Excerpt

Chapter 1

Zephyr warily eyed the menacing cyclones dancing hypnotically in the distance as he and his party rode along the well-trod trade route through the western outskirts of the Realm of Wind. Then he turned his gaze upon his primary charge, Princess Brisa, the second child of the royal family, and his gaze grew even warier as he took in the enraptured glee in her eyes as she watched the cluster of spinning cyclones.

The plains there on the country’s outskirts were filled with hot air that spilled in from the intense deserts of the neighboring country that butted up right beside them, the Kingdom of Earth, which mixed with the moist, cool air that dominated much of the Wind, making it a hotbed for constant, multiple, monstrously powerful tornadoes. Many a wielder of the wind element came to the plains to test their mettle, and nearly as many went missing or were returned home in nothing but pieces, torn apart by savage winds that their meager magical skills had no hope of taming.

It was often the young and foolish who attempted such ridiculous trials, and though nineteen and arguably an adult, Princess Brisa’s youthful ventures and notoriously bull-headed recklessness marked her as likely such a candidate if only she could escape constant supervision. Even as Zephyr watched her, Princess Brisa began drifting her horse to the right, veering off toward the cyclones.

“My lady!” Zephyr yelped hastily. He kicked his horse up into a smart trot and brought him along the right side of Princess Brisa’s horse to redirect her path.

Princess Brisa gave him a stern look. “Zephyr,” she whined, drawing out his name long and pitifully, “I could try at least once. We have the time!”

“Not a chance,” Zephyr said sternly, eyes steadily forward.

Princess Brisa began poking him insistently in the arm. “I am the princess, you know,” she said in a teasingly bratty voice. “You’re supposed to do whatever I tell you.” She flashed him a cheeky grin when he turned to meet her eye.

Zephyr couldn’t help but return the grin. Princess Brisa wasn’t a bad girl, something he’d had ample time to learn after eight years of being her personal bodyguard, ever since she’d been eleven and he’d been twenty. Professionalism aside, she was like a little sister to him, a sentiment that made his duty all the easier…and more harrowing. “You know as well as I do that my duty is to protect your life first and foremost, my lady,” he countered, “not your whims and wishes.”

“Ugh,” the young princess groaned, eyeballing the cyclones again. “I could take them. C’mon, just the smallest one right there,” she wheedled as she pointed. “Please?”

“No.” Zephyr watched the princess in his peripheral vision as she sulked slightly in her saddle. “Shouldn’t you be more focused on the meeting we’ll be having soon?” he prompted. “It’s very important that everything with Queen Sandra goes well and that your union proceeds as planned.”

Princess Brisa waved her hand dismissively. “That’s all going to go just fine, Zephyr.”

Zephyr cast a bemused expression at her. “Oh really?” he asked. “Done all your preparation with your parents, I suppose.”

“Precisely,” she said primly. “But if you’re so concerned about it, let’s you and I chat about the details as well,” she said, gesturing between the two of them. “How do you feel about the proposed details of the treaty?”

Zephyr squirmed uncomfortably where he sat astride his own horse, who flicked his ears irritably as his rider jostled him. “You know I haven’t the ability to talk with you about such things, my lady,” he mumbled dropping his eyes to his hands, which were clenched around his reins. He hated when Princess Brisa did this, when she pretended he was anything more than hired muscle meant to use brute force to protect his betters and ensure peace and security. He wasn’t educated on the kinds of things someone from the ruling class needed to know.

This time, Princess Brisa outright punched him in the arm and glared at him when he looked up at her, shocked. “Don’t you give me that look,” she snapped. “And don’t give me any of that ‘all brawn no brains’ bullshit either. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, you’re no idiot, Zephyr, and I’ll not have you act like such or put yourself down.”

Zephyr sighed heavily, thinking back on his humble origins, living in a one-room unit of a building crammed in with his brother plus his mother, the floor made of dirt, their meager food not much better. There had been little enough coin to survive, much less for education. And then with his brother dead from an accident and his mother jaded out of any ability to care about anything, Zephyr had chosen to leave home at age sixteen, opting to join the military first, followed by the palace guard upon promotion after a lot of hard work.

