Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
“ A nah, you need to eat.”
The plate came into focus, eggs and thick-sliced meat now cold.
“Do you want something different?” Constin asked.
I didn’t want food at all. It did nothing to slake my thirst, lessen my hunger. On the third day of the punishment, Andrei caught me scratching my arms. Long, bloody rivulets from shoulder to wrist. Knives would have been next.
He’d wrapped my fingers into. . .mittens after filing my nails down.
“I can’t take this,” Andrei said, his hand gripping the arm of my chair. “It wasn’t meant to break her. Is this a feminine issue?”
I sat at the breakfast table, listening to them talk about me right in front of my face, but not processing. Or caring.
“Why are you begging me to smack you?” Philea snapped, gold coin eyes flashing.
“Then tell me why my consort behaves as if I tore her soul out,” the High Lord snarled. He crouched at my side, rubbing a hand up and down my bare calf as he and the luudthen argued.
“She’s lamia-born,” Mathen said, hovering. “We may have underestimated?—”
“The dance was how she fed.” Andrei’s hand paused as he stared at me. “Of course. I’m an idiot.”
Constin glanced at me. “If she never fed in the traditional method she must have been starved even before now. It would explain why she channeled everything into dance. To survive.”
“There’s only three days left,” Philea said. “She’ll live. Listen, boo. The males need you to eat. Watching them tear their hair out isn’t fun anymore.”
Constin snapped his head towards Philea, narrowing his eyes. “I didn’t see you eat this morning either.”
She curled her lip “Don’t you start that shit with me. ”
“You’re not setting a very good example of intelligent feminine behavior.”
Philea unsheathed one of the knives at her side. “I can rectify that right now. I have a taste for intestine.”
Mathen dropped a basket of muffins on the table in front of Philea, and immediately leaped backwards.
“Set a good example, Leli,” he said—from the other side of the kitchen. “Anali, the blueberry muffins are half almond flour.”
I slid down in my chair, staring at the table. “I’m not wasting away.”
“You are,” Andrei snapped. “You don’t see yourself. Your body is responding as if you’re Fae. Fae can’t fast, Anah. Neither can you. You’ve lost weight and tone. Think what you’re doing to your muscles. When you go back to the studio, you’ll have to rebuild.”
It was manipulative—which meant effective. I picked at the eggs.
“Lea, put the knife away and sit,” Andrei said. “Why is everyone testing me today? Someone get out the butter and toast the muffins. In ten decades has she ever eaten them at room temp? It’s as if I have to micro-manage you all.”
“Obsessive controlling tyrant,” someone—me—muttered under their breath.
Constin slid a fresh plate under my nose, taking the cold food away without missing a beat and returned a minute later with softened butter and a sliced toasted muffin he placed in front of a fuming Philea.
I glanced at her as she stared at it—and realized Con had used fresh blueberries to make a happy face on her plate. He must have been feeling suicidal.
She jerked her head up and glared at me. “You see what you did? Now they’re all going into rut mode.”
Constin loomed over her until she stabbed a half with her blade, holding his gaze, and tore a chunk out with her teeth.
He bared his teeth right back at her.
“Hasannah,” Andrei said.
“I’m eating,” I snapped, annoyed at the melodrama. Distantly pleased I had the energy for annoyance. A part of me realized the depression I’d sunk into was problematic.
I’d never gone this long without dancing, even when I wasn’t in active training or rehearsals. In the normal course of a day, it stressed me to stand still. But I had no reason to think, even now, Andrei wouldn’t carry through on his threat to. . .ground me. . .if I twitched a single muscle.
“There you go,” Andrei said, watching me put bits of food in my mouth. He sighed and stood, glancing at Constin. “I’ll let you know how Court goes. Issahelle won’t be happy about the Ixnie.”
The word gained my attention. Anything that made the High Lord unhappy and even peripherally affected me, I needed to know. “Because of the Arts?”
Everyone looked at me. “What do you mean, Anali?” Mathen asked.
I shrugged. “A couple dancers got kicked out for it already. I told Larry not to smoke that stuff. No one ever listens to me when I’m trying to be nice. I wonder if he was the one dealing?” It would make sense.
I caught Andrei and Con exchange a look. Andrei turned back to me. “I wasn’t told about the dancers.”
“Hmm. The board probably doesn’t want the High Lord pissed off. Everyone knows how she feels about drugs. Oh, crap. I shouldn’t have said anything, should I? I’m such a snitch.”
“Your first loyalty is to us now,” the High Lord informed me, frowning. “You should have said something before.”
