The courtyard was bathed in the light of the afternoon sun. Warm red stone, loose dirt, and the distant smell of meat being cooked hung in the air. Lumen and Evander’s swords cshed; every time their bdes met, metal chimed and sang as they moved in a dance of death.

  Sweat beaded on Lumen’s shoulders. His breath was controlled, but irregur, Evander was much taller than him, stronger in every way, athletically faster. There should be no reason to believe the fight would end in Lumen’s favor

  Yet Lumen persisted. His brain called out to his hazy past. Quick, light, and nimble. He shifted his footwork, if he couldn’t get through Evander, he would have to go around. He twisted as Evander’s heavy-handed strike threatened to tear him down. Then, with a sharp parry and a kick to the gut, Lumen disarmed Evander, sending his bde rattling against the stone of the courtyard.

  Lumen exhaled, smirking. Perhaps he wasn’t as weak as he had believed.

  Someone started cpping, slow, deliberate, and drew their attention. Evander grumbled but conceded, running a hand through his damp hair. They both turned to look at the newcomer.

  A red-haired woman spoke, her tone indulgent and suggestive. “Very impressive, my little Lumen.”

  Lady Ysel stood in the shade, watching them with amusement. She wore a navy blue sto that clung to her body, the soft fabric teasing her curves and accentuating her rge breasts. She walked with a steady pace, her leather sandals ced up her toned calves. Every movement made Lumen stir.

  From her pocket, she pulled out two fruits—some dark kind of pear, native to Rhoamia. They shone under the light of the sun. Lumen’s throat was dry. It was… alluring.

  “A present for Evander the Unrelenting.” She tossed one to his brother-in-arms. Then tossed the remaining fruit to him. Lumen bit at it, watching as Evander fumbled, flustered. Blushing at the sight of the woman, he nearly let the pear fall to the floor.

  Silly fool.

  Evander kneeled, took her hand, and kissed it. “My dy.” He turned to Lumen, who stood a bit uneasy.

  Ysel’s gaze settled on Evander. “I have some catching up to do with my elven friend. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

  Evander shook his head. “Of course not, Lady Ysel.”

  With a wave, Evander strode off. He eyed Lumen one more time before he left. There was a glint of something in his eyes. Jealousy, perhaps. He wouldn’t put it past his friend. Lumen shifted as Ysel’s gaze stopped on him. A sense of warmth enveloped him. Her scent—she smelled of rare wines and something rich and meaty.

  She is meaty.

  Her arms wrapped around him.

  “You look better,” she purred. “But still so small for me. Come here.”

  She pressed his face into her breasts. They were rge, soft, delicate. She held him there, her sto threatening to spill as she squeezed tight, the heat of her body sinking into him. He tensed, his face burning red, his pale skin flushed.

  She ughed at the sight, but let him go.

  “Tell me, how have you been without me?” she asked, brushing her fingers along his neck and cheek. She pyed with his grey hair, then stuck a finger into his mouth, keeping it there and making him suck on it. Then she pulled it out slowly.

  A sensual dispy, she loved to tease him and touch him.

  He finally answered. “Horrible. I—I might try and flee earlier than pnned.”

  Ysel hummed. She wasn’t surprised. The ‘inhumane’ behavior of the humans toward him was maddening and frustrating. She reached into her sash and pulled out a small, bck metal coin, Rhoamian script etched into it.

  “I’ve arranged a special day for us. For today. You’ll be free, for a little while. And should I not satisfy you, my maids are eager to assist you,” she teased him.

  He hesitated.

  She did this often, paid a price to collect him for a day or two, offering patronage and food when the coliseum would misuse him. Freedom was dangerous. Even a day or two of leisure could make him ill-prepared for tomorrow. But who knew? Perhaps tomorrow wouldn’t come.

  Ysel watched as he decided. He nodded.

  Her smile deepened. She gave him a little kiss on the cheek, then one on his neck. Then she grabbed him by the arms and started running out of the training grounds.

  As they passed the other gdiators, frowns and death stares were sent his way. Two assholes in particur—one of them spat on the ground. Lumen kept his head low.

  The streets below the hilltop were alive with movement. Merchants and street sellers bustled, miniature humans weaved through the crowds, and every smell imaginable stewed in one spot.

  Lumen pressed closer to Ysel—his mistress, his caretaker. The human stares were predatory. Some were curious, but all looked at him like he was alien. Ysel stopped near a plump woman’s stall, staring at the dresses on sale. The woman’s eyes roamed over Lumen with a smirk, then she called to him.

  "An elf cinaedus, how strange."

  Lumen didn’t know what that word meant. But Ysel tightened her grip on him, as if to say: he is mine. She pointed at a blood-red sto. The fabric was soft and airy, draping as it hung. “I want that for him.”

  The woman nodded, and Ysel spped his butt as she pushed him inside a covered area. “Go try it on. And remove those dirty sandals—you’ll go barefoot for the rest of the day.”

  Lumen grunted, uncomfortable. But he couldn’t resist her command. Alone in the changing spot, he slipped on the fabric. Its silk was unfamiliar against his skin. He adjusted it, folding it properly in pce, then gnced at a long gss mirror.

