by Ella M. Lee
He shrugged and gave me an amused smile. “I have never been bothered by other people’s assessments. I am very confident in my ‘Korean pop star’ looks.”
I averted my eyes, embarrassed, and returned to the couch. He hadn’t answered my question, not really, but I wasn’t about to pry further. He was very good at avoiding giving out information, and it seemed like he had no desire to share anything personal about himself.
He flipped channels through a few other Chinese options before settling on a European news station in German. He paid attention for a few minutes as though he understood.
English, Cantonese, French… and German? I thought. Of course he was multilingual. Just another laurel to add to his résumé.
In a wholly normal gesture, he put his head in his hands and rubbed his face.
“What’s wrong?” I asked reflexively, forgetting that I wasn’t supposed to care.
Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing to show concern and humanity. He had managed it all day toward me, after all.
“Nothing in particular,” he said, the words muffled. He looked up. “I’m merely tired. I’ve barely slept more than a few hours in the last three days. I’m running on my magic alone at this point, and that is never pleasant.”
My instinct was to comfort him, but I didn’t know if I could bring myself to do that. Instead I asked, with the whisper of a laugh, “Is that why you’re so grumpy?”
“You are incorrigible,” he said, but the words were teasing.
I studied him. He did look tired and a little undone. Much different from the commander who had stood in front of my cell and offered me the chance to live. This Nicolas was almost human.
He turned off the television after another minute and stood, stretching his arms over his head briefly. “Time to go,” he said.
I followed him to the door. Before opening it, he paused, took a deep breath, and drew himself up. In an instant, his magical net was around him like armor, his pose relaxed and confident, his expression inscrutable. He looked like the Auspex again.
Who needed sleep when you had raw power at your disposal?
Remembering my own place, I looked down and away, praying against all odds that dinner wouldn’t be as exciting as lunch.
Chapter 8
I thought we would return to the large café where we had eaten lunch, but instead we took a left out of the apartment and continued down the hall before taking the stairs up one floor.
A left out of the stairwell put us in front of a set of large black doors with dragons carved into them. Nicolas opened one and put a hand on the small of my back to guide me in before him. I stiffened at his touch. If he noticed, he didn’t react. Nor did he speak to me mind to mind, making me believe he needed skin contact for that to work.
The inside was a gorgeous and ornate restaurant with red lacquered panels dividing the room into small cubby spaces. A hostess bowed to Nicolas and guided us past a central marble table with huge bird of paradise flowers on it in a tall vase. She led us beyond several cubbies filled with groups enjoying dinner and drinks, many of whom stared at us as we passed. I tried not to look too interested, but it looked like other commanders and lieutenants having dinner with their groups. The room was filled with the sounds of talking and clinking glasses and silverware—as well as a great deal of overwhelming magical power.
Ours was the furthest alcove, in a corner against the windows. At a table that could comfortably seat eight people lounged Daniel, sprawled across his chair like a lazy, relaxed cat. He looked well. Apparently there were no lingering aftereffects of what Nicolas had done to him.
Nicolas guided me to the other side of the table, where we would have a view of the room rather than the Hong Kong scenery. I thought Daniel would bristle as I slid past him, but he merely studied me with a dark expression. I looked away quickly.
“Right here, lamb,” Nicolas said, getting my attention and holding a chair for me. I sat rigidly, my eyes locked on the elaborate place setting before me.
White tablecloth, smooth and pressed. Plate, smaller plate, bowl, water glass, teacup. Heavy chopsticks on chopstick holders shaped like orange-and-black koi. Chinese-style spoon beside them. At the center of the table was a huge glass lazy Susan.
I studied each detail, trying to keep myself from looking at Nicolas or Daniel. They were having a quiet conversation in Cantonese now, ignoring me.
“Who are we expecting tonight?” Nicolas asked eventually. “I hope Keisha hasn’t left the city yet. I neglected to ask her schedule for the evening when I saw her earlier.”
