it’s already late” Darina told her. The nomad gave her a startled look and then ran to her room as fast as her legs would carry her. Completely out of breath, she closed the door behind her, and froze; Artyom was sitting on the bed, watching her. “I’m sorry, master” she stammered, but this time holding his gaze. He tapped suggestively with one hand on the mattress, and she followed his silent command with heart pounding loudly in her head. She sat carefully beside him and looked straight into his eyes, remembering his instructions to forget the lessons of the slave traders. “Do not be afraid rose of the steppe, I heard you running through the hall. What happened?” he asked, concerned. Laughing softly, Sinja now indeed lowered her head, only to immediately look up to him again. “Darina noticed it was getting late, so I ran so as not to annoy you” she replied, still smiling. He watched her in fascination, his gaze seeming to reach down into her soul again. Immediately she became serious once more, and in her eyes the sad shimmer returned. “It is indeed late and you must be hungry. Forgive me for not thinking about it” Artyom offered his apologies quietly, but made no move to get up, instead pulling her gently to him, holding her with those smoky grey eyes in a spell which allowed no resistance. His lips approached hers slowly; only as he kissed her did she close her eyes, trembling. His strong arms held her firmly embraced as he once more took complete possession of her mouth, his hands drawing tenderly over her shoulder blades and gliding down along her spine, sending shivers of excitement through her body. “We really should eat something” he muttered against her lips, but didn’t stop or move away. Sinja surrendered herself to him absolutely, helpless against his tender caresses. At that moment it was no longer possible for to maintain her distrust, her body sidled demandingly up against him as her tongue timidly responded. As he moved away, she opened her eyes and smiled at him. “I want that sadness in your eyes to disappear, and that is precisely what I will do” he murmured, as if to himself.
Artyom let go and gently pushed her away a little, stood, and laid out the various fabrics on the bed. “Before we go to eat, I will explain the meaning of the veils. Lilac is reserved for holidays. On normal days you wear the blue, and the golden veil shows that you have submitted yourself to me” he explained, again with that intensive gaze. His words made her swallow, but she gathered her courage and shrugged her shoulders. “Please master, can you tell me what it means to submit myself?” she asked timidly. Artyom smiled at her, and wondered how he could best explain it to her. In this society there was only patriarchy; it was natural that the woman subjugated herself to the leadership of the man. Often there was also corporal punishment; he however was not an advocate, unless of course it served to heighten lust. “It means you are ready to let me lead you. It shows that you voluntarily belong to me, allow yourself to be educated as I see fit, and submit yourself to me entirely” he explained. “You mean I should give up my opinions, my dreams, and my faith, like a real slave?” she followed up. A smile stretched across his lips again as he stroked a strand of hair from her face. “No, that would not be right. It is more about subordinating your own will to mine. Self-negation can never be good” he answered openly. “It requires your complete faith in me, otherwise, it will not work” he added. She nodded approvingly, but didn’t feel ready to take that step, and so put the golden veil away in her closet; it was just far too early, also putting the lilac one away, as it was just a normal day. “Shall I show you how to wear it?” Artyom offered helpfully. Hesitantly, Sinja agreed, and immediately realised she had fallen into the trap as she saw his eyes suddenly light up. “Then take off your clothes, little rose of the steppe” he commanded huskily.
Sinja could have slapped herself for not seeing it coming. If she kept it on, her slave’s uniform would show through the thin golden fabric, negating the point of being hidden under the veil. Blushing, she unbuttoned her blouse, but her fingers were trembling so much it seemed to take forever. She focused on the buttons and didn’t notice her master had moved toward her, only when his hands tenderly pushed hers aside and he opened the last two buttons himself did she lift her head. She stared at him anxiously, his eyes seeming to set her soul alight. Gently, he slid the uniform up over her shoulders, while his fingertips stroked over her skin, the wide sleeves falling back and away by themselves, and her nipples stood out, instantly erect. “So beautiful” he murmured. Tenderly he drew his fingers down her arms to her fingertips and back again. With hands laid on her cheeks he bowed down and kissed her passionately. A misty gaze met him as he released her to open the ribbons of her pants, which immediately slipped down her slim figure. Artyom studied her naked body in wonder; for Sinja it felt as if she could actually feel his gaze, a wave of gooseflesh raising itself across her back and she felt the hairs standing on end as it travelled down her arms. He drew her gently to him, asking “are you cold, little rose?” She quickly shook her head, it felt far more as though she was about to burst into flame. She moved closer into his embrace, not consciously aware of her own reaction. He pressed her closer against himself with one hand, releasing his pauldrons and cloak from his shoulders with the other. Any item of clothing was in the way at the moment. Sinja gently stroked her fingertips across his muscular chest, coaxing a pained groan. His skin felt like soft, smooth leather, the muscles beneath hard and firm. Her breathing became more rapid as she caressed him, her small, petite breasts pressing firmly against him. With a low growl he took her in his arms, carried her over to the bed and laid her gently down. In a moment he was beside her, leaning on one elbow, almost lazily stroking her nipples. Embarrassed, she tried to turn away, but a faint snap from her master made her freeze as she moved. With eyes widened hugely in pleasure she looked back at him while his fingers danced tenderly over her body, carefully stroking over the flatness of her belly, gliding deeper over the mount of Venus, until his fingertips reached her labia. With a broad grin he felt the dampness already wetting her pubic hair. Reluctantly, he tugged at the curling hairs. “We will deal with that later” he determined quietly. Sinja was in no position to form a clear thought and just nodded faintly. His eyes gleamed tenderly, and he held her gaze captive with his as he parted her inner lips, one finger circling within. Sinja bit her lip firmly to prevent herself groaning out loud, the sensations he was arousing were almost too much for her; she thought her blood would boil, it felt so good. Without conscious control her pelvis raised itself against his tantalising touch, her body responding to him with a familiarity as if they had known each other for years. Artyom’s other hand stroked delicately over her nipples as he now sank two fingers deeply into her. Sinja cried out softly in pleasure, at that moment any feelings of hunger or insecurity were forgotten, even the fact that she was still a virgin not entering her mind.
