Chapter 33
I wake to an empty bed, saddened by the lack of his presence. I reach out to touch where he once was, rubbing my hand on the cold fabric. The way my heart sinks when I confirm it's completely void of him shocks me. A whimsical, na?ve part of me is eager for Soren. For a man like him. Maybe I should have pushed for more last night, after he kissed my hand like he's some kind of knight.
He's not supposed to carry such allure, or have any possibility of being gentle. And yet he's displayed that he possesses those capabilities behind whatever barrier I'm trying to penetrate, even against my better judgment.
I roll over when I feel my heart begging to wander in the forbidden land of hope. Tossing the comforter off of me, I brave the cold room as I pick up the silk robe from the floor, hugging myself once it’s tied around me. Finding the water basin, I quench my growing thirst.
Placing down the cup with a soft thud, licking my wet lips as I glance around the room, I finally take it in: the sun is bright enough to indicate that morning might even be passed, and I see that his armor is still here. I stride over the frigid floor, eyeing his effects that cast elongated shadows in the dim lighting. They look so elegant and deadly, so professional . I don't touch anything, as he strikes me as the kind of man who remembers exactly how he lays his things. I do lean over, though, tucking my hair behind my ear to get a closer look.
His thick chest piece is marred by many abrasions. A handful of the marks gouge deep enough that I'm sure he'll need to repair it soon. Chainmail glints next to his leather, folded up in the same liquidy manner of silk. I continue eyeing his many blades, all with a sharpened edge, neatly laid out next to each other.
A few of his blades are out, and I nearly touch one of them—a dagger with the hilt of a snake. One end has the open, hissing head of the reptile while the other is the body wrapping around to form the handle.
I look over my shoulder at the nightstand—his mask is still there. If the bedside was cold, then it means I've been in here a while with his things.
Then again, what am I going to do—steal his armor? Wear his mask? I scoff at the thought, having absolutely no desire to touch the Zenith’s face covering. Father's felt like a performer's mask in my hands, morphing into a texture of leather when he wore it. It even burned my face once when I kept trying to walk off with it.
Mother had to heal me, then.
I’m not sure why her absence seems heavier than normal. It’s not as if we’re in the home I knew.
Plus, that isn't even my father's mask. The golden decorations on Soren's are more rounded and elegant, whereas Father’s had many straight, geometrical patterns.
It's also not going to do me any good to stand around and stare at his things like they're important. If anything, finding out where he went is the priority.
I push on the heavy wooden door of the bedroom, squinting at how bright it is in the sitting area—I realize then that the windows in his room are still partially curtained, whereas the red velvet drapes of the main sitting area are completely drawn aside.
My heart begs for me to wonder if he left them slightly shut for me.
Still, I don't see Soren. Instead, I spot Lora sitting on a couch as a few other noirs use the giant hearth to cook food.
Lora seems to sense my presence and looks over her shoulder to smile at me. "Ah, there you are."
The bedroom door shuts behind me with a deep groan, the doorknob loudly clicking. The warmth of the fire beckons me, and I near them without hesitation. "Where’s Soren?"
"Training. Staying in shape," Anya answers with her smooth, slow voice that brings me no comfort. It doesn’t take long to realize she’s still by the front door, sitting there like a hawk who has been given strict orders not to move.
I continue to near the fire, the stone is warmer underneath my feet once close enough. "Good to see you here, Anya," I say with heavy sarcasm.
"Of course," she says, returning the acrimony.
I glance at Lora before sitting down in a chair that's closest to the hearth. The others cook eggs in cast iron, along with pork meat and, surprisingly, muffins.
That's definitely a luxury I won't complain about anytime soon.
"Do you do this often?" I ask, my grumbling stomach almost as loud as the popping fat from the meat they begin to cook.
"Do what? Tend to the Zenith?” Lora asks.
I face her, noting she looks exactly as she did yesterday. A small sliver of ink is visible behind her ear in the shape of a sparrow. "No. Tend to Soren's pets ," I explain, motioning to myself with raised brows.
Lora nearly laughs. "Oh, no. He only deals with his pets in their establishments. This is my first time tending to someone here. I didn't even know he had a bath."
I frown, although my heart beats with victory, demanding I let that sink in. "Who comes in here, then?"
"No one," Anya says, as if the fact annoys her. "When he fucks, it's in another room. He's very particular about who he allows in his personal space."
Oh, that’s dangerous for me to hear. The recognition that I’m actually making him go against his code strokes my ego as if it’s a wild beast. I cross my arms, deliberately ignoring Anya so I don’t lose myself to whimsy.
Lora leans in, both her hands flat on either thigh. "Did you sleep in his bed?"