After joining the palace guard had come the absolute shock of being chosen as the personal body guard for the youngest princess. It was a responsibility he’d never taken lightly, nor for granted. He remembered where he came from; he knew his station. It was just that Princess Brisa always seemed keen to forget it. “I’m just a man from th—”

“‘From the poor end of town,’” Princess Brisa interrupted, cutting him off with a roll of her eyes. “Yes yes, I’ve heard that a hundred times, and why you think I give a shit,” she continued crassly, “I’ll never know.” She looked at him pointedly, craning her head to force eye contact. “Four generations ago, my family were still slaves, Zephyr. My great-grandmother spent much of her life as one, and she told me everything about it. But that didn’t stop my family from prospering, just as many other former slaves did.” She stared at him intensely. “Where you come from doesn’t mean anything,” she murmured.

Zephyr couldn’t help but disagree. Where you came from meant a lot of things. Princess Brisa’s maternal line’s suffering through slavery was what had led them to be so instrumental toward the abolition of slavery, then their eventual merging with the royal family through marriage, and then their subsequent sympathy and care for the less fortunate of their kingdom, a mercy far greater than many of those who’d ruled the Wind before them.

Yes, as far as he could see, where one came from affected a great deal of things, just as no one would ever look at his background and accuse him of being intelligent. “That doesn’t…” Zephyr sighed in frustration, “…that doesn’t mean I know anything useful to discuss about these matters,” he mumbled.

Princess Brisa stopped her horse suddenly, causing a chorus of whinnies from the horses of the party traveling behind them who all had to unexpectedly stop too. She turned her horse pointedly toward the drifting columns of wind in the plains to their north. “You’re going to shut up and talk politics with me right now, Zephyr, or I’m going to go and try to wrangle the biggest, baddest cyclone I can find out there,” she growled.

Her eyes felt like they were boring directly into Zephyr’s soul, so intense he felt himself shriveling before her despite his being easily more than twice her size. Her words carried command and weight—she meant exactly what she said—and it was yet another reminder of what a powerful queen she would be if and when the planned alliance between the Realm of Wind and Kingdom of Earth came to fruition through her marriage to Queen Sandra.

Twisting his lips wryly in acknowledgment of his defeat, Zephyr scrambled for something he could say to salvage his pride. “How am I supposed to shut up and talk to you at the same time?” he quipped.

Princess Brisa snorted and brought her horse back in line with his again. “And you try to tell me that you aren’t smart,” she snarked right back, reaching out to pat his shoulder companionably. “Now, what do we think about what we’re going to do with this alliance? Obviously,” she continued, “putting an end to the slavery in the Earth is the most important part of the arrangement.”

Zephyr nodded easily in agreement. The concept of one human owning another had never made sense to him ever since he’d learned of it, and that his own country had only ended it barely one hundred years prior and another neighboring nation still allowed it was hard to stomach. “It’s good that Queen Sandra is seeking to accomplish that despite her country’s legacy,” he offered, “though from what it sounds like, she needs our help.”

Many of the officials in the Earth who held significant power weren’t pleased, to say the least, with the young queen’s insistence on major social reform, including the end of all slavery. And it would seem, finding herself facing significant opposition, Queen Sandra had chosen to reach out to her closest neighbor to request assistance—a choice made all the easier given the new marriage alliance between the Realm of Darkness and the Kingdom of Light as well as recent increased interaction between the Realm of Water and the Kingdom of Fire.

“She does,” Princess Brisa agreed. “Too many crusty old men who don’t want to let go of their free labor and easy wealth,” she grumbled.

Zephyr hid a smile at the young woman’s assessment. Though he sometimes wondered whether she really had enough experience and maturity to be tackling a situation of this magnitude, she certainly had the spirit for it. And regardless, there was no one else who could, given that her older sister was already slated to rule the Realm of Wind and that her only other sibling, her younger brother, was not to the Earth queen’s tastes. “And of course, there will be benefit to our country as well,” Zephyr added.

