18. Feeder Wing #2
Lady Drusilla had already disappeared. I hastened through the door. It opened to a wide seating area, where women lounged on seating artfully set up around a squat table where tea rested. As spacious as it was, it was nowhere near the grandeur of the Grand Hall.
Four pairs of eyes rose.
The women were incredibly different, but they had one notable similarity: every single woman in here was dressed like I was.
The woman who had a similar skin-tone to mine, the one who had writhed in Lord Draven’s arms rose with all the others.
Feeders.
The only two I had yet to see in Lord Draven’s bed were a slighter woman—skin darker than mine, hair coiled tighter—and the slim blonde.
All the women curtsied toward Lady Drusilla.
“Ladies, I have an addition for you. I expect you all to make her feel welcome in the short time she will be with us.” Lady Drusilla smiled serenely. “As you all know by now, this body will host His Highness’ bondmate, and as such, her body is to remain unharmed.”
Was this a warning for me, or for them?
“As such, there will be a few changes. Movement will be restricted in the feeder wing, and there will be protection at every exit.”
I studied the raised eyebrows on the woman who had a similar skin-tone to mine.
As if rehearsed, they all curtsied again. “Yes, Lady Drusilla.”
“Lovely. Ensure you get her settled.” She didn’t specify it to anyone. Inclining her head the slightest bit, she turned and retreated the way we’d entered.
The doors shut with a resounding thud. Two guards had arrived at some point during her directions and now stood bracing those same doors.
I did not miss the way they watched Egan with certain interest. His officer’s suit hugged his body firmly.
“Keep them under lock. No one should be in or out without clearance from me,” Egan ordered the two impassive guards bracing the exit.
“Yes, sir,” they both intoned.
The woman who resembled me moved forward, stepping around the middle table where the tea rested.
“Welcome, Lady . . . "
“Miss Amara is fine,” I corrected. This woman knew well that I was no Elite.
Her smile seemed a bit too forced. This woman saw me as an enemy.
“I am Lady Ida.” She emphasized the title.
Oh, she certainly thought little of me. Lovely. I hoped she was not too much of a problem.
“I will escort you all to your wing, so Miss Amara can get situated,” Egan interrupted and waved a hand forward.
Lady Ida’s smile thinned, and she fluttered her lashes at Egan.
“Whatever you say, Officer Egan,” she practically purred. “Is that not right, Lady Branwen?”
Lady Branwen, the darker-complexioned woman’s eyes widened, and she rubbed her palms against the front of her dress.
Lady Ida turned on her slippers and strutted past Egan, keeping hold of his gaze, while Lady Branwen was already down the hall. She was incredibly quick.
I fell into step behind both and the other two women framed me.
“She can be a bit much,” the woman with the blonde hair winced in camaraderie. “I am Vera and this is Hester.” She motioned to the woman on my other side. She was the dark-haired woman who had been in Lord Draven’s arms the first time there was a feeder in his bed.
The lounging area turned into a curving hallway that eventually led to steps. The entire way up, I could see the garden as we ascended until the angle of the bushes no longer allowed it.
“I do not understand why Ida is behaving in such a way. It is not as if we do not know what will be happening to you.”
“A soul-transfer you mean?” I raised an eyebrow.
She winced. “I apologize. That was rather abrupt.”
“Bite your tongue, Vera,” Hester muttered.
“It is not lost on me what my fate will be.” I shrugged.
“It does not bother you?” Hester asked. She seemed especially observant. And much less stern than at our first encounter.
“It is not as if I can do anything to change it,” I said, lying. Hopefully none of them could sense lies. I held my breath, waiting for one of them to accuse me, but they did not. Then their blueblood gift lay elsewhere.
Small blessings.
We reached the top of the stone steps, and I stared through the window facing the garden.
“Is the structure circular?” I asked.
“Yes, it surrounds the garden,” Vera answered.
Now that I saw it from above, I had a clearer view of it all. The gardens were much larger than I had thought previously.
“There is also only one way in and one way out,” Hester added. I whipped my head toward her and scanned her eyes.
Did she read minds? Would this be the end of my plotting? I would not be able to help the Resistance. Saints! Now she would know I am helping them.
Panic seized my throat and I struggled to blank my thoughts.
But she looked back out into the garden. “Opposite us is the Lords’ wing, but it is also always heavily guarded.” Her expression soured. “Now we will be just as guarded.”
I swallowed down my panic. She was not reading my mind.
“Come now, Hester, it is not as if she is commanding it.”
“Move along, ladies,” Egan said, and I met his gaze as he waited a few paces ahead with Ida and Branwen.
I gave the garden a final look and kept pace with them down a curving hall that ended at another door. He pulled one of the double doors open. A man pushed off the wall, straightening to his full height, and faced Egan, who stood near the entrance.
Ida was already through the door and upon entering, the wide chamber was set up into a lounging area, settees sitting before the iron window.
I strode directly to it.
The village sprawled in the distance, wrapped around the House of Lords and the Citadel. Sunlight had given way to dusklight, casting orange across the rooftops and throwing the alleys into shadow.
“It is larger than I had thought,” I murmured.
Branwen approached, and I turned to her.
“I trust you will all show Miss Amara to her chamber.”
“Yes, Officer Egan,” they chorused from behind me.
“Send for me if you need anything,” he said, looking directly at me. With that, the door shut.
I turned back to admire the village.
“It is pretty,” I murmured, touching my fingertips to the chilled pane. It would be a cold night.
“And the safest across Sycarious,” Hester added.
No Hollow would dare enter the Kingdom. Not with Lord Draven here.
“Now that he is gone,” Ida announced and approached. She tugged my shoulder, forcing me to turn away from the village. She pointed at my throat. “Why do you have the scars?”
It took me a moment to understand her. I dropped my eyes to her neck, then bounced to the next throat.
None had any bites marring their flesh.
I touched my neck, feeling the raised texture of the Sigil, and the notable roughness where he bit me.
Their necks showed no sign of Lord Draven’s bite.