Goddess Unbound: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (The Airluds Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  "Do you think we should go and check on Spot and Storm?" Zem asked, after he'd cleared his overflowing plate of its many delicacies. He'd put on weight since joining the recruits and turned food into muscle, but he was still a scrawny kid for sixteen. We were of a height, he and I, though I was sturdier, and my bound breasts made it look like I had a muscular chest. When I first arrived at the centre I'd let Airsha think I was younger than I actually was. Looking young had its advantages when you were running a con.

  One day Zem and the lads would find out I was a girl. That would change things, but not a lot. Airsha would make sure I was accepted. If she could teach the recruits to fight, and then lead them to win their first battle, any girl with the same abilities should be allowed to join them.

  "All right," I agreed, knowing the airlings were fine in their paddock, well fed on the spring grasses this part of the Badlunds was famous for. Zem was just feeling overwhelmed and wanting a little time away from it all. I understood that feeling. He and I had both lived on the streets. For him it was because his family was killed by Clifflings, and then his mother's family had him put away for his strange, obsessive ways. He'd escaped that place to live only marginally better on the streets of Godslund's capital.

  He wasn't insane. Just dealing with a traumatic past as best he could. For him that meant counting and ordering everything in his life. It meant checking on Storm and plotting her place in the flock to make sure she was all right.

  When Airshin had used magic on the airlings, making them claim lads randomly, often more than one at a time, the peace-loving creatures had begun fighting among themselves. Those fights had become so vicious that, in the end, three had died of their injuries. Zem had kept his distance from the airlings the moment the trouble started. Though he loved Storm more than he'd loved anyone since his parents, he stayed out of the way of all the airlings in case more than one decided to claim him. That would have meant Storm would have fought for him. And that was the last thing Zem wanted. No more deaths because of him.

  That thought had been a recurring one. I had never found its source. But I guessed it came from the Cliffling attack he'd survived. Maybe his mother had tried to protect him and been killed for it. There were things I couldn't find in his mind. They were locked down tight.

  While the other raw airlings had fought over the lads, none had done the same over me, so Spot and I had continued our close bond uninterrupted. Now we knew the reason I was different. Airshin hadn't been able place the spells in my tunics because they were safely locked away in the big house under the housekeeper's eagle eye.

  As we walked together down the dark, quiet corridor, the noise from the Banquet Hall dulled by the thick walls, I breathed a sigh of relief. Zem threw me a conspiratorial smile and I knew he had caught the sigh and agreed with it.

  He didn't talk much, and with me he didn't have to. I gathered he understood on some level that I could read his thoughts, but he didn't acknowledge it. And I was all right with that.

  It was late afternoon, the celebration having started shortly after Airsha's demonstration had ended. Deep inside the stronghold it was impossible to tell the time of day, but the accommodation wing had many open windows that allowed the air and daylight to enter. My room was just like that, and located next to Airsha's. The babes had a room of their own on the other side. The evening before, a pair of doting nurses had arrived shortly after Airsha and her harem, and they'd taken over the care of the childlings rather forcefully.

  It was laughable to watch them struggle for power over the babes. The men were possessive of their young, but the nurses found their close bond with the babes offensive. Males should keep their distance from childlings. They didn't have the right temperament to handle the stresses and strains involved in childrearing. They could get violent and harm childlings.

  Horrified by this view, Airsha had put down her foot as Goddess. No husband of hers was going to be kept from his young. And all of them were the childings' fathers, as far as she was concerned. Just as they were all her husbands and her equals.

  Her views ruffled many feathers, not the least the nurses. A cold war simmered with them. After almost a full day and night since their arrival, there were subtle power-plays developing that were not outright challenges to Airsha's commands, but slid just under them.

  So the babes had their own room and Airsha went to them at feeding time and whenever she felt the need to play and be close to them. Her men did the same in staggered visits, being careful not to disturb the nurses' routines. But they all knew that as soon as we found our new centre things would change again and the harem would get back their young.

  "I think I may have magic," Zem confessed as we approached the big doors that led outside into the courtyard.

  This shocked me to a standstill. I had never heard anything of this in his mind, not even just now when he was clearly preparing to tell me. Or had he been preparing? Maybe it just came out. I was good at that myself − just letting things slip out without forethought.

  "What Airsha said today, about not being afraid to own your magic. I've been like that for a long time," he went on, shamefaced. Did he really think of it as something to be ashamed of? Or was he just being humble?

  "What's your magic?" I asked tentatively.

  He blushed bright red. "Fighting. Nobody taught me what I can do and I don't practice. Well, until I joined the recruits. I've just been able to fight since I was little. It got better when I started to become a man. I don't ever really let people see..."

  I gasped a little, thinking about the amazing gut-punch he'd delivered to Ratch that long-ago day. And the rumours had been plentiful about his fighting prowess during the airling troopers' attack.

  "Is that how you survived the Clifflings?" I asked excitedly, suddenly having a new piece to the puzzle that was Zem.

