Anastasia's POV
I can't let myself be intimidated. I let myself shed a few tears but only in my wardrobe, where I'm surrounded by countless winter coats and boots… and some particular dresses I had made up as costume pieces. They were my little indulgence. I take out my favourite. I had this one made with chain mail. It was expensive but it was to mimic a goddess of ice in one of the stories I read in the library.
I never had a chance to wear it, but now I feel it is appropriate.
It's just chain mail for the breasts, and below it's a metallic skirt that hangs around my waist, purple, thin, with silky purple fabric hanging beneath that.
The chain mail top is sheer, and not as heavy as what men wear. It still looks like armour.
I put all of it on, and I immediately feel united with my favourite character in my favourite book. My heroine – she was a human who ruled a kingdom of elves. She could freeze over oceans.
I had no such power, but I could open that vault, and I could see into the ice – giving us all fair warning about the threats to the Cren and where the best power was centred.
I have shed four tears, for each family member lost, then I shoved it all away for another time. In every book I read the rule of war was repeated over and over – grieve after the war is won.
No point crying when I could be dead soon. You could only cry in peace times.
My hair is peculiar, because it was so silver it looked like ice. But it was just normal hair.
When I've dressed myself, not asking for assistance, I make my way to the Ice, to practice being a Seer.
It's outside my chamber, down a blue encrusted hall that slowly became nature more than architecture.
The castle was built into a glacier.
I leave my coat behind, because I don't want to feel comfortable, I want to feel something distracting, slightly painful and raw. The cold in the Cren was enough to give you that.
The Ice is just a carved and polished oval just like a mirror, and it melts sometimes, becoming dewy, showing different things, before freezing over again.
I look into the Ice on my own, no words need to be uttered.
I'll just see.
But the Ice is more dewy than I've ever seen it, and only one thing keeps showing to me.
One face.
One threat. Or power.
Me.
It's not a normal reflection – it's truly a vision. It's me, wearing exactly what I am now, but it's me in the future. I don't look in at her, she looks out at me, smiling, reaching out a hand. She points to me and brings her fingers to her eyes.
Did I smudge the charcoal?
It's like she's telling me to fix it.
I shake my head and turn away from the vision. I walk to the well behind me, another oval shape, but this is just full of water. This one acts as the normal mirror.
I lean over and look at my face.
I have charcoal dripping down my cheeks, it looks like black tears – but I haven't been crying, I've just applied the makeup wrong.
When my father applied it, he had a certain process. I didn't know what that process was and now I didn't do my face right.
My hair is starting to frizz and looks unkept, not sitting as nicely as I thought it might.
The makeup artists that helped the concubines had never helped me. I wasn't about to ask for assistance.
My father made sure I was isolated from everyone. My life was by his side, with my family, or in the library – or by the Ice.
Right now I feel like I'm five years old, like my experience is totally inept for the challenges that lie ahead of me.
How can I be 25 and know so little?
The answer is pretty simple.
I was shielded and I took peace for granted.
I couldn't imagine a world where father died. Where my loving brothers were all gone.
I stop staring in at the reflection and I look up to see my guards approach together.
Damion had gone to fetch the other Crows. I watch them check my chamber. They realise I am not in there and they turn to look toward the Ice down the hall.
Even from a hundred or more feet away from me, I see their reactions at what I'm wearing.
I step around the well and I keep my head high.
I've managed to evoke a reaction out of them that isn't totallystandard.
Damion doesn't even look like he's breathing. Krystoph drops whatever he is holding. The forever graceful lord in him picks it up and puts it away into his silver coat, whatever it is. I didn't really look.
Axe gazes out the bottom of his hood for a moment – a rare moment indeed.
Rurx finally pushes back his own hood, and his long dark brown curls are flowing about his face, more beautiful than any woman. It's kind of annoying how perfectly thick his hair is, but he is the first to stride toward me, looking proper for once.
