House of Bardin

By Miriam Newman

After eight years as a rebellious sex slave on the planet Thelona, Lela is weary and jaded. When she is purchased in the public square by a bored aristocrat, she only hopes he will tire of her and let her go to work in his kitchens. Caius, forced into the lifestyle of the idle rich by his return to Thelona after eight years in the Mercenary Corps, thinks he has only bought a night's pleasure. Two restless kindred spirits who won't be tamed never expect what happens next.

• Language: English
• Publisher: DCL Publications
• Release date: Feb 4, 2020
• ISBN: 9780982361047

Book preview

SCION Book I:

House of Bardin

By

Miriam Newman

DCL Publications, LLC

www.thedarkcastlelords.com

© 2009 by Miriam Newman

All rights reserved

First Edition July 2009

DCL Publications

1033 Plymouth Drive

Grafton, OH 44044-1220

ISBN 978-0-9823610-4-7

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information and storage retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Published in United States of America

Prologue

The girl had sixteen years by Danaali’s sun. That age would be slightly more on some planets, a bit less on others, but by any estimation she had reached the age of flowering. Her skin was the color of milk from the nonnis she herded for her father, her hair was blue-black and shiny and her eyes were clear, startling blue offset by coal-black lashes. Her features were pert, with a slightly uptilted nose, full lips the color of berries and a sweetly rounded chin. The marble column of her throat led to perfectly formed shoulders and delicate collar bones visible beneath her youthful, supple skin. Her breasts had ripened. She was untouched…perfect. She was worth a fortune.

Sixteen latares, the slave trader said.

Twenty. Lela’s father had two sons and both needed armament. She’s a virgin.

So they all say. Prove it, if you want your price.

Admon gestured to his wife, standing in a dark corner of the elongated hovel that sheltered their family of five. The thatch leaked, the wattle and daub walls were chinked and drafty for want of time and materials to patch them. Perhaps, if Lela brought enough, that might be remedied.

Admon glared at the girl’s mother, who had not moved. Bring oil if you do not want her hurt.

The girl stood immobile as her parents and the slaver approached. It was a test of her mettle, she told herself as she stood, quaking. She knew it was only the first of the indignities she would suffer so that her brothers might live. Her mother had told her what to expect.

The man was quick, at least. He turned to her father, wiping his hands. Eighteen.

Twenty for a virgin. It’s always twenty.

Times are hard. Eighteen.

Done. Lela’s father sealed her fate.

Her mother handed the cringing girl a gown, sheltering her while Lela dropped the gray homespun over her head. A graceless dress, but she had never been so grateful for it, shuddering within its warmth. Unbidden, she picked up her shoes and stockings from the bench where they had been laid. She was shaking so hard she could barely put them on, but she knew she must, and quickly. Money was already changing hands.

Her mother knew it, too. Ellendra gently slid two tooled leather ornaments into the girl’s silky hair, securing them with a final pat. To the men, it looked like a tender parting.

One segment only, each time you must, her mother whispered, pulling Lela close. Give them no more slaves.

The girl nodded, biting her lip. Her brothers were elsewhere, shamed by her sacrifice. She had bidden them farewell the previous night. There was no point in leave-taking from her father, who had withdrawn his affection years before, knowing that she would be sold. She looked only into her mother’s seamed and weathered face, stroking her cheek for a last time.

Be well, my mother.

The slaver shifted from foot to foot and Ellendra glanced at him hopelessly. Where will they take her?

Thelona, he answered. It’s a rich planet. She will have a good life. He had said it to a thousand mothers.

Admon cleared his throat, addressing his daughter. Your name will be honored in this family.

Lela picked up the satchel containing her few belongings and walked of her own volition to the slaver. She could still feel oil between her thighs and the violation of his probing.

This family has no honor, she said.

Chapter One

It was always the same, Lela thought. No matter that this had happened to her three times—four if you counted her initial sale—it never changed. First the fools wanted you naked, as if female humanoid bodies weren’t basically all the same. Then they wanted to know your price, about which they complained. Then they wanted to have you. That part never varied, even if the appearance of the men and the size of their parts did. A taking was a taking, though some were more notable than others. More painful, too, depending on the race of the man. She would have to try to attract a reasonably small one this time.

