The War God’s Favorite

He was tall, and his bare torso was covered by a large, black fur cloak. He was obviously a warrior. Two large swords were attached to his belt, and out of all the Princes, he was the only one wearing barely any jewelry, and the least expensive fabrics. Instead, he simply wore black leather pants, large boots, and dragon scale bracers on his forearms.

At this man’s feet, Cassandra appeared extremely vulnerable. Realizing that he was a member of the Imperial Family, she immediately averted her eyes. Why was she brought there? Would he kill her himself? Had she somehow offended the Royal Family?

“She is indeed quite pretty…” whispered one of the Princes.

“Brother, what do you want to do? Shall we get rid of her?”

“Just keep her, Kairen. You could use a few more slaves anyway.”

She shivered. Prince Kairen, as in the Third Prince, the Empire’s War God? Of all people, it had to be the most terrifying Prince! She bowed even lower, ready for a blade to slice her at any moment. But what were the Princes talking about?

A long and scary silence ensued. She waited, becoming more confused with each passing second, but it didn’t seem like anyone was planning to kill her. What was going on?

“Alright, enough. Let’s move on with the next performance before I get bored. Brother, you’ll do whatever you want with her later. Who cares about a slave anyway.”

The First Prince clapped his hands, and down in the arena, servants rushed to clean the bloodied sand on the grounds and prepare for the next show.

Cassandra was still frozen, kneeling at the Prince’s feet. She knew she absolutely must not raise her head in front of the Imperial Family, but the Third Prince still hadn’t moved. All of a sudden, a loud growl took her by surprise, and she turned her head, just slightly, to see the Black Dragon still behind her. It was close enough to envelop her in huffs of hot breath and for her to see its large fangs.

Suddenly, she heard the hiss of a blade. Before she could even move, the sword plunged towards her, and she prepared for the worst, closing her eyes. The manacles fell with a clang and her wrists no longer felt so heavy. He had severed the chain from her back! Cassandra slowly moved to look at her wrists. The iron bands were still around her neck and wrists, but they were no longer held painfully together from her back. Her arms were now free to move as she pleased.

Her relief was short-lived though as he suddenly grabbed her collar, pulling her to his side. She didn’t have time to struggle, as he roughly dragged her to his seat. Cassandra was shocked to be placed against his golden chair, but even more surprised to see him simply sit without adding a word. She was on her knees at his feet, her shoulder against the throne, but the Prince didn’t even look at her, focusing back on the arena again.

What was all that? He had placed her facing the arena so she couldn’t even sneak a glance up at him. She was completely shocked and at a loss. Looking around, she realized she was the only slave on the platform. Aside from the Princes, only some palace attendants stood behind the seats, like statues, with no one paying her any more attention.

she glanced to the side, only to realize that it was a part of the Prince’s large coat! Did he purposely move it so that it would

next?” One of the Princes

this group came from across

her hair without warning. It took her a few seconds to realize, as the fingers that gently played with her long waves were so light she barely felt them. For a minute, she was dumbstruck, wondering if she was dreaming. No one but the Third Prince was close enough to be able to reach and touch her. His large hand slowly stroked her hair, almost touching her back. She could feel his warm

move a muscle. On the arena floor beneath them, a splendid dance performance was

it. The other Princes seated to their left were solely focused on the performances down

now, right? Within minutes she had become property of the Third Prince. It was almost as if he

had come from rumors. When it came to the Third Prince, the gossip mill ran deep. The Emperor’s favorite son, he was said to be a dark, cruel, and merciless man. The Empire’s War God. Was he really the one who, against all odds, had spared the life of a slave? Did he just decide to do so because

the arena. Cassandra observed the magnificent dragon again, mesmerized by the obsidian scales. She found it more distracting than any performance, especially since she couldn’t look at the owner of the hand

times she shivered, not because of the cold, since she was now under the cloak, but from the contact of the Prince’s hot hand against her skin. Moreover, his hand was venturing further and further down her nape, onto her shoulders.

as women. They were often dirty and poorly dressed. Unlike the noblewomen who went to extreme lengths to have the prettiest dresses, jewelry, and the most expensive make-up

stay beautiful. She was tall and thin, with pale skin that had been permanently scarred by a whip in several places. Her breasts were not large, but still round and full enough to make her look feminine. Had she been fed properly, she would have had a beautiful silhouette. But despite the years of malnourishment,

it, but she didn’t shiver

the

should follow, decided it

many corridors so fast that she could barely keep up. To her surprise, the

that place was still unbelievably large and luxurious with a canopy bed, large enough to welcome four people, and adorned in silk sheets. There were also two chairs and

was shocked by how bare the room was. Had it just been prepared to welcome him during his stay during the festival? She had heard each Prince

massaged his neck. Cassandra suddenly realized that she was his only attendant! Did he come without any slaves or

The War God sighed.

want to take a

them for hot water to be prepared for the Third Prince, as well as several herbs for the water. The servant, not knowing the slave girl, was inclined to whip her and send her back where she belonged, but her words of “Third Prince” had the impulse stuck in his throat. If there was one man no one wanted to anger, it was the Third Prince. So, after a doubtful second, he nodded with disdain and turned on

water into the bath along with