“She’ll be here,” Daniel said. “Ryan and Cameron are coming. Angie is still in Singapore, but I convinced her new lieutenant, Gloria, to come. Teng told me that Nari has been looking for you, so she might stop by tonight.”
I glanced up briefly, and Daniel’s eyes wandered to mine, his expression neutral. I looked away instantly—no need to annoy him tonight—but I could feel his gaze as he continued to study me.
It appeared nothing was going to happen until more guests had arrived. Nicolas sipped his wine while Daniel made intermittent comments in Cantonese that were clearly meant to leave me out of the conversation. I followed Nicolas’s gaze when, after a while, he looked up sharply.
Walking toward our booth was a woman so lovely that I felt an involuntary pang of jealousy. She was tall, blonde, voluptuous, with amber eyes that looked like melted caramel, dressed in a T-shirt and white shorts. I was surprised to see she had a knife strapped to each thigh, shamelessly out in the open.
“Gloria,” Nicolas greeted her, standing and spreading his hands invitingly. Right. Angie’s lieutenant.
“Nicolas,” she said warmly, surveying our table.
Her eyes found me last and hung on my face for a moment, wide and interested. She let out a low whistle. “What did you do to her?” she asked with a tiny smirk.
Nicolas touched my chin, tugging it so I was looking at him. “Yes, that is a rather pretty shade of purple, isn’t it?”
The hatred I tried to convey with my eyes was not entirely fake. He laughed very softly at my expression.
Good, lamb, he said in my mind.
Despite speaking to me mind to mind, his attention appeared to be entirely on Gloria. I wondered how hard it was for him to focus, to hear all of our thoughts and to carry on multiple conversations at once. I was impressed despite myself, imagining it must take a rather large amount of mental fortitude for him to even sit still in a room full of people.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” Nicolas said to Gloria. “I was also glad to hear of your promotion. Angie made an excellent choice. I suppose there are reasons why I trust her.”
Gloria laughed lightly at what was clearly a joke on Nicolas’s part. “We were all relieved to hear that you are alive and well. And your pet—this is the Flame who tried to assassinate you?”
“One of them,” Nicolas corrected frostily. “The only one left.”
“The unfortunate one, if you ask me,” Gloria said. “We all know what happens to your slaves.”
I stiffened, so tense I could barely breathe. What did that mean? Daniel looked like he wanted to throw himself over the table and strangle her. Nicolas didn’t noticeably react.
“Want me to take her off your hands? I’ll pay,” Gloria asked. “Look at her eyes. She’ll be pretty once the bruises are healed.”
“I don’t think your wife would like that,” Nicolas said.
“Oh, we share,” Gloria said, raising her glass to me in a mock salute.
“She’s mine, sorry. Not for sale,” he said.
He took my trembling hand casually, stroking my knuckles with his thumb. I was still tense, schooling myself not to pull away from him, even though I disliked how he touched me whenever he felt like it.
But that was nothing compared to how terrified I was that Nicolas would get rid of me, landing me in a much worse position. Why did practically every single Water Clan member who saw me want to buy me? He
had said he wouldn’t sell me to Derek or Gloria, but he hadn’t said he wouldn’t sell me at all, and he hadn’t ruled that out as one of my potential fates.
Calm down, he whispered inside my head. I’m not selling you to anyone. I said you were mine, and I meant it. More acting, less actual fear. Remember, I told you to pay attention tonight.
What did she mean about your slaves? I asked carefully.
I’ll tell you that story later, he said.
“Hey,” Gloria said. “You!”
I didn’t realize she was talking to me until Nicolas squeezed my hand lightly.
“Who was your commander in Flame?” she asked.
I hesitated, my eyes wide. I couldn’t tell her that, could I? I hadn’t even mentioned it to Nicolas.
She gains almost nothing from the information, Nicolas whispered in my head.
“Tell her,” he said and added a silent, Please.
“Jeremiah Young,” I whispered.
