Chapter 25

     “Here she is your highness,” the beast master said and gave Mikota a little shove.  “On your knees slave!”

     Mikota fell to her knees, red robe gaping open.

     “This one is a bit high spirited.  She needs…”

     “Leave us,” came a deep voice cutting off the beast master mid sentence.

     The beast master grumbled under his breath and took his leave.  Mikota stayed on scraped knees eyes intent on the floor.  She brought a shaking hand up to close the robe.

     “Leave it,” said the king.

     Heat suffused her cheeks.  The gapping robe revealed two heavy round globes, a narrow waist, and the soft mound of her womanhood.

     Heavy footsteps approached.  “It is your time slave, to honor me with your virginity.  Stand.”

     Mikota stood on shaking legs eyes still intent on the floor.  Large rough hands pushed the robe to the floor.  The cold air did nothing but add to her already shivering form.  She wanted to die with shame.  She wanted to melt into the stones and be done with this life.  Her breath came in short hard gasps.

     “Turn around for me,” the king said.

     Mikota’s throat constricted.  Her feet refused to move.

     “Do it now,” the king whispered.

     With effort, she turned lifting her chin as she did.  Her long well brushed brown hair tickled the underside of her naked bottom.  She felt it cover the mark.

     “STOP!”  The king ordered with a hoarse voice when her back was to him.

     Mikota almost fainted.  He saw the mark of diamonds.  Her life was forfeit!  She must run, must make some attempt to escape.  She took a deep breath and gaged the distance to the door.

     “I have never seen a woman with hair so fine,” the king whispered.  He lifted Mikota’s hair to his nose.  “Nor a body so lush.”

     Mikota jumped at his touch.  Her heart beat so fast and hard she was sure he could hear it.

     With a swift shove he propelled her toward the bed.  She stopped herself short of falling face first onto the mattress.

“The suns are stirring,” he laughed.  “And so is my lust!”

 The king let his robe slide to the floor.  “Lean forward and place your hands on the bed.”

Mikota thought of disobeying, of running, of fighting.  But she was a coward.  Not only would she lose her life, but she would essentially be murdering a score of others with her rash behavior.  She leaned forward and put her hands on the too soft mattress.

“That’s it,” the king’s breathing came ragged and hard.  “Spread your legs wide.  Wider.”

Mikota obeyed and wished more than anything she could stop her heart with a thought.  She was shamed, helpless, exposed.  Anger, slow but steady, ignited in her breast.  The king placed large calloused hands on her tiny hips.  She jumped.

“Steady girl,” he said.  “It’s almost time.  A few more moments and I will drive my shaft into your hot sheath and make a woman of you!”

For most of the last several years, Mikota went to extremes to avoid this moment.  She worked hard, bound her breasts, hid her budding womanhood and slept among the animals just to escape the touch of the king.  But in the end, no matter her plots and schemes, nothing changed.  She would be used up and most likely dead within three winters.  And there was nothing she could do about it.  It wasn’t fair.  It wasn’t right.

A lifetime of helpless anger brightened and turned to white hot rage.  Mikota’s skin flushed, hot. 

The king did not notice the absence of trembling or the heated flesh so focused was he on the open window facing east toward the rising suns.

A red haze filled Mikota’s mind.  She bit her tongue, salty metallic blood filled her mouth.  Her body felt light, as if a little breeze might carry her up and out the open window.  Everything fell away until she was alone in a haze of rage with nothing more than her heartbeat and the sound of her breathing.

Every gulp of air pulled bits of power into her lungs, suffusing her blood with sparkles of strength.  Her body was humming with so much power it deafened her.  She could feel the vibrations of the king’s heart beat.  See it sending out ripples on the air like a thrown stone ripples the water of a pond.  The vibrations surrounded her, bouncing against the haze of rage once, twice, then devoured like bugs in the flame.

Without questioning the wisdom, Mikota reached with her mind for the core of the ripples.  She knew without a doubt one touch would stop its beating forever.

She did not hear banging on the chamber door, or the king’s swearing.  She was not even aware he released her hips and was standing at the chamber door until the suns crested the horizon causing her pupils to contract painfully.  She squinted away the brightness and lost her haze filled illusion.