Chapter Four

The fields were miserable.

Hadrian thought it might be easy for him. He was not out of shape and the work didn't seem very strenuous.

After the first day of bending over and sweating in the sun which seemed much too hot for early spring, he was questioning his theory.

After the second day when his skin was bright red and burning at any slight touch and hands painfully raw he was greatly doubting it.

The third day, when he watched someone get beaten because they missed a half-inch weed, he was sore, frustrated, and very furious.

And as the days passed into the weeks, it began to sizzle within him. Slavery was certainly doing no good to his temper.

Master Richard had quickly proved to be a small man with an immoral mind and angry spirit. Everyone but him and his two sons and wife were underfed, even though he had plenty of money to keep them all healthy. He delighted in watching the slaves fight amongst them selves, often encouraging it. When his luxurious wife wasn't looking he'd find a girl working along with the others and lead her off to the barn, and they would always come back in silent tears. They didn't dare disobey him. No one did. Because that, that was worse than dying- everyone whispered that it was, anyway.

Three weeks passed and he was beginning to lose hope he'd ever leave. Alyss was frequently on his mind, and he hoped she hadn't gotten placed somewhere like this or else he knew she'd be dead by now. He didn't have an idea or how to find her, much less escape.

That was until another slave simmered up to him and said in a voice lighter than air-

“Do you want to get outta here?”

Hesitantly, Hadrian nodded. Desperation made him a bit careless, and any thought that this might be a trap or test escaped him.

“Good. Meet in the barn after the moon's high in the sky. Oh, and tell the Mister?” He smiled grimly and drew his finger over his own throat. “The name's Damien.”

“Hadrian.” He was tempted to lie, but figured if he was going to trust this man then he should at least be honest.

“Good. Remember, quietly. We've been hiding our meetings for almost a year, we'd hate it if some fool gave us a way, purposely or not.”

“You two! This isn't time to socialize. Work.” One of the watchmen snapped at them, and instantly the two broke apart and bent back down, pulling up the weeds and searching for rocks.

Hadrian crept from the slave's quarters through the dark, empty fields. He could see the light of candles through the Master's window, but he doubted even if the man had peaked out he could see Hadrian. Clouds swam over the full moon and provided the perfect cover.

It wasn't long until he had reached the designated building. He walked up to the door, and before he could knock it slit open.

“Name?”

“...Hadrian.”

“Business?”

He frowned. “Ah, Damien, he told me to come here.” He leaned forward. “I want to get out of here just as bad as you, so let me in.”

The man at the door nodded, and cracked it open just a bit more so Hadrian could slip through, before closing it and bolting it shut.

He looked around. It was only men in there, but more than Hadrian had expected, and many he didn't recognize. As if he could sense his confusion, Damien appeared by his shoulder and explained.

“They're from other farms. Every full moon we have a large meeting like this. They'll be back by morning and no one will know they've been gone.”

“I see.”

“I was waiting for you to begin. Find some place to sit. Don't be a stranger.”

Hadrian promptly found an empty corner of the room and leaned against the wall, watching as Damien climbed up on pile of hay, raising one hand into the air. Instantly, the whole crowd quieted.

“Hello all. Wonderful to see so many faces- especially those of visitors. As for a few new ones.” He looked over at Hadrian for a brief moment. “We all know of the supreme cruelty we live under. All of had families. Lives. And then we were caught. This is something we have all gone through. We are the same. We breath the same stench of evil, feel the same sting of whip, and desire the same freedom. That is what we are here for. No longer should we be oppressed by the weight of Day's boot, or any other. We want our freedom and we want it now.” He put a fist in the air and they all cheered.

“We are not going to be given want we want, though. We must take it, take it by force. But how, you ask? Overthrowing our masters? Most of us would fail at that. We would all pay with our lives. And it would change nothing. No, my fellows, we must strike at the heart. We must strike hard, we must strike fast, and we must strike soon.

“How soon, you ask? We've been meeting here for months now, talking about the same thing night after night. I will tell you this- the time for words is over. The night of darkness, when the moon shines not, we will march to Albin's castle. It is there we will attack, there we will demand our freedom in return for the lord's life. Lord Albin will be forced to give us what we desire or face death. We will revolt, we will rebel, we will win.” He paused a moment to listen to the praise, a small smile appearing on his face.

“For those of you who come visiting from elsewhere, spread the word. We need as many hands as possible. The night will serve as our disguise. The night of the new moon, march with us, march with clubs and rakes and knives and all that you can find. Bring ruin as your acquaintance and blood as your brother. That night, we will be free.”

