Chapter 37
J A N E
“ Y ou seem relieved,” he casually states, that dark gaze roaming over me.
“I um,” I stammer, trying to spin this in a way he might like. “I worried for a moment that I wouldn't like what I saw here.”
His smile is thin, his hands sliding into his pockets as he paces around the room. “Come now, Jane. Like Morvock, those within my circle will know nothing but luxury and a good life. Cross me, and I will ensure I live up to his shadows. If I enjoy you, I may be able to extend your life even more. Morvock is not in a rush, you see… more so, in a rush to secure you. Once that has occurred, he can wait, if need be. You could become a queen and live a full life…” His eyes are dark and predatory. “If you submit properly.”
Gods was this man born in the pits of Skull’s Row? He’s just gross . “I have not been known to be tamed,” I say, slightly demure.
If I can even be such a thing.
Jesper’s smile widens, a glint of amusement making my stomach churn. “Makes sense, given your father. That could create a strong lineage.”
Not with you, fuckwit .
My breathing quickens as I move to the piano, the motion deliberate, almost too obvious, especially since I did it as if I forgot a line in a play.
“So, your mother played?” he asks, as if catching on. “I didn’t know they had many pianos in Skull’s Row.”
“My dad has a way of securing unusual things,” I smoothly reply, staring at the creamy keys, the painted wood slightly chipped in the corner, my vision honing in on it.
Jesper sinks into a nearby velvet couch, the color a bright red. His posture relaxes as he spreads both arms out on top, but his gaze never leaves me. “Can you play?”
“No,” I say, running my finger along the smooth wood. It’s cool beneath my touch. “I just… like to look at it.”
I have no fucking idea how this thing works.
“Strange. She never taught you?”
“She taught me how to heal,” I reply, my voice quieting as I try to recall my mother’s face, focusing on her for my strength. She’d tell me I can do this and that I’ll be okay. And to probably embarrass the shit out of him by following through with my plans. “I didn’t want to learn the piano. It required too much sitting.”
Grazing my fingers on the smooth keys, I hope the act makes me appear wishful. The weight of his scrutiny only grows heavier, and it doesn’t help that I want to walk away from this thing to eat some food, my gaze drifting when I see there’s even a pie .
“Please, help yourself,” Jesper offers, his voice so kind and polite.
I trusted Soren not to poison my food when he said he didn’t need to. This one, though? The doubt is real . The thought of acting tonight—right now, or very soon—sears my mind. Who knows when I’ll get this again, if at all? I don’t have to escape . I just need to free some sirens and then Anya, who can shapeshift and get herself out of here.
As long as I’m ready to stab a few guards, steal their keys, and act with precision, I can make this happen.
So, should I?
“What are you thinking about?” Jesper’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“I just don’t know how much time I have. If I should spend it sitting here or eating some food.”
I stare at the piano, not wanting to meet his gaze, still allowing my hand to roam, and even press down on a key every now and then, the sound singing through the wood.
“It’s night. Blackwell is sleeping, and Misery is resting. We have time.” There’s something almost unintentional in his tone, especially the way his words tightened at the end, like he didn’t mean to say that.
He talks easily.
I glance up and offer a smile, to ease his worries, because I definitely prefer him as a talker. “I’ll eat, then.”
He quickly rises to his feet, the low-cut tunic revealing a clean chest underneath; he’s too clean. No warfare for this one… an easy target? He nears the table that has an obscene amount of food. The sight of it—so much richness, so much waste when Anya is probably starving—makes me feel even more like tonight has to be the night.
I honestly don’t know if there’s a perfect time, or if I’m simply letting my gut guide me. But I could eat up, get some energy and real food in my stomach, drink some fresh water.
Pulling one of the finely crafted chairs from the table, I sit on the velvet cushion, the candle flames at the table blowing all to the right; an ocean breeze even tugs at the heavy curtains. “Can I ask you questions?” I ask as I fill a plate.
Jesper’s smile thins, his eyes hardening. “It’s best if I am the one asking questions, Jane.”
“Of course.” I bow my head slightly and take a bite of the whipped potatoes. That buttery, salted flavor makes my eyes roll. The steak’s fatty juices run on my plate, the meat tender.
