36. Chapter 32
Chapter 32
Raven
W hen I walked into the temple for the funeral, a low thrum invaded my mind. It vibrated like the deep-throated intonation of a night frog, almost as much a motion as it was a sound. It did not enter my ears but originated somewhere inside me, as if it had been stored in a memory box that had only just been opened.
The thrum rose in intensity as I proceeded to the front row. It was loud enough to block out the chatter of the courtiers around me. I hoped none were speaking to me. I closed my eyes to See the Threads, searching for the source.
Ancient, dull-colored Threads lined the walls, floor, and ceiling. But a bright spot drew my eye. It came from the crack bisecting the dragonstone floor. What sort of quake could split dragonstone hundreds of spans away? And why did the light in the crevice pulse, beating like a heartbeat?
The thrumming grew louder with every step I took. It filled my mind until I wanted to scream. My consciousness began to unhinge, fluttering like a bird under attack, struggling to get away but caught in a cage. I was hardly aware of my body kneeling beside Caelan’s guard, Baris. I didn’t know if my eyes were open or closed. I was caught, hypnotized by the light that crept across the floor, closer and closer, as if it dragged itself towards me with clawed fingers.
Raven, said the deep voice in my mind. I’d heard it all my life and it had never scared me until the day Asherah was reborn. It scared me again, now. I felt my guts twist and quiver, nausea flooding me. I wanted to run but I was rooted to the stone. Assuming I still knelt on stone. I couldn’t run when I had no sense of my body.
The deep laugh that haunted my nightmare pervaded my mind, louder even than the thrumming. It surrounded me like a hug and squeezed until I struggled to breathe. I no longer knew if the noise was outside myself or within.
It was too long to go without air. I began to float away.
The compression released and I drew in a deep breath.
Raven. Was the voice deeper now than it had ever been, as deep and old as the Crust?
Terror turned my guts to jelly. I screamed, but no sound came out.
Don’t be afraid. The thrumming receded in volume, as if the force that clutched me had loosened its grip. It’s time to come home, Raven.
I have no home, I said, although my reaction to my recent return to the Emperor’s Dungeon suggested it wasn’t true.
You do. The voice was forceful, angry. For the first time, I considered that the voice might not be the voice of my father’s memory, or some personification of my own wisdom. It might be something… someone …else.
Who are you? Tell me your name.
Come home and I will tell you everything.
I have no home.
You do. It calls you now. You see it. You can’t look away.
Though dread filled my bones with lead, my head turned and my eyes fixed on the crevice that spilled light like blood.
Yesss, said the voice. Down, down. It’s time to come home, Raven.
The thrumming increased, shaking me to my bones. It pressed in all around me, compressing me. I was choking on light. It entered my open, gasping mouth. It forced its way inside me. I tried to scream again but I could only spasm as my own threadlight was pressed out of me by the invading light of the god. The blackness that came then was a comfort. No more green.
Someone shook me.
Caelan.
No, the hands were smaller. Not like his at all.
I didn’t realize I’d lost consciousness until my eyes fluttered open and hazy lines outlined Baris' face. A slight frown creased his forehead and his eyes betrayed concern. I expected him to glance around us next, more worried about how my collapse would be perceived by all those watching eyes than about me. But he didn’t.
“Are you alright, Eave?” he said in a low voice. Then, slightly louder: “It’s so stifling in here, isn’t it? And you must be worn out by your morning.”
I blinked. The thrumming vibration was receding. I found I could breathe again. “Did I make a scene?” I asked, very quietly. I had no idea if I’d screamed, had a seizure, or even lost control of my bowels.
The relief was intense when Baris shook his head. “You passed out. That’s all. Such a crowd in here, you’re not used to it yet. Prince Caelan has gone out with the priests. Do you want to return to your room or meet him at the reception?”
I was surprised to be given a choice. Some time alone to breathe and re-center myself would be nice, but I couldn’t afford it. The emperor would be at the reception, so I must be there, too. I might even get a chance to speak to him without Caelan present. That couldn’t be missed.
“The reception. Thank you, Baris.”
I accepted his hand gratefully when he proffered it. I was not too proud to lean on him a little as we exited the temple.
