AKKADIAN EMPIRE


    2130 BCE


    A fly collected at the back of Leonara’s neck.


    She couldn’t slap it away. Her hands were shackled against the wooden contraption that pushed each frayed splinter further into her skin. Her long dark hair fell over her face, and she could see bits of her flesh sprayed out on each strand of grass. She was grateful, at least, to be out of sight of the others, the barn, the courtyard and villa. Her fingernails dug into her palms, and although the top of her dress was pushed down to her waist, she could hardly feel a thing. The lacerations across her back were simply another layer.


    Sorana’s shoes crunched against the ground.


    The whizzing sound of the whip hardly made Leonara flinch. Red mist splattered across the dandelions and the ropes to which her calloused hands were roughly bound to. Out in the distance, she could hear the men hard out at work in the fields. Or the women tending to the gardens. Another lash settled upon on her back, yanking out what skin remained. She did not make a sound, merely stared out at the view of the fields ahead.


    Sorana’s breaths were heavy as she finally dropped the whip to the ground. She was a tall, but slim woman, and her attempts at enforcing discipline were amateur, at best. Her pale face was flushed as she stumbled through the grass. A faint smirk crossed Leonara’s lips—to deny her such satisfaction. It always amused her how, given the great deal of masters that she had within her life, this was the worst thing they thought she feared. She could almost laugh right now. It was even better than the pain that now coursed through her body like a raging fire.


    ”You ran off,” Sorana snapped, after finally managing to take in a couple of breaths. With an aggravated sigh, and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “How dare you leave the premises without permission. And as of a time like this, when my husband is away. Do you wish to bring a downfall to the others? Because I shall limit their rations.”


    A bead of sweat dripped down Leonara’s nose. Her dark eyes focused on the grass. After much prayer to the gods and fasting for days, a plan had come to mind. A distant relative of hers—her second cousin dwelled in the city of Sippar, about six miles away. He was a slave, but worked in the kitchen at the home of an important soldier for the king. Small hands would be a tremendous help. It would be a better home for Hirom, and the master of that place known to allow his slaves to receive education. If she could just get the boy over there, before Matthias returned and claimed him as his property. Utua had informed her that he had rejected the boy, but she knew that it would be only a matter of time before he would change his mind.


    She had planned to leave by dawn, return by sunset to make the negotiation. She had just saddled up Angus and was about to make it towards the woods when Bou had found her, dragged her back. Despite it all, she couldn’t help but hold back a chuckle when Sorana had stumbled out, half asleep, her blue eyes wide with rage. Leonara repositioned her knees in the grass. This would not last long.


    It had only been a couple of hours.


    ”So you have nothing to say for yourself?” Sorana demanded. “Nothing at all? You stubborn cad.” She picked up the whip, and Leonara closed her eyes and prayed to the gods that Hirom was anywhere—anywhere—but in that cursed home. She bit her tongue.


    * * * * * * *


    Utua wearily draped a woolen blanket over Hirom’s sleeping form. To his relief, he had found the boy wandering out in the courtyard, with an odd, but strange expression upon his small face. Almost wonder, like he had discovered something. He did not even appear fazed when Utua scolded him for getting up and leaving so abruptly, and even took his hand as he led him back to the fields. Utua couldn’t make sense of it—not a single time this day did he cry or fuss or hit at him.


    He had only asked him about Leonara.


    At this moment in time, Utua couldn’t stop worrying. He disliked giving Hirom the same answer, and had repeatedly checked her shack multiple times, refusing to believe the inevitable—that she had been likely sold. Her place was only empty. His head was heavy with the day’s work, and he desperately needed a few hours of sleep, but he decided to stop by again, like he did every evening.


    Once he made sure that Hirom was asleep, he grabbed his oil lamp and stepped out of the hovel. The cool night air nipped at his shoulders and rags, but he gritted his teeth and made his way in the dark, making sure to remain in the shadows whenever an overseer passed by. His sandals crunched against the dirt as he ducked below the bushes and made his way around the trees, shielding the small flame of the oil lamp in his large hands.


    When he approached the shack, he lingered at the door, spying the orange light that seeped through. Biting down on his chapped lips, he saw a shadow across the wall. His heart skipped a beat—he would never admit how badly he had missed her. Hesitating for a moment, he knocked on the wooden door. There was no reply, but it opened just a crack.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.As he peered in, his stomach twisted and turned. The oil lamp fell and shattered.


    Leonara was facing away from him, rubbing a thick ointment upon her exposed back. Scars were no stranger to him, but these were thick, dark keloids that seemed to rise above her skin. Her hair was undone, hanging by her waist. She did not react as Utua rushed towards her and grabbed both of her arms with his hands. His blue eyes searched her face.