I thought Gloria would say something cutting, but she merely smiled, lifted her glass to me, and said in a deep drawl, “Hell, if that boy had an idea, it would die of loneliness!”
Her laughter was genuinely amused. I stiffened.
What was that? Nicolas asked silently.
Just… just something Jer used to say a lot. It’s a Southern expression. She must know him? That was a perfect imitation of his accent.
I wouldn’t be surprised, Nicolas responded. Before she joined Water, she was a liaison.
I blinked. Liaison was a powerful position, a mortal who could move between clans, making arrangements and doing business. Not all clans or groups within clans fought, and they sometimes needed someone neutral to act as an ambassador. Liaisons were prized and protected, well paid, and seldom touched in clan disputes. Someone from Water must have offered her something good to join full time.
Nicolas removed his hand from mine as servers brought food to our table. A dozen bamboo steamers appeared, all filled with dumplings and Chinese buns and steamed meat. One server bore a round plate with a huge whole steamed fish on it, covered in scallions. Another added a heaping tray of noodles to the table. Everyone dug in ravenously. I waited with my hands in my lap.
Nicolas took some pity on me, and with a dramatic roll of his eyes, added food to my plate.
“You’re allowed to eat,” he said mockingly.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes right back at him.
“Oh, just in time!” a light voice said.
I glanced up. A young girl who looked no older than eighteen bounced to the table. She had the longest, shiniest dark hair I had ever seen framing a cute, kind face. Trailing her with long, powerful steps was a tall man. Red-haired and bearded and built like a battle ax, he had a ropey scar around his neck, but his smile was friendly. He held up his left hand in greeting, and I could see that he was missing three fingers.
The girl plucked a bun from one of the trays and came around to sit at my right, glancing at me curiously. I shied away, edging closer to Nicolas until I realized I didn’t want to be in that position either. I drew my shoulders together and tried to stay still between them. The tall man took the empty seat next to Daniel, clapping him on the back gently.
“Commander,” the girl said, muffled by a big bite of the bun.
“Keisha,” Nicolas said, smiling and toasting her with his wineglass. His eyes turned to the man. “Cam.”
Keisha, the one who had bought my clothes. Cam, probably Cameron, who had been mentioned a few minutes earlier by Daniel. I flicked my eyes between them as subtly as I could. Cameron didn’t seem to have more than a passing interest in me, and there was no wariness or hatred in his eyes. Keisha studied me for longer, her expression concerned, but she seemed more focused on Nicolas.
“Glad you’re back for good,” Keisha said to him warmly and affectionately.
Her eyes wandered to me again, and she smiled tentatively, studying my hoodie. She seemed like she wanted to say something, so I looked away. I was trying to be good. I didn’t want to upset the balance I was maintaining with Nicolas.
I picked at my food, too tense and nervous to enjoy any of it. I didn’t touch the wine. I didn’t hold my alcohol well and couldn’t imagine being drunk around these people, but each of them had glass after glass. When most of the food was gone, they jumped into an animated conversation, mostly about people I didn’t know.
I sat quietly, studying my empty plate, trying to keep myself from throwing up all the food. I was skittish and edgy with the suffocating press of all their magic against me. I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself.
Nicolas’s clanmate Ryan—also mentioned earlier by Daniel—joined the table in time to snag the last pile of noodles from the tray and the last remaining steamed bun. He was a classically handsome Chinese man, dressed in an expensive and lovely tailored suit. I watched as he ordered something very specific from the waiter in Cantonese. When he was done, he came around to Nicolas’s chair to clasp hands and clink glasses. He spared me a single appraising look, eyes cool and narrowed, but he said nothing.
In fact, no one else commented on my presence or my beaten face.
The meal soon moved on to the dessert course: a cold coconut soup that was one of the most delicious things I’d ever tasted. Gloria, I noticed, didn’t eat it. Instead she peeled a pile of tiny oranges and ate the slices one by one, engaged in a conversation with Keisha about Singapore, Keisha’s favorite city.
