Handmaid

Handmaid

Raven Corinn Carluk

RCC Tales

Las Vegas MMXII

Smashwords Edition

Books by Raven Corinn Carluk

All Hallows Blood

Saint Valentine’s Clash

Midsummer’s Unveiling

Deadlands

stories with bite o,.,o

stories with fang o,.,o

Visit her at

Raven.YouAreAnnoying.Us

RavenCorinnCarluk.Blogspot.Com

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person,

please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to

Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2012 by Raven Corinn Carluk

All rights reserved

Designed by Raven Corinn Carluk

Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

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21

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23

Author’s Note

Chapter 1

Tayla brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, rocking with the creaking carriage, eyes skimming the badly typeset page before her. The lowering sun peeped through the glass of the window, deepening the shadows clinging to the corners of the enclosed space.

She sighed, having reread the same passage three times without remembering it. She let the book fall from her hands, and it slid from her lap and to the floor. Tayla’s legs were stretched across to the other bench, where her traveling companion sat humming to herself, embroidering a border along the younger woman's new cloak. Sighing again, Tayla slumped to her side, letting her head rest against the vibrating wall of the carriage.

Her companion quirked one eyebrow, keeping her eyes on her needlework, and smiled softly. Is this new novel so very boring? Her voice was softly accented, and it barely rose above the churning noise of the wheels.

Tayla traced the outline of a flower embroidered on the upholstery beneath her face, and she pouted delicately. It is not that the novel is very boring; it is that I cannot concentrate upon it. Every page reminds me of where this carriage bears us. Tayla glanced at her companion with light green eyes, and her voice dropped near to a whisper. I do not want to be married, Meghan.

The older woman set her embroidery aside and looked full at Tayla, her green eyes darker than a shadowed forest. She was in her mid-twenties, with the mark of her rough childhood lingering at the corners of her eyes. Her strawberry blond hair was braided tightly, draped over one plump shoulder. A smile graced Meghan's mouth as she spoke again.

And are these the words of your novel? Has some poor back alley writer convinced you that you should remain single, that you should avoid your duties?

Tayla frowned and sat up, tossing her long mahogany hair back over her shoulder. She glanced at her manicured nails, then spoke with a low and petulant voice. "These words have no influence over my thoughts, Meghan. You should know that I am not so easily swayed. And yet their declarations of love and passion remind me of how very old the king we are going to is. What love and passion can there be with someone older than my own father? What warmth will I feel in his bed?

Instead, I would like to choose my own husband. I would like to be able to find someone who will make me happy, who will keep me company throughout the rest of my life. Is that so very much to ask for?

Meghan looked out the window with a bemused expression. Tayla followed her gaze outside, watching the forested countryside pass by them, the setting sun gilding the trees' crowns. A moment of sadness crossed the girl's heart, and she bit her lip, digging her nails into her palms. The entirety of her young life had been troubled with moments of depression, and she refused to give into it during this conversation.

The older woman's eyes were hard when she looked back. "You are a princess, my lady. It is not for you to choose your husband. You are a representative of King Handern’s power, and that means you must follow your duty before your heart.

"I have served you since you were barely four years old, and never once have I seen you shirk your duties. You have never before railed against what your father has commanded you to do. Of his four daughters, you are the best behaved. Just because you are the youngest does not mean that you are of no political importance to the king.

Seeing as your father cannot let you choose your own betrothed, he must weigh the needs of the kingdom against your heart. All of your other sisters have fine husbands, kings of the surrounding countryside, and they have brought much power to the throne. Even if he relented, and did not use the marriage to consolidate his hold on the northern mountains, he would still have to find you an appropriate match. He would never allow some low born man to have your hand, and he would not want some loafer living off his coffers. So he must constantly be on the lookout for a proper man.

Meghan smiled slightly, lessening the sting of her words. Besides, even if he did something as old fashioned as hold a tourney for your hand, it is no guarantee that you would find love. It is not always the most handsome or the most intelligent who wins.

A single tear slid down Tayla's cheek as the princess glared out the window. She knew everything her handmaid said was true. She knew with her mind that her father must be ever vigilant for his kingdom, but her heart could not accept that. What is the point of dreaming of love coming to claim me, if it is never meant to be? Her voice quavered with suppressed emotions, and the princess's eyes began to sting with unshed tears.

Meghan changed seats, gathering Tayla into her arms with a gentle sigh. The young woman settled into the grasp, continuing to stifle the tears, burying herself against Meghan's ample bosom. Her nails were cutting crescents into her palms, near to drawing blood, and yet the pain did not stop the sadness. As she let Meghan's warmth soak into her, Tayla began wringing her hands nervously, soothing the deep marks.