If I weren’t so determined to use this for my strength, I’d feel too guilty in indulging, knowing people I care about starve right below my feet.
Jesper collects a wide variety of food on his plate and pours a tall glass of wine for the both of us. “You know, I had a feeling this would work with you. I heard a story, once, about you being in chains, in public. And that you were surprisingly willing. I never forgot hearing about that.”
My fork pauses mid-air. “With Soren?” I ask, surprised word of that spread all the way here.
More eyes are on you than you think, Jane.
Jesper stiffens, a wild flash of something erratic in his eyes. “I’d prefer not to mention him anymore. Not if we are taking this seriously .”
“Alright,” I say, not fighting that . He’s utterly lucky Soren isn’t here right now. I bet this man would actually shit his pants if my Zenith appeared in that doorway. Gods help Jesper’s actual soul if Soren finds me covered in someone else’s preferred scent.
“He will never be relevant here; therefore best to leave it in the past,” he explains.
“Understood.” I take a bite of the potatoes, slowly mushing it around as my mind races, trying to deconstruct the undertones of that . Jesper’s reaction isn’t just dislike; it’s a capricious danger. “Do you eat like this all the time?” I ask, motioning to the table, trying to shift the conversation to a safer place.
I’m still not sold on acting tonight, but I also don’t want to waste this opportunity of freedom and solitude. I need to make this count , and he seems so gullible right now. If this is common, perhaps I can suggest dinner more often.
His smile returns, hung up by pride. “Perks of being me.”
“Do you have a title?” I ask, instantly regretting it when he looks offended, like I’m making fun of him. I quickly recover, “I meant, I don’t know if I should be calling you by something.”
He grips his fork tightly, sighing as if he’s doing me a service by being so patient. “Not yet. I will be a king, though.”
Sure you will, buddy.
I nod, keeping my reaction neutral. Conversation with him seems risky at best. I could ask the wrong thing that sets him off, and then I’m sent back to my room until it’s time to leave this wretched island.
This will have been a waste of opportunity.
“You are not wearing your scented oils,” he comments, his tone accusatory, like I’m losing his interest.
“Oh, uh, yes. I set the vial down so Marissa could braid my hair, and I honestly forgot.”
Jesper’s gaze lingers on my face as I lower my gaze down to the table. “See to it that you don’t forget again.” He takes an aggressive bite of his steak, resting his hands together as he leans on his perched elbows, a fork and knife in either hand as his jaw works hard to tear apart the meat. “Marissa is an interesting choice, for someone to tend to you. She can be so jealous, but very loyal. Which is what I want.” He puts his fork down, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a vial, placing it on the table. “I brought some, though. We can put it on after you eat.”
“You really like that, then?” I ask, absolutely lost on how to converse with this man.
“ Very much.”
Gross. Officially, I hate the smell of evergreens now. I glance out the window as I eat, at the dark ocean that the moonlight casts scattering light across, like a mess of broken glass, and for a moment, it’s beautiful to look at.
I need to get the sirens out there .
“You must enjoy the ocean,” he comments, looking over his shoulder to the ocean at his back, returning his attention to me. “Given where you’re from.”
“It does have a sense of home,” I reply, forcing a casual tone as I look back at my food.
“If it might help your compliance, I can have a cottage built on the coastline in Boneglass.”
“Boneglass?”
“Where Morvock’s lands are located.”
“A secondary home,” I absentmindedly say, my stomach twisting slightly as for a moment, I consider a reality where I don’t succeed.
“There’s a castle that currently exists there. We finished construction last summer, actually. I will spend my time between Ashfire and Boneglass as we build an empire for Morvock.”
Nodding, I’m not entirely listening to him. I refuse to be taken there. I don’t know what I’m looking for, or what sign I need. Technically, it’s pertinent to act sooner rather than later.
So, why not tonight?
What if I fail?
“Where, um… where will I be? During all of this? Your travels?” I ask, trying to maintain his attention.
