The Twin Dragons Series: Dragon's Leash

I had a fascination with the sky and the clouds, perhaps because I hadn’t seen its sparseness and freedom for over three years.

Trapped in the Fahrenheit mine was my fate, possibly for the rest of my life.

Forget about ever being the Queen of the Apogee. To regain power over my home would mean the removal of an entire army—and I had no army to fight back.

I only had the power of the Sword Dancer, which I unfortunately had no idea how to harness or use.

Up until I was sixteen, I only learned dance. The fighting came after that, and I never had the opportunity to begin that training.

We were invaded when I was sixteen by Astro and Apostis. Three years later, I was nineteen, orphaned, my whole family slaughtered, completely annihilated…

All of them except me.

No one found my body after the invasion, and I knew Astro was aware I’d survived somewhere out of sight.

It was a dangerous existence, but I managed to change my appearance enough. Mostly by being starved—and occasionally beaten.

I slipped away into the crowds and joined the commoners. It’s so long ago, but I can remember every detail of the transition from queen to slave as if it were yesterday.

No, I didn’t have a king, but you didn’t need one in Apogee back when my family ruled. Females were the sole reigning monarchs. It was in conjunction with our rare power, the Sword Dancer.

The miners, however, are my new beloved family. They all know who I am. They all protect me.

And we all hold our tongues to protect each other from the Slave Masters who drive us to work twelve-hour shifts in the mines, without pause, no food or water during.

The widest spaces in this hell were when the mines opened to older, ancient quarries, supported by nothing but…well, you could call it Luck.

That’s where I am now, The First Luck.

There are three lucky spaces in total—the safest places to be in the Fahrenheit. Every other area of the mine is unstable.

This Luck is closest to the surface, dripping poison from the Bloodstone hollowed out to give room for a party of ten. Still small, but definitely one of the most spacious areas in the Fahrenheit.

Five of us female slaves stand in a row, while Fell tells us the command.

“You’ve all been brought here for introductory duties. You will all help wash the new slaves upon their arrival.

“They have already been whipped until they’re red and had their nails trimmed, their heads shaved.”

Fell stops by me, dressed in crimson-red robes that highlight his rank, close to Astro as a favored enforcer of the New Rule: Obey Astro, the Maul King, or face nightmarish consequences.

“Have you prayed to Apostis today, Hazel?”

“Yes, sir,” I answer without emotion, only the correct words.

Fell, with his white hair and pale blue lips, is obsessed with me.

I used to worry it was because he suspected I was the missing queen...

Now, I think, as he reaches for my shoulder and my neck, placing his hand there, squeezing so tight it hurts, it’s another reason.

“Good.” He unhands me, almost needlessly shoving me back as he turns. I know he wishes I would fall, if only so then he could have an excuse to whip me.

Pirouette beside me rubs my back for a small second in comfort, and I shake her off.

She was my best friend—I didn’t want her to get punished because of me. She was already full of scars. All she lived for was to rebel and get hacked into with Fell’s generous torture.

She was covered in scars from head to toe. But still, all in the name of inspiring others. That’s how she justified it.

I stare past her and then past Fell directing the new slaves.

Oh.

My heart lurches at what I see.

I almost... I almost feel hope for a second—for the strangest reason.

Six slaves arrive, wrists still shackled to their ankles. They are all whipped and red, all are bald... except for two with heads of hair.

How did two manage to avoid getting their hair removed?

Perhaps because the bleeding giant twins with hair the color of night looked as if they had just come off a battlefield, a bloody war.

I notice their skin is golden despite the red from their wounds, and I focus on that color. I was also once golden—now, I was pale and purple like a lotus flower.

My mother used to call me beautiful like a yellow rose.

I miss my mother.

I gulp and quickly turn off that useless thought.

The slaves are lined up in front of us, and I look away from all of them while Fell turns back to face us.

“Go.” Fell points each female off, choosing which girl goes with each man into a preparation room. “You, there—you, this one, Pirouette—move it. Hazel, come here for me, love.”

It was disgusting when he endeared me. It turned me off so much I never wanted to be endeared by anyone ever again. Truth.

I walk toward him, keeping my head down.

“Hazel, are you listening?”

Fell liked to pretend I was slow, or I pretended, just so I had less attention. Anything I could do to avoid it.

I look up to Fell and nod, remaining expressionless as he tells me, with a cold look, “You’ll wash them, strip them down, clothe them in slave material, and take them to their new station.

“But as long as it happens out of sight, it’s out of all our minds. Enjoy yourselves with her.”

He has got to be kidding me. Fell actually thinks they’re going to rape me. In fact, he wants them to.

“Look at me, Hazel.”

Instead, I look down at my single bucket, half-full of dirty water with a used rag, wrung out a thousand times.

I could use neither as a weapon.

Perhaps with Fell’s wish of violence upon me from others…perhaps…perhaps this is truly my last day.

I feel a slap to my cheek—and it brings me back to the present.

It’s a slap I would have really felt three years ago.

Now, it was just another handshake.

To cope, I made myself enjoy this kind of punishment…until I actually did enjoy it.

I glance up to Fell, and he smiles warmly at my gentle smile. A true smile. As the pain warms my cheek.

“Look at them,” Fell, staring at my curled, curious lips then my raging hazel eyes, is obsessed with my torture.

I finally turn my head from my abuser and look at the two criminals, the worst of the worst—at least by Fell’s retelling. These brothers, these twins, are not even looking at me.

One is staring right ahead at the guards. The other, closest to us, is staring at Fell.