“No one asked. Why are you investigating Ixnie anyway, if you didn’t know about the Arts?”
“It’s becoming a nuisance in the city. We suspected it was in the Arts, but had no confirmation. Clearly, the servants I task to report to me—” he cut himself off, expression displeased.
“Andrei, I don’t want anyone to get in trouble because I opened my mouth. I mean it. A few dancers were caught with the stuff, and kicked out. The matter was closed.” I froze.
“What is it?” he asked, a subtle sharpening of his attention.
I moistened my bottom lip, taking a moment to form words. “In the—in the coach when I was being—” I paused. It was hard to think about, hard to undredge.
“Anali,” Math encouraged softly.
“I don't remember exactly, but the man who was. . .said my Lord was interfering in matters and they wanted it to stop. Distribution was disrupted. I probably only remember because I've watched enough television about cartels to understand the context.”
Andrei and Constin exchanged a long look. “Did he say anything else?” Andrei asked.
I shrugged. “Babble about making peace with my maker, and forgive him for causing me undeserved pain but really that’s what I got for associating with High Lords and their ilk in the first place.”
“Did he really say that?” Philea asked.
The High Lord’s eyes narrowed.
“We should have debriefed her,” Con murmured.
“Yes, but—” Andrei stopped, looked at me. Then he shook his head. “It wasn’t necessary. There were only a handful of reasons Coal District malcontents would have taken her.”
I shivered. “Lord Ashlyun isn’t behind the Ixnie, is he?”
He lifted a long brocade duster style jacket from an empty chair. “That would be extremely foolish of him. No, he simply has the misfortune of being the Lord who oversees the only slum in Casakraine.”
“Well, maybe you should do something about that, Andrei. The slum, not Ashlyun,” I added. “I like Ashlyun.” Philea snorted.
The stare he fixed on me was cool, hinting at raised hackles and shiny teeth.
“What’s the point of ruling an entire city if you let it go to the weeds?” I asked.
“Several points,” was the crisp, haughty reply. “And if you think rule is so simple, so easy , consort, why don’t we?—”
“My Lord,” Mathen said.
Andrei subsided, muttering something in Cassanian, his ruffled fur smoothing back down. “One day I will answer these challenges she flings about like water drops,” he said, giving me a dark look under his lashes.
For the first time that morning, I noticed his attire. Green silk and velvet, gold accents at his wrists and on his fingers, a shimmer of gold shadow on his lids, eyes lined in a darker shade. He caught me looking, a glint in his gaze as he held my stare.
“Do not let her out of your sight. She is not entirely herself yet.” Slowly, he extended a ringed hand and brushed the edges of his nails along my cheek, then turned away. “I’ll answer to Issahelle for the lapse in our security as well today. At least I can answer that my bonded is truly suffering for the risk to the House.”
“We’ll take care of them,” Mathen said. “Focus on what you need to.”
“Her,” Philea snarled, “not them. I am not enduring another rut cycle. I’ll go stay with Mia. At least she can lick a clit without getting fangs and feelings involved.”
Andrei nodded and left, Theland and Esseum at his sides.
Philea stood and turned her chair around then sat in it backwards, draping her arms over the back. She shoved the half-eaten muffin away.
“You know that’s why he had to bring the hammer down, right?” she said. “If the High Lord thinks he’s going soft, she’ll take over.”
I shrugged. Made a sad face shape with bits of meat I’d cut up.
Philea watched me as Constin sat on the table next to her, swinging his feet. She ignored him.
“Look, Anah, I like you. You’ve got that dainty thing going on, but you’re one cold bitch—my kind of girl. But if you don’t eat all this food, I’m going to take you out to the courtyard, and it won’t be pretty. You get me?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Her expression darkened. Constin grabbed the muffin and put it back in front of her. Then twisted and looked pointedly at my plate.
“Fine. I’m eating.” I cleaned the plate, then pushed it aside. “Happy?”
“We’ll all be happy when you learn your place.” She focused a gimlet-eyed look on me. “We all have a place, Anah. We all follow the rules—or if we break them, it’s for a damn good reason and we know what we’re doing. No one is trying to oppress you. You’re a baby. Do humans let their babies play in the street?”
“I’m such a baby that your Lord is fucking me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You know what I mean, and I think that’s the second time you’ve spoken that particular insult. Do it a third time. I dare you.”
I settled my attention on the table.
Philea let out a breath and softened her tone. “Do you want to do something besides curl up in your bed and pretend to die today? We can go spend a lot of Andrei’s money if you want. He’s got it to burn, and it might make you feel better.”
