Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
HASANNAH
“ P lease don't allow me to take you away from your assuredly weighty matters,” Vargas said, not bothering to raise her voice.
Everyone shut up, giving her our full attention. I completed my stretch and rose, suppressing an instinctive bounce of excitement.
“The pre showcase party is tonight,” she continued, “and as satisfying as it would be to draw this out, I suppose you all need time to prepare. Some of you need more time than others.” She paused. “Along with the High Lord's incredible generosity of installing a state-of-the-art commissary—” her tone made clear what she thought of this largesse “—the ten dancers chosen to represent the company tonight will also receive a bonus stipend.”
I blinked, my mouth going a little dry because I needed that extra money. It would mean a small measure of independence. Andrei. . .he was sweet, caring, and generous, but also overbearing and overwhelming.
He thought I hadn't noticed he'd gently bullied me into staying with him at his townhouse the last three days rather than returning to my apartment. I'd noticed, I was just too tired to refuse him and besides, what would I be refusing for? My apartment was a few steps above a dump, not entirely safe, and if I didn’t move out, Andrei would move in.
I wouldn’t put it past him to burn the building down or plot some other dastardly deed in order to force me out, which meant impacting the other tenants. So I’d gone along.
The townhouse was nearly within walking distance of the Arts building. Stocked with a dream of food, high quality toiletries—and yes that made a difference when you were dancing with a partner—an esoteric selection of both Fae and human music and entertainment. Other than my unease over slowly losing my independence to him, I literally had nothing to complain about.
We’d argued about him buying me an entire new wardrobe. I refused to let him shoulder the expense, no matter how filthy rich he was, and I couldn’t afford to buy clothing he considered suitable because I was, basically, broke.
I’d won that argument with my patience and logic—and by walking away. He hadn’t pressed me either. So this surprise stipend would make a dent in providing myself with the attire he wanted.
He'd also allowed me to move into a separate bedroom, though that had annoyed him.
We'd discussed it until I'd shut him down with a single sentence.
“So you're housing me in exchange for sexual favors?” It went against my nature to be this crude, but my back was against the wall.
His eyes had flamed for a second, his cheeks going pink with temper in a way that should have been childish but was distressingly sexy and utterly masculine.
“Don't be insulting,” he snapped.
“Then why try to bully me into sleeping in your bed when I'm clearly not comfortable with it yet?”
Andrei stared at me from an internal distance, then exhaled. “Fine. Fine, Anah. I don't like it. I want to hold you. Even if that's all you’ll allow me to do, I want it.”
“I need space. Have I fought you on anything? I let you steamroll me into basically moving in with you. We met five days ago. It’s insane.”
He crossed his arms. “I didn't steamroll you.” His gaze slid away from mine. “You simply understood the superior sense of staying here when it’s so close to the Arts.”
Conveniently, suspiciously close.
But I didn't, just didn't, want to believe he bought a townhouse within twenty-four hours of meeting me so he could move me out of Coal District and into a home under his control, crawling with security.
Where I couldn't step outside without their attention.
Couldn't step inside without guards, because Constin or Mathen or one of the others was constantly present.
I was pretty certain they had their own wing but were being discreet because they understood you had to ease the human into this life one surprise at a time.
Though walking in on a shirtless Constin in the kitchen making breakfast while Andrei played with his blond braid and conversed quietly more or less had that cat out of the bag. Constin was too comfy for a man just spending the night a few times a week.
No, he lived here, and they expected me to fuss about it so employed one of Andrei’s strategies—waiting on me to bring up the subject.
Andrei might just be my match in strategic avoidance, though I wielded mine with a broader brush and he used fine bristles.
“What do you think of your chances?” Coralene murmured in my ear. “Feeling lucky?”
I glanced at her, wary of her narrowed eyes. Only a sliver of the icy blue showed, the expression on her face indifferent. A little too indifferent.
“Good enough,” I said. “I don't need a favor, Coralene.”
She shrugged a shoulder and flashed a half grin. “You're already in my debt anyway.”
“For what? Oh, never mind.” She’d offered information regarding Lord Andreien and Lord Ethaline. Information which had been more useful to me than she’d realized. “I didn't agree to the favor beforehand.”
“You didn't deny it either,” she said. “A lack of immediate denial denotes acceptance.”
I blinked at her. “That wasn't in?—”
“What have I told you—” she rolled her eyes “—about the quality of that orientation?” She flicked her fingers. “Don't worry. It's a very small debt you owe me. I may just hold it for now and stack it. You’ll come to me for a real favor eventually. They always do.”
I shook my head, wondering if she was pulling one over on me, and returned my attention to Vargas when she began to call out names.
Coralene. . .of course. . .Taima, Samuel, six other names and then finally, Hasannah.