At the door, I glanced back. The crowds had gone out before us and so I had a clear view of the crack in the dragonstone. The air around it seemed to flex, as if sucked downward by the void. The light that leaked from it glowed more brightly than it had when I’d entered the temple, bloated like an animal that had consumed a meal. Fear made me shaky again as my gaze traveled down, down, deep into the underworld beneath the palace. I looked through layers of tunnels and stone caverns until I reached the patch of blinding light deep below. As always, my Sight slid immediately away, reflecting an unconscious refusal to look closely at whatever hid behind the light.
“What monsters lie here?” I whispered to myself.
“What?” Baris leaned in to hear. I had to get a grip on myself. Making the court think I was insane was not part of the plan.
“I’m sorry, I grew overwhelmed,” I said sheepishly. It wasn’t even a lie.
Baris grinned roguishly, white teeth glinting in the sunlight that streamed blissfully in from the windows in the palace’s main halls. “I just thought you were bored. Staring into space, you know. One time, I was so bored, I fell asleep on an alwashi’s back and slipped off.”
I smiled, more to be kind than with amusement at his story. “But I passed out.”
“Not until the end of the service when everybody got up to leave."
“Will you mention this to Caelan?”
Baris frowned. “Ah,” he said. He gave it some thought. “Thing is, I’m new to being a guard. I was never trained as one. I’m just a soldier. A common man—not even a lord.”
I waited to be told how that was relevant.
“As a common man, I would never lie to a prince. And Caelan’s my friend. Or, he was before he appointed me to this new position. But I’m not much of a talker, really.” All evidence to the contrary. “I’m not sure it’ll come up.”
Gratitude swept through me and I gave him a genuine smile of appreciation.
“Unless,” he added sternly, “I thought he needed to know to take proper care of you. I’ll not compromise your health for your comfort.”
“No, no, it’s like you said. I was bored and fell asleep. Thank you, Baris. You’ve been kind.”
“Don’t tell anyone,” he joked. Only in this court, it wasn’t a joke.
***
The glare Caelan gave me when he discovered I'd attended part of the reception without him was worth the waste of time it turned out to be, but I did feel a stab of guilt for the cold disapproval he offered Baris for failing to drag me back to my chains.
The next morning, we woke early and rode for most of a day to reach the Emperor’s Prairie. Though technically in House Fakoury’s territory, The Flesh, the Emperor’s Prairie was a tract of land maintained personally by the emperor for the purpose of hunting. Falconry was an ancient tradition of House Havard, dating back to their origins in the Pestern Mountains of the north when they were nothing but a family of Bird Lords. Though the current emperor cared little for old ways, dozens of mews wagons had been brought for the funereal festival. I felt I bore witness to an elaborate show, staged for the benefit of the actors in it.
Upon arrival at the edge of the prairie, tents were erected with speed by the army of servants brought along for the purpose. As soon as Caelan’s was ready, he retreated inside, me with him.
“If you’re tired, you may rest until tonight’s reception," he said.
“When is the hunt?”
“Not until tomorrow morning. The servants will get everything ready so we can start before Ksafa rises.”
“Will it last all day?”
“It may. It depends. But it won’t matter to you. You’ll stay here. I have no need of you until the evening feast.”
Fuck. That meant no opportunity to interact with the emperor or crown prince—or any courtiers at all. I hid my dismay. “Is that when we all gorge ourselves on your quarry?”
Caelan chuckled. “Yes.”
I wondered if I might be able to convince Caelan to bring me along. Was there a way I could be useful to him? Or maybe I'd just be so damned alluring tonight that he wouldn't want to part with me.
Not likely. A whore is for evenings and my Sight was no asset in a hunt. I could entertain him, but he needed no such entertainment when he loved his time with his eagle as much as he did. I couldn’t think of any reason why he might change his mind.
He was, however, unexpectedly eager to dress me for the evening’s reception.
“Let me see,” he commanded as I stripped.
I faced him to display the marks he’d left on me. I had to admit, I loved watching their colors change. The marks from his knife were still pink. The bruises his baton had left on my thighs had purple centers surrounded by clouds of yellow, interspersed with red stripes from the whip and cane. They'd ached for a day before the pain faded to a background throb that only really hurt when I pressed on them.
Caelan's smile as he assessed the marks was cruel and self-satisfied. It made my heart beat faster. It made me yearn to see him once again unleash the sadism he kept so tightly restrained.
I didn’t have long to wait.