My jaded heart prompts me to narrow my eyes, finding the question rather silly. "He set you up to this, didn’t he?” I tersely ask, although the words sound funny when I recite them in my head.
Her brows knit in confusion. "What?"
I avert my gaze, watching the food being made as I press my lips together. "I—Nevermind. It's nothing."
They separate the food onto plates, one of them carrying a rather large portion near a hallway I had yet to explore. There are three whole muffins being carried by her, an entire plate consisting of scrambled eggs.
Anya yells, "You test the food before he eats."
The redhead from before silently nods and continues onwards, disappearing into the hallway. I can hear the sound of some kind of movement, and then it's silent once more. A silencing door, perhaps? Skull's Row has many of those. It's how the Zenith all live in such a compact area, but also maintain privacy that’s either used for luxury or torture.
Lora, without question, takes a bite of everything on my plate. I don't trust people in Skull's Row, for rather obvious reasons, and do nothing to stop her. I would never blame Lora for doing something another Zenith told her to do. Or for hurting me in any way that she deems necessary. She has to do what is required to survive.
Once she doesn't keel over, I dig in, leaning back into the chair with little class as I slowly nod at how good everything tastes. The other noir returns like she went to feed a dangerous creature deep within its natural habitat. They even present me with a tea that I can smell from here.
None of us talk about it—I know what it is. If consumed daily, it tends to prevent unwanted pregnancies. There’s a very particular pungent smell of dirt to the earthy drink, the color a deep blue from one of the roots that it’s made of.
The women clean up as I eat and drink my tea, even taking my plate when I'm finished, holding the last piece of bacon in my hand. I continue to choose silence, for my benefit.
Lora stands. "I will go fetch some clothes for you, and then return to dress you."
I raise my brow as my only acknowledgment.
With that, the noirs wheel away their items and I'm left staring through the elaborate windows as I sit here, listening very carefully for any movement from Anya.
I swear I hear her feet on stone, but she's so damn quiet. And rather than jump to my own defense, I hardly move as if to assert that she doesn't intimidate me. What's she going to do? Kill me? When Soren, at the bare minimum, wants me for information on my father? Or because Cypress is offering him something?
Anya appears like smoke, sitting quietly on the couch where Lora is. Her rank and loyalty to someone like Soren explains her otherwise unnerving silence. It makes me wonder if Bones has any traits to make him uniquely dangerous.
She slowly takes me in, every moment laced with judgment. "All right. What have you done to Soren?"
"Excuse me?" I ask, nearly choking on the last bit of bacon.
She leans her elbows on her knees. "You knocked him out, stole his coin, and yet you came back, completely unharmed." She narrows her black eyes. "And now you're in his room and smell like a king's whore, after sleeping in his bed, and eating his morning food."
"Oh, am I fit for royalty, now?"
"I don't trust you."
I suck on my fingers, staring at her. "I got that message when you stuck that blade in me."
"You're using him," she swiftly accuses, something sharp flashing in her eyes. A threat, maybe?
"Listen, lady, I wish I knew how to use Soren. It would make my life so much easier."
"You have their tattoo. You can't convince me that you're not manipulating him. You have the entire Council confused, which means you can do the same to Soren."
Is she serious? Sitting up, I look at her with a fire that's been kindling since the Council took me. "Excuse me, but what the fuck do I need to manipulate him for? I want to be as far from this place as possible."
I don't know If I can win a fight with someone like her. She's trained. I stopped my training once I got to Coalfell. But I can play scrappy, if needed. Let her hurt me so I can get up close. Either way, I'm ready to fight if I have to. I'm not going to let her treat me like this.
She looks around, the muscles in her face twitching as she bounces a knee. "The truth? I’ve just learned of your lineage this morning—” my eyes widen, my lips parting “—so you’re of good stock, which means I have to watch you very carefully. Don't exactly know what you want with Soren, honestly. I just know the Zenith have immense strengths in their union, but one common weakness—they're all looking out for themselves, and you’re one of them by blood." She slowly slides her gaze back to me. "Soren is a threat to many . His lands grow by the year, and people serve in his ranks from all over, especially given that Death's Wing is so fond of him." She pivots so she's facing me fully. "You could use that. Maybe the one that gave you that tattoo is trying to weasel their way into Soren's private walls. Maybe not. The fact remains that I don't trust you, Jane. I'd be an idiot to do so, and you know it."
An elongated silence of us staring at the other is only punctured by my laugh. " I'm the one that doesn't trust the bastard! You have it so backward.” I wipe my eyes, catching my breath. “For all I know, this is all a ploy to get me to trust him more. Make me so touched —” I place a feigned hand on my chest “—That he’s giving me special treatment so my walls melt, and then he'll use me however he wants. Maybe you’re the third act that’s supposed to sell his kindness to me as something genuine.”
