Playing With Fire (2 page)

And they’d taken his furs, his finery, leaving him quite naked. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem—he far preferred his own flesh to the trappings of court clothes, but it was cold and damp. And smelly and dark.

Hours passed, and he was sure he’d been abandoned down here. No doubt left to die.

An older man in rough garb came to offer him a cup of water and a bowl of gruel, sliding them into the cell without a word.

He went to the bars. “Help me.”

The man gave him a sympathetic look. “You made a foolish mistake at the feast, laddie.”

“Someone needed to stand up to him. If more people did he wouldn’t be running amok over everyone and everything.” Wintras shivered as a draft slid over his bare skin. “Please. Help me escape, I shall not forget it.”

“There is no escape. Have hope, learn to control your temper, and the lord will return you to your family in time. He is…mercurial, but keeps his word.”

“I will never submit to him—never!” Wintras pushed the food back out, spilling it onto the uneven stone floor.

“They all say that, lad, in the beginning.” The old man shook his head, retrieved the dishes and then spoke to the ever-present guards. “No food or water for this one for a full day.”

“Don’t bother bringing any tomorrow either. I will not take his food, and the water is likely drugged.” He held his head high. He would die before he bowed to that monster.

“As you wish, pet.” The low voice was rich with amusement and wicked pleasure, the mage himself standing quietly in the shadows. “Wintras will have no sustenance lest it comes from my lips.”

Wintras couldn’t stop the shiver that went through him, though he told himself it was from the cold. “Then you break your word and will kill me despite what you have said to my parents.”

“Oh, the will to live burns within you, pet, brighter even than your pride.”

“You don’t know me.” He would escape. He would get away. He would not submit to this monster who ruled by fear.

“Ah, but I know you as well as you know me, pet, and I will know you inside and out. Have faith.” The black ringlets shone in the firelight, Zujan’s small body seeming larger in the shadows than Zujan had appeared in the great hall, the huge throne he’d sat in dwarfing him.

Wintras stood his ground, though his instinct was to shrink into the back of his cell and let the cold stone steal the sudden heat from his body. “I have faith in myself, Zujan.”

“Excellent. I have faith in you, also.” The dark eyes sparkled. “How lovely that we’re in sync so quickly. It bodes well.”

“You try to turn even my own words against me, but I will not rise to your bait.” In sync. As if the firemage knew anything about him.

“No? Rall, pet? Would you rise to my bait?” The nearly naked boy who attended the mage stepped around, kneeling before the man and nuzzling, buttocks clearly visible, exposed in the short tunic.

Wintras spat through the bars. “Pig.”

“Now, now. Rall is most lovely and not a pig at all.” One hand stroked through the boy’s hair, petting.

“I meant you. Keeping humans as pets. It’s an abomination.” Damn the man, nothing seemed to affect him.

“I assure you, Rall is well-cared for, most devoted. Do I hold you against your will, pet?”

“No, my lord. I live to serve you.”

Wintras snorted. “You mean you live because you serve.”

Rall didn’t even turn at Wintras’ words, continuing instead to nuzzle Zujan’s crotch.

Zujan shook his head, eyes sure. “Rall’s father offered his son willingly, Rall is not a prisoner here.”

“Willingly. Like my father offered me?”

“There was precious little hesitation on your parents’ part, pet.”

Was Zujan really serious? Was that how he saw things? All twisted up like that? “You told them you would kill me if they didn’t agree—you were already burning up half your
guests
.”

“The situation would never have occurred, had you kept your tongue.”

“I did not express any desire to speak to you, Zujan. You were the one who insisted on an introduction.” The mage would not put this on him. True enough, he would not kowtow when asked to do so, but it was Zujan who had prompted the communication.

One eyebrow rose on Zujan’s pale face. “And you haven’t the self-control to answer politely.”

“You do not deserve any civility.” Wintras stood proudly. He could be as calm and unruffled as Zujan.

“And what complaint had you with me ere you entered my hall?”

“You rule by fear. You take whatever you want. It isn’t right.”

“I take what I can, and I have you, right or wrong.” Zujan chuckled, freed his hard shaft, slowly feeding it into Rall’s mouth.

