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his vision, he did not look up, only truly becoming
    conscious of Vanyae as the prince began to speak softly, as though chanting some ceremonial
    words. Gentle hands released his ankles from their bonds, only to snap something else in place.
    Something was attached to his wings, he heard the click of them locking; then his hands were
    finally released and cuffs placed over his wrists, light but strong.
    Vanyae pulled him to his feet then, and he stood swaying, not even resisting when the
    prince opened an ornate silver collar and placed it around his neck. Golden eyes met green as it
    was locked shut.
    “Mine.” The prince stroked the boy's cheek softly, and Anyar was too numb to even
    understand the words.

    * * * * *
Anyar stumbled, only the sudden grip on his arm keeping him from crashing to his knees,
    his chained hands behind his back unable to save him.
    The strong, calm voice gave him directions as to what he could not see behind the
    blindfold, and the only reason he had stumbled was because he had tried to fight and the hand
    had released him into terrifying space.

    30
    J. C. Owens

    It was almost a relief that the hand had returned. He fought against the feeling, but Vanyae
    was his only anchor in the darkness, and despite all his attempts to resist, he could not help but
    listen to that voice, begin to obey its commands.
    There was no sense of direction. They had left the small room some time before, and each
    moment seemed like an hour. He greatly feared their destination, after what had been discussed
    between the prince and the king. Never had Anyar in his worst nightmares thought of himself in
    this position. Surely they were just trying to frighten him, make him a docile hostage. Yet he was
    of no importance; that made no sense. He had thought it mere chance that he had been taken, but
    now he was not so sure. Had this prince deliberately sought him? The thought was beyond
    comprehension or belief. Never had he thought himself particularly good-looking. Indeed he had
    always thought himself strange, ugly. All people saw were his wings, and he had always been
    taunted, even tormented, because of them. As though that particular thought held power, he
    heard voices nearby and flinched away, lunging back until the chain at his throat brought him up
    short. Then he could only stand, trembling faintly, tense, and ready to fight.
    “Peace, little one, peace. None will hurt you here. You are mine, and that gives you great
    protection.”
    Anyar wanted to snarl in response that there was no protection from Vanyae himself, but
    he held his tongue. It was better to remain silent, let others guess his thoughts and fears rather
    than to speak up and confirm them. He had well learned that lesson with his own people, and
    now it would stand him in good stead with the enemy. Be silent; watch and listen. Wait. Escape
    would come.
    A hand pulled on his chain. He flung his head up, considered rebellion, then conceded to
    the unspoken command. He took two uncertain steps forward, and again Vanyae took his arm,
    guided him.

    * * * * *
It went on forever it seemed, and Anyar was exhausted with tension and fear by the time
    they stopped. They seemed to be in a bathing room of some sort. He could smell the sweet
    moisture in the air, and his fear rose.
    Until now he had at least retained his breeches and shirt, even if his boots and uniform
    jacket had been gone upon his awakening. If he were forced to bathe, they would strip him.

    Wings
    31

    Never particularly self-conscious of nudity, he now wanted with all his heart to have the
    fragile covering of cloth between him and Vanyae.
    The strong hand guided him forward, then turned him around to face Vanyae.
    “Sit here, Anyar.” The voice was gentle enough, but behind it lay iron.
    The Melanian sat as much because of tiredness as obedience; at least that is what he told
    himself with weary determination. He could hear Vanyae moving about the room, and his head
    tilted as he