Kameron Franklin: Maiden of Pain

Ythnel wiped her palms on her dress and bit her lip. Prisus noticed the nervous gestures and smiled. "You'll do fine, Ythnel. I'm sure Iuna will like you. She's really a good girl. It's just that her mother's death hit her hard. It hit us all pretty hard."

Prisus sighed and looked out the window of the carriage. Ythnel gazed out as well, thinking the sights might help her to relax. They had left the docks behind and passed a solitary tower in the center of a well-tended garden. Four giant trees surrounded the tower, obscuring all but a single window at the top from view.

"The tower of Naeros Karanok," Ythnel breathed.

"So, you are versed in the politics of our city," Prisus chuckled. "Let's test that knowledge, shall we? Anything more you can tell me about the ruling family?"

"From what I understand, Naeros is also known as the Marker because he likes to disfigure prisoners. He's the grandson of Maelos Karanok, the family patriarch and ruler of the city, though that's mostly in name only. Jaerios, Maelos's son and Naeros's father, is the real source of power. I believe Jaerios also has a daughter, but I know nothing about her."

"Excellent." Prisus nodded. "What else do you know about Luthcheq politics?"

Ythnel thought for a moment as the tower faded from view. "The Karanoks have decreed that all arcane magic is outlawed. Wizards and sorcerers, and those who associate with them, are summarily executeda policy that has caused tension with neighbors and hindered the economy of the city."

"An understandable point of view for one who comes from a nation ruled by wizards, and not without merit," Prisus conceded.

The carriage pulled into a private courtyard and stopped in front of a twstory building squeezed between its neighbors. It had a flat roof and an unremarkable exterior. A short flight of stairs led up to a plain but sturdy wooden door. Ythnel followed Prisus in.

"Iuna, precious, I'm back," Prisus called out when he entered. For a moment, they stood in silence in the middle of the living area. A beautiful woven rug covered most of the stone floor. Two sofas and a chaise lounge formed a semicircle before a marble fireplace where a small fire burned lazily. A doorway beyond the sofas led into a dining room.

"Papa!" A young girl of about eleven summers stood at the top of a staircase to the right. She wore a knee-length blue dress with lace ruffles at the shoulders rather than sleeves. Her dark hair was done up much like that of the women Ythnel had seen in the streets.

Prisus strode to the base of the stairs and opened his arms, catching Iuna as she leaped down the last two steps. He gave her a twirling hug then set her down. "I want you to meet someone," he said, turning her to face Ythnel. "This is Ythnel. She's going to help you with your studies."

Iuna's smile suddenly turned into a pout. "I thought we decided it was just going to be you and me, J? apa."

"Now, Iuna, you know how much I want that. But I can't always be here because of business, so you need someone to look after you when I'm gone."

Iuna crossed her arms over her chest, unconvinced. "I don't like her. Find a different one."

"There isn't anyone else," Prisus sighed. "Just give it some time, precious. Why don't you show her around the house? That will give you both a chance to get to know each other."

"All right, Papa. I'll do it for you." Iuna stood on her tiptoes and gave Prisus a kiss.

"Excellent." He smiled. "Now, I have to run to the Trade Center, but I'll be back by dinner. Have a good afternoon."

"Good-bye, Papa." Iuna waved as Prisus headed back outside. Then she turned to Ythnel. Her lips were pinched, and anger smoldered in her brown eyes. "Follow me."

Iuna led Ythnel up the stairs and down the hall to a small room with a single bed, a dresser, and a desk. Ythnel's belongings were sitting on the bed.

"This is your room. Not much" Iuna sniffed" but plenty for a slave." She looked pointedly at Ythnel then pushed past her. On the other side of the hall, they stopped before a closed door. Iuna opened it to reveal another bedroom. Dolls sat upon a chest at the foot of a four-poster bed. The floor was covered with several matching rugs. An elaborate vanity stood near a large window in one wall that looked out into the courtyard.

"This is my room. Slaves are not allowed in here without my permission." Iuna stepped into her room and turned back to Ythnel. "And that concludes the tour." She slammed the door shut.

It had been a long day, and Ythnel was glad to finally be in her room. She moved about in silence, unpacking her things. The emotional turmoil of the day manifested itself in a physical draining of energy, and sleep beckoned. Ythnel sat on the bed, fighting the temptation. It would be so easy just to lie back and close her eyes, to forgo the evening prayer for much needed rest. She wasn't at the manor anymore. No one would know.

I would know, her conscience scolded. And Loviatar would know.

Ythnel picked herself up and undressed. She took the whip from around her neck and knelt on the floor, her back to the door. The words of the evening prayer began to form in her mind, but she could not focus. Iuna's petulant face shattered Ythnel's concentration every time she closed her eyes. The spoiled brat infuriated her. Yet there was something about the girl that reminded Ythnel of herself. And there was the fact that her mother had been a Loviatan. Perhaps Ythnel's being here was a part of some greater purpose. Perhaps the Maiden of Pain had plans for the young girl.

First things first, she told herself. You've been hired to train this girl how to be a lady. Focus on and accomplish that before you start imagining you're here on some divinely ordained mission.

She sighed. It was an arduous task set before her, regardless. She would not be able to do it alone.

"Oh, Loviatar, the Willing Whip, I pray for the strength and wisdom to discipline this child. Let me help her, as I was helped."

Ythnel sat quietly for a moment, looking inward for that center of peace and order. A weight lifted from her heart, and she knew her supplication had been answered. With a calmed mind, she quietly began the chant of the evening prayer, letting the rhythm sooth and refresh her. She raised the whip.

A creak from the floorboards outside her door jerked Ythnel's attention away from the prayer.

"I thought we agreed to knock first, Master Saelis." She remained crouched, her head bowed while she waited for an answer. None came. "Master Saelis?" This time she rose. As she did, Ythnel heard the patter of little feet running away.

When Ythnel made her way downstairs, she found Prisus and Iuna already seated at the table eating morningfeast. A place was set on Prisus's left, opposite Iuna. Assuming it was for her, Ythnel slid into the empty seat.

"Good morning, Ythnel," Prisus said, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "We wondered if you were going to show." A middle-aged woman in an apron appeared with a plate of steaming sausage and two eggs, which she set before Ythnel. "I don't believe you've met Libia, our cook, yet." Libia gave a small curtsy before disappearing back into the kitchen.

"I apologize for my tardiness, Master Saelis. It seems I overslept. I will submit to whatever penance you see fit." There was no regret in

Ythnel's voice. It had been an honest mistake. She knew the importance of discipline, though, and did not fear punishment. Even a minor transgression like this received some sort of flogging back at the manor.

Prisus waved her off as he lifted a glass of water to his lips.

"Perhaps if you did not stay up all night casting spells, you would be able to get up with the rest of us," Iuna chided.

Water sprayed from Prisus's mouth