I couldn't contain my grin. Taima was squealing and Samuel, standing closest to me, grabbed me in a do-si-do, of all things.
“Are we done?” Mistress asked, a sour note in her voice. But her lips twitched. “Dismissed.”
I skipped my solo session because I needed to rush home. . .well, to Andrei’s home. . .and prepare. Not that there was much to ready since the outfit I'd brought from the human realm with me was black, and simple. I’d decided on the classic cocktail dress hoping the timeless style would disguise the fact that it was from Marshalls.
“Lady,” Mathen said, stepping smoothly to my side as I entered the hallway. I didn’t know where he skulked while I was in classes and rehearsals, but whenever I emerged he was there.
His presence didn’t go completely unnoticed—Coralene emerged from the rehearsal room and gave me a long, considering look after a hard glance at Mathen’s green-and-gold leather armor.
She grabbed my arm. “ Why ,” she began after hustling me into the nearest solo practice room, “are you attended by a high-ranking House?—”
I plugged my ears. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Coralene yanked my fingers out of my ears, the grip on my wrists unbreakable, her glacial eyes boring into my face.
“Ignoring the problem will not make it go away. The exact opposite in fact, with less manageable results, you unlucky mortal.”
“Just let me pretend for a little while longer.”
“I’d feel sorry for you, but that would require I care.” She cared, or she wouldn’t bother. She just didn’t like to admit it. “Shall I offer you a word of advice in spite of my better nature?”
I opened my mouth.
“For free,” she said, cutting my denial off. “You’ll take the advice whether you want to or not, because I don’t believe you’re a deliberate fool—you seem to stumble into it honestly.”
Coralene released my wrists.
I’d have bruises.
“Good. I like that about you, Hasannah. You know when to shut up and listen. Don’t ever make the mistake of caring for your guard. Our history is littered with how that particular turn of events goes spectacularly wrong. There’s one feasible reason I can think of that you’re attended in this fashion by him , and it’s because you ran afoul of the only useful piece of advice they gave you in orientation.”
“I was busking,” I said, redoing my bun to give my hands something to do. “I didn’t attract attention on purpose.”
“No, you wouldn’t. But then you wouldn’t have to do it on purpose.”
I glanced over fast enough to catch the flash of pity in her gaze before it iced over again.
“Don’t care, and don’t mistake him for only a guard.” She curled her lip at me. “He’s pretty enough, and I’d bet he’s also kind, caring, open and affectionate—and your Lord has encouraged the friendship? Yes. He’s the perfect whipping boy. Anger your Lord, and you’ll find out your guard’s true purpose.”
She let me flee and I returned to my guard, tucking her words in the back of my mind.
“I made the showcase party,” I told Mathen, waving the invitation under his nose.
“Good news,” he said, and offered me a half smile as we left the building.
“Not just good news!”
Once we were on the street I turned towards him, throwing my arms around his neck and giving him my full weight like he was one of my brothers. He didn’t even brace. I felt like a teenager again.
“I know the mistress says this doesn't mean we have a leg up in the showcase, but we've all studied the odds. Eighty percent of the dancers who make this showcase are offered a position in the corps, and the last three principals were showcase party dancers too. She's just trying to be nice to the people who didn't make it.”
I twirled around him, spinning faster and faster until he laughed, sliding an arm around my back and herding me towards the coach.
“Save that energy for this evening,” he advised, squeezing my shoulder before opening the door and ushering me inside.
I leaped out of the carriage almost before it pulled to a complete stop, dashing into the townhouse and up the steps three at a time until I burst into my room. I hadn't had an excuse for this kind of excitement since learning I'd earned a spot in the program.
The party started at the equivalent of 8:00 PM which meant I had three hours to get ready and travel to the location. Wait.
I left my bedroom, heading to snag the first warrior I saw and asked her to inform Andrei of my plans for the evening.
Then I ran back upstairs and showered. Going through my entire grooming routine though all the particulars weren't quite necessary.
I used a fragrant oil in my hair and blow-dried it to hang in dark, shining perfection down my back, rubbed more oil into my skin, and critically inspected my fingernails. I kept them short and buffed for the sake of simplicity, but maybe I could hunt down one of Andrei's polishes. He'd worn a nearly transparent, opalescent hue the other day that wouldn't clash with my dress and also wouldn’t look bad if I applied it poorly.
I wrinkled my nose thinking of that cocktail dress as I left the bedroom wrapped in a fluffy white towel and headed to Andrei's room.
Entering his dressing closet, I headed for the vanity and poked around until I found the cabinet that revealed a selection of?—
Sweet Jesus. I never knew a person could own that many nail polishes. Did he collect them for fun, or did he actually wear all of them?