The handmaid stroked her ward's arm, rocking them gently, kissing the top of her head. Tayla, my beloved princess, it cannot possibly be that bad. Dreams are simply that. They are made up of wist and moonlight, and all manners of untouchable things. They may try to show us what our hearts are feeling, but they cannot show us the truth. Forget these dreams, my lady, for they will only cause you hurt.

They rode in silence for several minutes, tears sliding slowly from behind Tayla’s closed eyes. I have had these dreams for years, ever since I can recall. Always so lost and alone, always the same handsome devil to take me away, to take me home. Even when the scenery is different, it all comes back to someone taking me away.

Three days we have been in this carriage, stopping at all these various inns. I cannot deny I have enjoyed the adventure of it all. So many different sights and peoples and flavors. I wish that I could stay like this for a while longer, that I did not have to end by the side of an elderly king.

Why is it that Father did not send us as a regular envoy? Why must we travel in secret?

Meghan hugged Tayla closer, twining a long curl of the young woman's hair through her fingers. When King Tolsen interred his wife, he made it very clear that he was seeking another woman to sire his heirs. Immediately every woman at his court would have been vying for his favor, flaunting themselves before him. Your father wants to make your arrival as quiet as possible so those women, and their supporters, do not have time to sabotage you, do not have any means with which to stop you from being presented to King Tolsen.

But why do we hide as caravan owners? Tayla sat up, turning her back to the wall of the carriage, bringing her booted feet onto the seat with her, wrapping her arms around her knees. If I continue to develop anymore, I will soon have too much breast to bring my knees under my chin. I suppose it is time for me to be married, considering I am no longer a child.

Meghan turned as well, her body longer than Tayla's by several inches, her hips wide and plump, her breasts heavy and full. The handmaid was a visibly healthy woman, her body lush in all the right places, her cheeks flushed with life, her dark green eyes constantly alight with a hidden laughter. She was protective of Tayla, and had done her best to keep the princess out of trouble and away from the darker intrigues of the court.

Lacing her fingers around a single drawn-up knee, the handmaid leaned her head back against the paneled wall, the dying light a dark gold against her skin. "Caravan trains have some of the best private guards available in this region. If your father sent a regiment of his own guards, they would be noticed immediately. It would be entirely too obvious who we were, even in disguises. This way we can travel discreetly, and the guards around us will become part of our disguise. They will help us blend in, and they will get us safely into King Tolsen's lands. We will have high class accommodations without drawing attention to ourselves, we will be surrounded by men paid to die to protect us, and no one will question us if we keep to ourselves. Short of being able to magic ourselves straight into his throne room, this is the best way for us to travel."

The princess frowned slightly. I almost wish we were to be stopped by the other court ladies.

Meghan narrowed her eyes as she looked at her ward. Is it really so repugnant to you?

Her voice quavered again as she looked away from the piercing gaze of her handmaid. I do not want to marry some old man. I do not want to have to lay with his sagging skin, or bear him more children.

Meghan chuckled slightly. You could always marry his infant son, I suppose. Then you would only have to wait until he was at his majority to consummate the marriage.

Tayla sighed softly. Why is it that I know none of these kings, none of these lands around me, if I am to be used as a political pawn. Would it not be better that I was knowledgeable, able to advise my king of ongoings, to support him, to be able to negotiate in his name? Then again, Father keeps Mother out of everything he does. If he has an heir, why does he need more? Why does such an old man not already have a dozen heirs? Should he not have grandheirs at this point?

The wheels clattered over a stretch of rocks, preventing further speech for a moment. Meghan tugged at a wrinkle in her skirt while the darkness cast by the sunset began to consume them. Tolsen was a warrior in his youth. His kingdom, like your father's, was made of contested lands until he laid claim to them. He fought off those who would divide his land, who would take his throne, and those who would refuse to submit to the laws he established. He had no time to raise a family. His first wife was a delicate young noble woman, and she could not survive the birth. Which is why we are traveling to him, to be one of the many young princesses trying to join his throne.

Why him? Tayla asked, her voice a near petulant whine. She swallowed hard, and forced her voice to a normal tone. What is so important about his kingdom?

Well, just as your father's power controls all the passes out of the northern mountains, creating a single path of trade, so too does King Tolsen control the sea ports along this coastline. So savage is the western coast that only the very foolhardy try to land anywhere outside of Tolsen's capital. If your father could get a claim on both the overland routes and the sea routes, the money would be endless. It would take no time at all for your father to have an empire.

