19. House of Lords
CHAPTER NINETEEN
House of Lords
Itouched my throat, running my fingertips over the scabs.
“They are not as visible as your Sigil. In honesty, if he would have bitten you just a fraction lower, you probably would have . . .” Vera continued nattering on.
My hearing unfocused, and a fizzle invaded, turning her words into a low drone. Hester stepped within my line of sight. It took me a few extra moments to recognize what she held out before me.
I took the hand mirror from her and angled it to peer at myself. My lips were plumper, and I knew exactly why. Lord Draven had kissed me until I had forgotten my name. Dark lines adorned across my throat, the edges slightly raised. I had not looked at them since the moment they appeared.
At the side of my neck, slightly above the inked thorn, scabbing had left its mark along my brown skin. Another puncture wound painted the skin beside it, more healed than that one.
I squeezed my thighs as if they could see the mark between them.
Had Lord Draven bitten them in the same forbidden place?
I curled my fingers into my palm. The pinch of my nails wasn’t enough to calm the swell of irritation.
Handing the mirror back to Hester, I struggled for words. It seemed a small thing, but how they reacted told me otherwise.
“Why are none of you marked?”
Vera and Hester shared a glance.
“Were you not sent to visit Lady Drusilla after the feeding?” Hester asked.
“It is obvious she was not,” Ida scoffed, sprawling on the chaise lounge.
My face scrunched in confusion.
“We are always sent to visit Lady Drusilla after a . . . session with our king,” Hester explained. Why would them visiting her after him feeding matter? All of them had smooth skin, unblemished, seemingly unclaimed when I knew that wasn’t the case. Drusilla’s blueblood gift must be healing.
Each time they spoke of Lord Draven, there was a certain awe in their words. As if he were truly a deity and not another creation, just as we all were.
I could not judge their awe. He was as close to a deity as there was. Had my fate been different, I might have been just as fascinated by the powerful Warlord. Still, did they grasp what coming here cost them?
As feeders, they were as ruined as any of those women in the brothel.
“The chamber is ready,” Branwen announced. She was so quiet I had not seen her leave the parlor. “If you’ll follow me?”
Every time she spoke, her words had a lilting ending, as if unsure about everything that came out of her mouth.
“A chamber? I am to stay here?”
“Indefinitely.” Hester nodded. “Only to be let out when Lord Draven summons you.”
Branwen continued wringing the bottom of her dress. The slope of her face had a youthfulness to it. In fact, all of them seemed younger than my thirty annum rotations.
“Not as special as you thought?” Ida called as I left the parlor.
Responding to her irksome comments would not accomplish anything. I was a firm believer in not engaging in conflict, and even more so now. I had a far more significant adversary to contend with.
After all, being a redblood assigned to a blueblood household, there had been plenty of opportunity to practice not reacting to cruel commentary.
Branwen led me down a rounded entrance. Onward, the ceilings were not astronomically tall as everything had been to suit Lord Draven. Soft footsteps pattered behind me. I did not need to look over my shoulder because an arm slid into mine.
“Do not feel too ill about it, Amara. Ida was just as disillusioned as you,” Vera said, patting my arm. “She is behaving like a bitch because of her jealousy.”
The vulgar sentence coming from her stunned me. Women, much less ladies of society, did not speak like this . . . but it was oddly freeing to hear.
“There is no need to. I will not exist soon,” I offered wryly, lying. I did not know these women, and I refused to put my escape attempt in jeopardy.
“Erm.” She coughed. “Right.”
We strode in silence until we reached the chamber. Minuscule in comparison to Lord Draven’s, but just as elegant. My hovel back at the Bjorn estate could not be compared to any of the splendor that had surrounded me since arriving at the Kingdom.
The ivory wood bracketing the doorframe was identical to the wood fixtures lining the rest of the chamber.
A squat canopy over one bed was adorned in iron framing similar to the Citadel.
Our steps became muffled upon stepping onto the plush rug across the stone floor.
Two vanities and two wardrobes accompanied each side of the bedframes.