  "How?... Oh, aye. Not well enough to save my family, but well enough that they let me live. I think they would've taken me and used me if I hadn't started going mad." He shrugged guiltily. Why did he feel guilty about having magic?! Or was it going mad?

  His easy acceptance of my knowledge of his life gave me the answer I had been coming to for a while now.

  "You know about my magic?" I asked, trying not to sound guilty. Neither of us had any reason to feel guilty or embarrassed that we had magic.

  He nodded. "That's why I'm telling you about mine. And because of what the Goddess said today. I'm tired of hiding it."

  "I know what you mean. The Airluds and Airsha know about my magic and it's such a relief. But I knew you'd realise sooner or later, the way I answer your unspoken thoughts."

  "And know stuff I haven't told you," he added.

  I nodded grudgingly. "It's why we decided I should stay away from the rest of the recruits, so they didn't find out. I'm not as vigilant as I used to be about hiding it."

  "I hate the way everyone congratulates me about what I did with the Godslunders. I didn't do anything. It was my magic. A gift. Not something to be proud of. It isn't me," Zem went on.

  "That's how Airsha talks. But I'm proud of what I can do. It might have been a gift, but I'm the one who uses it. And when I can use it to help the people I care about, like with that groundling bastard, Airshin, I feel proud."

  He nodded. "I guess. I never thought of it that way."

  As we began crossing the courtyard, making for the main gate, I noticed a wagon leaving. Absently, I noted the odd timing for the departure. Usually wagons left earlier than this or waited for the morning. Maybe this one didn't have far to go. It seemed to be loaded with wine barrels. It had probably dropped off barrels for the feast and was now taking the empty ones away into the town that surrounded the stronghold. That had to be it.

  Zem noted the wagon too, and I could see the same thoughts passing through his mind. He was even more disconcerted by this unusual occurrence than me. Order was everything to him. And a wagon leaving this late was out of order. It could bring on chaos.

  I dec
ided to draw his thoughts away to something he could control − Storm's lessons.

  As soon as the spells were removed from the tunics, the airlings had returned to normal, although traumatised by what had happened. Zem was one of the first to go to the airlings, and Storm had hopped over to him like her life depended on seeing him again. And, except for the battle and much needed sleep, they had been inseparable ever since. Except today when we had other commitments − like the demonstration and the feast.

  We passed through the gates, nodding at the guards there, who knew us well by now. The airlings had to graze outside the stronghold and township, so we had to go to them if we needed to work with them. That meant coming and going through the gates often.

  "I can teach you a few things the Airluds taught me," I offered, watching Zem's eyes following the wagon, his brows knitted.

  He gave no indication he'd heard me.

  "Zem, I want to talk about Storm," I said clearly, even going so far as to touch his arm to get his attention.

  All it took was the word Storm to get his focus back on me. He blinked, as if coming out of a daydream.

  "What?"

  "I said, I want to talk about Storm's lessons. I offered to teach you a few of the tricks the Airluds taught me."

  The lads didn't know that Calun could communicate with the airlings. Like everyone else, they thought he just had a way with them, and suns of close contact made him an expert on their behaviour, likes and dislikes. Of course, that was partially true. But most of what Calun had learned came directly from communicating with them through the pictures they sent each other as language.

  "That's good, Flea. I'd appreciate it. But... I just... That wagon. It was wrong. I need to tell someone."

  I frowned in frustration. This had really upset his order, if he'd forsake learning more about Storm to pursue the wagon's wrongness. It seemed foolish to me. But I shrugged and gave in. Once Zem found out why the wagon had left late his world would right itself again and we could either go back to the feast or out to the airlings. Until then, it would be like hitting my head against a wall to try to change his thinking.

  "All right, let's ask the guards," I said, giving in as gracefully as I could.

  Chapter Three

  AIRSHA

  I came to wakefulness again when the lid was removed from the barrel. The flood of fresh air was invigorating, and I drew in several deep gasps to appreciate it.

  "Out. Come on, Mina, get out." The man seemed even more agitated than he'd been in the stronghold.

  He called me Mina. Was that my name? It was familiar, certainly. But as though it belonged to someone else, not me.

  I climbed out of the barrel to discover the wagon had come to a stop on the very edge of a dark forest. Not far into the trees two beastlings were tethered. They were fine-boned creatures, unlike the ones that pulled the wagon. Rich men's mounts, I knew.

  How could I know such things and not know my own name?

  "Come on, Mina, we have to be away from here," the man said again, his tone a little gentler than it had been in the stronghold, but no less urgent.

  I clambered down off the wagon and headed for the mounts. My breasts began to hurt and the front of my tunic was suddenly soaked through. Breast milk. I was leaking milk.

  "Where is my babe?" I demanded with equal urgency. "I have a babe. I know I must have a babe."

  The man looked at me sadly. "Don't you remember? The people in the stronghold killed your babe and your husband. And they would have killed you too, if I had not helped you escape. So come on, we have to ride. Now!"

  Numbly, I did as he bid me, watching with only a part of my mind as he cleared the road of our tracks with a branch and helped me into the saddle. All the while, the rest of my mind circled the mental carcasses of my loved ones. Dead? I had a babe and a husband and they were both dead? No! It was too horrible to contemplate. He was wrong. This man was wrong.

