Crimson's Captivation Read Online Free PDF Page B

above her. The room was quiet. The only sounds
were the cleansing drops of water landing on the pool's surface and
the sloshing of the chambermaids as they moved around their
charges. Each water drop casted ghostly echoes in the room. The
sounds were soothing.
    Crimson wasn’t sure if she should ask, but
wanted to know. “Sena, who is Kieran?”
    Sena knew why she asked the question but
played coy. “Why do you ask?”
    Crimson found her own bashfulness odd; she
had just been pleased in front of a crowd and admitted to herself
that she enjoyed it immensely, yet a single question in the
confines of this room leashed and dragged an innocent emotion to
the surface. She was sure the others saw her blush. “I’m not sure,
there is just something about him, his presence subdues me and my
world just drifts away.”
    Sena smiled. “Then this will only add to his
allure. He’s a tracker.”
    “A tracker?”
    “Yes, he tracks royalty to introduce as
captives to the trade. He tracked you, and the young boy who was
escorted out. Kieran has lived for hundreds of years. He knows the
history of our nations, the lineage of our bloodlines not from
history books or family tales, but from experience. You know this
though. I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors in the tea rooms and the
parlors of your court.”
    Crimson repeated under her voice, “A hundred
years.” She then whispered, “Am I wrong? Is there a power about
him?”
    “Power? Yes, Kieran is a dagger to the heart.
An illusion that consumes.”
    “I thought they, the rumors and tales among
the sips of tea, were just women’s tales, risqué stories to liven
the tea party. Sena, how do you know this? How do you know of
Kieran?”
    “I’ve been on this journey before, before the
markings.”
    “Markings? What do you mean …?”
    The door to the room burst open and a boorish
older man surrounded by an entourage of servants stepped over the
threshold. His eyes were the color of coal, his protuberant belly
jutted out from his bronze breastplate and he stunk of
self-importance. The chambermaids reacted by cowing to the man.
Sena looked away to the far wall.
    Crimson, on the other hand, stood proud and
she found the man detestable. She instantly knew he was
extortionate and would reach for her body with grabby hands when
the time came. This man was no lover. He was arrogant,
presumptuous, and apathetic to the needs of a woman. He was a
self-glorifier. The only thing she liked of the man was the blue
sash hanging over his right shoulder and the red cuffs of his coat.
“At least he has a sense of style,” she quietly admitted to
herself.
    The man was all smiles at first, and then he
frowned. “Where is the young prince?” the man commanded to everyone
in the room.
    Kieran stepped into room and clasped the
man’s elbow. He leaned toward the man and whispered something that
brought a nod of understanding from the man.
    The man cast his arms wide from his body, as
if he were directing dominion over the souls in the room, “Very
well, Kieran, brand the young prince and prepare him for the
journey, he may be trainable yet. Ah, there she is,” he said as he
focused on Crimson, ran his eyes over her body.
    Crimson refused to acknowledge him. She
instead focused her eyes on Kieran. The man boasted, “She is a
beauty, isn’t she, Kieran? It will be difficult to be harsh to this
one. No, I think I will take my time with her.” His very words
caused Crimson to cringe.
    The man stepped back toward the door and
lowered his arms. “Kieran, please proceed with the decree.”
    Kieran accepted a piece of reed based paper
and read the decree aloud. “Lord Tor of Russia with dominion over
Ukraine and Crimea sets forth the following orders for his serfs.
You shall not provide pleasure or receive pleasure without
direction. You will be in serfdom for no less than one year. You
will be branded with the mark of Tor, prepared for transportation,
and be added to the Lord’s concubine in