Caelan dug into his pack and lifted something delicate. It jangled like the chains he enjoyed so much and my stomach dropped to the rug when I saw what it was.
“A leash?”
Caelan’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he held the delicate leash up in both hands. It was metal, but nowhere near as thick as the links he restrained me with in private.
“When I dragged you to the dungeon the other day, I realized what an irritation it was not to have one.”
“What will you attach it to?” I asked, then regretted it when his expression grew cheery and he reached into one of his many cases and retrieved a delicate metal ring. My hand flew to my neck as my eyes assessed the size. It looked like it had been made just for me. The metal was yellow gold, the color of the crown. There was a subtle hinge at the back and an opening at the front through which he’d be able to thread a lock or a clasp.
“I should’ve put one on you as soon as I made you mine.” His soft voice almost made the statement an apology. His eyes caressed the metal like a soft finger along the edge.
I swallowed. Collars were not new to me. In the Emperor’s Dungeon, heavy metal rings were put on and off whenever a prisoner needed to be chained. Even under Eymen’s protection, I’d often been subject to such treatment. It was for my protection, so as not to draw attention. Most of the guards believed I was a halfling child captured in the Borderlands on some raid. There were others of that description who became my friends.
When I’d gone into the care of the Coterie, I’d worn no mark of servitude around my neck. Instead, they’d marked my back with my father’s sigil, more permanent than any ring that could be opened and closed.
I’d worn a collar as Tanead’s priestess, though I was more in service to the gods than I was to him.
None of those had made me feel owned before. None had marked me as property of another person. But the ring dangling from Caelan’s hand did. This collar felt different.
“Come here.”
I found myself moving to obey before I processed through the complicated feelings brought on by the collar in his hand. I turned around when I reached him and lifted my hair off my neck.
“Good girl.” He sounded surprised. I was surprised, too. I should dread the closing of a Slayer’s collar about my neck. But somehow, I didn’t. Just as I hadn’t hated Caelan’s touch when he took me in the dungeons. The marks he’d left on my legs were still tender and I found myself smoothing my hands over them as I rode here, appreciating the soreness and smiling at the memories of our encounter.
The metal was cool when it touched my neck, though my skin would quickly warm it. The ring closed, but it wasn’t locked yet. Caelan’s hands hovered, holding it in place. “Turn,” he said.
I spun slowly. Caelan reached back into his case and retrieved a lock. I was pleased at how dainty it was. A heavy rock would break it. This collar wasn’t meant to cage me; it was meant to show all of court that I belonged to him.
“I’ll wear the key around my neck,” he said, confirming my suspicions. “But I don’t intend to unlock it often. I want you to sleep in it.”
He threaded the lock through the small holes at the front and twisted it. It clicked closed.
It was a tiny sound, but it made emotions swell in me like a wave rising to drown a seaside village. My throat felt thick. I was hyper-aware of the pressure where the collar rested against my skin. I lifted a hand to tug at it and Caelan’s hand dropped away to let me.
My heightened attention and the collar’s newness made the delicate ring feel almost suffocatingly tight, but it wasn’t, really. I was able to slide a finger beneath it and twist it around. When I let it drop, I was conscious of the weight above my collarbones, though it must weigh almost nothing at all.
I waited for the rage to come. A Slayer had just put his collar around my neck. I expected to feel caged, an animal caught in a trap. I expected my desire for revenge to surge up in me more strongly than ever. But it didn’t come. Instead, a feeling of warmth settled in my muscles, relaxing them like an aromatic bath. I felt as though I belonged, though of course it was a lie. If he really knew me, Caelan would take this mark of ownership back in an instant, replacing it with a noose.
“There’s something wrong with me,” I whispered as my hands settled back at my sides. I didn’t mean to say it out loud.
Caelan’s eyes devoured the collar. He licked his lips. “With both of us, then. Come on, we’re expected at the reception.”
I let him leash me without complaint, my cheeks flooding with color as wetness and heat gathered between my legs. At every gentle tug, desire fluttered in me like a bird’s wings.
It got more complicated when we entered the large, open-air pavilion already filled with courtiers milling about with drinks sweating in their hands. The leash drew eyes that scanned Caelan and me with calculating interest. From there, people's reactions varied. Some faces registered surprise while others immediately returned to a display of boredom. A few masks dropped immediately into place and I knew they were already scheming how to use this development to their advantage. I ignored the lustful eyes entirely. The worst were the ones that registered pity.
