Chapter Eight - Rhea
More powerful than the sight of the ballroom was the scent of it. The smokey, herbal smell hit my nose in a rush as the huge gilded doors of the stone building were opened before us. Nearly immediately, I felt my head begin to fog, like the smoke was filling me up and leaving no room for any apprehension or any thoughts at all.
Dante placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me forward into the enormous hall. My eyes couldn’t decide which sight to take in first as I swept my gaze around the room. Before us stretched a towering silver staircase that reached the end of the room and split in two. The floor we stepped on was black as night and reflected the silhouettes of all who stepped across it as if some ghostly world lay just beneath the soles of our feet.
“What is this place?” I breathed to Dante. I had expected a ballroom, but this was something entirely different.
“Think of it as a pleasure house,” he replied, standing stiffly at my side.
A fae male passed by us with a bow of his head to Dante. Though the gesture was submissive, the arrogant smirk on his face and the three giggling women hanging from his arms hinted at something entirely different. I blinked at the women, all human, all dressed in extravagant gowns and jewelry. They had to be slaves, but their heavy eyelids and flushed cheeks made them seem to be enjoying the pleasure house just as much as their master.
I hadn’t realized I’d stopped to marvel at the room and its inhabitants until Dante leaned to whisper in my ear, “You won’t make much of an impression if you only stand in the hall with your mouth open like a trout.”
I scoffed. “Oh, it’s an impression you’d like, is it?”
I turned as the smug smile dropped from the corner of his mouth and twirled away from him. This hall may be imposing and marvelous, but the males who stood drinking from goblets of polished crystal against the walls were still males. And I could feel the way their eyes followed me as I strode through the center of the room, swishing my hips and reveling in the way the silken fabric moved against my skin.
This place was much too large to be only used as a dance hall. There had to be more. If this place was truly a pleasure house, certainly there were other ways people could enjoy themselves here. I placed a look of enchantment on my face as I wandered from side to side, noting each exit and entrance and each room that branched off from the main.
As I came to the silver staircase, I noticed a door below it. It hung open in invitation to anyone passing by. Inside, I saw walls lined with books. I had to press down the urge to smile. Here, finally, was something of use to me. Now, the only thing I needed was an excuse to get away from my companion.
As if summoned, Dante put my arm through his.
“Careful, little shrike. You won’t want to go too far from my side.”
“Of course not, master,” I said sweetly with a hand on my chest. Dante frowned.
A male passed close to us as he walked by, his hand brushing against the fabric of my dress just slightly. Dante watched him go with cold eyes as he led me up the staircase and around to the right. I noticed how each place our bodies met made his body rigid.
I had to remember that each act, each movement of his body in this place was a political movement. In the citadel, they had taught us about the inner workings of the factions within the fae political system. Lords held power by intimidation. And since a show of violence would often lead to wide- scale destruction, they often showed their dominance by what they possessed and what they could take from others without retaliation.
It was a delicate line, one that could often end in the very violence it sought to circumvent.
I noticed the looks of desire I drew from the unaccompanied males that crowded this place even as Dante stood with my arm wrapped in his. I wondered what it would mean to take the possession of someone like Dante. How much power could be stolen by making his only slave their own?
The thought made me shiver, and though Dante was just the same as any of them, I found myself pressing closer to the heat of his body for what comfort it provided.
We reached an arched entrance at the top of the stairway that was curtained with silver sheets of tapestry. Smoke billowed from beneath the fabric as it gently moved with an inviting sway. I hesitated as Dante turned us towards it. From inside, I could hear the steady beat of some strange, foreign music accompanied by a deep melodic flute. Before I could protest or find some desperate ruse to avoid whatever lay beyond the curtain, Dante’s unyielding hand was on my back pushing me through.
The curtain brushed against the side of my face like a lover’s caress. Then, for a long moment, all I could see was dim golden light through the smoke. Dante was unrelenting, though, and his hand pushed me onwards into the den. I held a hand to my mouth and tried to suppress a cough. Though the smoke was light and tasted of lavender, it was overpowering.
“You’ll get used to it in a few minutes,” Dante said low near my left ear. But his voice sounded to me like it had come from far, far away. I turned to look at him and found the smoke billowing in the shadows that lined his face. Enchanted, I reached out a hand to touch where his face ought to be.
He caught my wrist in a swift movement, his mouth set in a hard line, reminding me with one simple action that I had no power here, that everything done in this room and beyond it would be at his command.
He kept my wrist in his hand and made his way deeper into the smoke-filled room. Shapes and figures became clear to me as my eyes adjusted to the low lighting.
