Read Online Children of the Blood by Michelle Sagara West - Free Book Online Page B

fine, silver strand cut the line of her throat and sparkled in the sunlight. Her hair, like Lord Vellen’s, was pale and wintry; her eyes, like his, were icy blue. But her face was softer and sweeter, rounded where his was sharp, and her lips were turned up in a friendly smile.
    Darin hadn’t seen her before. In fact, since his arrival, he had not seen any of the masters. He stared down at his feet.
    “House mistress.”
    Korven separated herself from the ranks of the slaves and dropped to her knees in front of Lord Damion.
    “Lord Damion.” Her forehead touched the ground an inch away from the black leather of his boots.
    “You’ve taken the newer slaves well into hand. I’m pleased with their progress.”
    “Thank you, lord. How may we serve?”
    “Lady Cynthia wishes to acquire a new maid. Are there any among these that might be suitable?”
    Korven didn’t raise her head. “Yes, lord.”
    “Ah, good. You may rise.”
    “Thank you, lord.”
    “Father?” The Lady Cynthia’s voice was high and sweet.
    “Might I not choose my own?”
    Lord Damion frowned. “The house mistress knows the abilities of the slaves she directs, Cynthia. Would it not be best to leave the decision to her?”
    Cynthia frowned, but even the frown was delicate and pretty. “But Father, would you not trust my decision over that of a slave?”

    Lord Damion’s answering frown had none of the delicacy of his daughter’s. “Cynthia.”
    “Please?” Without waiting for an answer, she began to approach the ranks of the gathered slaves. “Do rise,” she said softly.
    Darin began to move, and Stev, from behind, grabbed the back of his tunic. He stopped, noticing that a few of the others had also started to obey.
    Silence reigned as Cynthia turned back to her father.
    “Very well,” the older man replied. “Rise.” His curt word unfolded the slaves’ legs, where her pretty ones had not.
    Darin glanced furtively back at his mentor, who gave him a tight-lipped shake of the head. Darin turned and did not look back again.
    Cynthia’s skirts rustled against the floor as she approached. The slaves stared straight ahead, standing as tall and still as they were able. She walked casually, stopping occasionally to look more carefully at one person or another. Her footsteps, light and ladylike, could scarce be heard, although no one spoke.
    At last she stopped in front of Darin. He didn’t have to look up to meet her eyes; she was only an inch or two taller than he. And perhaps a season or two older; it was hard to tell.
    “What of this one?”
    Korven came quickly to stand at her side. “He’s young, lady, and he’s just started with the cleaning staff.”
    “Oh. Does he do his tasks well?”
    “Yes, lady.”
    “That’s encouraging to hear.” She smiled, her cheeks dimpling as she met Darin’s eyes.
    “Has he any training in serving the nobility?” Lord Damion asked. Korven looked almost grateful.
    “No, lord. By your orders, he was assigned to cleaning.”
    “Very well. Cynthia?”
    She ignored her father. Darin wondered how she dared. From where he stood he could see the lines that were etching themselves into the lord’s brow.
    “What is your name, boy?”
    “I—I don’t have a name,” Darin said.
    She smiled. “But you must have a name. Weren’t you born with one?”
    “I’m a—a slave, lady.” He felt his knees falter and dearly wished that the lord had not given the order to rise.

    “Cynthia.” Lord Damion’s word was more of a curse than a name.
    “Yes, father?”
    “Enough.”
    But she still didn’t stop. Darin began to tremble.
    “Tell me your name,” she said, lowering her voice. “If I’m to have a new maid, hadn’t I better have something to call him?”
    He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.
    “Tell me your name. Now.”
    “Lady, I—”
    “That’s an order. Do you know what happens to slaves who disobey orders?”
    Darin wasn’t sure if the tension in the hall was just his. He began