I didn't want their pity. Fuck them. Shame rose alongside my natural desire to run for the nearest shadow to hide. But just like during the ritual on the side of the Mother's Womb, I couldn't escape. Humiliation burned on my cheeks, even more so when I caught my handler watching. I could practically guarantee that the next time we spoke, he’d offer yet another reminder of how careful I must be of my nature.
"You alright?" Caelan asked in a low voice. He took a glass of red wine for himself and passed me a glass of white. I'd chosen it at previous receptions. Apparently, he'd noted the preference. I sipped it gratefully, keeping my eyes down.
"Yes." I would never admit otherwise. "It's just…different in front of people."
I wasn't sure if he'd know what I meant but he nodded instantly as if he innately understood.
"When we're in private, we can be different people. We can be ourselves," he said quietly.
I was startled enough to look up at him but his mask was in place. He wasn't even looking at me; he scanned the pavilion with a bored expression.
"Do you really feel like you're only yourself with me?" the question blurted out.
"Not only with you. There are a few others who I allow to see true parts of me. But what we shared in the underworld…" His mask slipped. His gaze darted to me nervously. "Well, I've only been like that with you."
His unasked question hung in the air. Had I ever done that with anyone else? I was glad he didn't ask it, because the answer was yes. Yes, but…the forehead kiss after. The tenderness. The connection. I'd never felt those things before.
"In your tent, it was easier to like it," I admitted, changing the subject. "Here, with all these eyes…well, I hate them." It felt very vulnerable to admit this to him. Here, Slayer, let me tell you my weakness. Stupid. Better he not know.
"Me, too," Caelan said quietly.
His behavior proved it true. Caelan was terrible at mingling. He was awkward in the shallow, guarded conversations of court and seemed to know it, for he didn’t seek anyone out. He stood with a stiff spine, looking fierce and unapproachable instead. I tried to bury a smile at the stoic expression on his face and counted it a blessing. As long as he stood in one place, my leash dangled loose. It drew less attention than it had when we entered. I even wondered if part of his reason for staying still was for me. I felt myself relaxing as the crowd lost interest. And then…
“Prince Caelan,” a feminine voice said, buttery and yet commanding.
I remembered that voice.
Schooling my face and calming the rapid beating of my heart, I followed the slight tug of Caelan’s leash as we turned together towards the speaker. I adopted the pleasant, curious but bored expression appropriate for meeting yet another lady of court for the first time as Lady Lusa Kassimi shuffled gracefully across the flattened grasses to greet the man who held my leash.
The last time I’d seen her, she’d held my leash herself. And she’d been naked. Those other experiences I'd had of play with pain and pleasure? They were with her.
Lusa's straight black hair lay loose down her back. Her muscular build packed strength into her short frame. But it was always her face that drew my gaze. Ivory skin and dark eyes, almost black.
“Lady Kassimi,” Caelan said. He bowed his head slightly in an unnecessary but thoughtful expression of respect for her position. In truth, her position was somewhat extraordinary. She was one of only two women in Vaharilar who ruled her own territory without a man at her side. It was said that she’d fucked her way to inheriting that territory after her mother betrayed the crown during the Traitor’s Rebellion, but that was just how men talked about women in power.
And House Kassimi had power. For generations, a woman of their line had ruled The Pass, the northernmost territory of Vaharilar where the border of the Slayer’s territory met the mostly uncharted mountain lands of the Pestern Bird Lords. All trade that came down from those mountains passed through Lusa’s hands. In conversations outside the ears of the Havards, the Kassimis were called the Ice Queens.
Lusa’s manservant and bodyguard, Katjuk, stood at her side, slightly behind her, wearing his signature arrows in a quiver on his back. Guarding his lady was a position of such comfort for him, he rarely left Lusa’s side. But he had no title and no official role at her court. It was said he even had no voice of his own, though I’d heard him speak. He said, “Yes, my lady,” as if the melody of the sounds brought him the greatest joy.
Lusa came close and kissed Caelan, a peck on each cheek. He had to bend down to receive the gift from the short-statured woman.