Wintras turned and went to the back of his cell, refusing to be taunted further. Bright lights began to hover about him, tiny sparks with curious eyes. Even in the depths of his cell he had no privacy. It was outrageous.

He batted at them. They moved faster, coming closer. He backed into the wall, hissing as the cold stone hit his skin. The colors were dizzying, the flashes flitting about him, exploring, looking.

He glared at them, keeping himself pressed against the wall, but refusing to beg to have them removed, refusing to even ask for it. As he stayed still, the motions eased, the lights slowing, allowing him some space. He watched the sparks warily, trying to figure out how to escape them, how to destroy them. Perhaps he should have kept his water, that would have taken care of them.

A low hum filled the air, and his eyes shot over to the mage and the man who pleasured the thin body. The cry of pleasure had not come from the mage, instead from the kneeling slave. He was surprised, sure that the boy only pretended to be there of his own will, to do the things he did from want and need. Nonetheless, a well-gilt cage was still a cage. Still, the boy’s hips were moving, head bobbing faster, muffled cries coming more and more often.

Wintras couldn’t stop watching, much as he wanted to feign disinterest. It was…fascinating, the way the mage’s body moved, glowed. Zujan’s eyes were on his, the mage’s lips parted, fingers almost gentle in the slave’s hair.

He could feel his own body begin to respond to the vision. Before he could betray himself, he turned his back, pressing himself against the wall, chilling himself through. A soft, knowing chuckle teased him, ending in a low purr.

Wintras shuddered, his weakness known, seen. It wasn’t fair, he was fighting at a large disadvantage. Still, that didn’t mean he needed to roll over. He turned and went back to the bars that held him in. “You will not defeat me so easily, Zujan.”

“I do not wish to defeat you, child.” Those dark eyes twinkled. “I wish to enjoy you.”

“To do so you will have to defeat me. I will not willingly kneel before you.”

“We shall see.” That dark gaze danced down toward Rall. “Come, pet. The hour grows late, and the comfort of my bed and its new furs calls.”

“Spoils of blackmail. They would have given you nothing if they did not fear you.” The talk of his country’s furs made him shiver anew in the cold dampness of his prison.

His words fell unnoted onto the stone, the mage and his slave simply disappearing into the shadows, leaving him with the slowly fading sparks of light.

Wintras wrapped his arms around himself, crouching in a corner that seemed less drafty than the rest of his small cell. He didn’t know what do to, how to escape this place, and his belly was empty, his throat parched and he was cold, so cold.

He blinked back tears. It mattered not that he was alone and no one would know. He must stay strong if he was going to make good his escape.

* * * *

The night was spent in glorious perversions, Rall spread and sobbing, shifting and begging for him. They spent the morning in bed, the mists and the clouds leaving the stone rooms clammy and chill, Rall keeping the bedstead warm. Finally, after they lunched, Zujan rose and dressed then wandered idly down to the dungeon, to check on his new pet.

He didn’t bother speaking to the guard, simply snapped his fingers and had a comfortable, padded chair delivered immediately so that he might relax. Breaking prisoners was dreadfully tiring work. Then he had a pitcher of iced water and a sliced pear placed beside him on a tiny table.

“Did you have a restful night, pet?”

Wintras jerked out of his doze, the lovely body uncurling as the prince stood. Such pretty muscles.

Wintras glared at him, but made no sound aside from the occasional chatter of his teeth.

Zujan poured a glass of water, drinking it slowly. “I stayed abed until late, resting with my sweet Rall. The weather is hopelessly chill in the autumn, don’t you agree?”

A shiver passed through Wintras, and he was sure there would be goose bumps aplenty to see if he were closer.

“Yes, fortunately the rooms above have hearths, soft bedding and soups to warm the stomach.”

Stubborn pet. Wintras bit his lip, the only sign of weakness aside from the soft shivers that his pet could not control. As he watched though, Wintras’ eyes would return again and again to Zujan’s food and water before being torn away.

“Simply say the word, and your thirst will be eased.”

“At what cost?” asked Wintras, voice hoarse.

“I ask nothing but your request.”
But your obedience
.

The dark blue eyes looked at him, and he could see need war with fear and stubbornness. He could tell the moment Wintras steeled his resolve, his body growing stiffer, chin lifting proudly. “I will ask nothing of you but my freedom.”

