"Kessa is my service name, sir."
"That's not what I asked."
"I'll notice," he said. "Now hold out your arm." live with a slave
"Nothing, sir. I'm functional."
She was standing in the corner of the kitchen, hands folded at her waist, eyes fixed on a spot six inches below his chin. Her name was Kessa. She wore a simple grey tunic with a silver cuff on her left wrist—the Mark of Servitude, legally mandated for all Registered Bonded Persons. "Kessa is my service name, sir
She smiled. Turned. Kept walking.
The second thing he noticed was her.
"I laughed," she whispered. "Without permission."