“Bless the Father for your safe return from the raids. And with such a prize. Or, should I say, with two.” Her night eyes settled on me. Even to peruse my face, she had to look up, but she’d developed a way of doing it by holding her chin high so that the need only made her seem more regal and untouchable, rather than less. “Who is this?”
Caelan chuckled. “Come, Lady Kassimi. Don’t pretend you didn’t hear. Emperor Calathan’s second son has taken a whore at last.” The words came out sour and I thought it was unwise of him to show her so much of himself. Lusa devoured men’s secrets and spat back out their destruction.
But on the surface, she only laughed heartily. Lusa may be feminine, but she’d never pretended to be delicate. “And you bring her to a Hunt rather than hide her away in the dungeons?”
“Hard to suck my cock from the dungeons,” Caelan said.
Lusa’s eyes drifted slowly from the prince to me again, and I knew her well enough to see the eagerness she hid behind the languid curiosity she showed. She’d want to hear everything I could tell her about Prince Caelan and his cock just as soon as we got a chance to speak freely.
“Do you share?” she drawled. She let her eyes rake my body. Caelan had opted for less layers and a low neckline tonight, so the curves and peaks of my body were more evident and my new collar was fully visible. Her eyes lingered on it. They trailed down the length of the leash, making me hyper-aware of it once again.
Caelan’s answer came fast and cold. “No.”
Immediately, Lusa’s eyes pulled back to his. “Shame,” she said. “You have such a nice tent. I would have liked to spend a night in it.”
Caelan stood stone-faced, ignoring her come-on.
“I was sorry to miss Lord Fakoury’s funeral, but unfortunately it is rather a long distance for me to travel on short notice.”
“Of course. I’m sure Lord Massriel is honored you could join us for this Hunt in Junaid’s honor.”
She laughed. “Massriel doesn’t care a fig I’m here. But I wouldn’t have missed it.”
Caelan smiled tightly. He was caught off guard whenever anyone was honest with him.
“Good hunting, Prince Caelan,” she said.
Caelan turned away, pulling me with him. I was certain this was not the last I’d see of Lusa Kassimi. The lady who’d housed me and trained me while I was in the care of the Coterie was nothing if not resourceful. She’d find a way to see me privately.
Lord Massriel approached us next. I didn’t like the new Lord of the Flesh, though it was hard to say why. While nearly all the other courtiers looked me over with leering eyes as they spoke to Caelan, Massriel Fakoury ignored me entirely, as if his eyes could not even see me standing there. Far from being a sign of respect, I felt it as a snub of the highest order.
“I’m sorry your father is not here with us. He always loved a good hunt,” Caelan offered.
“As do you, my prince.”
“I do. My bird can stretch his wings here. It’s good for him.”
“I look forward to seeing what he brings to our feast table.”
“Will you fly a falcon?” Caelan asked.
“Me? No. It is not in the traditions of my house to do so.” Massriel smiled ruefully, as if he regretted his heritage and offered apology for it. No wonder, when the long slits of his irises shouted of his ancient demon blood. It was impressive the Fakourys had risen so high in the Slayer’s court, given their blood. But the lion of House Fakoury was a sigil that commanded respect throughout the realm.
“Of course,” Caelan said.
The conversation got awkward. Caelan opened his mouth, probably to excuse himself, but Massriel jumped in before he could say anything.
“If you’ll indulge me, Prince Caelan, I’ll offer again my invitation to join me at my manor. I’d be honored to host a feast in your honor.”
Caelan was a terrible liar. His stiffness always gave him away. “A generous invite. Thank you, Lord Massriel. I will surely consider it when I next travel that way.”
Caelan excused us and pulled me towards a table laid with full wine glasses. He swallowed one down with a few gulps, passing me one as well.
“You’re trying to get me drunk,” I said quietly, keeping my eyes low.
He snorted. “Or myself.”
“You were more at home in Los, dirty and injured, awaiting an ambush at any time, than you are here.”
“Some prince I am, eh?” he said ruefully, but underneath the joke there was truth.
“You’re not the prince I expected,” I admitted.
My honesty drew my consciousness back to my new collar and my nipples tingled in delicious pleasure at my embarrassment at being on Caelan's leash tonight. The emotions hovered right on the border between pleasurable and too-much, a cocktail more heady than any cup of wine.
“That sounds like a compliment,” Caelan said.
I was sorry to admit that it was.