Princess Brisa nodded. “Increased trade in all those pretty jewels they mine!” she said gleefully.

Zephyr snorted. “And decreased air pollution from poor mining practices,” he added. Because of the unique nature of their nations bordering right on top of one another rather than being separated by the expanse of nothing known as the Void, which separated all the other countries, impact was felt at their borders, especially in poor air quality from mining debris cast into the air in the Kingdom of Earth and then caught and distributed throughout the Realm of Wind by the virulent air currents that blew throughout, especially on the far reaches, like in the plains they were currently passing.

“Yeah, that’s important too,” Princess Brisa said, though her eyes were fixed upon the brilliant emerald ring encircling one of her fingers, a token sent by Queen Sandra when she made her offer for a marriage alliance.

Zephyr worked his jaw anxiously and rode his horse a little closer to the princess once again so that he could lower his voice. “My lady….” He trailed off, uncertain what to say, much less how to say it.

Princess Brisa frowned at him, concerned. “What’s wrong, Zephyr?”

“Is this really what you want?” he blurted out.

Princess Brisa blinked in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

What was he talking about? He had no business interfering in the middle of a strategic political alliance, especially when he was sure the details were far more nuanced than he had any ability to understand. But regardless of how inappropriate it might be, he loved Princess Brisa and didn’t want her to end up unhappy. Not for anything. “I…I just want you to be safe and…and happy,” he said, looking away.

“Zephyr,” she said, her voice carrying a stern tone he was unfamiliar with, “isn’t your loyalty to the Realm of Wind?”

Rebellious thoughts surged through him, at the root of them all the memory of a spirited little girl with scraggly braided hair and skinned knees who squeezed his waist as hard as she could in a hug when introduced to her new bodyguard. “My loyalty is to you, my lady.” He hastened on as Princess Brisa’s eyes widened. “It’s just…you’ve never even met Queen Sandra. And she’s older than you!”

Princess Brisa snorted. “Zephyr, she’s younger than you are,” she pointed out.

“And you’re younger than her!” Zephyr insisted again, his worry slipping past professionalism into slight hysteria. He deflated slightly, his jaw working anxiously. “I just…I’m just worried,” he mumbled quietly. “Are you really sure that you want to marry her?”

Princess Brisa pulled her horse to a stop, once again halting their procession, and reached for Zephyr as he did the same. Wordlessly, she awkwardly pulled him into a hug from their seated positions on their horses, her grip just as tight as it was so many years prior when they first met. “I’ve never deserved someone so good as you,” she whispered in his ear. Then she sat back and made him meet her eyes. “I am doing something good with this marriage, Zephyr. Finding some purpose, helping what is unaccountably a good woman to do a really good thing, something that will help so many people. She needs my help to do this, and I’ll be helping our people too. I have to do this,” she said with pragmatic gentleness.

Zephyr nodded, throat too tight to say any words. She really had grown up right in front of him, and he’d nearly missed it.

Her grin grew wilder, and her eyes danced with mirth. “Besides,” she added in a loud, teasing whisper, “I’ve heard Queen Sandra is really hot!” She cackled with glee and kicked her horse up into a canter.

Zephyr exhaled heavily in fond exasperation, shaking his head lightly before bringing his horse into a gallop to catch up to her. At the same time, a wave of his hand commanded the other guards in their group to do the same.

