Knowing she was dreaming didn’t seem to help at all; the sensation was far too real. Aidenne could feel the collar around her neck, the chain, warmed by her skin, hung heavy down her back. She could sing here, but only the bawdy songs that entertained her master, his guests and, on occasion, her fellow slaves. But they were just faces to her. There was no need to make friends. Girls died here all the time.
The silken sheets clung to her legs as she tried to escape the dream itself, the winding cloth turning into hands that restrained her. She whimpered in her sleep. This wasn’t her life anymore. She’d found a way out; it had only cost her a little.
But still there was a tug on the chain, pulling her forward to sing, dance, or die. She couldn’t break away...Read More