  A stranger stared back at him.

  No. Not a warrior. Not a gdiator. But an elf. A soft. Feminine. Elf with light gray hair and red eyes.

  “Weird,” he said to himself.

  As he stepped out, both Ysel and the merchant dy smiled at him.

  “Perfect,” Ysel murmured, her eyes flickering. “You’d think you were one of my exotic servants.”

  She plucked his training tunic from his hands, bundled a few coins inside, and tossed it at a nearby beggar.

  "You won’t be needing those anymore."

  “Wait, Lady Ysel, that’s the coliseum’s property, I’ll be—”

  He’d be shed for it. And for a long time.

  She held up a hand. “I will get what I want. Don’t worry, we’ll get you new clothing. Maybe armor. Maybe a new sword.”

  He sighed. But didn’t swear, she just didn’t really understand what he was going through.

  They started moving again, stopping at a sweet's shop. Honeyed pastries were on dispy, soft candied fruit, strange puffy balls from the eastern side of the world.

  "Pick whatever you like," she said.

  She took a basket off the stall and handed it to him.

  The shopkeeper stared at him warily, then turned to Lady Ysel. “She has pointy ears. She doesn’t bite, does she?”

  Ysel giggled. “No, she does not.”

  She?

  When the basket had been filled and coins were exchanged, she watched with amusement as he started nibbling on a small fruit. Like he was some critter out on dispy. They moved once again.

  A stroll through the city incensed a sense of normality in Lumen. He felt free of his burdens. Ysel never once let go of his hand.

  Her vil was quiet from the outside. There were fewer merchants, fewer guards, fewer servants tending to the pce. Just rustling wind and the sound of the running fountain caught his attention.

  “Where are your servants, Lady Ysel? Did something happen?” Lumen asked, curious.

  She shook her head. “No, I lent them to the governor of the city. They needed borers and manpower for the upcoming festival. Why do you ask? Was there a particur servant you spotted? I know you like the ones with the round butts, I’ve seen you, you lech.”

  Lumen’s cheeks turned red again. The woman was affluent when it came to sensual matters—she swung into sexual matters, and she made him swing too.

  They passed the entrance guards, who greeted her with a salute, and entered the garden. Settled under a rge tree—its leaves wide enough to cover a building with its stature. Lumen felt strangely nostalgic near the tall tree. It was also strange to call it a garden when it was more like a partitioned-off forest that Lady Ysel possessed.

  On the bnket next to them were various foods—wines, cold-cut meats, and small delicacies. It was an extravagant affair, every time they met up. Or rather…

  Lumen had a strange, intrusive thought.

  She was overly nice to him, cared for him when no one else did. Was it because she was attracted to him? Was it because he was an elf? Was it because she wanted to use him?

  She flicked a finger in his face.

  “Hey, pay attention to me.” She said pouting and blowing her lips.

  She took his hands, holding them together.

  "Tell me a story," she prompted. "Something from your home."

  Lumen swallowed. It shouldn’t have been a difficult request—he was from the great forest to the north, the nd of… the nd of what?

  Fuck!

  His memories were slipping from his grasp, and he didn’t know why. He tried recalling as best as he could, forming pictures, tying words to a concept. Pnting imagery to be merge with an association.

  "I… had a sibling, I think. We didn’t listen to our parents," he said slowly. "We went past the boundary once. Outside the protected zone. And I… I…" He stopped, clutching his head. It ached.

  A flicker of a scene—trees stretching endlessly in twilight, the smell of damp, wet earth. A shadowy figure loomed over him. An orc with tusks as long as knives. An intruder? A barbarian? A savage? A murderer?

  Blood. Sptters of blood and limbs.

  Lumen stopped. He started breathing heavily.

  "I don’t remember," he whispered. "I don’t remember much these days. Something is wrong with me."

  Ysel wrapped her arms around him before he could react, pulling him closer. Her fingers stroked his hair, her warmth grounding a small part of him.

  "Shh," she whispered, lips brushing his temple. "It’s alright."

  Her scent surrounded him, enveloped him, made him a part of her. They had made a promise once. He couldn’t understand.

  “Soon, you’ll be free,” she murmured in his ear. “There’s a new w coming soon, a month from now. I’ve already made preparations to have you move here, to stay with me, and with me alone.”

  Her words sank into him, soft and heavy, like a warm bath. She brought something to his mouth—a liquor of some sort.

  “Drink this. It calms you, eases stress. Balicot wine from the middle isnds. People drink it there like medicine.”

  Lumen opened his mouth as pushed the wine cup to his lips, feeding him like he was hers.

  His fingers tightened on the fabric of her sto.

  One month.

  Could he bear it?

  He stared at the sky.

  The sun started setting, casting them in shades of orange, red, and purple.

  Ysel continued to hold onto him, her touch lingering, teasing at his edges—something unspoken between them. She was losing her dress, and her hands worked into his. He didn’t move. He didn’t trust himself to say anything. He knew he should resist. He should question her motives.

  But instead, he only breathed in the warmth of her body and thought—

  Maybe he could endure a little while if it meant she would endure him.