Zephyr kept his eyes upon Princess Brisa’s already distant form as he pursued her toward the Earth border that was already visible. He recognized her flippant attitude for what it was, a shield to hide her nerves. After all, even powerful conviction and commitment couldn’t completely quash such feelings. All that meant was that he needed to be sure that he stayed focused on her and his responsibility to protect her in every way possible. Nothing else could be more important.

~~~

Kaj moaned lustily as a cock roughly pounded into his body fast and deep and rough. No consideration was given for his pleasure, but he moaned loudly and performatively anyway. After all, his pleasure and enjoyment weren’t the point.

“Yes,” a familiar, hateful voice groaned loudly in his ear. “Fucking take it.”

Kaj bit back a wince as the sharp thrusts in and out of his body took his breath away and filled him with jolts of pain. The wiry, sweat-soaked man above him gripped his forearms tightly as he pinned them forcefully against the mattress either side of Kaj’s head. Kaj wanted nothing more than for this to be over, so he wrapped his legs around the man’s hips, trying to urge his speed to quicken so he’d hopefully come faster.

The man laughed darkly and slobbered a lick along Kaj’s neck. “You like that, huh,” he growled. “You like my cock deep in your guts. You need it. Say it!” he snapped, gripping Kaj’s arms harder.

“Yes, Master!” Kaj cried out dutifully. “I need your cock!”

“You want it harder?”

It took every ounce of Kaj’s control not to sob. He just wanted it over. “Yes, Master Damek. Please, fuck me harder!” He bit his lip as the thrusts impossibly grew rougher, then moaned quietly in relief as Master Damek shuddered to a stop where he lay atop him, hot ropes of cum filling him unpleasantly.

Master Damek groaned long and loud, then immediately pushed up off of Kaj. With a heavy-handed slap to his ass that echoed around the room and a “good boy” chuckled harshly, Kaj’s master headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

Finally given reprieve, Kaj closed his legs and rolled stiffly to his side, tucking in on himself as he pulled the bedding up over his body. His own breathing shook heavily, hitching as random throbs of pain made themselves known in various areas of his body, though it wasn’t enough to convince his neglected erection to flag yet. His cock ached with a different pain, but he didn’t dare touch it; he knew the consequences.

Kaj’s pleasure was rarely his master’s focus when he fucked him. Even after five years of serving the man, Kaj still wasn’t sure which was worse: being left unsatisfied over and over again, or being forced to find pleasure on the cock of a man he loathed. In the end, it didn’t really matter. Regardless of the outcome, his role and expected behaviors were the same, to use his body to slake his owner’s lust however demanded and to never give him a reminder that his attentions were unwanted. It had taken precious little time for Kaj to learn that lesson when he sold himself to Master Damek when he was orphaned at age fifteen.

Kaj sighed and turned his gaze toward the glass doors to the balcony. Even so early, the sky was a bright, joyful blue, a promise of a pleasant day. Perhaps Kaj would be left alone long enough to spend a little time relaxing outside.

The sound of the shower shutting off wrenched Kaj’s attention back to the door to the bathroom, and he held his breath as he listened to his master moving around. The man’s movements were languid and slow, and he hummed a faint tone as he moved to the vanity to take care of his hair and face. Kaj allowed himself a careful, quiet sigh. He probably wouldn’t be forced to serve again before his master left for business, nor would he likely be dragged along with him for the whole day. Thank the gods for small favors.

As fluids leaked along his abused, aching flesh, Kaj let his eyes slip closed again and pressed his face into the sheets. Never once would he have guessed while growing up that this was what would become of his life. Of course, living alone just with his mother, poverty stricken, had been an insecure existence, but he’d always assumed that she would live well into his adult years just like everyone else’s parents seemed to. He didn’t expect her to get sick, much less to continue being sick and waste away until her soul left her body as he clutched it in his arms.

Hastily, Kaj wiped his tears against the pillowcase and pushed all memories of his mother away. They were more painful than anything Master Damek had done to him, even the moment the man’s ensnaring lies were revealed. Promises of being a house slave meant only to focus on cleaning and upkeep had been dashed away moments after the slave collar was latched around Kaj’s throat and he was dragged to his master’s bedroom and thrown onto the bed. Training had begun immediately, and Kaj had learned quickly.

Begging and pleading had done nothing but bring more pain…and undeniable proof that what was happening to him was both unwanted and out of his control. At least when he complied and played the role that Master Damek wanted, he could sometimes fool even himself too. And, in truth, he knew he should consider himself lucky, because he’d seen other bed slaves before whose masters preferred to hurt them, who liked to hear them scream and see them cry.

A knock at the door drew Kaj’s attention, and he shrank further under the sheets until he was nearly fully covered, peering with keen wariness as his master, now clothed, went to answer it. On the other side of the door awaited Master Damek’s right-hand man, Clay. “Good morning, sir,” he said grimly. “The group from the Wind has crossed the borders. At the rate they’re traveling, they’ll arrive in the city around the evening meal.”

Master Damek sneered. “Taking their sweet time, are they?” he seethed. “Should do one better and just never come.” He made to shut the door in his man’s face, but narrowed his eyes at Clay’s pinched expression. “What else?” he demanded.

Clay winced apologetically. “Queen Sandra has requested your presence in the throne room,” he added. “She’s…she’s wanting to talk about your mines and why you haven’t shut them down yet.”