“I don’t need anything.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Lady Hasannah.”
I looked up at the unfamiliar feminine voice. Next to me, Philea stiffened and rose, turned and bowed.
“Lord Miahela.”
Miahela? Slowly, I raised my head and twisted to face the woman who’d entered the kitchen.
Long wavy ash-gold hair with much darker roots, and robin’s egg blue eyes set in a face made from Michelangelo’s wet dreams. Tall, full figured in a way I rarely saw among Fae women.
Had I bathed yesterday? From the state of my t-shirt, probably not. I recalled Mathen brushing my hair.
She lifted a brow and spared me a single, encompassing glance. “Has my brother not trained his human in proper etiquette? Or grooming, for that matter?”
“Mia.” Constin’s flat voice. “This isn't a good time.”
“It’s the perfect time, Con.” Miahela gave him a smooth, cold smile. “I want to talk to the human girl. Come.”
She left the kitchen, the luudthen tense in her wake.
“Fuck,” Philea said. “She should be at Court. Andreien must not know she’s here.”
Constin turned to me. “Hasannah, I know you don’t feel well, but you need to brush off your manners and attend Lord Miahela. This is important.”
“Why?” I asked, trying to think past the gray mist of indifference.
“If the fact that she’s a Lord of the High Court, Andreien’s sister and Issahelle’s daughter isn’t enough, allow me to convince you that you do not want to offend this woman. Andrei can’t control her, and neither can we.”
“I thought she was younger.”
“That doesn't make her weaker.”
“Or saner,” Philea added under her breath. “Outstanding oral skills notwithstanding.”
“I can hear you,” Miahela purred from the living area.
“Let’s put it this way,” Philea continued. “Andrei promised to be a normal person, despite being a High Lord. Mia laughs at that shit and calls it sentimental. She’s what you were told to fear.”
“Surely not,” Andrei’s sister said. “I’m harmless to the well-mannered.”
How was that any version of the truth? Wait. . .well-mannered could be defined several ways.
A brush of fear broke through my apathy. If she hurt me, I wouldn’t be able to dance.
I stood. “I’ll go dress. Will she wait?”
“We’ll entertain her,” was Constin’s grim reply. “Go swiftly. Wear something Andrei bought you.”
Cute. “There's nothing left in my closet he didn’t buy.”
Once in my bedroom I brushed my teeth, washed the important bits in a bird bath and slid into one of the ao dai Andrei had bought, the long overdress a dark green, the narrow pants gold. I entered the living room.
“Get lost,” Miahela said, waving her hand towards the luudthen. “Shouldn’t you be with my brother, Constin?”
“He is protected,” was the stiff reply.
Miahela straightened from her elegant sprawl on the couch. “My brother is at Court, and you’ve abandoned him to babysit one mortal cygnet. You disappoint me.”
“If the Heir cannot navigate a session of Court with the guards he took with him, another will take his place.”
Mia lowered her lashes, looking just like her brother for a moment. “You won’t survive such a change in power, Constin. I would make sure of it.”
“You can go, Con,” I said. “I don’t need you here.”
He slanted me a look that said shut the hell up.
“There. The mortal has released you from your petty service. Go, Constin. I won’t harm my brother’s bonded consort.”
I watched as Constin left the room.
“Come, mortal girl. Sit and speak with me.”
I sat in a chair opposite her. “My name is Hasannah, or Han.”
She waved a hand with long, matte navy blue nails. They matched her one shouldered white wrap blouse and full floor length navy skirt.
“I’ll use your name if you survive my brother and mother for a year or two. There’s little point in becoming attached to something likely to die soon.”
I was beginning to understand some of Andrei’s odd comments about his sister. But he loved her, I reminded myself. Dubiously.
“What do you want?” I asked.
Miahela settled back, studying me. “Has anyone tutored you in etiquette?”
“The orientation—” I stopped talking; her expression reminded me of Cora, but more dangerous. “No.”
“You’ll need to learn. You’ve insulted me at least three different ways since I entered. Insults that would cost your life among anyone else.”
I frowned. I wished I could care, but I didn’t. I shrugged, sitting back in my chair.
“I will ask,” Miahela said, “my brother to lessen your punishment.”
Those words surprised me enough to focus my attention to her. “How did you know?”
She returned my stare with a flat one of her own. “Do you think anything happens in the house of the Heir of Casakraine my mother and I don’t know?”
I flinched. That word again. Miahela gave me a flinty smile. “Lord Issahelle is almost impressed by your stubbornness. We can’t recall a woman ever telling my brother no for longer than it took him to end the game, or shying away from his power and standing. My mother cannot decide whether it’s meant as an insult—to her.”