“Your freedom is bound to your obedience, Wintras.”

“Obedience is merely another prison.”

Zujan arched an eyebrow. “There are some who say that it is the only true path to freedom.”

Wintras snorted. “Words to make such things less of a betrayal.”

Oh, did he enjoy playing with this one. “A betrayal of what, dear boy?”

“Of self.” A draft moved through the dungeon, his pet shivering violently.

“And what you are doing now? Is it not a betrayal of your own need?” Zujan allowed a frisson of heat to warm the air, allowing the boy to remember those pleasures.

“Yes. One I cannot control, and yes, I tell myself that to make myself feel better.”

“I do not wish you harm, pet. I simply ask for obedience, respect, things a prince needs to know.”

Wintras drew himself tall and proud once more. “I know those things, Zujan. And to those who have earned and deserve them, I offer them freely.”

“Yet, I have earned all my rewards, have I not? I rule. I provide.” The effort of warming the room chilled him, and he called for a fur to warm himself.

“You steal and threaten and blackmail the lands that surround yours, and every year your land grows larger as you absorb more. How is that earned? You are a tyrant.”

“I take what is in my power to take. You are a prince, child, with hopes that one day you will rule. Until then, you know not of what you speak.”
Impertinent child!

Wintras’ eyes widened, and he turned his head to look in the other direction. The long hair slid over Wintras’ shoulder, partly obscuring the handsome face. Ah. A crack in that armor. “I am sure your father has taught you of what a ruler must do.”

The prince’s fingers curled into fists, Wintras remaining silent.

Zujan continued, idly snacking on a slice of pear. “For you know, the rumor is that your father was not born a king… That he took his crown by a mixture of lucky happenstance and force…”

“I am not my father, and my people love me.”

“Love is a lie told by girls and old women.” Zujan snorted. “Love has no place in rule.”

“That isn’t what I believe.” Wintras seemed suddenly at peace, looking at nothing, but obviously seeing something. “Fear isn’t necessary if you treat your subjects right. They will gladly die for you if they believe you will do the same for them.”

“Or take your head and parade it through the capital on a pike, much like your father’s predecessor.”

“He was evil and cruel and ruled by oppression.” Wintras looked at him again. “Like you.”

“Evil? Me?” Zujan made a show of looking at the guard. “Come now. Jeremiah? Am I evil?”

The soldier shook his head. “No, my Lord.”

Zujan nodded at the captain of the guards. “Do I provide for your family? Assure education and land for your sons?”

Another nod. “You do, my Lord.”

Wintras snorted. “And how do you get the land for his sons? You steal it from another.”

“As you will. It is the price of power.” Surely the boy was not this much of a fool.

“I will find another way,” Wintras insisted.

“You will fail.”

“Then I will do so on my own terms.” Wintras looked away again. So stubborn. So very, very sure of himself.

Zujan snorted, becoming frustrated, unhappy. “Not until you accept mine, slave.”

Wintras turned to look at him, a knowing look in the dark eyes. “Ah, we finally have the truth. I am your slave.”

“Until you learn your place. Yes.” His temper flared, his anger calling the bar’cha, his firefaeries curious and wanting to play.

“My place is caring for my people, Zujan. I imagine you will have me killed before I believe otherwise.”

“I gave your parents my word, Wintras. You will live.” He was through with this, though, through with today’s banter. Tomorrow they could play again. “Sleep well, pet. If you hunger, ask for me.”

Then he swept up the stairs, hair tossing, steadfastly ignoring the irritation the prince created beneath his skin.

* * * *

Wintras had no idea how long he’d been in the dungeon. There had been several changes of guard since Zujan had left after taunting him with food and drink. He was still shivering involuntarily, and though he was hungry, it was the thirst that was the worst. His throat was sore; his mouth felt like it was made of sand.

He thought it was most likely that he was going to die from thirst, quite literally, and it seemed an awfully harsh way to die. It would have been kinder to be burned to a crisp.

A wave of warmth passed through him, and suddenly, he was hot, burning up. He looked around for Zujan, but the man was nowhere to be seen, and as quickly as the warmth had come, it disappeared again, leaving him shivering violently. Fever dreams followed soon after that, and he woke from them feeling worse than ever.