Tayla sighed, laying her cheek upon her knee, staring at the last streaks of sunlight upon the autumn sky, a wall of clouds catching the rays and flaming with reds and golds. And how is my father to lay claim to the port if Tolsen rules? Would it not be better to have me marry the son then?

Meghan moved closer, and laid a soft kiss on the hands of the princess. Worry not about these things, my princess. The most important thing is for us to arrive there and have Tolsen choose you. Once you have his eye, then the betrothal contracts can begin. Your father and King Tolsen will work out all those important details. Just concentrate on being your very charming best. Laying another kiss on Tayla’s fingers, Meghan moved back across the carriage, bundling up her needlework.

Tayla turned her gaze from the window, burying her face in her skirts. Tears burnt hot beneath her lids again, and she bit the inside of her lip to keep them from falling. It is not fair. No one thinks of me as anything but a game piece. They all think I am some little bit of precious gem they can trade for whatever they want. Meghan encourages me to accept it. My father sends me off without even asking if I want to be a child bride. My mother cannot even say goodbye to me, so caught up is she in her little distractions. Is there no one in this world who cares about me for me?

Tayla sat up, drawing a deep breath, forcing her spine straight, and quelling her emotions. No, that is not fair. I cannot blame others for my destiny. I was born a princess, and there are certain things a princess must do. First and foremost is a duty to my father and his kingdom. It is my duty to make him proud, to bring glory to his power. Moping and stomping my feet and crying like a spoiled little baby is not the way a princess acts.

She looked out the window, the sun winking at her as it sank behind the hills and forests. Tayla took a trembling breath, her exhalation pushing out all her bad feelings. She forced away memories of her lifelong recurring dreams, and focused only upon doing her father proud.

The driver's voice cut through her thoughts, causing her to jump as it echoed through the brass tube in the corner of the small cabin. If ye missus look out yer windows, ye can see th' hostel. Looks like most of th' oth'r drivers already be here. Hoping we haven't missed dinner.

Meghan ran a hand over her hair in the dark, sitting up straight on the bench, her eyes glittering in the dusk. Tayla ran a hand through her own hair, straighten her curls, admiring the weight of her tresses settling down her back. Her stomach roiled, and she swallowed hard, heart suddenly in her throat. We are joining with the other caravans. Six days of travel west will bring us to King Tolsen's palace. The young woman bit her lip. Six days until I have to do my duty and win a betrothal.

Tayla's heart stumbled, as if a hand were clasping around it. She felt trapped, felt the inexorable tug of destiny, and she wanted to run away. She wanted to flee, to hide back under her covers.

Meghan's voice broke her free from her reaction. Do you remember what we agreed upon before we set out?

Tayla nodded slowly. We are sisters from the northern kingdom of Lerne, scouting out a new possible route for our father's caravans. He normally sells ebony and semi-precious gems, but has recently purchased the rights to several textile groups, thus has a surplus of goods to move. If anyone asks, he is looking for other ways across the mountains, while we work on the more established routes.

Very good, Meghan said, closing the clasp on her silk valise, her embroidery safely returned. It was already too dark to see anymore within the carriage's compartment, but the sky was still lit with the dying colors of the day. Tayla could see torches and fires through the glass as they approached the permanent caravan camp. And if anyone asks about your name being the same as the princess?

It is a common enough name north of the mountains, and that is the truth. Nothing unusual about a young woman named Tayla.

The carriage came to a jolting halt, and Tayla heard voices approaching. Her stomach roiled with nervousness again, and her hands were trembling. Meghan reached out for her, and the princess more felt than saw the handmaid smiling. There are times it is a good thing your father is so protective of you girls. Keeps your looks from being so publicly known. Without a further word, Meghan swung open the carriage door to the crowd gathered by their side. Tayla could do nothing but follow her sister out of safety and into her destiny.

Stepping down from the carriage was similar to stepping from shadow into a blistering hot day. Torches flared in the evening breeze, and even by the carriage she was amazed by the heat they cast. A great bonfire roared in front of the long wooden buildings, its bright glow making shadows dance around the rough courtyard. Porters bustled around, bearing loads, packing wagons, shifting goods. Horses whickered from behind the buildings, and the carriage horses responded. Tayla stepped close to Meghan, pressing herself against the handmaid's back, her heart attempting to strangle her.

