CHAPTER TWO
1204 Words
Silas muttered under his breath, wondering how he had pissed his sister off to such an extent that he was stuck with this distasteful duty. He stared at his charge in disgust. She just knew he had a bit of a tender heart when it came to animals in distress, and assumed he would feel pity for this…thing...
He frowned and crossed his arms, watching as the weird one tried to wash herself in the cold waters of the river.
Grudgingly he had to admit to himself that the girl just looked like them, if not for that gods-awful coloring. She was finely built, slender in bone, but had the curves in the right places. But when Silas eyes fell to the pathetic ribs and winced.
He sighed impatiently as the girl struggled to wash, her arms weak after being bound for so long, her movements ineffectual. Good gods, this was going to take forever, and he had things to do this night, certain…pursuits he was interested in.
He waded into the waters and snatched the soap from the girls’s hands, catching her as she shied away from Silas and almost fell.
“Stand still,” Silas snapped impatiently, and immediately the girl froze as if conditioned to that command.
Silas began to lather the soap all over the girl's body and scrub vigorously. The girl stood frozen, blue eyes watching him with fear in their depths, but confusion also. Silas got the feeling that she was not used to being touched, which made sense the way she looked.
Hair and dirt floated downstream with the scrubbing, and with lips thinned in distaste Silas washed her body thoroughly, rinsing it many times before moving to the girl’s hair, then telling her to lift one leg at a time as the cleansing continued.
He sluiced the filthy form again and again, the girl sputtering for breath under the deluge, before critically deciding that she was as clean as possible under the circumstances. At least her smell would be bearable.
Silas beckoned her from the waters, and the girl obeyed without question, looking half drowned as she followed, shivering.
They walked back to Silas pavilion, where she threw a towel at the prisoner and watched as she worked to dry herself. Wet, the girl looked even more starved, and a faint feeling of pity wafted through Silas mind. Odd the girl might be, but surely her own tribe…
He stared with curiosity as the hair dried, then he walked forward to lay a hand on the girl’s back, amazed at the pure, soft white pale color of her skin. It was almost…pretty, like jade, pure, translucent...
“What is your name?” He was surprised at his own question. Where had that come from, and why should it matter?
Blue eyes stared at him from under worried brows, then dropped.
“Lucia,” came the low whisper, almost inaudible.
Silas grunted, almost annoyed that he had asked. It made the girl too…real. Too much a person, instead of a curiosity.
He stepped back and rummaged around in his clothes chest until he found an old comb and an old pair of shirt and trousers.
He handed it to Lucia abruptly, and the girl timidly took it from him, she slowly put on clothes and begin the tedious process of working through her matted hair. As it began to dry in the hot air, it turned into a silver mass down her back, and Silas watched in fascination as the mats slowly disappeared and the…beauty…came forth.
He blinked, wondering at his own thoughts. Surely such a difference could not be called beautiful, yet…
“Give me the comb.” His voice came out harsher then he intended, and he scowled as Lucia flinched away as though expecting a blow. He supposed he should glory in the girl’s fear, seeing that her tribe was their greatest foe, but Silas found no pleasure in such a thing. Lucia looked like she had suffered as much by their hand as Silas' own family. To give her more abuse would put him in the same category as Val himself, something none of Silas' tribe would ever wish to emulate.
He had to pull the girl’s hair outward to start the combing, for it was clamped hard on its end. By the time he finished patiently working out the knots and tangles, the silvery fall of hair reached the floor.
“I am going to cut the end off, or it will only trail in the dirt.”
Lucia shot him a shocked look, and Silas shook his head. “Not much, just enough to keep it out of the muck. All right?”
The girl stared at him in astonishment, and for a moment Silas could not imagine why. Then it occurred to him that nobody had ever asked Lucia whether she minded something done to her or not.
The hair was trimmed two hands width off the ground, and with such freedom, it waved about in silver clouds as Lucia moved it back and forth nervously, and it changed the look of her drastically. She actually looked neat and clean rather than a bedraggled mess.
Silas fastened her wrists together once more, this time before her, but ensured that there was padding within so the thin wrists were not bruised any more than needed be.
“Thank you.” The whispered words made Silas look up sharply at his charge. The girl flushed uneasily, and bowed her head again.
Silas shook his head as he led the prisoner out of the tent.
He led him across the encampment and into the Great Tent, hearing the sounds of feasting. The sounds of revelry paused as the two of them appeared in the doorway, and Silas felt as much as saw Lucia freeze in terror as all eyes fell on her.
Silence.
Ara lifted her hand and gestured them forth, and Silas had to pull Lucia bodily as the girl shrank back from her enemies.
When at last they stood before Ara, Lucia began to sink to her knees, but she stopped her, standing up from her chair. Ara walked around her, touching her hair, obviously fascinated.
Even Leastor had leaned on one elbow on the table, staring at the transformation with open mouth. Daze
The girl was…ethereal, not quite real.
Suddenly, Ara looked over at Lestor, a grin curling her lips as she saw his expression. “You need a servant, brother. I will gift her back to you.”
Lestor stared at her incredulously, as did Silas. Silas, because he was sure that his older brother would simply kill the girl, and Lestor, probably because he thought the same.
At last Lestor simply sighed and shook his head at her. “As you wish, sister of mine.”
Lucia sank down to the ground before her new master, fighting back tears. Clearly she had read Lestor's expression, as well. She knew that she would die, sooner than later...
But what's the difference, really.
Her own people didn't want someone like her. Even her father hated him. What's the point in living if no one would want someone like her...
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- Writer