  "When? When did it happen?" I demanded.

  But I obediently climbed onto the beastling and let the man lead us into the depth of the forest, while the wagon resumed its journey along the road.

  I knew it couldn't have been long ago that my babe died, if I was still filled with milk. My breasts ached like nothing I'd ever known before. But as I had very little I could call 'known' it was a meaningless comparison.

  "A 'turn or so ago. They found out you were loyal to the Godling and killed your man and babe for it. You were to face charges of treason. But you fainted when you saw them die. Can you not remember any of this?"

  I shook my head. "My... My father?"

  "The Godling. You remember that much?"

  The man's black brows met in the middle as he frowned. It was too dark to tell the colour of his almond-shaped eyes, but from his dark skin tone I imagined they were black or very dark brown. He wore his hair in intricate tiny braids, tied back in a knot at the base of his skull. I would call him a striking looking man, rather than a handsome one. His hawk-shaped nose, which gave him the look of a predator, was too conspicuous for true good looks. Only his full lips softened his stark features and could be called attractive. Even if they were set in grim lines at the moment.

  He was tall, much taller than me. But I did not think that was unusual. I couldn't be sure, but I had a feeling I was considered short. So he was taller than me by a head, with broad shoulders that made his torso form a significant V down to his hips. Ropey muscles could be seen outlined beneath his linen tunic.

  Did I know this man? Why would he risk his life helping me escape if he didn't know me?

  I dragged my mind back to our conversation. He said the rebels killed my husband and babe because I was on the Godling's side. Some of that made sense, but... it didn't ring true somehow. But the grief that was welling up inside me pushed everything else aside.

  My babe and husband were dead! I didn't remember them, but I remembered the love I felt for them. It was a burning flame within me. If this was true, if the rebels had killed my loved ones, I would avenge them! I didn't know how, but I would exact vengeance on whoever was responsible for this terrible crime.

  "What is your name? Do I know you? Why are you helping me?" I demanded, pushing my grief away for the moment.

  "I am Trace. A cousin of sorts. I was sent by your father to rescue you and bring you home. I was not in time to save your family. For that I am sorry." He looked genuinely distraught, but something... something was not right.

  "How are we related? And how did one man orchestrate such an escape plan? You did do this on your own, did you not?"

  He shrugged. "I did. With a little magic and bribery. I am the grandson of your grandfather's brother. Occasionally magical sons are born to other members of the Godling's line. It is a well-kept secret. We are like illegitimate childlings, our family's greatest shame, though we are not born out of wedlock. Our fathers just marry badly and produce abominations like me. In the past we would have been castrated−"

  "Castrated?" I repeated anxiously, interrupting his story. "Boys are castrated, too? To stop their magic?" How did I know any of that? He had to be telling me the truth.

  "Yes. You say, too? Who else was castrated?" he asked with interest.

  I had to think about that for a moment. I knew the answer to that question. It was on the tip of my tongue. But then it was gone, like a dream on waking.

  "I... I do not remember. Go on. Abominations like you were castrated?"

  He nodded, gritting his teeth as if the idea hurt him to think about. "But your father was kinder and more flexible than his grandfather, the last Godling. Whenever sons from other lines showed signs of magic, we were given a chance to live and prosper − in secret of course. None could know about the abominations. But we could be useful and were well paid for our services."

  "Abomination... What is that? It sounds so... familiar."

  "The gods decreed that only the magical sons of the Godling could be allowed to have magic. All others were mistakes of nature, abominati
ons. If left to flourish they would undermine the order of the world. This rebellion is an example of that disrupted order. An abomination far worse than me is destroying the world. She has to be stopped. You know that. You knew that, Mina. Your family died because you knew that!"

  I swallowed hard, my mouth as dry as dust. I barely notice we had gone so far into the forest that the sun could no longer penetrate the branches of the huge trees. My beastling followed Trace's as I followed his words. Mindlessly.

  For a long time we rode in silence, me trying to come to terms with what I had been told, Trace trying to navigate the increasingly dark and dangerous wood. In the end, when his beastling tripped for the second time, he called our journey to a halt.

  "We have to stay here until daybreak. There is still a good day's journey until we reach the other side of this forest. Most of the way is like this, densely foliated, barely traversable, even in daylight."

  I nodded and dismounted. My breasts hurt so much I could barely think straight. And my tunic stuck to my chest uncomfortably, reminding me of what I'd lost. My babe died! What kind of monster would kill an innocent babe?

  "I'll put a meal together before we lose what light there still is. You... You go and see to your problem." He indicated the front of my tunic, not unkindly, but with some embarrassment.

  I knew what I had to do. Like milking a beastling, I had to milk my aching mams to get some relief. Stumbling away out of sight, I found a spot to relieve myself and then began the slow and painful process of reducing the milk in my breasts. By the time I'd finished, tears were pouring down my face, not from the pain, which had been bad enough, but for the little being who should have been receiving its sustenance from me. So much wasted milk. So much loss.