Iona Hoyle on Gromet's Plaza Archive

The Eighth House 4: The Mark

Fri, 14 Feb 2014 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Eighth House 3: Questions)

Part 4: The Mark

It took me three days before I tried to simply walk through the door that led up to Lady Amelia’s rooms. Three days during which the only concession to training me came on the first morning, when Lady Amelia asked a dark skinned girl from somewhere in the south of the Hundred Kingdoms to show me how to stand and kneel, present myself and keep my eyes cast down when speaking to others who weren’t slaves. All that, in one strenuous morning, spent sweating naked through position after position until the girl, Nalla, was pleased enough with my progress to reward me with a kiss on the lips and a whispered assurance in my ear.

The Eighth House

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

“Welcome to the Hall of Choosing, Lady Jana.” The magus in charge of the ceremony of choices was polite at least, although he had no need to be. He was in his fifties, dressed in the opulent robes of a master, just a step down from the council itself. I was just an apprentice at her moment of choosing, one of the hundreds of eighteen year old women and men set to graduate from the College of the Art and make the choice that would define us for the rest of our lives.

The Eighth House 2: Sold

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Eighth House)

Part 2: Sold

I was chained to a coffle. It was easy to guess that from the sound of others behind and in front of me. By the tug of the chains at my neck, forcing me to move in rhythm with them. I couldn’t see them. I still had the hood over my eyes. The hood that I’d laced on myself, stripping myself and pushing my red hair beneath the white leather, so confident that it would only be temporary. I couldn’t remove it. My hands were still bound behind my back, tied at the wrists.

The Eighth House 3: Questions

Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000

(story continues from The Eighth House 2: Sold)

Part 3: Questions

I waited on my stomach, my arms folded and bound into a neat box behind me, my ankles tied to my thighs by wind after wind of rope. Another rope tied my ankles to my wrists, arching my back and holding me in position at the centre of the circular room I lay in.

Lady Amelia had ordered me taken there and left, taking Lydia with her on a silken leash while her servants hastening to comply. They had bathed me and cleansed me before bringing me through the opulent palace that was the noblewoman’s home and tying me. Not one of them had said a word, and after the way one of them looked at me when I dared a question, I didn’t try again.