    “What happened?” he whispered. “Who did this?”


    “What are you going to do about it?” A soft smile fell upon Leonara’s face. “Funny hearing that from you, you fool.”


    The dim light fell upon Utua’s face. He clenched his jaw. “This is no laughing matter. You need to tell me. Where have you been? You’ve been gone for days.”


    “Does it matter?” Leonara released a heavy sigh. “The gods must be displeased with me.” She cleared a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I must beg for your forgiveness. I was too stubborn and prideful. I was unkind to you. It is because of these things that I am not in your favor.” Her face slowly crumpled. “I cannot see this happen again. A child’s fate rests in my hands. And I have failed that child. Matthias will find out about this.”


    “You need to tell me who did this.”


    ”There is no point.” Her voice cracked.


    Utua gently tilted her chin towards him. “Matthias will never lay a hand on you,” he softly replied. “I will tear him to pieces.” He expected her to laugh at him, but she did not.


    They both studied each other for a moment. Her lips gently pressed against Utua’s, releasing a slow, but hungry kiss.


    ”Are you sure?” Utua whispered.


    Leonara nodded.


    A tingling sensation coursed through his body. He felt her fingers settle across his back—tracing down his back, before falling upon his waist. Her breasts pressed against him as they settled upon on her bed, their clothing discarded upon the ground, breaths shallow.


    Leonara’s flesh was warm and smooth against his own. Her legs wrapped around his waist. Utua was lost. Lost in her hair, her eyes. He studied this woman for a moment, wondering how he had ended up here. The pulsing sensation between his legs was too much to bear, but he was greatly surprised to see her press herself towards him. His heart was thudding, pounding against his chest.


    Utua adjusted his hips as he slowly guided himself into her. Leonara heavily gasped, pressing a hand against the wall, but he continued to kiss the side of her neck. His hands went to her breasts—he was deeply aching for this—the loneliness that had crashed upon him after all of these years seem to wash away. A sound escaped from Leonara as he began to deliver slow, careful thrusts. Utua’s face became a shade of red, his lips parted as their hips rose and fell. Leonara gasped again as his hand wrapped around hers. Her hand settled on his buttocks, her lips trapped into a warm smile.


    He drove harder, hooking his thighs around her legs, sending her further into oblivion. His body was glistening with sweat, and a loud, deep moan exploded from his lips, despite his attempts to keep himself quiet. Their hips moved in rhythm, dark limbs tangled around each other as they rolled across the straw mattress. Leonara cried out.


    With one swift motion, Utua scooped her in his arms, thrusting more slowly, but heavier. She groaned, digging her fingers into his flesh, but he buried his face in her tanned shoulders, in the nest of her tangled, black hair. It was mostly dark in the room, with moonlight spilling in the window, but he held onto her, remembering each scar crossing her back.


    Leonara exhaled, her chest rising and falling. She then chuckled as Utua released another moan, his hips colliding with hers. A wave of immense pleasure was building up inside of her, and she had to hold on to steady herself. She gripped the blanket, trying to bite back down. He was kissing her breasts, his lips around the dark, protruding nipples. When his hands were traveling down her hips, the soft hair between her legs, she fought the urge to yell. How on earth was he so good at this?


    Utua clenched his jaw, moaning softly. Leonara was unprepared for the strong sensations that seized her body. Shivers ran down her spine as he reentered her with shallow strokes, before applying gradual force. Several noises came from her, and as she shouted on top of her lungs, she felt him kiss the bump on the back of his neck.


    “Utua,” she breathlessly said.


    He immediately looked up, his concerned face flushed. Strands of hair were across his face. “Am I hurting you? I will stop.”


    ”No, you fool. Don’t stop.”


    He faintly smiled with relief—Leonara hated how she liked the way his face was. Even with only one eye, he wasn’t so bad looking.


    “You owe me, you know.”


    Utua’s bare hips slapped against hers. “Yes.”


    ”You must go to Sippar.”


    “Sippar?” he managed. “Up north.”


    Leonara arched her back. “When Matthias returns, you must figure out an excuse to have him send you down there. You do this for me, please. I’ll write instructions for you, explain everything to you. But you just need to get to Sippar. You must swear it.”


    Utua’s body stiffened. He collapsed into her, before holding her in his arms. Leonara rested her head against his chest, and they remained in the dark.


    “I promise. I swear upon my life.”


    ”Good.”


    ”Leonara?”


    ”Hmm?”


    “You can trust me,” Utua whispered in her ear.


    Leonara didn’t reply. Her throat was too choked up.