Trinket (Reverse Harem)

YOU LIKE ME BEST, ADMIT IT.

He took me through the various hallways and walkways and what-nots of the palace complex and I think part of the town itself (hard to tell), and I swear it was more him parading me than guiding me.

For an asshole who previously had dragged me into this place in bubble-chains, he now seems pretty pleased.

So was he happy about this or not? Had he made peace with it? Had it all been for show?

We descended sand-clay steps into a deep, wide hall that just screams Entrance To Dungeon. It smells of rotting seaweed, old blood, sand, shells, and despair.

"I asked if you were delicate," he rumbled.

"Do you want me to despise you? Show me where they are. Now."

Ormiss waves the guards—there are a lot of guards—to the side. A number of prisoners stare at me from bars, some alert, some vacant eyed. The prison is dark and watery and huge. Outside there is no light, just dark ocean water.

Where the hell are we?

We leave behind the cells for a narrow set of stairs that open into a vast room. Dim light is supplied by magical lanterns in the low ceiling.

"Oh gods!" I gasped.

"Leave," Ormiss waved the guards that lined the cell away. They file out without complaint.

It's a single vast cell, a box of stone, actually, and in the center of it are metal plates with thick chains. Chains as thick as my entire body, the wields riveted and secured by magical wards. Eight plates line each side of the rectangular shaped room. The ceiling is very low. Ormiss doesn't need to duck, someone else might. More plates and chains hang from the ceiling.

Bound to the plates: legs, wings, neck, are my three flying consorts. Assund, absurdly small in the company of dragons and a gryphon, is bound on all four legs with little shackles but the huge chains, and he has been muzzled and is wearing a collar. Itek's beak is bound with an iron cradle. Korr and Ethat lay unmoving on the ground, their necks arranged in swan-like arches and their wings strewn like carelessly tossed silk scarves.

"No! No! No!" I run towards them.

Assund wags his tail and Itek tugs against his chains, claws scratching the stone and metal.

"Let them go!" I shouted at Ormiss.

He strode into the scene. "I can't. I explained this to you."

"They're injured!" I shouted, rushing over to Itek's wounded haunch.

"They've been treated," Ormiss sounded bored.

Itek shifted against his chains, muscles swelling with the effort. He shook his head, crooning in his throat. The gash on his haunch does look like it's been cleaned and tended to. I hurried over to Korr and Ethat, torn between which one needed me more. They've both been had metal bands wrapped thrice around their delicate snouts, and which are tethered to a heavy chain bolted into the floor. They're both laying on their sides, feet pointed at each other, heads bowed so if they opened their eyes they'd see each other.

Ethat's shining green wings have been carefully arranged around him. The membrane on one is badly torn with chunks missing and little broken bones, but someone's tried to clean him up and treat the injury. Korr had a massive puncture wound over his ice-white breast. It travelled clear through his chest and left a hole so wide my arm could have fit in and reached out the other side, if my arm had been long enough.

The bloody, gaping hole was black around the edges and draining thin trickles of pinkish-yellow fluid, and is packed with some crusty, strong-smelling substance. He was breathing very slowly.