LUCIA, THE SLAVE PRINCESS

CHAPTER ONE

Lucia lay where she had been placed, head bowed.

For the moment, they had forgotten her, as long as she stayed still and submissive. No one will notice her. Her body trembled every now and then as her grief overwhelmed her, but for the most part, she was simply numb.

The wind had picked up and blessedly began to blow the smell of burning flesh away. She swallowed hard against the nausea that welled up, then raised tear-damp eyes to the fortress.

Somewhere in there, her half-sister lay dead, a victim of revenge and hatred. The only one who had ever loved her, the gentlest soul she had ever known, and she had been killed for something she had never done.

Along with the rest of her family... Those she would not mourn.

People stopped before her, and she froze, breath suspended.

"Up." The command left no room for argument, not that she would have found the courage for it.

She gathered her feet beneath her and managed to get herself up, but her legs were so shaky she almost collapsed again. A hard hand took her arm and dragged her to standing, leaving bruises in its wake.

She looked up into the cold eyes of the man before her, shivering at the unyielding hatred that shone there. There was no mercy at all, no hope...

The only reason she still lived was the very coloring that had made her such an object of scorn in her own people.

The attacking force had been so taken aback by her appearance that they had spared her out of curiosity. Once that waned, she doubted she would be long for this world.

Covered in dirt and grime from working, her long white silvet hair matted and dull, tangled and knotted, she knew she was ugly in the extreme. The looks she received alternated between disgust and curiosity, but she was well used to that.

"Open your mouth."

Lucia hesitated in surprise, and that earned her a cuff to the head that almost sent her back to the ground. She obeyed then, cringing back as she hesitantly opened her mouth.

Something hard was jammed between her lips, and she jerked back as leather slipped over her head to hold it tightly in place.

Those around her laughed at her shock appearance. They had gagged her, an insult of high order, as though she were no more intelligent than an animal. The big piece of leather did not allow her to close her mouth, and when the large man jerked her forward, she whimpered from the pain.

She stumbled in the large one's wake, unable to balance properly with her arms tied brutally behind her, which had been long since numb.

She did not try to look back as they led her from the only home she had ever known. There had been no happiness there, and she had no expectation of any in the future...

* * *

Lesto barged into his sister Ara's pavilion, smirking at her glare of irritation. It had been a long, long day, and she had only just returned from the successful taking of the central fortress of Sakstyr Empire. It was evident that she wanted nothing more than food and to cleanse herself of the blood and mud that coated her from head to toe.

Lestor had been in charge of the attack on the northern hold, and he had been grimly pleased about that, for the last intelligence they had gained had indicated that their greatest foe and his family had been there but days before.

Ara had considered taking that hold herself, but it had made more sense for her to stay with the largest portion of the army and conquer the more strategically important central fortress.

She had already received word of Lestor's victory, but he could not resist teasing her. As the heir to the throne, she was far too serious as it was.

"I have brought you a gift," Lestor said.

Her glare wavered; her brows rose.

"We found the strangest creature during our conquest. I would show it to you. You can do what you want with it."

Her curiosity obviously roused, she rose, even though she looked so tired, and followed him out into the sunlight, the day's clouds having finally parted.

Lestor's honor guard stood about. One of them held the rope tied to a girl lying on the ground.

As she came closer, the prisoner looked up, catching her by surprise. She stopped abruptly.

Lestor grinned. "Blue eyes. Have you ever seen anything so ugly?" Then softly kicked at the form with his left foot. "Up."

The girl struggled to her feet, swaying with exhaustion, eyes downcast.

Lestor watched his sister look the girl over in shock. There was no brown on her at all under the dirt and grime. She was so pale skinned, not dark like them. Her hair white almost silver. She was altogether strange.

She reached out to touch her silvery, matted hair. The girl's eyes rolled with fear, but Lestor took the rope and held her firm as she touched where she willed.

The girl was unkempt as though never groomed. Her hair were untrimmed and overgrown. Whoever this strange girl was, she had obviously not been accepted any better by her own kin than she was by her captors.

Lestor heard her labored breathing and could smell and see the fear in her shaking limbs. Blue eyes rolled at Ara, mouth held open by the cruel leather piece, blood seeping down the side of her mouth. Her skin twitching at her touch, expecting further pain.

Ara stepped back, her expression unreadable.

Lestor drew his sword. "If you don't want her, we'll dispose of her."

Ara held up a hand. "Do not kill her yet. I want to know why she exists, what bloodline created this mistake."

Lestor's sword went back to its sheath, and he grinned at her once more. "She is but a curiosity. Wait until I show you our true gift to you..."

A roar of sound made her turn.

A huge prisoner was being literally dragged along through the mud as he fought his captors with waning strength.

Ara's eyes widened, then narrowed, her mouth curving into a cruel smile.

A whimper from the young white girl made Lestor look back.

The girl was staring at the new prisoner with a look of abject terror and took refuge behind Lestor, seemingly without thinking.

The guards threw the prisoner to the ground at Ara's feet and held him there. Wounds seeped brilliant red through the mud coating his ripped clothes.

One of the guards reached down to yank his head back by the hair so that he had to look up at her.

"Greetings, Val. We meet in better circumstances this time. You seem not to be the arrogant bastard I remember."

His only reply was a snarl, and he spit in her direction.

She tsked mockingly. "Not taking this well, are you, Val? You look good groveling at my feet though..."

Laughter came from all around them as the enemy King struggled futilely to reach her, his eyes red with rage. His gaze slid past her, then widened incredulously.

His rage deepened. "No," he whispered, and Lestor realized he was staring at the girl. "NO!" He struggled harder, as though he would attack if he could.

Ara and Lestor looked at each other with raised brows.

"You little b***h!" Val roared, lunging against the guards who held him back. "Of all of them, why do you yet live? You should have died first. You freak...you abomination, demon... Kill her!" he screamed at his captors. "Kill her!"

The girl cringed back into her captors, obviously thinking them less of a danger then the maddened king before her.

Ara watched with confusion while Lestor stalked forward and backhanded Val viciously, cutting off his ranting abruptly.

"Silence!" Lestor snapped harshly. "My Queen, give your orders."

She smiled. "Castrate him."

Val's head snapped back to look at her incredulously, then he went quite mad. Despite all his struggles, he could not prevent his left leg

from being caught and held as Lau unsheathed a wickedly sharp knife.

Lucia felt tears spring to her eyes, and she turned her head aside as the screams began. She wished she were strong enough to feel vindication and malice after the way Val had treated her, but all she could feel was sick revulsion at another's pain.

Fingers came beneath her chin and lifted her face up so that she had to meet Ara's eyes. A sharp knife cut the leather gag from her head, and she felt the agony wane as her jaw could finally close.

"Who is he to you, girl?" Her eyes were cold and hard.

Lucia swallowed with difficulty, but there was nothing in her that knew how to lie.

"He is my father." Lucia closed her eyes, and waited for the s***h of her blade. To death she knew will come soon...

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