They actually reach me as I wait for their company, and I face the Crow who vowed to take me with the others.
He promised me his desire and I was promising him my response in my heroine's dress right now.
I didn't think much about it, but now I do. My tits are on display in this dress, hidden behind the chain mail, but it's not to seduce. To me, it's a representation of every woman enslaved or owned in the Cren. I was one with them, even though I wasn't owned. They were often topless and I wanted to relate. It was just tits, anyway.
Tits that have completely captured my knights.
I can't help but look them over as they stop in a formidable, disciplined line in front of me, at my beck and call.
"You have Ionen requesting backup in the throne room," Damion manages to tear his dark eyes from my tits.
I nod and say nothing.
I start to walk ahead, but Damion stops me, a hand on my shoulder.
"Like that?" he asks, a low snarl. It's not a command, just a truly anxious question.
I turn to him.
"Exactly," I speak. Damion can't find the words as he looks me over and back up to my eyes, "If you have something you want to say, you best say it honestly. And quickly."
Damion forces himself out of the apparent allure I've cast over him, and he manages to look pissed, but he refrains from speaking his mind.
So, honesty now would betray his power? I bet. I knew what he was thinking.
I look to the others, who are silently watching the interaction.
Krystoph holds out a letter, "Can you read?" he asks.
"Yes," I hiss, truly annoyed by this statement of all, "All my lifeI've spent in that library to your left, and you, who have been in these halls all your life also, you did not notice me?" it's the first time I crack under the pressure.
I guess for me it's insulting my reading inability.
And for Damion it's an apple. I wonder what would tip Krys and Rurx over their edges.
Regardless, my knights enjoy my fire.
"Never saw you, Ana," Krystoph answers smoothly, "…girls don't read." He dare call me Ana. I glare at him, but I don't make it an issue just yet.
"My father taught me," I just open the letter and I read what Ionen is requesting, "No, I've always distrusted this snake," I whisper, "I'm going to kill him myself for being so blatantly disloyal to the last Ice Seer. How dare he talk to me like that."
I turn and start walking.
I drop the letter and I don't care who picks it up. I just have to face the bastard.
Ionen was a General only by riches. He was born into gold. He had come for more men for war and wanted me to direct him to the closest male authority who could entrust anything I saw in the Ice wasn't a lie. Some kind of guarantor of my word.
I reach the throne room with my knights in tow. They say absolutely nothing, which I find suspicious. But I couldn't focus on that right now. Right now I had to address the court.
****
Ionen stands in my court with chains behind him, connected to fifty or more women, all prisoners of war.
He was known to walk about with his flesh prizes.
"I closed the court," I tell Ionen, who is as fat as you can imagine. He would strategize like my father, they had been childhood friends – to my dismay. He looks at me with pity.
"The sentries let me in on face alone," Ionen explains very, very slowly, so I completely understand.
"It'll be the las time," I answer, "You want men, you're not getting any. Our King is dead and you come here to insult my blood. Leave before I label you a traitor."
"Everything he did was to protect this Kingdom," Ionen replies, not fussed by my strong words, "Where is your guarantor? I want you to take me to the Ice now. It'll be whatever your Father saw last and I want to know what it was."
I can't deny Ionen this… it keeps me quiet.
Until I decide to tell him.
"I was at the Ice," I tell him, but less aggressively, "It was me. I was in the Ice. You're telling me that is the last thing my father saw?"
I thought I was doing it wrong, but it made sense why the Ring was given to me before they left to fight. It would mean I am not the threat, but an answer. The Ice always showed both. Threatand answer.
Ionen approaches me, and I forget to order my knights to tell him to stop, so they let him through.
Ionen stops until he stands over me, picking up my hand with the ring, I watch in horror as his face tries to convey empathy and horribly fails, "I will take you as my wife, and you won't have to worry about matters concerning the throne. I'll give you a diamond encrusted collar. You don't have to cry anymore," he touches one of the charcoal tears on my face, smudging it further.