Nicolas hadn’t touched his dessert either and—so quickly I barely noticed—swapped my empty bowl with his full bowl. I gave him a curious glance, trying to figure out why he was being nice to me, but I gathered nothing from his calm expression as he exchanged polite remarks with Gloria.
I took his actions as an order and ate his soup as well, trying to listen closely while looking disinterested.
Nicolas had told me to pay attention during dinner, but I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to notice. I could hardly follow the conversation. Much of it was obfuscated from me because half of it was in Cantonese, and Nicolas was apparently not interested in translating it to me mind to mind.
I watched Gloria the most. She, like Daniel and Nicolas, had a net of magic in place around her, powerful and elegant. She didn’t seem to have any fear or wariness of Nicolas, but she did treat him politely and respectfully at all times.
Daniel, too, radiated power. He was warmer and more animated than Nicolas, but he was similarly impressive and intimidating. I liked his fire. He was the sort of fun, cocky friend that I could have imagined having in Flame. He had barely glanced at me tonight, but he engaged everyone else in expressive conversation, especially Cameron.
Cameron had a rather thick Scottish accent, colorful and energetic. To my surprise, he could speak Cantonese. I didn’t know his fluency level, but he listened intently when Daniel spoke to him in the language and seemed to be able to answer competently in return. He pointed at me once and asked a question. Daniel merely shrugged and responded with a half sentence.
Keisha was bright and bubbly, and Nicolas seemed to have a special fondness for her. He engaged her in conversation the most, ordered her favorite foods, and she received his infrequent smiles more often than the others. She seemed not only very young but also new to the clan. There was a certain way that rookies wore their magic that was different from veterans, something that seemed inherently less comfortable. Still, she was holding her own among these powerful people. Her charm was quite obviously winning over Gloria handily.
Ryan was a complete mystery. Among this group of rather pretty people, he was one of the prettiest. His dark-brown eyes were hooded and sparkling, his skin a rich ochre, his cheekbones as refined as Nicolas’s. If I had to guess, I would say he had been with the clan for years and years. He was comfortable with himself, his magic, and all these people. Nicolas had said earlier that Ryan didn’t want the position of lieutenant, and I wondered why with the leagues of power he had within him. He was quiet compared to the others, bu
t I didn’t think anything was slipping by him.
Shortly after we had all finished dessert, a young woman approached the cubby. She lingered at the entrance for only a moment, wide-eyed and jumpy, before Nicolas beckoned to her.
“Nari, come,” he said curtly.
“Sir,” she said, moving to stand between him and Daniel. “Arturo wants these signed and stamped. He would have sent them through Yu-Teng, but he needs them now.”
She held out a black folder to him. Her hands were shaking.
Nicolas sighed and flipped the folder open, running his eyes over each page quickly. The papers looked like contracts to me, but I was too far away to even read the headers without making an obvious move toward him.
From his pocket, he pulled a slim fountain pen as well as a small black cylinder. He carefully signed his name on the three required lines in an elegant, flowing script. He uncapped the cylinder and placed a stamp next to each signature. I couldn’t see much other than that it was in dark-blue ink and seemed to be a Chinese character.
“Dan, this one is yours,” Nicolas said, passing him the page.
Daniel borrowed Nicolas’s pen, signed in Chinese, and placed a similar stamp on the page.
I wanted to laugh at the bureaucracy. Growing up, I had always imagined that if magic existed, it would be fun and exciting and carefree. In reality, it was nothing of the sort. Most clans had pretty rigid internal hierarchies and a lot of laws and paperwork. Nicolas probably dealt with that more than others if he was truly as high in the clan as he had alluded to. I had dealt with it myself frequently in Flame, and I was practically a nobody.
He stacked the papers and placed the folder back into Nari’s outstretched hands.
“Than-thank you,” she stuttered.
Nicolas flicked his hand at her, and she retreated quickly. Well, at least I wasn’t the only one here who was intimidated by him.