Master Damek bared his teeth. “That fucking bitch. Actually sent spies out to check my compliance? Her father would never have done such a thing.”

“Her father would never have taken even a step down this heinous path of hers,” Clay pointed out.

Master Damek rubbed his eyes in annoyance. “Fine. I’ll be down there eventually.”

Clay worked his jaw nervously. “The queen says immediately, my lord.”

Master Damek’s eyes bugged out in outrage. “The bitch is half my age, and yet still, every chance she gets, she dares make demands of me?” He paused eyes casting around the room as he clearly debated how far he could push his insubordination.

When his eyes fell upon Kaj, still barely visible beneath the bed covers, a cruel smile curled through Master Damek’s lips, leaving Kaj’s stomach to clench painfully. “You’re lucky all you have to worry about is being a good pair of holes,” he crooned cruelly. “Pathetic,” he muttered with a shake of his head. Finally, he turned away, donning his boots and waistcoat as he shooed Clay through the door ahead of him. “Fine fine, let’s just get this over with,” he grumbled. “And then we’ll round up the rest of the boys to see if we can’t figure out some way to derail this plan of hers.”

As soon as both men were gone, Kaj slowly released a shaky breath and let the bedding fall back. Harsh words like that, he could easily take. They didn’t really hurt, not anymore; words like that lost their power once a person already knew what they were, after all. He’d much rather those callous reminders than to be at the mercy of Master Damek’s frustrated, impotent rage.

Now with the assurance that Master Damek would be away for some time, Kaj’s heart felt lighter, and he slipped from the bed. Ignoring the aches and pains of his body as well as the sticky wetness coating his ass and legs, Kaj pulled a thin house robe around him and stepped out onto the balcony.

Instinctively, his eyes turned east toward the Realm of Wind. Of course, this far away, he couldn’t see it, but he could dream of it. He let his eyes slip closed, taking a deep breath. The air of the Earth was hot, heavy, and stagnant, the sun beating down on the arid desert rocks and sands and raising the temperature even more powerfully as it radiated up from the ground. The far southern reaches of the Kingdom of Earth contained richer soil softened by rain that supported the kingdom’s farming needs, but the majority of the country was sandstone with harder bedrock beneath.

Kaj tried to push away the feeling of heavy air sitting on his skin and instead imagine what wind would feel like caressing his skin and ruffling his hair. Of course, sometimes they had light air movement through the area, just as any of the other elemental regions would, but nothing like what true wind must feel like.

His mother had used to regale him with tales of the Wind when he was a little boy, telling him of gales of wind that blew hard and relentlessly from one direction, never letting up. And she’d told him about cyclones! Massive columns of wind dirtied by the debris they sucked up as they spun rapidly and destroyed anything in their paths. Awestruck, his little mouth hanging open in wonder as he forgot his lingering hunger after a meager meal before bed, he’d asked her once if she’d ever seen them for herself. And, brushing his soft, overly long locks back from his eyes, she’d smiled wanly and told him “only once.”

It wasn’t until many years later, once he was older and struggling to hold everything together as she slowly wasted away into an early grave, that Kaj had finally learned the truth. Though fortunate enough not to have ever been a slave in the traditional sense, Kaj’s mother had been viewed as little more than property by the abusive man who’d fathered Kaj. Early in her pregnancy, filled with fear at what he might do to their child, Kaj’s mother had fled, dreaming of freedom carried on winds in a place so far away that surely that man wouldn’t find her.

But find her he did, barely across the border, and he’d dragged her back home, hurting her so badly she’d nearly lost Kaj and had lost any physicality to do much work to support herself or her child. The man’s untimely death had freed her from further abuse, but the damage was done, the spark of hope in her dimmed to nothing more than fanciful stories as she used up the rest of her life trying to support a child she’d loved fiercely despite the monster his father had been.

Eyes stinging and throat tightening, Kaj gave up trying to imagine the Wind, sinking to his knees as his grief became too great. He missed his mother so terribly it sometimes felt like a gaping maw eating him from the inside out. And he lamented her fate and his own, knowing how much she’d despair to know that he’d landed himself somehow in a position even far worse than the one she’d been in. At least she’d never sold away her freedom. Kaj swallowed back tears that threatened to fall. How disappointed and ashamed of him would she be if she could see him now?

Kaj shook his head, choking back a sob. Who cared if the concept of wind felt like freedom, and thus it was fitting that people of such a region and element were the ones coming now with the hopes of changing his homeland, of putting an end to slavery? The chances of them succeeding with people like Master Damek in opposition must be slim, and even if they did, such freedoms would never extend to someone like Kaj, and why should they? After all, he had no skills beyond allowing others to use his body as they saw fit. A “good pair of holes,” as Master Damek was so fond of reminding him.

Staggering back to his feet, Kaj angrily dashed his hands across his face to dry it and pivoted on his heel, returning back inside. He headed for the bathroom, his jaw set determinedly as he stepped into the shower to cleanse his body. He needed to be ready for whenever Master Damek next demanded him. If he had only one use, only one purpose, then he would at least do it well. And if Kaj’s teeth cut into his lower lip as he fought back feelings he couldn’t bear to acknowledge? Well, at least it would only plumpen that lip, giving his master something more to latch onto as he tore everything he wanted from his property.