I take my hand from his and I say nothing as I step backward, out of his range.
Ionen smiles, nods, assuming I've agreed, as he turns to the sparse court. Most were in mourning.
"I am not your King," he says with a hand on his heart, "Well, I will be soon, I was promised to you, yes, yes, all of you, by yourfather, Gendaw," he turns to me, Ionen had this weird way of speaking to crowds, where his voice went high pitched, and he sounded like he was singing out of tune – it was every time he told a lie.
I could tolerate it – but he was being a traitor right now.
"Don't say my father's name," I lose myself to the mention of Gendaw; he had no right to use his name in search for power.
As Ionen waves a tubby hand at me and reaches into his coat, taking out his knife, he cuts his hand for me, attempting a vow, "Now you. Come on, no more tears. None. I'll lead you as your father desired me too," he laughs and smiles to everyone when I approach.
I take the knife from him and he gives it to me – fool he is.
I hold it over my hand just to see what he does as he looks at me, and I step forward and give it back to him.
Straight. Inside. Him.
I slam the small knife through his chest.
I don't know how to do such a blow in the right fashion, but practicing it on this bastard is easy. However, I think I've missed a killing blow – as Ionen screams and starts stumbling around in a circle, before awkwardly dropping to his knees and looking back at me, "You stabbed me."
Yes.
Yes, I did.
I just stare at him, no more words for him as I reach for his belt and take off the loop with the chains linked to the slaves.
They were mine now.
Ionen watches me, while I feel heat at my back – and his eyes go up.
I watch his eyes crust over with black ink and he falls to the floor.
Axe soul swiped him.
I lean down and grab the keys from his belt too, and I throw the chain and the keys to the prisoners of war.
"Swear allegiance to me or die," I mimic what my father used to say to prisoners of war.
I don't even know if it'll work.
I step back and I hit two torsos, my hands feeling across two more.
When I look behind me, Damion, Axe, Krys and Rurx are right behind me – they seemed ready to catch me if I fainted.
I was not feeling faint.
I wasn't really feeling anything.
I guess that's a good thing when you're a monarch – you have to be numb to some things.
Ionen died for using my father's name in a lie after his death. He deserved it and worse.
I push through Axe and Krys, to move back to the quartz throne.
I sit on it, and I watch as the filthy women, wearing scraps, use the keys to undo every chain on their bodies.
Guards at the door step in, knowing the process as if Gendaw was still here.
I see a distinct change in the room from other mourning court officials. Those who have been sulking desperately to paintings and murals on the wall, now turn to me and give me their full attention.
Without another word I watch as the women whisper to each other, whoever is family or friend among them.
Then I see my first prisoners, they kneel and bow their heads.
I prepare to stomach the death of more people in this throne room – knowing not all of them will capitulate. It was highly improbable.
One by one, they submit. My knights resume guarding the bottom of the podium, also preparing to kill any who are disloyal. I'm glad they're quiet for once.
It's not long before every woman gives themselves to me.
When they're all on the ground, I feel completely confused. I hadn't dealt with this before.
Not even as a witness.
The mood in the room is… power – and it's given to me. Whoever is here right now, I've somehow earnt they're eyes.
I feel overwhelmed by this luck. But that was the power of the Ice. It gave answers – and it told me to trust in myself. So I did. And it worked.
"Slave Master," I think of more words my father had used, and I watch as the elderly man shuffles forward, looking concerned at all the new potential staff for the castle, "Bathe them and give them all back to the injured soldiers who caught them – I just want the women to help heal them and give them company. And if they find partners, well they can marry. And if not, they can go anywhere they please. But they owe the soldiers who didn't kill them. So they'll serve them for a half-year. Then the debt to their life will be repaid and they'll be freedwomen."
I am surprised.
At myself.
It's like my father is in my head, my brothers too. Their words are my words. Ancestral magic through the Eye.
It feels like a miracle to me.