“Your behavior dictates everything .”His demeanor then shifts, the air between us growing heavier. He leans forward, ever so slightly, looking me straight in the eyes. “You know… I hate to bring this up, but it might be relevant. Tomorrow, Blackwell is going to kill his first siren.”
My eyes widen, the fork clattering on the plate as my hand falls to the table. “ What ? I’m being good .”
Jesper shrugs. “He needs a few,” he says, as if I just have to accept that, his tone dismissive. “I’ll stop him after that.” His gaze locks onto mine, unrelenting. “Make it worth my time, Jane, and I can see if he just sacrifices one .”
“Please, don’t,” I whisper, my voice slightly trembling.
He raises his brows, as if amused by my desperation. He likes the power he has over me this way . “I have an idea. What about a massage?”
“ What ?”
“I’ve heard a healer’s massage is to die for.”
Oh, wrong choice of words. “You haven’t received one before?”
“Okay, I know they’re to die for,” he admits with a smirk. “Show me it’s worth having a bride that is also a healer.”
I stare back down at my food, everything before me utterly repulsive now. What the fuck do I do? My mind reels, searching for a way out of this. Gods I miss my rugged mercenary so much it hurts, his energy so vastly different from Jesper; this dumbass doesn’t even compare. “Let me know when you’re done eating, then,” I say, my tone hollow.
“No, I think you can go ahead and start now.”
Well, do I do it? He’s asking me to knock him out, basically. And a siren will die tomorrow?
In reality, if I don’t commit now, there’s no guarantee this will happen again. Don’t be reckless, Jane… is this reckless? I stand with an awkward, loud scoot of my chair and near him, the man shrugging his shoulders like he’s telling me he’s ready, all the while he keeps eating his steak, his jaw flexing with each chew.
I don’t know if it’s my reckless heart or not, but everything tells me to do this. To risk it all, here and now. Going down to free the sirens, in any capacity, is daring beyond words. So what counts as too much?
Soren would know.
I tried to keep thoughts of him far from my mind, but I also know I’d trust any advice he’d give. Jesper is the idiot letting you touch him without knowing your capabilities, like he was, once… Perhaps my mind is officially losing itself, but I swear I can hear his voice as clear as anything else.
I escaped once, didn’t I?
Fleeing this castle isn’t even my prerogative, either. Which makes this task easier, less complications.Less tracks to cover.
Knocking Jesper out will at least give me a chance to explore, and if the door to the balcony or the interior door is locked once I’m in that room, I’ll just go alert the guards that he passed out.
I’ll gaslight the shit out of this man that it wasn’t my massage, and I definitely don’t know any siren songs; he clearly was hallucinating as he passed out. It’s not as if they can read me, anyway.
Massaging him through his clothes as I tap into my magic, I feel there’s an incredible amount of tension in his shoulders. With every knead into his muscles, I channel my powers, very gently, to help loosen and relax.
Meanwhile, my heart races so much it’s making me dizzy.
“Aren’t I supposed to not have clothes on where you touch, to make it more effective?” he asks.
Leaning down slightly into his ear, adrenaline saturating my veins with each rapid beat of my heart, I say, “Sure, if you’d like.”
Before he can even reply, my magic morphs as sedation becomes my focus. I slide my hands to his neck, singing the song of the sirens so gently in his ears it’s like a whisper.
“What are you…” food sputters out of his mouth, his body stiffening, but only for just long enough to almost rise from his seat as I hold him there, my magic flooding his body, the words of the siren so quiet in his ear the others won’t hear through the wall.
As his body goes limp, so much faster than Soren’s, I try to lean him over his food so he lies in it, finishing the song as I do so, trying to keep an even rhythm with my voice as I lay him down.
He breathes deeply, the muscles in his face so slack that I know this will work. For at least an hour. If not longer. I never asked Soren how long it worked on him for, but I also poured way more magic into him than Jesper.
The enraged part of me sees Jesper lying there, completely open for a nice stabbing. It would be so easy to slit his throat, but killing him might be the genuine death of me. I nearly grab the steak knife, thinking of the game from the Undercroft, but injuring him, even at all, would be the reckless part of tonight.
I may need his confusion when he wakes up.
Free the sirens.
I need to free these sirens.