“They have hair because they bit two of the barbers’ hands off and ate them. Feral men. They might eat you raw, although Astro and Apostis would have you cooked.

“Would you prefer to go meet the Maul King and offer to be his dinner? Love?”

“I am ready to wash the rapists, thank you.” I look straight at Fell without looking away, meaning to glare—but now I receive two other burning glares on my slight frame.

My spine crawls.

“Well, don’t deny it,” Fell challenges the shackled men, who both seem to be irritated by something. “You two have a reputation to uphold, Devor—”

“Don’t say my name.” The one farther off to the side now sideways glares at Fell.

“I’ll be keeping an ear out to hear it. You may find we have a lot more in common than you think.” Fell seems to admire the monsters. “You’re very welcome. Remember this favor I give you.”

Fell turns from them to lean over and pinch my nose and wiggle it, showing off how I can be used so easily like a toy. “Just in case it’s the last time.”

Fell leans over to kiss my cheek, but something inside me fucking snaps at that comment.

While Fell is hissing spit through his teeth, I’ve managed to screw my second weak fist into his thick red collar, and I choke him as best as I can, even though it’s futile and meek and pathetic.

It’s all I can manage.

Fell spits in my eye and flats a hand over my face, shoving me back until I almost trip over the bucket.

I am able to twirl to regain my balance, and I pick up the rag and bucket at the same time.

I watch with narrowed eyes as Fell grabs the small baton at his hip. I’m sure he’ll beat me with it.

To my disturbing surprise, however, Fell composes himself and straightens his back.

“I don’t care. They’ll ravage you anyway. I always knew you were a slut for your own blood…”

My heart goes cold when Fell says that.

Did he know I had cut myself in the past…while I…while I pleasured myself?

I need to get away from him.

Fell can’t stop talking shit, but he does pause as the second brother leans over to Fell, whipped and bleeding but hair still perfectly glossy with power as he speaks to him.

“The only thing wet is your dripping, bleeding balls. You should get that checked.” This twin sounds like his voice grinds people’s meat to liquid mush. I kind of like it.

“Also, anything that makes her wet is our business now.”

As we’re left alone, aside from the guards watching on, I’m able to address the new prisoners with fucking hair. I can’t get over it.

I now ask them, “Is it true of your crimes?” I speak to the more communicative brother, as the other is staring off into space again. As if I don’t exist.

The twin looking at me leans over, bending over quite far to catch my voice and my ear.

“Is it true we still have hair?” he asks me cryptically.

“I see it,” I answer as neutrally as possible. “Will you make me scream as Fell said?”

I wait for a reassuring no. One word to reaffirm Fell is a liar and an intimidator and a manipulator.

My prisoner leans up, seemingly deep in thought. But he doesn’t answer.

“Move,” the more violent one speaks, now looking right at me.

I’m too scared to look at him.

I turn to move, to take them to the last washing chamber. I lead the way, and they follow closely while my mind reels.

What the fuck was I going to do if they both took me against my will?

~What? I’m hearing things. I’m… I’m here—

I turn around in my walk to glance at both twins. The nicer one is staring at me with intent.

Well, why would I care about that? And also, did that mean Korserath was interested in me?

I almost jerk with his intrusion again.

I didn’t know if I was anticipating pain or what—

“Lotus flower?” A question from Korserath related to much further before. Fuck. No, he read my mind then too? Which means he might have heard I was a q—

Don’t think it, don’t think it, don’t think it, don’t think it!

I skip quickly into the last washroom of black, dripping rocks.

A small, nothing space with no privacy, only one bench and an ominous sucking noise of air through the cracks in the rocks, leading to the volcano and the magma somewhere above.

I drop the bucket.

I turn around.

Korserath stands against one wall, his brother against the other. Relaxed. Okay.

They watch each other. Korserath is smirking at his twin, who is still seemingly bored and unimpressed.

Then I hear things while looking at them—things I shouldn’t be hearing.

They both abruptly look at me.

I just intruded on both their minds.

And I don’t think either knew.

Um.

I lean down and wet the rag.

I lean up and squeeze it, twisting it tight.

“Tell us about the Fahrenheit,” Devorex finally addresses me, and I think his name out loud quite clearly, which gets me almost cut down with his next dagger of a question.

I look down.

Fuck.

If I stayed here any longer, they would start to know more. If I thought too much more.

No.

This was going from strange to downright risky.

I need to act now.

So I act.

I walk right up to Devorex, and I punch him in the face.

Mind you, it doesn’t do anything except cause complete lack of breath from either brother. Not even a head swings, but thankfully, I don’t get a fist through my face.

What I did does what I wanted it to do.

Shock value.

I walk past them.

“The night calls,” I whisper, mimicking a crazy person I knew well in the Bunks. “The night will win.” I keep walking off, suddenly screaming at the top of my lungs for good measure.

Nothing like acting weird to throw predators off the scent.

Especially ones in my head—every time they looked at me.

I can’t think about it too much longer.

I get out.

I leave the rest to whoever bothers to clean up after me.

I didn’t know who the fuck Korserath and Devorex were, but they weren’t from around here.

They would be easy to avoid—so that is my only goal now.

Stay the fuck away from them.

Luckily, my maneuver today is all I need to survive another year in isolation.

I’m correct in my assumptions as the mines are ten thousand strong, and it’s hard to run into everyone and easy to avoid certain shafts.

Eventually, though, fate would catch up—and I would meet them again.

Twin Nightmares.

One year from now. They will be the key to escaping the Fahrenheit. The only problem will be the payment.

The price of freedom would cost my soul.