Hot blush crept up my cheeks as I saw couples locked together in varying throes of ecstasy between the cushions that lined the walls of the room. Flashes of blue and pink hair mixed with those of blonde and brown became visible to me.
And there were others here, males standing and watching the displays with eyes fraught with violence and hunger.
Dante led me deeper into the den, skirting around a glacial blue fountain rimmed with statues of sirens. In the pool, more lovers embraced, some in their gowns and dresswear while others had left them behind.
Finally, we came to a corner of the room lined with deep purple and red silk cushions. Dante released my arm and then sat. I looked him over, sitting with his legs splayed. He was wearing a more elegant ensemble tonight than he had on the road. The deep green of his simple shirt suited him well, and the black embroidery that veined through it reminded me of the shadows that twined about him.
He watched me as I stood, uncertain of what to do next. What was my role here? Was I to be a concubine as well as a slave? Was my body meant to be used to show his standing, his power among these other males?
Dante raised a hand, his long fingers beckoning for me to come to him. Maybe it was the smoke filling my head, but just the sight of those fingers had me moving until I stood between his spread legs.
Around us, the music intensified, the drums matching the rush of blood in my ears.
I tried to clear my mind, to remind myself of my purpose here, of who I was. But as Dante’s violet eyes found mine, I couldn’t quite remember anything but the intensity I found there.
Slowly, as if afraid I’d dash away from him at the smallest movement, Dante brought his hands to both sides of my waist.
“Dance for me,” he said, his voice dancing on the rhythm of the drums like the words of a song. I looked back over my shoulder to find a group of males standing against the opposite wall, their eyes watching us with great interest.
“Don’t act shy now, Shrike,” he said, sitting up until his face was level with my chest. I fought the insane desire to run my fingers through his hair and see if those stray feathers were as deliciously soft as they looked. “You love the eyes of men on you, don’t you? You love the attention they give you, how terribly they want to be the ones to put their hands on you.”
As he spoke, he drew his fingers up and down my sides, then around to the small of my back, slowly and forcefully pulling me closer to him until our faces were only inches apart.
“You’re the one who seems to take pleasure in the eyes of other males on me. Why else would you bring me here?” I said, forcing the words out through the haze of my thoughts, trying to keep my words from slurring together.
He scoffed a laugh, his eyes finding the gaze of the males behind me. “Let them look,” he pressed his face to the side of my neck. The feel of his hot breath against my shoulder had me leaning into him. “Let them see just how much you enjoy being mine.”
I tried to argue, to deny the outrageous claim that I should actually enjoy being his slave. But the words were stuck in my throat, lost in the haze and the heat rising between us.
“Dance,” he said, this time his voice full of command, the voice of my master.
With some effort, I pulled myself back from him, finding his hands with my own. Then I turned, watching the eyes of the males against the wall as I began to move against him. I pulled his hands up to the sides of my hips, holding them in place just as I wished they would rove to other places. His grip tightened on me as I began to dance for him.
My mind drifted further and further on the cloud of lust and sweet emptiness as the smoke found its way deeper and deeper into my body. Soon, Dante stood, and there was nothing else in the world to me but the beat of the drum and the feel of Dante’s body in every place it pressed against mine.
I had no concept of how much time had passed. The next thing I knew was the comfortable press of the cushions against the side of my face. I blinked and looked around to find I was no longer in the smoke-filled den but some private room with only the gentle drip of a small fountain for music.
A deep feeling of anxiety gripped my chest as I tried desperately to remember more than when I’d first begun dancing with Dante. How far had he taken things while I’d been incapacitated? What had he done to me while I’d had no way to defend myself?
I sat up, feeling each limb of my body heavy and aching. The room was small, but there in the far end, I could make out the backs of some men. It appeared to be Dante in his emerald shirt speaking with two other males I recognized, my captors who had escorted us in the human lands.
They were speaking in hushed tones and seemed unaware that I’d awakened here.
To my left was a door.
And with my mind clearer now, I could recall what my purpose was in this godforsaken place. I was not some plaything to be used as a tool to gain the hate and jealousy of rivals. I was a weapon, and I would do what I came here to do, no matter the danger.
Careful not to make a sound as I stood, I crept out of the cushioned corner and through the door.
In the halls, I took a moment to collect myself. We were still in the pleasure house, and judging by the creeping smoke and deep rumble of drums, the den I’d danced in was to my left. In front of me was the crystal banister. I walked to it and braced my hands on it as I surveyed the hall below.