Now that her poor attitude and supposed inability to breed had dropped her into the ranks of public slaves, attracting a specific man might not be easy. Tight-pursed Dinovians cruised such sales seeking bargains and Lela had a low price inked on her right shoulder. She didn’t want one of those monsters again, but there would be a limited market for her. Despite having lived for the equivalent of only twenty-four of Thelona’s trips around its natal sun, she was losing her looks.

She still had the shiny blue-tinged black hair of her race, sleek and straight, cut just to the nape of her neck and decorated with leather ornaments. Her fair skin and blue eyes always attracted attention. They were uncommon on Thelona. But an astute buyer would recognize the hardness in her face. She was no young virgin to tickle a man’s fancy. She appeared unlikely to be willing to tickle anything. Truthfully, she hoped someone would buy her for labor, though it was a hard life. Better to empty pots of excrement than suffer one more man or one more self-induced abortion. There had been three of those, which was why she had been sold three times. A slave unable to produce more slaves was of limited value

The second sun was rising on the public square and perspiration trickled between her shoulder blades. She looked longingly at a water bucket her owner of the moment proffered or withheld depending upon his feelings about a slave. He didn’t like her, so she wouldn’t get any, but thinking about it distracted her. When she returned from her private reverie a man stood regarding her and Lela jumped despite herself.

Two red stripes along the border of his light cotton robe indicated rank among the Houses of Thelona. Such men bought only in private auctions. He was merely trolling, so she glanced away. It was a shock to feel his hand on her shoulder.

You’re too fair for our suns, the man observed. Seen close up, he did not resemble a Lord of Rank. Most of those were dandies; this one seemed more likely to fancy a good fight, judging by his nose which had been broken and the short-sword he carried in a shoulder scabbard. He was tall and solid, well built. He reminded her of soldiers she had seen on Danaali.

A man of his standing need ask permission for nothing, so nothing was what the slave dealer said as the Lord filled a dipper and took it to her. Her wrists were manacled to a waist belt, the only thing she wore, so he held the dipper to her lips and let her drink.

Where are you from? he asked when she had finished.

She named her planet. Ah, yes, Danaali…her home where there were at least two wars each year and girls were sold into servitude to arm their brothers.

You’re not in good weight.

She shrugged. I’m a hard keeper. Behind him, the slave dealer scowled at her. Lela just gave him a jaded look. A Lord of Rank didn’t care if his slaves ate him out of house and home; he had money. Her dealer was used to selling to poor men. She had known better days.

Um-hmm. The Lord sounded skeptical, but Lela comforted herself with the thought that there was no way he or anyone else could know the truth.

She didn’t know what impelled her to tell the Thelonian the truth…probably a desire to give the dealer apoplexy.

I can’t carry, she said. Thank you for the drink.

That should have ended matters. The Lord should have moved along to the private sales or one of the Houses of Courtesans.

Oh? he said.

That did make Lela look twice at him. He wore an indefinable aura of danger and readiness despite dress indicating a life of wealth and indolence. He was an enigma…one who recognized another.

I have been to Danalii, he said. He cupped her breast and her nipple peaked against his palm, surprising her. She couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. But she was still tender from her recent pregnancy.

Your women are beautiful, he continued, stroking her lightly. She trembled but didn’t step away. Although it wasn’t allowed, that was not her reason.

They breed like jacuundi. He named the small, prolific creatures that had nearly over- run more arid regions of Thelona where other creatures couldn’t survive. Except when they poison themselves. He gave her a small, secret smile even as he weighed her full breast gently. With the other hand, he touched one of the hair ornaments in which Lela had secreted her mother’s gift. She shivered involuntarily. This man was dangerous. You won’t need these, he said softly, but keep them if it pleases you.

He snapped his fingers at the bemused slave dealer, who rose at once. I will pay her price and six latares for a gown and sandals. Remove her manacles.

She’ll run, the dealer cautioned.

But the Lord of Rank only laughed. Where?

They were in the middle of Syrstine, prime city of Longos where the Highest and his court resided. The place swarmed with High Guards and private patrols. Lela had spent eight years on Thelona, long enough to learn the language and every route onto and off of the planet. The aircos firmly in possession of those routes came from more technologically and militarily