Free Steel Maiden by Kim Richardson

with the other person who occupied my mind. I thought of Mad
Jack. I thought of the muscular tanned skin under his shirt, his
straight nose, his haunting dark eyes, and his full lips. I thought
about how they would feel on my own lips, and how his rough
calloused hands would feel on my skin. There was nothing else to do
in this shit hole but think. I thought about how he would look
without his clothes, and I wondered if he’d be a gentle lover.
Would he be as rough and wild as the reputation that preceded him?
I didn’t know why I thought about him so much. He had betrayed me after all. It was his fault I was here in the first
place. As the days passed, I would think of him often. At first
bitterly, but then my tears would come, and I’d remember the look
of pain that flashed in his eyes before the guards beat me, and I
couldn’t stay mad. It was almost as if he had tried to tell me
something…but what?
    “You’re such a fool, Elena,” I whispered to
myself and suppressed my yearning for Mad Jack. I had enough to
deal with without getting emotional over a street thug. I deserved
better. Rose deserved better.
    I heard the rustling of keys and then a
click. I pulled myself together, and the creaking metal door swung
open.
    “Get up. It’s time,” grumbled the stinking
prison guard.
    Just seeing sunlight would be a major
improvement. I jumped to my feet, stretched, and didn’t bother
hiding my hopeful smile.
    “You won’t be smiling for long, witch.”
    I wasn’t sure what he meant. Just because I
had some kind of magic didn’t necessarily make me a witch. Or did
it?
    “So the race is today?” I managed.
    “It is.”
    I followed him through the dreary stone
corridors of the dungeons. My boots shuffled through puddles of
unidentifiable muck as we passed several cells along the way. They
echoed with moans and smelled of rotting corpses. I knew that the
stories I’d heard growing up were true when I had first stepped
down into the dungeons. The priests had destroyed the king of
Anglia’s castle but had kept the foundations. They had kept the
dungeons and had built their golden temple above them. It was
creepy and disturbing.
    After a few moments of tedious silence, we
finally climbed up the staircase that led to the main floor of the
golden temple. I shielded my eyes from the flickering light as I
heard and smelled the guard disappear back down into the bowels of
the temple.
    As my eyes slowly adjusted to the
brightness, I gasped. Four women stood in front of me and with the
indifferent stares they gave me, I knew instantly they didn’t like
me. Or at least they didn’t want me there.
    They appeared to be concubines. They were
all dressed in the same see-through garb but in multiple colors.
They wore their leather collars proudly, like expensive trinkets,
as though they were wearing jewelry, and not the priests’ tethers.
I did my best not to stare at their glorious womanly curves. They
had bodies I could only dream of. I stared at their faces instead.
And even in their individuality, the shapes of their faces, lips,
hair and skin color, they all shared one trait—they were all
beautiful.
    They frowned disapprovingly at me. I knew I
must look and smell worse than the sewer itself. My face burned
with shame. I looked like a complete fool next to these
goddesses.
    My spirits lifted at the smell of rose water
and vanilla, however. These women looked and smelled delicious. It
seemed that only the rich, or concubines, could afford
perfumes.
    “This way,” said a concubine with golden
hair that cascaded in waves of liquid gold behind her back. I knew
she must be the head concubine because she held her head high and
looked serious.
    I might have smelled like the piss I was
forced to sleep in, but I wasn’t afraid of these women. I knew they
weren’t here to beat me. They looked too fragile and clean. I
didn’t argue and I followed her. The others fell into step behind
me.
    I followed the head concubine down