28. 27
The ride back to the House of Pain had been a silent one. Our legs hadn’t brushed, and our eyes were cast adamantly out of opposing windows. And yet, somehow, there was a heat to the way we ignored each other, and a synchronisation to the way we both gulped air from the open carriage windows.
I hated that I could understand why he was angry.
That didn’t lessen my own hurt, my own anger.
I had thought he had known, or at least guessed, that whatever this was between us was temporary.
It had to just be physical, and only as far as Ekris would allow.
I liked Davian, I liked him far more than I wanted to.
Sometimes, when I looked at him, I forgot all about Ekris.
But what was he offering me? A life of using pain as an escape? Samiscus wouldn’t choose me, and I didn’t want him to. If I stayed, I would be an employee at their House.
The chosen of Ekris, or the servant of a foreign House. I blinked, wondering why I was even fixating on it. Why was I weighing it? It was a pointless exercise.
We had hurt each other, and I needed to lick my wounds and decide how to move forwards. That was it. I stared out into the golden afternoon, seeing nothing, my eyes glazing over.
When we arrived, Davian jumped from the carriage before the wheels had fully stopped turning, and strode off.
Not into the House, but into an alley, as I had barely scooched up to the door.
The last I saw of him was his limping leg disappearing into the shadow, and then he was gone.
I couldn’t remember him favouring it at all in the last two days, and now it was the only thing I could see.
I blinked, wondering why that stung more than our conversation. I had thought we might apologise to one another. Talk it through some more, come to some common understanding. But clearly, he wanted nothing more than to be as far away from me as possible.
I stepped out of the carriage slowly, carefully.
My mind felt foggy and my eyes tight as I made my way to my room.
Within five minutes of my door closing, my dress was cast in a heap on the floor, and I was in bed.
It was only the afternoon, but the wine and the conversation had left me feeling up to nothing, and I hoped a rest might keep me from crying.
Whip had found some other napping spot, and even that felt like a slight.
I stared at the ceiling, and begged for Ekris to come to me in my dreams. I thought of him, of every painting of his face, of every word he had spoken to me.
I hoped he might visit me while I slept, and bestow those dreams upon me that would wake me in a pleasant sweat.
I hoped he would be kind to me and encourage me to return to him.
Most of all, I hoped for oblivion from Davian; I hoped to stop thinking of his fingers around my neck and the taste of his breath.
I needed everything to make sense again. I needed peace.
But when I finally fell asleep, it was not Ekris’ perfect face that filled my dreams.
It was Davian’s.
Only his entire face was covered in that mask, and his hands were all over me, and my body was so pliant under his touch. He moved, and I writhed.
I woke up with the dinner bell. My hand reached between my legs and I found myself wet, and my mind more than halfway there. I tried to think of Ekris and the relief that he used to give me, after I had served my patrons. I touched myself, rubbing in small circles. Ekris. Ekris.
Too soon, my mind strayed.
It was Davian’s name on my lips as I came apart. It was ecstatic in its intensity, it was alarming in its speed. The relief flickered something inside me, giving me a wave of unexpected calm.
The numbness didn’t last long. Within seconds, I had come back to myself. I froze.
What had I done? This was not the Ekrissian way. After everything I had said last night, everything I had stuck my name to even when so much of me wanted the opposite. I had resisted his temptation. And now I had crumbled to a summer night’s dream.
I fell to my knees beside the bed, and apologised to Ekris, my heart still pounding from the release, my thighs still damp.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I love you. Ekris, I’m so sorry.
There was nothing. Not a hint, nor a flicker. This was the first time I truly felt like I had betrayed him, and I was alone, not even with the subject of my desire. Was this enough to lose him entirely?
No.
I shook my head, clutching my hands together as my elbows poised on the rumpled bed. I hadn’t technically broken any of his tenets. We were allowed to give ourselves release.
The only betrayal was of my mind.
Ekris was supposed to be desired above everyone else.
And he was, I told myself. It was only the immediacy of Davian.
The closeness. Ekris was still my most desired.
He always had been. He had accepted me when no one else had.
He was the most beautiful of the gods, and thus the most beautiful creature to ever exist. He was everyone’s most desired, and therefore certainly mine.
