Forged in Dragonfire (Flame of Requiem Book 1) Read Free Page B

chest
wide. Her wings were hobbled, her magic hidden. His swan wings spread wide. She
wore rags and chains. He stood clad in priceless gilded armor. She was a
creature broken, whipped, her soul shattered. He was a being of pale beauty and
light and dominion. And yet Elory thought of Requiem and stared at him,
refusing to kneel again, refusing to cower, refusing to be a slave.
    I stand in chains,
the daughter of many generations of slaves, and yet I still remember Requiem. I
am still proud .
    Ishtafel's brow furrowed
as he stared at her.
    "Look at how she
raises her chin, how she stares at me, not at her feet." Ishtafel tilted
his head. "A proud one. Not yet broken."
    Ishtafel's companion,
Shani the overseer, snarled. "I will break her, Your Excellence."
    The seraph raised her
whip and Elory winced, expecting the pain, but Ishtafel reached out, staying
Shani's hand.
    "Wait."
    Elory released a shaky
breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She stared up at the seraph, her
chest rising and falling, her arms shaking. Sweat dripped into her eyes, and she felt blood trickling down her back, and the damn fear wouldn't
stop crawling along her spine.
    Ishtafel stepped
closer. Elory felt as small as a child before this giant of a god. He reached
down his hand, a hand large enough to encase her head. While the rest of him
was all wealth and might—the gilded armor, the pale wings, the flowing
hair—Elory noticed that his hand was not soft. Calluses covered his fingers,
and thin scars trailed across his palm. The hand of a warrior.
    With that large hand,
he rubbed tar off her brow, the movement almost like a caress. He stared down
upon her, and in his golden eyes, Elory saw herself reflected—covered in tar,
sweat, and blood, a young collared woman with a shaved head and dark eyes, a
slave, only a slave with dreams of ancient glory.
    "You do not look
away?" Ishtafel said, his voice soft, his words only for her. "Most
slaves avert their eyes from the sight of a god."
    "I did not avert
my eyes from Mayana's corpse," Elory said. "I will not avert them
from you either."
    "Impudent
worm!" Shani raised her whip again, teeth bared. The seraph stood nearly
two feet taller than Elory, her arms strong, her whip crackling with fire.
"I'm going to flay you alive and toss your skinless corpse into the tar."
    "You will do no
such thing," Ishtafel said, voice calm. "Lower your whip, Shani. This
slave intrigues me. Not yet broken. Still some spirit to her." He smiled
thinly, and he stroked Elory's cheek. His fingers came back sooty. "Once
the dirt is removed, and she's clad in livery, her hair growing longer, her
body perfumed, she would do well in the palace. There's fire to this one.
There's strength to her. I like that." His smile widened—a thin, predatory
smile, the smile a wolf gives a sheep before devouring it. "She will last
longer than the previous one."
    Elory's eyes stung. Her
heart felt ready to shatter her ribs and thump into the dirt. She turned her
head and saw the corpse still there. Mayana's eyes were still open, staring at
Elory, her face twisted with pain. Her teeth had been bashed in. Her eye socket
had shattered. Drying blood soaked her fine cotton livery. The finger marks
around her throat were long, powerful—the same fingers that had just caressed
Elory's cheek.
    "Sir, I . .
." Elory gulped. "I know not of the palace's ways. I'm only a yoke
bearer, sir. I—"
    "You will address
him as 'Your Excellence!'" Shani said, and now her whip did lash. The
fiery throng slammed into Elory's chest. Her rags tore. So did her skin. She
cried out, wobbling, nearly dropping her yoke. If she spilled the bitumen, she
knew the overseers would not allow her a quick death. Bitumen was the glue that
held the empire of Saraph together. To lose buckets of the black gold meant a burning
in Malok, the bronze bull on the hill. Recalcitrant slaves cooked within the
belly of the idol, their screams flowing through pipes and rising from the
bull's