Miracle of the Moon Goddess

14: Gifts

“There you are, beautiful as always.”

Prince Terra smiles as if nothing happened last night.; that he put mom in a stasis chamber is gone. The treats he gave me are gone. The frightened girl he left is gone. I have much more to learn, but what Mother Brown and Mother Safira have already told me is enough to know that I can’t do this anymore. There will be no one to save me, my mom, or the other slaves in this place. No one but me and the mates I find on my way.

“Sire,” I answer him, not bothering with the full title. Something he usually demands, but today, he doesn’t notice at all. Is there an ounce of compassion left in him? I do not have an answer when we enter his family room, a less official dining room than the one he has large dinners in.

“Come sit down. We have a few things to discuss,” the prince starts, indicating the chair opposite him and next to Damien. I smile when I see him. Except for the elven ears, he looks more like my mom than Prince Terra. He has short brown curls, an olive skin tone, and brown eyes.

“Damien! You were gone for a week, not two days! What happened? Has it been years for you? Did you see something special?” I ask with almost a squeal when sitting down next to him. I’m ignoring Prince Terra somewhat out of spite, but I also want him to tell me the answers. Usually, when the off-world training lasts longer than expected, it is because of problems.

Around us, the slaves serve us. Since we are at home and we are considered blood it’s not as strict in private as in court, so they give us plates with delicate miniature courses. The first plate is a cheese platter with fresh fruit.

“I had an accident and needed some healing. Nothing to worry about,” Damien answers, a little flustered. I’m always full of questions, but I’ve never been this disrespectful towards Prince Terra before.

“Oh, what happened? Tell me,” I demand. I do not look towards Prince Terra, but judging from Damien’s constant eye flicking between father and me, the man is not pleased with me.

‘Not your father, Celeste!’ my wolf reminds me, and I almost blush. I bite over a sizeable piece of fruit from my plate to hide it.

“Nothing special, just a spell that went wrong,” the prince answers for Damien.

I try to ignore it, but Damien takes it as a cue to focus on his father instead of me. I should have known he wouldn’t play this game with me. Does he even know that Prince Terra will make me a concubine, and the contenders are these old nasty true elves?

I turn my eyes to Prince Terra without hiding the fury in them. He can ignore everything he did last night, but I won’t, not for me and not for my mom. I’m so sick and tired of all the abuse he and all the other true elves do with people of other races. I’ve witnessed too many hardships around me to ignore it, and now I’m told there is a way to fix the power imbalance. But first I need to find out more details about the prophecy.

“We need to talk about the claims Lord Malekith, Lord Beldun, Lord Melkor, and Lord Algar have towards you and the gift you will receive,” Terra starts, but I don’t respond to him. Instead, I glance over at Damien again to see his reaction, and I see nothing.

Damien knows about my fear of Prince Terra turning back on his promise that I would not become a concubine. Still, I can’t find any sympathy in his eyes. Yes, he is a goody-two-shoes, but he has never been an ass about it. I silently plead that he acts so differently from what I’m used to because he has a plan.

“The candidates will send gifts to you during the entire process…” he continues, but I interrupt him.

“And I will graciously return them all, thanking them for their interests, but it’s unwanted.”

SMACK!

I wake up sprawled on the floor. I don’t think I was gone for long, just a few seconds. Prince Terra has never hit me before, so I guess my attitude is touching some nerves. The slaves glance at me worriedly as they try to ignore what just happened. With half an eye at me, they continue to serve the next dish, something that smells like lemony fish.

“Are you done?” the prince asks as he sits back in his seat. My head is ringing, but I think nothing is broken. Finding myself somewhat intact, I sigh before getting up. I might as well get used to being beaten. The four men, the prospects, will not give me a better treatment.

“You will accept those gifts with grace. You will thank them for their thoughtfulness and report what you received to me. For the slaves they will give you, I will come there personally to assess their worth,” he indicates to the chair again as if nothing has occurred. I sit down, but I cannot keep my mouth.

“Why?” I ask, and when he only lifts an eyebrow, I add: “Why do you need to know?”