It took me too long to decide between five different shades of clear to white with some type of shimmer to it, but finally I plucked one out of its slot and turned, leaving the entirely too large walk-in closet. No one needed all these clothes, shoes, and accessories. Not even a High Lord.
I stopped short when I saw a drape of green fabric over Andrei's cloth of gold bedspread. I walked towards it silently, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet.
Long, the fabric going sheer towards the bottom of the high-low skirt. A fitted bodice, the deep v halter neckline heavily beaded in gold that would bring out the warmth of my skin tone.
Everything about this dress screamed bespoke, and expensive. . .and Andrei. The lace, beading, and sheer fabric were completely to his taste. I wondered if I returned to my closet to find the black cocktail dress, if it would be there anymore. My clothing had a way of disappearing in this house. He didn’t trash my clothes, because I’d checked. He probably burned them, or buried them in the gardens.
I glanced down and spotted the matching slippers, smiling because he knew I didn’t like to wear heels. My feet took enough abuse during the day.
Running the tip of my finger along the dress, I blinked back moisture in my eyes. I'd never owned anything this exquisite. And, sigh, I couldn't accept it. Could I?
I was already living in the man's house, eating his food, using toiletries he'd purchased, riding around the city in his coach guarded by his warriors.
I ran a hand over my face. Protesting a dress seemed silly at this point. It was time to accept what I was. . .his mistress. Though we hadn't had sex yet.
But that was the point. All of this was in exchange for becoming his lover. A bribe. Oh, he’d said it wasn't but. . .what else did I have to offer but my body?
My scintillating conversation? I barely talked about anything besides dance, and I was certain Andrei's interpersonal needs were otherwise being met by Constin.
I turned and stopped.
Andrei leaned against the door, arms crossed in his typical relaxed pose. He was dressed all in black except for the drape of emeralds at his ears, his hair slicked back and stark against eyes lined in black kohl, shadowed subtly with grey. High necked shirt, flowing lace sleeves, pants so tight they were molded to his body, and high heeled boots.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“You’re beautiful.” Then I blinked, because he’d meant the dress. He gave me a slow, knowing smile as I blushed. “The dress, I meant. Stop looking at me like that, Andrei. It’s beautiful too.”
Beautiful, and a shade of jade green suspiciously close to the green of the warriors who served him.
I frowned. “I don't know if I should?—”
He tilted his head, giving me a different look. Equal parts amusement, annoyance, and warning. He didn’t like having his provisions rejected.
“If you tell me you can't accept it because it's too. . .whatever your flimsy objection is, I will be displeased with you.”
Those last six words were said in such a deep, affectionate purr that I shivered, wondering what would happen if I insisted that I couldn't accept it.
The look in his eyes, the subtle curve of his lips, was a dare to say it.
A dare to find out.
I combed my hair over my shoulder instead, choosing the wiser course. “Thank you. It's perfect for tonight. The color is a little. . .political, though.” I couldn't help but add that pointed comment.
His subtle smile broadened into something entirely feline, and entirely satisfied. “Yes. It is.”
“Andrei. . .”
“Hasannah.” He uncurled from the wall and stalked towards me, cupping my chin in his hand. “Do you trust me?”
“Can you be more specific?”
Andrei laughed, lowering his head to give me a chaste kiss. “Really. Are we already at that point in the relationship? Where you require specifics before you answer a straightforward question?”
“You're Fae. A High Lord.”
“I am. I am indeed.” Humor deepened the amber flecks in his eyes. “Well, try it on then, sati faha.”
Excitement surged. Despite my misgivings, I loved the dress, the feminine but not girly drape of the fabric.
“Are you coming with me tonight?” I asked, stalling.
“Of course.”
“Technically I'm not allowed to bring a guest.”
“Hmm. I’m invited.”
I inhaled. If he had an invitation. . .we hadn't broached the topic we'd been dancing around. Mostly because I didn't want to.
He had an invitation.
“All that black will look good next to my dress,” I said instead. “I think our sleeves are the same.” I wouldn’t put it past him. He was so matchy-matchy.
“I'll look good on your arm then.”
I laughed. “No one will be looking at me if you're at my side.”
Andrei gave me a strange look. “Is that what you think? And there is no if. There will never be an if.” He nodded to the bed. “Try it on.”
I whirled away from him, dropping my towel, and reached for the fabric.
It took me a second to understand my mistake and register the sharp inhale of breath behind me. I'd forgotten I wasn't in a company dressing room where clothing flew on and off bodies and no one cared because bodies were tools, and sometimes weapons. I’d become comfortable around him as a man.
I turned.
The whites of his eyes were stained with color, his skin translucent with power.
I stepped back.