*

“This is ridiculous!” Alyss threw the rolling pin down at the counter, spitting her frustration. A lumpy, uneven oval of white dough lay before her. “It doesn't work. Lynette!”

A young, pretty woman with soft auburn curls and long fingers slid over. “Yes, Olive?”

“My name's not Olive,” she snapped, crossing her arms. “It's not Olive and the dough isn't rolling.”

She smiled lightly and inspected the sticky substance. “You forgot flour,” she said after a moment. “Flour is important.” Moving like a ghost, she moved to the cupboard and scooped some of the soft powder in her hands. Lynette turned back to the paste and began to work in the flour, her fingers dancing through the dough until it became much more presentable. With a patient expression she took the rolling pin and began to smooth the lump down into a perfect, round circle. All the while, Alyss watched her with a look of awe.

“There you are. Now, use the cutter the shape circles, then place them over the fire so they can rise. Lord Albin demanded biscuits especially for tonight's dinner and he can't be disappointed!”

Alyss sighed. Lord Albin. Disappointed. She wasn't sure he was capable of that emotion. After months of working in the castle (and what a boring job- being sent to do tasks she didn't want to do and just standing there like a fool) she'd never seen him disappointed. Angry? Only once, when she had carelessly broken a vase. Of course it had happened to be a very old heirloom (who has a vase as an heirloom?) and he had been furious. But besides that, nothing.

He'd tell her go dust all the bookshelves in the castle, to which she'd respond with a firm answer that there were far to many bookshelves and if she tried she'd be doing it for the rest of the day and night and even after that. Then he'd laugh and shoo her away.

He'd order her to go to the kitchens and make him up something, and she'd promptly say she say she didn't want to go to the kitchens because it was really quite hot in there, and then he'd clap his hands together in delight then tell her she was dismissed.

No, it was the oddest thing. He wasn't cruel. He was hardly ever angry. He was amused.

And after a while, it got a bit annoying. Maybe just one harsh words, a startled look that she had dared disobey her master. But no. The problem was that there was no satisfaction in saying 'no, I don't want to' because he just didn't care.

So, today, when he'd told her to go help prepare dinner, she'd surprised herself by saying in her politest voice 'yes, sir'. He had given her a startled, incredulous look, and she felt a little flicker of herself before skipping off to the burning furnace of a kitchen.

And that's how she'd gotten stuck with this infernal dough that refused to cooperate.

Once Lynette had put the biscuits to cook, Alyss gave up with helping and slid up onto the counter. “Why doesn't Lord Albin ever punish me for disobeying?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Because you're... different,” she explained, starting on the pork. “If I ever spoke how you do to him, I'd be lucky to keep the job. But you, just... you don't think twice about it. You don't care. None of us are used to that. After being cooped up in the same castle, same city for most of his life, I think he likes seeing something new. Change- someone who won't bow to him. You fascinate him.”

“That's ridiculous.” Alyss crossed her arms, frowning. “He bought me- granted, he didn't pay anything, but still. What use is a slave that does absolutely nothing?”

“Entertainment.”

“Well, I don't like being entertainment.”

“And that's why he's so amused.”

Alyss looked at her. “What?”

“He can sense your frustration when he allows you to do whatever. He can feel it and ravishes it. As I said earlier, it's a change for him, a very much wanted and needed change.”

“Hmm.” Alyss leaned back, thinking about this. “Still doesn't make any sense. How do you know all this?”

“I've been watching, and have known him for a long time.” She bent down to check on the biscuits. “My mother worked here before me. I was born here.”

“It's still ridiculous.”

Lynette did not respond but instead took out the now-risen biscuits, setting them next to Alyss. “The pig is just about done. Would you help me bring the food out to the table?”

Sighing, Alyss slid off the counter and began to carry plates of deliciously scented morsels out to the dining room.

It was night and there was nothing to do. Alyss wasn't tired; she was allowed to sleep in as long as she wanted. So, while everything was quiet, she would float around the halls and let her mind wander. One moment it would be back in the mountains with the man she called Master, the next it would be wondering if Hadrian really was coming. She was starting to get restless. Months without a sign of him and she was tempted to go against his words and leave herself. But she couldn't do that. He would come. He would come.

She spent her nights convincing herself of that fact. It would happen. She knew it. Sure, this was the man who had threatened to kill her when they first met, but that moment, when they were crossing the mountains, something had shifted. She'd met someone tender, compassionate, gentle... the sort of person she needed more than anything. Someone who listen to her (most of the time), give her a chance, someone to lead her to where she needed to be. She wasn't used to being alone.