“I don’t know enough about the Courts to insult the High Lord. And why would I when I want to join her company?”
“My conclusion as well.” She crossed her legs, affecting an air of boredom. “I was sent with an offer.”
Miahela waited for me to think. Only one person could command her to negotiate with me.
“The offer?”
A smooth, pitiless smile. “Continue to be yourself.”
That made no sense. “What?”
“Do you know, the requirements of keeping you alive have forced my brother to make alliances and dispense. . .long overdue consequences. . .he’s scorned for decades? He’s picking up the full mantle of Heir in his panic to ensure the safety of his fragile bonded.” She shrugged. “It’s pathetic, but whatever works.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. I could be used as Andrei’s whipping boy the same as Mathen was used as mine.
Miahela watched me. “In exchange for continuing to be a delectable thorn in my brother’s side, rather than a source of comfort which will weaken him, my mother will guarantee your place in her company.”
I pushed to my feet, hands fisted at my sides. “I don’t want her guarantee.” The words came out of my throat like a string of curses.
“Are you certain, Hasannah? We can grant you everything you want, no one need know. We had reports of your dancing. You’re more than adequate. Take what’s offered.”
“I’ll take it because I’ll earn it on my own. Because I am the best.”
Her smile morphed into something a touch more genuine. “Very well. We'll offer something simpler. We will consider you family.”
I calmed my ire with a few breaths. “I want to earn that too. Or else it won’t mean anything.”
“You’re just like him.” She gave a small expression of affectionate distaste. “Must everything have meaning?”
“If it doesn’t, you won’t fight to protect it. What you won’t fight for, anyone can take.” It hit me—I did sound like Andrei.
Her eyes sharpened. “Very good, Hasannah. Perhaps this won’t be a complete disaster.” She paused. “I will intercede with my brother to lessen your punishment. Will you accept?”
“Yes.” I almost lunged towards her, my apathy crumbling into dust.
Miahela rose and glided towards the threshold leading to the hallway. “I’ll see you dance soon. Don’t disappoint, cygnet.”
I was curled around a pillow on the couch when Andrei returned home. I listened to the door open, the murmur of voices and the sound of several footsteps on the hard floors before I recognized his approaching gait.
He stopped in the threshold of the living room, his eyes slightly narrowed. I returned the impassive gaze.
“So,” he said. “You somehow managed to ally my sister.” He walked into the room, halting in front of me. “What did my mother want?”
“You should ask her.”
“I’m not certain if I should be displeased by this fresh defiance, or happy my sister talked you out of your mood.” He slid his fingers into my hair and tightened them. “But watch your mouth, Hasannah. Or I’ll shove something in it.”
For once I didn't think the razor in his voice was about me. Something else rode him, and if I had to guess, it had to do with the Courts. His pupils were a bit too wide. A classic case of bringing work stress home with you.
“I shouldn't show you any leniency,” he said. “It’ll only encourage the pair of you to continue plotting behind my back in the future.”
I wouldn't call it plotting, but I wasn't going to argue when I was about to get what I wanted.
He surveyed my face, frowning. “There are three days left on your punishment. You may attend rehearsals.”
I inhaled, flinging aside the pillow and rising on my knees. His fingers tightened more in my hair, stalling me.
“You won’t dance. But you may watch. And I will continue to teach you to feed in a more traditional fashion.”
It was far, far more than I had expected. Also understanding the Fae male ego, or rather the High Lord ego, I threw my arms around his neck, adding a touch more enthusiasm than was necessary to my thanks.
“Thank you, Andrei. I know you didn't have to listen to your sister.”
“All the women in my family are trouble,” was the sour remark, but I heard the note of pleasure underneath the words.
He released my hair and slid his arms around me, pulling me against his body. “You make it difficult to punish you and I don't know if it's on purpose, or. . .”
I shook my head. “I'm not naturally manipulative.”
He laughed, a sharp bark hovering between bitter and amused. “Succubus, you are. You're a baby though. Once your milk teeth are gone, I expect life will become much more interesting. I’m not looking forward to it. I prefer the quiet. Usually.”
I pressed a quick kiss on his cheek then disentangled myself. “I'm going to telegem the mistress so she knows.”
Andrei grabbed my upper arm. “But after rehearsal, you'll return straight home, Anah. No detours. Do you understand?”
I nodded, giving him wide earnest eyes. He let me go and I turned and dashed to my bedroom where I stored the expensive communication device—which I wasn't certain could be called a device because was it technology?—that I mostly never used.