“We were under the understanding she has been put up for ransom. We are willing to pay that ransom.”
“I mean I have claimed her. Life may already stir inside her.”
“Then we will have the next.”
I let out a low growl. This situation has become infinitely more complex than it seemed when I first took Astaria. Then she was nothing more than the spoiled offspring of a rich king to be traded back for her weight in riches. Now… Now, there is attachment and fondness, and an ongoing horror at her worst instincts being unleashed regularly on my crew.
“She almost killed your friend,” Savork reminds me.
“Yes,” I agree. “She did.”
I saw the blade poised at his neck. I saw the expression on her face. I knew that I was too far away. I also knew that I was going to lose not only the respect but likely the loyalty of the crew if Astaria murdered Redpelt before their eyes.
I have treated her like a misguided waif, but there is a greater darkness inside her, a force for destruction that can and will likely be unleashed on every soul on the Dawnhammer.
“I owe your companions a great thanks,” I add.
“The princess is not an anomaly,” Savork explains. “Her bloodlust is very natural for our kind. Her instincts are good. I am honored to have been stabbed by my own food blade.”
“You were going to give her a sword.”
“Yes. We had other swords, and a far greater aptitude in using them, I can assure you. I would suggest you bring her to our secondary world, our place of retreat. There she can be educated in the ways of the faye.”
“You would allow me to see your world?”
“We do not fear you, Blackmane. I hope you do not fear us. You have done us a great service in freeing her from her human father. But you are not able to understand her or change her. Nobody is. She should be installed in a breeding chamber. With each passing infant, she will become more compliant until finally, she will reign over a great family of warriors, each more powerful than the last. She will restore the glory of the faye with the labor of her loins.”
Astaria
I have very good hearing. And this ship has a lot of metal that allows vibrations to travel through it easily, especially when I am imprisoned on the other side of the wall.
They’re talking about breeding me. Like I am a cow or a sheep or a dog or any animal you might care to name. I would take greater offense, but I am very used to hearing people speak about me in completely inanimate terms.
Blackmane is angry with me. I know he is. He will probably let them take me because I am fairly certain I crossed a line just now. There’s always a line somewhere, a boundary one should not cross. I seem to find these boundaries unerringly and destroy any affection others might have for me.
Trying to kill Redpelt was probably intemperate of me, but the feeling I got from stabbing Savork was so delicious I wanted to experience it again immediately. It was more-ish. I had to do another one as swiftly as possible. I needed to drink that feeling into the very core of me. It was an imperative I could not have ignored even if I’d wanted to.
“Stupid,” I lecture myself. “Stupid stabby girl, now they’re going to send you off to be bred into submission.”
After some time their conversation moves away, out of earshot. I am left to imagine what they might have planned for me. Obviously, Blackmane is going to be finished with me. I am already making plans as to what I will do when they inevitably come and tell me that my place is with the faye. I think I will pretend to go along with it. There is no reason to show my hand. I will let them take me onto their ship and then stabby stab, I will dispatch them all. I am not going to be anybody’s broodmare.
“But what if you are already pregnant by Blackmane?”
I ask myself the question aloud, as if a good answer might appear out of the ether. I have allowed my virtue to be taken, and that means anything could be taking place in my womb. I could have a little half-human with fabulous hair knitting itself together inside me. It is a strange thought. I cannot imagine trying to look after a small, helpless creature who will have neither the strength nor coordination to wield a blade for many years.
I feel as though my options are becoming ever more limited. My world is made of cocks desperate to penetrate me. I am besieged by sperm. I feel as though I have little worth besides that which lies between my thighs — if I have any worth at all. They want me not for me, but for who might come out of me. It is all very discouraging.