She snorts, as if the idea is offensive and completely asinine. "And what could he possibly use you for? Even if your father was a Zenith, he's gone. It's not like Soren can use you for bargaining. If he wanted to breed you for your lineage, he wouldn't go through all these unnecessary measures."
My lips do a weird motion at the mention of him breeding me, an embarrassingly weird part of me turned on at the thought. “Bree— what ,” I utter with a high-pitched voice. “ No ! You know what, don’t worry about it. We’re clearly in a stalemate. Except you at least aren't a prisoner. And I don’t give a shit about the tattoo anymore. I barely remember it since they gave me something to make me woozy," I confess, lowering my voice. “My, you know who, wasn’t even around when I got it done. I was just told to go with some people, chew on a certain bark, and the next thing I know I’m getting marked on my chest. I’m useless to you, and currently held against my will.”
She throws her hands up, motioning around her. "Yes, you're so miserable when you're screaming Soren’s name, eating his food, and sharing his bed, in this shabby castle.”
My brows slowly fold downward. I nearly whisper when I say, “Are you jealous?”
Her black eyes widen. "What? Hells no. I like my men softer ," she replies, eyeing me as if I'm mad. "But he is my leader, and has saved me more than once. And he relies on his powers too much, thinking he knows people because of them. I don't blame him. I would too. But that's also why I am here, to keep that in check."
I’m stunned for a moment, absolutely desperate for the powers that Soren had. “Why would he treat me like this, then, if not to use me?"
"I don't fucking know," she grinds out, raising a brow as her face seems to age at those words. "Unless he genuinely finds you interesting. Wouldn't be shocked. His bloodthirst has matured over the years, and he's pickier about the missions he takes. There's only so many times you can nearly die and come back before it loses its luster." She continues to talk like she hasn't shared this theory yet, shaking her head as she eyes the floor. "You're feisty enough for him, and he likes women with your hair. And you're of our world. I can see the temptation." Those onyx eyes flash my way. "But even then, I don't trust you, Jane. Trust here is built by bleeding for another. It could be as simple as you just want an out and are using him for that."
I look down. I did consider that.
She backs off, as if she had her answer. My gaze finds the hallway that Soren must be down. I hear a heavy door open behind me, and Anya looks over to say, "You can dress her, now. No speaking. I'll be listening."
Lora gestures to the bathing room when I glance over my shoulder. I sniff from the coldness of the room and sigh, standing to follow her. I'm too lost in thought for any retort to Anya.
Inside the room, Lora places a canvas bag on a large table, taking out the many pieces of whatever I’m to wear. It's all black, save for the sheer fabric that's a deep red. The rest of it is black silk, and I reach out to run my fingers along it. One side of me wants to immediately burn this for the insinuation that will give the Council any thoughts of superiority over me, but the other reminds me that there’s no strategy in openly defying anyone this early.
My pride can be quiet if it means getting to live long enough to search for the perfect time to strike.
Wouldn't it be fun to tempt Soren, too?
Anya is right, though—trust here is built on more than words. And I haven't known him long enough for his actions to win me over. All I know is he has his own personal reasons to keep me alive.
Lora dresses me in silence, down to the perfumed oils that she dabs at my neck and wrists. The outfit is quite interesting, honestly. The bottoms are undergarments made of fine silk, with strings tied around my waist. The ruby red sheer fabric is a long skirt that covers my very visible legs. The top is black silk that reveals my cleavage in a way that both boosts my confidence and makes me blush, tying around my neck, delicately bound together like a corset in the back.
It's a very revealing outfit, with my arms, shoulders, and upper mid-drift still completely exposed.
Lora pulls out a black cloak to lie it on the table and as quietly as possible, says, "Master Soren requested a cloak for the cold, but said he wants to see you in this outfit, first."
My heart races at his request. I give her a nod, trying to conceal what I feel. "Thank you.”
She looks like she wants to ask a thousand questions but refrains with a bow of her head and departs.
For a moment, I awkwardly stand there.
What do I do now that I'm alone? Wait for him? Sit prettily by the window? Or sit in the biggest seat I can find and tell him I'm only dressed like this because I don't want to be cooped up in here?
I deeply inhale and near a mirror, looking at my wavy hair that Lora said I’m to leave alone—Soren wants it undone.
My dignity demands I rip it all to shreds as I did in those dungeons, and yet, some kind of delicious desire thrives at knowing that he made sure I'm exactly as he wants me.
I'm not sure how long I’m alone when I hear his heavy footsteps; I was in the middle of examining my face, noticing how it has aged since I was last in Skull’s Row. My heart skips a beat when the heavy steps cease, and I glance over my shoulder to see Soren in the doorway.