The Worst Kind of Fate

I sometimes forget the addiction, the want of knowledge, the tell tale signs of what the future will bring.

She comes to me often, her brow furrowed with the need to know, as if I am some sort of oracle that can make her life easier, as if I can bring peace to her surly existence. I can not.

I am merely a girl from the island of Cathris, a single soul trapped in her own realm of imprisonment, one cursed by her own blood to slavery for actions that took place before my birth. This is my reality. For me, there is no other. I still hold hope that someday, the curse will be broken and I will be free, allowed to companion, to bear children, to live the life I have been denied.

I am not complaining, for I realize how lucky I truly am. I am not beaten, or used in a harsh manner. Silas is generous with both my freedom and his coin. Though I am expected to obey, I am not bound by normal rules and if it were not for the collar about my neck, I probably wouldn’t always remember who or what I have become.

Of course, there are those who never fail to remind me of exactly what I am.

She said she had sent a letter to my owner for my purchase, wanted me to know that she had tried. I had taken this as a comment meant to put my mind at ease, she thinking perhaps I was ill treated and that she was doing a great service on my behalf.

Slaves should never assume.

She was offended that I, a mere slave, would have the audacity to believe she was worried about me, that she actually cared for my safety in any way. She told me that if I ever offended her in such a way again, that she would send a letter to my Master informing him of my impudence. She also said that if I was ever for sale, that she would be the first.. and the last to offer a price for me.

This does not worry me, however, for I know he will never sell me. To him I am more then a woman who can read the future for personal gain. I am more then a warm body that conforms to his own in the dark of the night. There is a bond between us, one bound by the collar I wear, one tied to the secret we share and I know I could never belong to another. At least not as completely as I belong to him. He is the man who makes the tattoo of my heart beat like a jungle drum. He is the man who drowns me in the soulfulness of his eyes when he looks at me. He is the man who finds fascination in the woman he owns and I will always love him. I think I would not leave him even if I was freed.

Thank the kings I belong to a man such as Silas, for now I understand belonging to a woman is the worst kind of fate.