"And the court is retired today, so please go home," I finish with that.
When I'm done, I get up and leave quickly, my knights always following.
I march from the throne room and I walk into the adjoining courtyard to watch the snow. It was a place to take guests, but I go outside to revel in my moment.
"Come closer," I ask the Crows to approach for a chat, as I move toward a frozen fountain, with frozen fish inside.
I am freezing and shaking but I don't care.
They stand at my back, all of them, while I look at the glistening garden.
I turn to them and walk into their circle, to huddle with them for warmth.
I somehow feel right standing in the middle of them, these giants of war.
"You're keeping me warm," I smile, "Thanks. I wanted you to come close because I need a favour. Tomorrow is the Harvest. You know it's one big social event," more like an orgy, "…I don't have a partner. I don't want one. I want four. Of you. What I'm asking, is for you to protect me and stay by my side… it's not the kind of event where you need to watch me but I'm asking you to keep me company anyway," I definitely use too many words but I ask it in good faith, then I remember to add, "…any concubines available that you see and like, I'll allow you to take them but… I prefer not to be alone. Will you be my company? The reason I ask… I have no friends. It will be awkward for me otherwise."
The silence is compounding and I'm starting to feel utterly weird for asking it when they barely knew me.
I turn to Damion, since he vowed to me. Even if it was… well… whatever it was.
I look up at him.
He catches the eye of his Crows.
He breathes out a breath of fog and warmth into the icey air.
They run so hot they don't seem to feel how cold it is out here.
"Yes, you'll have me," Damion answers, short and sharp.
I try to keep in a grin, lest it angers him too much – that I'mhappy with his compliance.
I turn to the others, and I wait for their answers.
Krystoph swipes up my fingers, holding them, he says honestly, "You'll have me."
"You'll have me too," Axe's soft voice is that husky lullaby. His whisper sounds like a sensual promise of romance.
Rurx is last, he just nods, looking me over.
"Thank you," I breathe it out, and I mean it, even as my shakes get worse.
"…why… are you still standing out here… literally freezing your tits off, princess…" Damion finally asks what's on his mind.
I turn to him, and I'm still shaking from the cold.
"It's better than feeling nothing at all," I answer, especially after this morning.
"Then I insist on saving your tits, Anastasia," Damion gives a knowing look to Axe behind me. Damion pushes his hand to my collar bone, pushing me into Axe's front. My whole back warms instantly. Then Damion reaches under my chain mail and grabs a hold of my left tit – while Axe reaches under my chain mail, his arm snaking in as he grabs the other.
They're not lying – they're warming me up quick.
Also… what the fuck just happened? I'm just… also… um… I'm frozen.
Because every bit of me should scream a protest… and I don't want to.
"Um, thanks?" I snap out something, looking down at Damion's gloved hand, and Axes – as they knead and squeeze my tits so softly.
"Your lips need saving too," Krys side-eyes my mouth, his white hair is short and styled but it gathers snow flakes out here. I'm looking up at his grey eyes and hair, wondering how he makes it look so perfect all the time, when he reaches in to kiss me.
Gosh, my brain was slow.
His mouth moves on mine, even as my lips are still, I half close my eyes – breathing manually.
I didn't have time to process any of this before it was happening.
Rurx roughly shoves Krys off me, into the fountain, stepping in to kiss me too.
He tilts up my head, and I kiss Rurx back.
When I dare to return it, every part of me feels alive in an entirely different way. Rurx's tongue slides into my mouth, and I breathe in his breath. I could kiss a man for hours if this is what it felt like. His finger tickles under my chin, as if he's saying good.
I start to pant and I suddenly remember who I am and what I represent.
And Damion's threat… being followed through while I submit already.
This was unacceptable.
"Get off me," I beg Rurx, as I shove him off me and he moves for me.
Axe and Damion let me go too… it's clearly a mercy.
I see it in Damion's smug eyes, although he says nothing to rub it in, as I turn – and I run away.