Greetings! a cheerful voice exclaimed. Tayla saw an elderly man stepping forth from the crowd, several inches shorter than herself, his head gleaming in the firelight. His eyes were in shadows, but his smile was wide and bright, his fingers worn with age as he extended his hand in greeting. Meghan was familiar with the trader custom, and grasped his hand in response, introducing herself and the princess.

Ah, yes, the Reit sisters. We received your letter yesterday, and already got you a cabin set aside. It's always good to get new blood coming in, bringing in new money. Can't say as I've ever dealt with anyone from Lerne, though I have heard of it. Cold place. How's this weather treating you girls?

Tayla stumbled along with Meghan, having shaken the man's hand, and clung to the handmaid, fighting the urge to hide. She tried not to stare at the men and women around her, even as eyes fell heavy upon her from the buildings and wagons. She heard the old man mention dinner, and he was guiding them into the longest building of the complex.

The trio stopped in the entrance, giving Tayla a moment to catch her breath. They stood in a lamp lit room, a wooden table running the length. Smaller lamps burned beside plain settings, wooden chairs awaiting the guests who stood mingling. The walls were adorned with landscape paintings, stained by years of soot from the lamps and torches. The plank floor was scuffed from countless boots, and stained with unknown fluids.

The people were a mixed crowd; rough men with well-worn clothing chatting amicably with people of clearly noble standing. Tayla shivered, shyness causing a fine sweat to break out along her back. Meghan squeezed her hand reassuringly, continuing to chat with their guide. Tayla focused on the moment at hand, ignoring the majority of traders present.

I am Master Elmer. I'm the one who first started all this caravan business. Made it a lot easier once we all started teaming together, instead of trying to cut each other's throats. Tayla nodded slightly in acknowledgment, watching as a small group of traders came forward, all smiling and extending their hands. Tayla bit down on the inside of her lip, stifling the queasy pain of her shyness. She nodded and mumbled greetings at each of the caravan owners, storing their names away in the back of her head, too numb to recall them immediately.

And this is our other newest owner, Baron Rikter Thatus. Elmer's voice droned in her ears as Tayla fell into the blackest eyes she had ever seen.

Chapter 2

She felt Meghan shivering beside her, the older woman's pale hand lingering a moment on the well-manicured fingers of the tall man standing before them. His eyes were on Tayla the entire moment, his angular lips caressing Meghan's name as he turned to clasp the princess's hand.

Her nerves almost burst as the world seemed to stop. Baron Thatus stepped closer, their body heat mingling, his hand almost painfully tight. His eyes were a perfect almond shape, his lashes long and thick. He smiled slightly, raised her hand to his lips, pressed his silken lips to her knuckles, and the princess distantly felt her knees begin to buckle.

Greetings, Tayla Reit. It's my pleasure to meet you. He held her gaze over their hands, and Tayla flushed, unable to break his hold upon her. Her fingers trembled in his grasp, and his smile deepened as he slowly let go.

Drawing her breath, feeling people pressed around them, she forced herself to speak. And greetings to you, Baron Thatus. Tayla smiled, giving a slight curtsy, finally able to pull pale green eyes from his gaze.

You can call me Rikter, he purred, letting his hand drop, but staying touchably close. Meghan said something to Elmer, and Tayla’s entire body lurched as she moved toward the table. Chewing on her lip, she glanced back at the baron. His onyx eyes glittered at her, but he spoke directly to another seeming noble as they moved around the table.

Elmer assigned them all seats, and Tayla's thoughts whirled as she sat. He is unreal. He cannot possibly be real. She shuddered as she lifted her napkin, settling it across her lap. Her dreams flashed before her eyes, chilling her heart, as years of fear marched through her veins. Biting her lip, Tayla looked for the intimidating baron.

Her entire body went numb again as her eyes met Rikter's once more. The fear almost overrode the attraction, reminding her of nightmares that had brought her screaming from sleep. It would take no effort for his face to turn to snarls, for the straight eyebrows to meet, for the fine mouth to distend with anger. Swallowing hard, Tayla turned to Meghan, Rikter's gaze heavy upon her still.

Meghan was already deep in conversation with Elmer and a tall dark skinned woman seated across from him. Servants began moving, setting plates before them. Rich smells wafted from the food, reminding Tayla that lunch had been hours before. Keeping her head down, the princess began eating.

Between bites, she looked up to meet the baron's gaze. The meal soon turned to lead in her stomach, weighing her down, and she could not find the words to converse with anyone around her. Even with his eyes boring into her, Rikter talked easily to those around him, drawing all attention to himself. The princess felt relief that his skills kept her from having to make conversation.

Why