I pulled off your wings and I laughed

Siv Helsi · 09-02-2012, 07:14 PM

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For as observant and calculating as Siv was, she mistook the affection in Gale for his fatherly duty. She, with her own offspring, had been equally protective. Once he had the girl coddled up like an infant she forgot about the thing entirely—Yvette’s use was null when she was in his arms. Her trust in her own skill was high enough that the idea of this giant of a man attempting escape (or rebellion) was laughable. Within these borders, he was powerless. As long as the girl was here, he was powerless.

Though Hildr walked, she fidgeted under the tall woman. Siv eased her with quiet words and a firm hand; she treated her slaves much like the horses, though (as she had learned from her superiors) one had more value than the other. “Obedience,” she began, and looked down at him. “That is what I expect. Above all else answer to me; you may be commanded by others, but you are mine. I am not cruel, as some here are cruel. I keep my words, bondsman,” Siv reminded him pointedly, and looked ahead once more.

“I keep this horse next to my home. She will need care.” There was no pause, no question to his skill. If he did not know, she would teach him. Somehow, though, she doubted he was half as stupid as the mute or the other foreigners that had met their misfortune at the Thistle Kingdom’s doing. “If you are worried about what the others might do to the girl,” she went on, casually noting this as if it had not been a fear of her own. “You may build yourself a place to live near my own home. I will need you for labor; fetching water, aiding me as I see fit. If you please me, you will see rewards granted.” Not freedom, but the illusion of it—this was something she had used on the others, manipulating their fear and hatred into a peculiar sense of generosity and worth. Stockholm as it was, the behavior served her (and Salsola’s) needs easier than ripping tongues from mouths.

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