A few males and human girls stumbled through the hall, but the hour must have been particularly late judging by the much-diminished number of patrons. My head was still a bit dizzy, and I allowed myself a long moment to breathe in the almost smoke-free air and collect myself. I pushed all thoughts of Dante’s hands digging into my hips into the back corner of my mind and focused only on my goal, to find information on the weapon.
As I made my way down the staircase, I remembered what the High Priest had taught me about the weapon I was destined to wield.
I’d been in the classroom where all my lessons were given, flanked by the three others whose clearance was as high as mine. My only true friend in the place, Sam, and the twins, the daughters of the High Priest.
“The weapon is a long-guarded fae secret,” the High Priest had said, holding a thick tome in his hands and watching me through those haunting, gray eyes. “Many brave men died to retrieve this information from their most guarded libraries.”
“And another man might die today of boredom if he doesn’t get to the point,” Sam muttered in my ear before leaning back in his wooden chair and stifling a yawn. I dug an elbow into his side. He might find this information boring, but this was the very subject that had haunted my every movement since I’d been a child.
The High Priest slammed the book shut, startling both Sam and I into sitting up straight and giving him our full attention. “This weapon they guard behind the veil is so powerful, it could wipe our kingdom off the map in seconds.”
Sam swallowed as I stuck my chin out, refusing to let the High Priest see me shaken.
“However,” the High Priest strode closer to my desk, every inch of him hardened by long years of war. He placed one long finger beneath my chin and forced me to hold his gaze. “Should we gain control of this weapon…” I hated the way his thumb stroked the side of my jaw, the way his eyes grew heavy as they roved over the curves of my face. But I could do nothing but endure it, as I had so many times before.
“We could bring an end to this war just as easily.”
I gripped the crystal banister so tightly I thought it might crack beneath my hands. A shaking breath brought me back to the present and reminded me I was far from those hands I so hated, far from the disgust I felt when under the gaze of those gray eyes.
Of course, I wasn’t much better off now. But the only way to begin to worry about my own freedom was to find out more about the weapon.
I hurried down the stairs, ignoring the curious looks of the males and girls who walked or sat around the hall. I slipped into the room below the stairs and closed the door behind me, hoping the minimal attention I’d drawn wouldn’t be harmful.
There was no telling when I would have another chance to get into this room, to read the texts that until now had only been seen by fae eyes. And if Dante knew what the mark on my chest meant… my time was even more limited than I’d hoped.
The library stretched on further than seemed possible. I drew up my bright red skirts in one hand and moved towards the closest wall. Running my fingers over the scrolls and tomes, I wondered how long I could spend time here, in the quiet and clear air, simply reading.
I wished I had the time, but as it was, I was already running out of it.
I chose a number of promising scrolls and settled into a small corner table to begin.
The scrolls I chose were marked with fae runes. I’d been taught to read them, but these seemed to be older versions than what I was used to in classes. Still, I could make out enough of them to identify a number of histories on the war between the fae and human kingdoms. If there was mention of a weapon, a collection of information on war would be as good a place as any to begin.
The runes I read detailed an account of the war I wasn’t exactly familiar with, stories of fae heroes and the creation of the veil as a last effort to protect the fae from the evil acts of humans.
It was clearly fae propaganda, but even in the most biased accounts, some truth could be found if you knew where to look and how to weed out the lies.
Minutes ticked by as I continued to read, moving slower than I’d hoped to. I was starting to worry Dante would come to claim me soon, and I would need to have something prepared to deal with his anger.
I sucked in a breath as, at last, I found something worth reading. My pulse quickened as I read words I was so familiar with I could recite them in my sleep.
Two souls, two races entwine. One must live, the other must die. One hand a dagger, one hand a dove. Killer of all; savior of love. With his last breath a kingdom dies, in her hand his beating heart lies. A weapon so powerful, none shall still stand, when his power at last is set on the land.
My brows drew together in the center of my forehead. This was my prophecy, but the words were not quite right. My eyes continued to read as my mind struggled to translate the runes. Below the text of the prophecy was more information, an interpretation by the scroll’s author.
Our own prince, marked and cursed with a power that will be the undoing of us all. When the second face of the prophecy is revealed, all will be lost. For a weapon of such strength as lies beneath his skin cannot be controlled once set loose.
“What’s this here?” a gravely male voice sang, startling my attention from the scroll I read. But Dante wasn’t the one lounging against a bookshelf in front of me. There were two of the males from the den, two who had watched me dance.
And their eyes were just as full of hunger and violence as they had been in that smoke-filled room.