““I hear the King of Akielos has sent me a gift,” said the young man, who was Laurent, Prince of Vere. “An Akielon grovelling on its knees. How fitting.” Around him, Damen was aware of the attention of courtiers, gathered to witness the Prince’s receipt of his slave. Laurent had stopped dead the moment he had seen Damen, his face turning white, as though in reaction to a slap or an insult. Damen’s view, half-truncated by the short chain at his neck, had been enough to see that. But Laurent’s expression had shuttered quickly. That””