“This is my bed,” Branwen offered, shuffling over to a wide, plush bed held up by a simple ivory frame. It rested with the head flush to the wall, and angled out, closer to the fireplace across the window. “Yours is that one.” She motioned to the other bed opposite hers under the window.
Why would I have a place here? Would I not return? I struggled to comprehend what was happening.
“If you would like, we can move yours closer to the fire,” Branwen continued. “I do not mind switching things about, but I must remain close to a flame. I am much too prone to chills.”
“I will be sleeping here?” I finally asked.
“Yes, you are sharing this chamber with Branwen.” Vera kept looking at me, her intense focus causing my stomach to turn.
“Do not fret. We have everything that we could need here.” A smile bloomed across her face.
“And we have plenty of entertainment.” She said this as if I should know what she spoke of.
“Oh,” I said softly, approaching the bed. I ran my fingers over the thin fur, nothing close to the plushness of Lord Draven’s bedding.
Had he sent me here to tell me how worthless to him I was?
The thick knot in my throat did not allow me to swallow properly. Last night had been altering. I did not know pleasure like that could exist, but Saints it did. And it was wondrous. In his arms, I felt alive and wanton.
A burst of laughter echoed from down the hall.
“What is that commotion?” Vera said suddenly, peering in the direction we’d come. She left with clipped steps.
I squeezed the fur.
He had even allowed me to slumber beside him. My heart clenched. But after that beautiful moment, he had Lady Drusilla toss me aside.
Missive received.
“Are you well?” Branwen’s soft question wrenched me from my musings . . . from my hurt.
I cleared my throat. “Do you . . . enjoy residing here?”
Branwen pursed her lips and sat on her bed, arranging the panels of her gown around her.
“It is an honor to serve our king . . . and there are plenty of benefits,” she murmured.
“But there is no use in becoming too attached. We are nothing but temporary. After all, we shall be switched out in a few annum rotations or so when we have grown too aged. We are released with a stipend. Then we leave and the Trials are held to select the next feeders.”
The wretched Trials. Miriam had gone through a phase of chattering about it incessantly, reading every bit of the newspapers reporting on the drama of the event. It was a source of entertainment throughout the realm.
Quick steps approached from the entrance. Vera entered, her eyes bright and excited.
“Lord Vaner is requesting you, Amara,” she announced, pleased with herself. “Officer Egan came to retrieve you.”
I followed Vera’s pointed glance toward Branwen in time to see her face flush.
“Why is he here for me?” I asked.
“No idea. I was told to fetch you posthaste.” Vera returned her focus to Branwen. “I also have word that Lord Cedric arrived at the Kingdom.” She raised her eyebrows as if she had delivered scandalous news.
Branwen gasped. “Has he been given a chamber in the House of Lords already?”
“I believe so.” Vera laughed. “Can you imagine Lord Cedric here? The randy lad is going to tup everything that moves.”
She did not sound upset about this fact.
“All the council members live here?”
“They each have a section of the council wing, but they also have their own Estates throughout the village.”
“You should hurry,” Branwen interrupted. “Lord Vaner is not one who likes being made to wait.”
“Oh dear, I let myself get distracted.” Vera winced. “They are awaiting you in the parlor.”
I hurried out of my new chamber, shuffling out to find Egan waiting, his mouth forming a line.
“Miss Amara, you must come with me.”
“Once you return, I shall show you the rest of our wing. We have a bathing area, toilet, and access to a balcony. We also have access to tonic wash and other clever magickal items,” Vera confided.
I could only nod. My nerves were heightened. What could Lord Vaner need to see me for? An image of the white-haired, stocky man invaded my mind.
I trailed behind Egan, his steps clipped. He turned away from the hall, leading me deeper into the House of Lords.
This was a village within the village, and a labyrinth of its own. I peered over my shoulder and my gaze collided with another officer shuffling Vera inside the parlor.
Lord Draven requested that I be brought here. It felt like a pointed slight from him. Last night, and the pleasure he had wrought from my body meant nothing.
Foolish of me to have expected more.