“To know which of your prospects values you the most. It’s one test they have to go through, and the more wealth comes your way, the better the value reflected towards your family and, more importantly, towards yourself. They will not give more than what they think you are worth,” he explains, suddenly in a better mood.

“So they are paying for me? This is a way for you to get rich?” I ask, and the man actually flinches from my claim.

“No, Celeste. You keep the gifts. You need them to start your own household. When you become a concubine, you keep nothing our sire has given you or his concubine,” Damien explains, as if it’s something I should already know.

While he speaks, an icy shiver runs through me, and I almost space out. It’s not from the coldness emanating from him. No, I’m shocked because Damien didn’t acknowledge our mom! He called her concubine, not mom, mother, or even by her name. It’s like she’s nothing to him but an object his father owns.

We eat the next dish quietly. It’s some sort of red meat and root vegetables. As always, there is too little red wine sauce. Prince Terra uses the silence to calm himself before delivering the good news he has waited to give me.

“I’ve already brought over the first gifts,” Terra tells me when we have finished the meat and wave in the servants.

Mother Green enters first. “This is from Lord Algar,” she says, showing me what she carries on a black pillow. On the pillow is a set of jewelry with purple stones, similar to my dress last night. The jewelry’s are a necklace, earrings, a diadem, a bracelet, and two rings. It’s a set with a simple, classic design, and it’s beautiful.

“Put them in my jewelry box,” I say with grace, thinking about what Mother Safira told me before I left for lunch. She wants me to mention my jewelry box and things added to it. When an elf reads my mind, they will be less likely to check it closer, and if they look closer, I can pull out some items I’ve already have mentioned.

Next up, Mother Brown comes to me with a box that looks heavy. She opens it, and I see it’s filled with silver money. “This is from Lord Melkor,” she shares with me, and I can almost hear the anger in her voice.

“Really? Silver?” I ask Prince Terra. “Can you at least stop the man mocking my silver allergy from winning the claim?!”

Terra shrugs, but at least Damien looks uncomfortable now. We have both felt the burning touch of silver. Kids at the training camps and schools have thrown silver coins at us all our lives; this joke is not new.

I wave Mother Brown away so Mother Maggie can take her place. She carries the heavy gift from Lord Malekith, even if her black-and-white feathered body looks frail. The gift is a casket with 12 bottles of what look to be expensive wines. Prince Terra accepts when I wave Mother Maggie away, so he’s already looked closer at the wares.

Behind Mother Maggie, Mother Kitty walks towards me with a neatly folded stack of purple fabric. “These silken bed sheets are from Lord Beldun,” she tells me, and I groan from the cringe.

“That was weird! You have to admit that Lord Beldun is … nasty.” I scoff, but again, Prince Terra doesn’t bat an eye. I’m about to criticize the four lords some more when a slave I’ve never seen before enters the room.

Time stops as I take in the beautiful woman before me. Her feathers are like those of a peacock, a rare plumage since they only discovered peacocks’ relatives recently, and therefore the slave breeders haven’t perfected the coloring. This is the first time I’ve seen these with my own eyes.

But it is not the rarity of her plumage that strikes me as her beauty. It’s her eyes and the anger I see in them. Her fury warms my insides, and I long for her to show me her strength. My new sensation strengthens as her scent of oranges and chocolate reaches me. Accompanying my s****l desire, my wolf calls in my mind a word I cannot say out loud: ‘Mate.’ I bite my bottom lip, not to let a wanton sigh slip.

“I’m a gift from Lord Eldarion,” she says. Her voice is fuming with how much she hates the words. No one owns her; she will prove this to me whenever necessary. Judging by the wetness forming between my legs, I will beg her to put me in my place.

“Eldarion?” I ask, trying to focus on anything other than the feathered peacock woman before me. “Like in Eldar?”

“Yes,” Damien answers. “My friend has set his claim, too.”

He grimaces, but my heart flutters from the news. I’ve always had a little crush on my brother’s friend, the only true elven child I’ve met—except for the kids at the schools I’ve been to, who avoided me like the plague.

“So you accepted his claim?” I ask, finally feeling some hope for myself.

“Yes, for now. I don’t expect him to be chosen, though,” Prince Terra bites back. Damien only shrugs, as if he doesn’t care.