This brief insanity was just that: a reaction to being apart from him.
I breathed in and out, and leaned my forehead on the edge of the bed. I forced myself to keep breathing in and out, and clear all of it from my mind.
This was my truth. This was the truth. I was an Ekrissian. I had made a mistake once, trusting a mortal over my eternal beloved. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
I made my way to the small bathing room at the end of the corridor. Thankfully, it was empty, and I could wash every part of the day away from me. I scrubbed until my skin was red, thinking of Granville, and Robar, and every uncomfortable word, glance, and feeling.
Refreshed in a cleaned dress, skin pink, and hair damp, I finally felt confident enough to go downstairs.
Outside the dining room door, I took several deep breaths.
I thought about what Talia would say. Stop slouching, most likely.
Get over yourself and move like a lady. It brought me calm.
I was an Ekrissian. I was trained for this.
I pushed open the door to the dining room.
Fella sat in the corner with a piece of toast in one hand and a book in the other.
She turned to me as I stood in the doorway and offered a nod.
I was late enough to have missed most of dinner, then.
Probably for the best. Davian and Camriel were entirely absent.
I couldn’t decide if I was happy about that.
“Good lunch?” Fella asked.
I forced a smile. “It was fine.”
I moved to the arrangement of desserts still on the table. I picked up an orange and a piece of vanilla cake, hoping the sweetness would make me feel better. I sat down heavily.
“What happened?”
She was too perceptive. “We had a bit of an argument.”
“You and Davian?”
I nodded, and swallowed my first bite of cake. It did actually make me feel a bit better.
“Ah,” she said. “That explains it.”
I looked over to her. She’d put her toast down on the arm of her chair, and now watched me with her book open in her lap. “What?”
“Davian’s absence. I wasn’t sure if you were both out together—”
“We weren’t,” I interrupted.
“I can see that. But he’s still not back. So if you weren’t off somewhere fucking then that means he’s off drinking and moping.”
“Ah,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she replied with a snort. “That man is too emotional for his own good. At least he’s in the right House for that. He’s punishing himself by staying away.”
“How so?”
“If he came back, Samiscus might reward his self-flagellating despair by comforting him and alleviating the pain.” She rolled her eyes.
“Most of us stay here, near his altar, because the pain is too much without it. Davian doesn’t feel like he deserves that.
In some ways, he’s the biggest pain lover of us all. No wonder Samiscus picked him.”
I had paused, the cake in my fingers on top of a plate. Her words were blisteringly honest, and they came so easily to her.
“It’s our festival tomorrow night. He’ll be back by then. If not before,” she said. It was supposed to be reassuring, and I hated that it worked.
I also had not been keeping track of the days passing.
The Samiscan festivities were something else.
It wasn’t a feast in glorious sunshine, as on Fenren’s homage to farming.
There was no playing and maypole running like in Merriment’s day in spring.
This night, at the end of summer, was a welcome of the coming longer nights.
It was hedonism and debauchery. It was a night to curse Death, to curse Pain, and to throw all caution to the wind. It was a night I had only seen through the twitch of a curtain, before our curfew hit.
I glanced at Fella. “I’ve never seen the Night of the Dead.”
“I can imagine they wouldn’t let you Ekrissians out on that night.” Fella nodded to me. “But you can come with us tomorrow.”
“I’m not sure Davian would like that.”
“Fuck Davian. Have your own fun.” She glanced at me, and smiled, before turning back to her book.
I ate in near silence, listening to the pages turn.
Our investigation had stalled, of late. Our tour of the Spit had achieved nothing.
Tonight, the city would be distracted by another festival, and we wouldn’t find any new answers until the dust had settled.
I didn’t know what to do next, and it felt like we were waiting for the next calamity to fall, instead of doing anything to stop it.
And yet, after this—after the investigation—I would have no cause to speak with Fella again. No reason to ever come here. I would never see this House again, never play in its world. It was far too tempting to indulge in curiosity.
I swallowed a piece of apple, and placed it half-eaten on the crumbs on my plate. “Can I see the altar?”
Her eyes lit up, the book was closed and she was standing in the space of a single breath. “It would be my pleasure.”
I couldn’t help but smile in return.