For a brief moment Artyom pulled away, Sinja responding with a disappointed sigh. Quickly he pulled her closer to himself so she was lying with her back against his chest, and drew in the rose-tinted scent of her hair with relish while his right hand again moved between her thighs. “Spread your legs for me, rose of the steppe” he whispered softly in her ear. Sinja obeyed, and had to smile as his breath tickled the back of her neck. In this position she could hardly move, but precisely that was driving her arousal to previously unknown heights. Moaning, she turned as he pushed the two fingers deeper into her while his left palm still rubbed gently over her nipples. Her behind was pressing longingly against him, and she felt his growing hardness; at that moment she wished desperately for him to immediately take her virginity. Artyom traced his finger around her clitoris again, until she softly cried out. Skilfully he drove her mercilessly toward a climax, twirling hard now on her nipples, but precisely this slight pain drove Sinja higher, there was no longer any place in her head for clear thought, she could only feel. Her heart was racing, her breathing became irregular, and she groaned under his touch. Feeling his muscular chest against her back engendered a pervading feeling of security in her, and Sinja let herself go. Artyom sensed her entire body tensing, and pinched on her left nipple, releasing her finally into redemption. Sinja first cried out again softly, and then her mind burst open, her body jerking uncontrollably, her abdomen contracting powerfully, and for a moment she could not even breathe, the orgasm overwhelming her, igniting an inferno of fulfilment deeply within her. Gently, her master pulled his fingers from her and held her pressed against him as she experienced this singular zenith, until she snuggled against him, enjoying his warm fingertips gently stroking her, and the security he filled her with at that moment.
“Thank you master” she murmured shyly. “You are welcome, my rose of the steppe, but now we really should eat something, and then I will show you how to wear the veil” he pronounced calmly. Immediately she turned in his arms, so she could look him in the face. “You mean, I should go naked to the dining room?” she asked, her eyes widened in horror. Artyom laughed softly and shook his head. “No, you will put on the skirt and blouse Darina gave you. Until your own clothes are ready, that is. The slave’s uniform is only necessary when we leave the palace or have visitors” he said with a grin. “You don’t like the uniform, do you” she exclaimed, astonished. He shrugged his shoulders almost indifferently; it was obvious he didn’t care much for slavery. Sinja already wanted to crawl out of bed as he pulled her into his arms once more. “There are also a few rules you have to follow here in the house” he told her. She looked attentively at him as she was curious as to what rules he might give her. “I command you to wear no underwear, stockings, or shoes; except when you get your period, or when it is too cold to walk barefoot” he added. His slave looked at him with eyes wide; she could clearly feel the desire mounting in her again; just the thought that she was to run around with no underwear resulted in her feeling the first wetness seeping in her crotch again. “There will of course also be days when I want to see you in the enchanting ensemble we bought today, but then only wearing the thin lace underneath” he whispered. Before Sinja could say anything, he gave her a light slap as a signal to stand. “May I bathe, to freshen up?” she asked, abashed. Now she was able to think reasonably clearly once more she was again aware that actually, he had bought her, and she was still nothing more than a slave. “Of course you may” he permitted generously “I will just get dressed, and then we will go and eat.” Within two steps he was at the connecting door, pausing to hold it open for her, and disappeared into his room, pauldrons and cape in hand.

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 28.02.2016

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