~~~

Several hours later, Kaj was startled violently from a despondent doze on the couch when his master exploded back in the room with an uproarious growl.

“I can’t believe it,” Master Damek raged as he slammed the door shut behind him. “Expecting me—me!—to be a member of the crowd waiting to welcome those intruders from the Wind.” Rage and violence and danger poured from Master Damek, potent in his tone and body language.

Apprehensive, Kaj faintly tucked in on himself, mindful of his master’s temper as he thundered through the room like an earthquake. At the same time, Kaj kept his movements as minimal and unobtrusive as possible, reluctant to make himself known. Not that it would make much difference; his master never forgot the existence of his favorite outlet, after all.

Master Damek ripped off various articles of his formal wear aggressively as he stomped his way to the far side of the room. “I don’t care what she wants,” he grumbled to himself, “I am not going to be another of those simpering jackasses just drooling at the mere thought of bootlicking those foreigners, and I will not let them change our way of life for no damn good reason.”

Kaj snorted faintly. As if the Earth’s current way of life was acceptable, or even tolerable for anyone beyond the super-elite who were buffered by status and money.

Suddenly, Master Damek’s eyes landed on Kaj where he sat huddled on the couch by the window, his knees tucked underneath his chin. Kaj’s blood chilled ominously within his veins, and he froze, like prey trapped within a predator’s hungry gaze.

“There you are!” Master Damek growled. “You know better than to sit there sniveling like a useless worm,” he snapped. “Get over here and put that little mouth of yours to work, whore.”

Kaj’s eyes automatically drifted downward to land on the hateful tent in Master Damek’s pants. Swallowing thickly, Kaj climbed off the couch and walked over to his master. Then he sank within himself in helpless resignation, much like he sank heavily to his knees at Master Damek’s feet as demanded.

“Yes, Master.”