She of Pale Hair scene 1

I couldn't stop my hands from shaking as I stepped out of the carriage. My Mistress locked her arm with me after the first few steps and patted my head, her fingers tracing tiny circles on my head.

“Calm down, petite. I'm sure everyone will love you,” she said. Her fingers lingered in my hair, playing with loops of my long white hair. It was a crude, animal sort of comfort, but I accepted it all the same.

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, bowing my head. We began to walk up the marble steps to the Royal Palace, with me lifting the hem of her dress to stop it from dragging. It was a heavy crème dress with white lace accents, adding to her bulk. Mistress thought it matched my hair and skin.

I had read that Grand Hall of Luflaria's Royal Palace was the largest enclosed room on the continent. I was prepared for a hall big enough to hold my Mistress' manor within it; I found that my imagination could not do it justice. The Hall was filled with a town's worth of people-- servants bustling between work, nobles dancing and mingling in heavy clothing, their accessorized slaves in tow. Every inch of the walls was covered with artwork, beautiful portraits and Luflarian landscapes; or oil-burning sconces, filling the hall with the light of a summer's sun. Try as I might, I couldn't see the other end of the hall. It faded away, vanishing over the horizon.

I felt a sharp prick on the small of my back and stifled the urge to yelp. Mistress' fingers wrapped around my shoulder and neck from behind, and I looked over to her with wide eyes. As I craned my neck to face her, the tendons of my neck bulged against her fingers. What could I have done to earn the sting of her needle ring?

“Petite,” she whispered, “all eyes are going to be on you. Don't stand so slack-jawed.”

“Yes, Mistress.” She was right. With my bone-white skin and hair and my pinkish eyes, I was certainly the most unusual sight at court that day. Only a few people openly stared, but nearly everyone looked twice. I took a shuddering breath and hoped dearly not to embarrass Mistress. She was normally a very lenient woman, but had made it clear in the ride to the palace that she was not above using her ring on more intimate places if the situation warranted it. I walked with the light, regal step I had been taught early in my training. Mistress walked with a casually, plodding step, but the eyes were all on me after all. That was why we were here, living testaments to the wealth and discernment of our Masters.

“Countess du Palais,” said a man with a ruffled cravate and an even more ruffled moustache said. Following him on a thin chain lead was a young man dressed in the sheer gauze wrappings popular in far-away Flai Fren. “My compliments on your recent acquisition.”

The man brushed my cheek with his thumb, and I smiled for him as Mistress patted my head approvingly. “Isn't she just darling?” she said.

“Just so, madame.” The man's thumb passed over my lips and Mistress pressed her fingernails into my scalp. I closed my eyes and let my lips open for the man. His thumb felt rough as it slipped across my teeth and the roof of my mouth. I made a small, soft sound of pleasure, which earned me a gentle scratch from Mistress. “And obedient! Wherever did you find her?”

“They found her in Opland, near the boarder, or so I'm told,” Mistress replied. The man took his thumb out of my mouth with a wet sucking sound. A thin line of saliva still connected his nail to my lip until he wiped it against my cheek. It was cold and sticky, but of course it would be rude to ripe it off. I looked to Mistress and at the nod of her head looked back to the man who had pressed himself inside me.

 “Thank you very much, Your Grace,” I said in my high, sweet slave's voice.The term of address was a gamble. The man had approached Mistress first, so he outranked her, but I couldn't be sure he was a Duke or someone else meriting a “Your Grace”. But I wanted to demonstrate that, unlike the boy who trailed behind him, I was something more than a mindless doll.

He raised his eyebrow. “Few Oplanders with such manners.”

Mistress laughed. “Simone is quite a rare girl, Duke Laborde.”

“That reminds me. Duchess de Craon and I were discussing the recent corn shortages, if you cared to add a more Northern perspective,” Laborde said. He might as well have winked afterwards. It was a social invitation, nothing more. A Countess meeting with Dukes was quite an occurrence, and I felt a little bit of pride that I had catalyzed it. Mistress ran her hands through my hair, making my whole head tingle. She was pleased. We followed Laborde through the crowds for a long while until we came upon a dignified lady with a broad-shouldered slave kneeling to massage her thigh, his head resting against her. Mistress and her new acquaintances discussed recent events for a while, and I strained to listen. The stories required more context than I had, and my attention wandered. Laborde's slave boy kept a fair distance from him, looking at the paintings on the wall with glass eyes. I wondered what kind of a man needed a lead for his slave. He looked young, too, barely eighteen at best.A  preference for youth was, of course, common, but an eighteen year old was too young to have mastered all the skills of a court slave. My opinion of Laborde soured. What a weak man. De Craon was barely any better. Her dress was a simple thing, barely more dignified than my own, and her slave did his job mechanically, with those same glassy slave eyes. A birthmark marred his cheek.

I glanced at Mistress, but if she realized the company she'd fallen into she didn't show it. They may have been Dukes, but not very likeable ones.Perhaps that was why it was just the two of them gossiping together.

I barely noticed the messenger come and tap Mistress on the shoulder.

“Your Illustriousness,” said the messenger, “I come with a message from Minister Rosalie Compere.”

Mistress' eyes popped and she reached for my shoulder, the metal of her ring digging into my shoulder. “Do tell, boy.”

“Minister Compere requests an audience with the pale-haired girl.” His eyes darted from me to Mistress to the floor and back again, and I could smell his sweat. Mistress turned to me.

“Come, petite, we'll be right there.” Her eyes were filled with wild hope.The messenger boy cleared his throat.

“Minister Compere requested a private audience.” He winced as though he expected to be hit, but Mistress only slowed down for a heartbeat.

“All for the better, as I have business here,” she remarked. She locked eyes with me and pressed just the tip of her needle into my skin. “Be a good girl for the Minister of Finance, won't you, Simone?”

“Yes, Mistress.”