This week, I have an excerpt from my newest work-in-progress to share. Trader Prince of Aleshtain is the second book in the Legends of Alcardia series. It follows the story of Captain Dhiabhan, who was introduced in Bane of Ashkarith. This is from the opening scene of the book.
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Eras tried not to toy with the hem of his tunic while he waited for the day’s events to begin. Why had he come to court today, again? Right. His father had insisted. He shot his father a hard glare from where he stood behind the throne. Didn’t even have the decency to have a chair, let alone a proper throne, erected for his heir. His scowl deepened, and his gut clenched. Worse still, he was here just so he could watch the slave masters parade their newest wares about for his father.
Anything for Rabhor Thilain.
His stomach flipped. Which unlucky girl would end up in his father’s harem this afternoon? He closed his eyes, swallowing back bile. He just hoped it would be over soon. The five minutes they’d been waiting stretched out until it felt like twenty. How much longer until he could be done with this? Sweat trickled down his back, and he glanced at his father.
The doors finally swung open just as he couldn’t take any more. The page strode in and bowed stiffly. Eras eyed the man’s ballooning pants and striped shoes. The newest fashion in court? Ridiculous as usual.
“My liege, the merchants have brought their wares for your examination.” The page stepped to the side and nodded to the men waiting a few feet down the hall.
They made it sound so benign. As if they weren’t trafficking humans. They used nice, pretty words to hide the ugly, vicious truth. Typical. His attention fixed on the slaves being prodded into the room. He let his gaze wander over the row of women. His eyes snagged on the last woman in line. Two guards flanked her, holding her arms and dragging her in. The others before her had walked in placidly, their heads down and shoulders slumped.
But not this one. Each step, she took was controlled and tightly contained as if she would burst into flight at any moment. She walked between her captors with her head held high, a glower on her pretty features. It was as if she was born a goddess and was disgusted by the banality of the humans beneath her. That made him snicker. Maybe he should take up poetry.
His father glared at him, and he sobered, returning his focus to the line of slaves. He shifted from one foot to the other. Where was she from? Not from any of the mainland kingdoms. Perhaps from one of the colonies Argos had established on the Rithweald? No, not with that complexion. Her blue-black hair reminded him more of the ambassadors from Faelkish. Strange. How had they captured her?
She met his gaze with her smoldering gold eyes. Swallowing, he glanced over at his father. The man’s gaze had also settled on the girl with defiance in her eyes. Rith curse him! He’d ruin the girl. Eras gritted his teeth and clenched his fists at his sides. Yes, his father would destroy her.
But what was he to do about it? Forcing his fists to relax, he stared at the polished wooden doors behind the traders. He couldn’t intervene here.
The slave traders’ ring leader stepped forward, his head still bowed in respect. “Your Eminence, do you see anything you like?”
His father’s gaze raked over the line of slaves. “You brought me a rather dull lot this time.”
Dull? Eras raised a brow. None of them appeared dull to him. Unless, by dull his father meant they had no will. That, at least, was true.
“Surely there is something that can interest you? We have, for instance, this lovely young woman from Brithos. She was taken on a recent raid.” The trader gestured to a green-eyed slip of a girl.
Barely fifteen, Eras guessed.
“Or perhaps you prefer a bit more exotic option.” The slaver turned to the woman who’d been last in line. “We have this one from Faelkish. She’s a bit of a hellion, but I’m sure your Grace could tame her.”
Did he really have to be so smug? Eras clenched his fists at his sides. No one should tame her at all. How dare they speak this way about human beings?
“Let the Crown Prince choose first.” His father waved a hand at him.
He froze. Let him pick? His father knew he wouldn’t take a slave. The defiant girl’s gaze fixed on his again. He swallowed and broke eye contact. Had he imagined the hope in her eyes? “I see nothing of interest.” He peeked at the girl from beneath lowered lashes.
Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes darted to his father.
“Well, I see only one that I like. I’ll take the Faelkish—”
Eras’s heart wrenched, and his chest tightened. He could stop this. He could keep at least one safe from his father. Maybe. He stepped forward, holding up a hand. “Wait!”
His father shifted on his throne and raised a brow with a huff. “What is it?”
“I—” Eras met her now-blank stare. “I’ve changed my mind. Maybe it’s time I took on a slave or two after all.”
“And?” Rabhor drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair.
“I’m heir to the throne…” He stared at the girl. She’d probably hate him for what he was about to say, but it was the only way to save her from Rabhor’s clutches. “It’s about time I built my harem. The future God-king incarnate shouldn’t be without wives and concubines.” He hoped there was a suitable amount of contempt in his voice. Hoped his father would know that even in this, Eras was mocking him.
The answering frown told him the last comment had done its job. He bit his lip and glanced at the girl in green. Her expression went from hopeful to vacant. But a spark of anger still simmered in her empty stare. His gut clenched, and he tried not to think about how she must view him now. A necessary evil.
He offered his father a saccharine smile. “As such, I’d like the Faelkishian girl.”
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That’s it for this week! Do you guys have anything you’re working on? If so, feel free to share in the comments below as always!