And right now, she was.

She leaned against the icy window, pressing her palms and forehead to the glass as she looked up at the sky. The moon was beautiful. An old moon, they called it. Just the slightest sliver of pure white- tomorrow night it would be completely gone, only to be born again. A cycle of light and dark, white and black, that never changed even as the world beneath it did.

The silence was suddenly interrupted by footsteps staggering through the halls. Alyss turned to see someone coming towards her, and as they moved closer she recognized Lorn Albin. Something was very off.

“Lord Albin...” she stepped back a few steps. “Do you need something?”

He stumbled forward, his breathing loud and uneven. “You. Olive.” His words were heavily slurred. “Dance.”
“Um... what?”

“Do as I- as I say.” He came closer and Alyss instantly recognized the sure sent of alcohol on his breath. That was odd. She'd never seen him drink more than a glass at most.

“Lord Albin, you should really be getting to bed. It's late.”

“How...dare...you...” he panted, taking her shoulders and shaking her hard. “You worthless child, do as I say.” He shoved her at the wall.

“No,” she protested, glaring up at him. “You're drunk, my Lord, you really should lay down and-”

She was silenced by his hand slapping her across the face. She gasped and held her stinging cheek. “Please, sir...”

“Worthless, ugly, stupid, insolent...” As he beat upon her he lashed on insults as well. She cowered against the wall, begging him to stop. Finally, he did, grunting and staggering off, leaving her laying on the floor, shivering and crying.

Lynette was comforting Alyss in the kitchens. “Oh, poor dear... I should have warned you.”

“He just... I've never seen him like that...”

“I know, darling. It happens every year, hon. I've been so foolish not telling you.”

Alyss shook her head, brushing her fingers over one of the bruises on her arm. “What do you mean?”

“Last night was the day his wife died, years ago. He drinks to drown his sorrows then looses himself. I should have told you to stay in your bedroom.”

“I hate him.”

“I know.” Lynette turned to check on the eggs for Lord Albin's breakfast. “He won't even remember what he did.” She scooped them up onto the plate.

“Then I'll make him remember,” Alyss snatched the plate from Lynette's hand.

“Alyss, darling, don't�"” The door slammed shut and Alyss was gone.

She stormed down the halls, her whole body aching with every movement. She'd woken up this morning with bright purple bruises scattered over her body, like autumn's purple leaves fallen upon pale marble. One eye had begun to darken, along with another mark on her opposite cheek.

Alyss thrust open the door and practically threw the plate down in front of Lord Albin. “My Lord,” she said bitterly.

He looked up at her, his face instantly spreading in surprise and guilt. “Oh Nauthos... my dear Olive, did I..?”

She didn't answer him, just stare steadily at his face as he examined the damage.

“I do hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“No.” It wasn't the rebellious 'no' Albin was used to, but resolute, hurt. Angry.

He sighed. “You don't understand how sorry I am, Olive.”

“No, I think I do.” She leaned closer to him. “I just don't believe you.”

“You think I'm lying?”

“Isn't that just what I said?”

He swallowed. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“What?” she let out a short, sarcastic laugh. “Doing what to you? You've changed my name, ordered me around, kept me tracked here, bought me like I'm some animal- but even after all that, I didn't hate you. It really wasn't too bad here. And then you caught me at night and you called me stupid and ugly and then you hit me.” She took a step backwards. “That's not something I will forgive.”

Lord Albin was silent for a long moment, before bowing hid head. “I understand, but you must let me explain myself.”

“There is nothing there to explain.”

“Yes, there is. I have a few matters to attend to this morning, but then come with me on a carriage ride and give me a chance.”

Alyss studied him. It was tempting; she had not been outside the castle grounds since coming here.. “And you expect me to say yes to that?”

“Yes.”

“Fine. I'll come.” She turned away. “But it won't change anything.”

In the dwindling hours of the day, Lord Albin and Alyss were going down a bumpy path through the fields of Keethra. Alyss stared wistfully out the window, hardly listening to Albin's voice carry on.

“Nine years ago my wife passed away from an illness. She was with child and it was a dreadful tragedy. I fell into a deep depression.” He went on and told her what Lynette had said earlier, about his drunken rages on that night every year, and he should have warned her, and�"

“Stop the carriage.”

He looked at her, stopping mid-word. “Pardon?”

“Lord Albin, please stop the carriage. I... saw something on the ground. ”

“What?”

“Just stop it!”

Lord Albin gave the command to the driver to stop and Alyss jumped out of the carriage. She couldn't believe it.

Less than ten yards away, bending down around the plants, was Hadrian.