The Spy Becomes A Slave
"Well? You better start explaining!" Sylrae yelled.
"Sylrae, I.."
Sylrae's voice cracked like a whip, her eyes narrowing to slits. "Skirian, why do I feel like our bond means nothing to you? Why do you always make me feel that way?"
"Sylrae, it was nothing. I swear."
"I saw you, halfway above the woman you specifically saved from a witch raid. You're telling me it's nothing, and you expect me to really believe you?"
Skirian exhaled. "No. No, I don't. But if there's any way to prove to you that there's nothing between us, I'll happily do that."
"Actually, there is. Stop treating her like she's a member of the pack and start treating her like the fucking witch that she is!"
"She's not a witch, Sylrae. How many times do I need to tell you that?"
"I don't care. You've known her for less than a day, and yet you had her in a position you'd never had me in before. I'll need more than 'she's not a witch' to get over that. I'm your fated mate for the love of God."
"Right. I won't so much as touch her ever again." Skirian took two steps back from Vanessa's bed.
"That's still not enough."
"Oh, come on, Sylrae, what else do you want? I've done enough to pacify you. Why do you always have to be so difficult?"
"If you don't do what I want, Skirian, I'll make sure this gets to your father's ears. Then I'll see if your precious witch will live a second longer."
"Fine, fine. What do you want from me, Sylrae?"
"Well.." Sylrae's arms locked tight across her chest, her lips pressed into a blade-thin line. "First off, you need to promise you'll grab me like that tonight."
"Like.. like I did Vanessa?"
"Yes. Do I need to spell it out for you?"
A sharp, incredulous snort burst from Vanessa before she could stop it, the kind of sound meant to sting more than amuse.
Sylrae, angered, stormed towards her. "You fucking bitch.."
"Sylrae.. Sylrae," Skirian held his fated mate back. "It's fine, it's fine, I'll do what you want. Tonight, yes?"
"Yes. And there's more."
"Right. What else?"
"You said you're planning to reach an agreement with your father on keeping her as a slave, didn't you?"
"Servant. I said servant."
"Servant is a stretch. You know your father will allow her to live as a slave at most."
"Ok. What is your request?"
"That she be sent down to work with the others in the kitchen."
"The kitchen? Of all places? But I wanted her to serve you. So you could help me protect her."
"You think I'll protect that? Don't you see the way she looks at me, like I'm on her level? Oh Skirian, I swear you'd be better off having her in the kitchen, notorious as it is, because if she's with me, I'll make sure an axe swings over her head in a few days."
"The kitchen is no place for a new girl like her. They'll tear her apart."
Sylrae exhaled in frustration. "That's the idea, Skirian. Remember, I can still tell your father and make this a lot worse for the both of you."
"Fine." Skirian said blandly. "Have it your way." He then stormed out of the room. Leaving Sylrae with Vanessa.
After Skirian banged the door shut, Sylrae prowled toward Vanessa's bed, each step deliberate, a slow curl of a smile playing on her lips. Vanessa responded by sitting up immediately, shocking Sylrae.
"Well, well," Sylrae drawled, tilting her head. "So the fragile little flower wasn't withering after all, just lying in wait. You had everyone fooled that you were closer to a coma than you were to consciousness? My God, there's so much that doesn't add up with you, but Skirian never listens to me on these things. I wish he did, your head would be on a pike as we speak."
"Well then. I'm glad your fated mate, the one person who's supposed to listen to your every breath, doesn't take you seriously." Vanessa backed this up with a cheeky smile.
Sylrae's laugh was sharp and humorless, the kind of sound that grated like metal on stone. "Ohhh, I wish I could just strangle you right now, but it's okay. Look at you, sitting there, all weak and helpless. No wolf blood in your body, no magic in your veins. And yet, you think you can walk in here and be a thorn in my flesh? Ha! They'll treat you well in the kitchen for me, I'm sure."
Vanessa scoffed scornfully.
Sylrae smiled, then turned and walked out of the room.
****
This place reeked of rotting fat and old blood, a stench so thick it clung to Vanessa's tongue before she even crossed the threshold. Every gaze that met hers was a blade's edge: cold, glinting, and just as ready to cut.
"This is Vanessa," the fort guard said. "She'll be working with you all from now on, helping with food for every wolf in the fort." He now turned to the eldest woman in the room. "Mother Grey, she's all yours."
"She's here as a servant, or as a slave?" The elderly woman asked.
"As a slave. Orders directly from the alpha are to treat her as such, and nothing more. No matter what others in the pack, like Lord Skirian might say."
"Good. Just making sure."
Vanessa now heard low whispers behind her.
"A slave? That means the alpha wants her dead."
"I'll beat you to it and get the alpha's reward. I'm better with knives than you."
A knife clattered onto the table beside her hand, the blade still quivering from the force.
Vanessa looked up. The woman who threw it was already smiling.
"Welcome to the kitchen."