“Are you sure?”
“You’re a funny one,” she said with another little laugh. “No wonder he wanted you.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Some of the girls here are beautiful enough to look good beside him, and they’re skilled in their duties, but talking to them can be like talking to an uninteresting rock.”
I couldn’t help a hesitant smile—at least one person appeared friendly—and held out one hand. “I’m Hania.”
“Kieras.” She gave my hand one brisk, practiced shake. “I would give you the full introduction as is formal but I have a feeling it’s not necessary in this case.”
“I’m alright with Kieras.”
“Wonderful, because it’s exhausting to have to say. And I’m not even noble. Have you been shown your bed yet?”
“No.”
Kieras gave a slight, unsurprised smile and beckoned for me to follow her. Every girl we passed paused to scan me up and down, their gazes stony. All female, I noted, all young, all beautiful. Like a collection of living dolls. The realization sent a chill sweeping through me.
It wouldn’t be long, I reminded myself. Aven would find a way to reverse this soon. And in the meantime I could focus on looking for Tobin. This position would give me an advantage there, and I should use it while I had it. When Aven got me out we’d come up with a more solid plan.
Part of me was afraid to look away from the group, worried about what they might do.
Kieras led me to a far corner of the winding room and pushed aside a set of white curtains—thin, finely-made, and useless against anybody who might want to kill me in my sleep—to reveal a small bed. A plain, coarse mattress, thin blanket, and single pillow on a wooden stand low to the floor. Not anything fitting of a Lord but more than I had expected of slaves. No worse than what I had at home and far better than sleeping on the ground.
“This will be yours,” Kieras said. “It’s the only empty one we have. The Nest is made to house ten, and Raeth—Lord Tiraethsi—dismissed someone two days ago, before he claimed you.”
I glanced to the other girls, many watching me from the corners of their eyes. “Is that why they’re so…”
“Angry?” she finished for me. “In part. I’m sure some believe he did it to make room for you—though between you and I, Lamina had been slipping in her work for ages. Dropping his drinks, arriving to parties late…she was bound to be gone sooner or later.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, if only so I couldn’t see their glares anymore. Kieras let the curtain drop around us and sat beside me. “And Lamina? Where is she now?”
She shrugged. “Returned to her family, I suppose. We haven’t seen her since. Some little merrow slave in the Court was spreading that she’s carrying a youngling—not the Lord’s—and he was so angry he sent her out of the Eyes entirely.”
“You’re a bit of a gossip, aren’t you?” I asked and hoped the question came out as light as I’d intended and wouldn’t offend. Words were dangerous here.
She laughed again. “A bit, perhaps.”
A scoff interrupted us, and the curtain was pushed aside. My heart leapt to my throat at the girl glaring down at me like she wanted nothing more than to squash me beneath her golden-tanned feet. All warmth and fire—hair and eyes the color of honey, posture and expression like she might burn the Nest down at any moment.
Honestly, was Raeth out of his mind, thinking I’d ever fit among them?
“If Lamina was sent away for carrying a youngling,” she said before I could find a thought of how to react to her sudden appearance, “it’s because it’s the Lord’s and he won’t tolerate an illegitimate heir. And if she is, I hope that youngling returns and swipes the seat from right under the ungrateful, backstabbing prick.”
“Not his biggest fan, then?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Her expression made me flinch. “You don’t have a place to speak here, human. The true reason Lamina is gone is because the Lord likes the idea of a curious little decoration no one else has. He’ll get bored of you before the end of the week, and Lamina will be left with nothing thanks to it.”
Kieras sighed and fixed the woman with a sculpted and stone-cold smile. “Hania, meet Azali. She is convinced our Lord has concocted an elaborate plot involving secret heirs and human spies purely to ruin her status, as if he couldn’t do it with one word if he so chose.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced my voice to work. “I don’t know you or Lamina. I don’t have anything against either of you, and I don’t have any intention to ruin anything of yours. I’m here because the alternative is death. And I promise I’d like to be somewhere else as soon as possible.”
It did nothing to calm the searing hatred in Azali’s eyes. “It won’t take long, believe me. Once he tires of you, you’ll only be good for entertaining the Court on a rainy day.” She shoved her way through the curtains, and Kieras and I sat in silence. I could tell from the way she pursed her lips and stared after her that this was not an unusual thing, and she didn’t enjoy dealing with it.
I broke the silence. “Do you really have that much status?”
She tore her gaze away from the curtains. “Enough. We’re below guards or nobles, of course, but we sit among the top of servants. We are hand-chosen by a Lord, after all. And being dismissed by our Lord can send one of us to the lower quarters, or worse, out of the Eyes, very abruptly. We may be bound to his every order here, but in this Nest we have three fresh meals a day, clean clothing, and his protection. Raeth’s girls hold their heads high. He expects us to be proud, and we need him.”
I kept quiet. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, if he let his slaves have that much standing in the Court. He held a great deal of power over them, but Kieras appeared to respect him. And they weren’t being treated terribly, seeing some of the things here.
I wanted out. The thought of working for Raeth made my skin crawl. But maybe the Nest wouldn’t be the worst place to stay while I figured out my next move. Maybe this part wouldn’t be the worst one to play.
A sharp bell rang from somewhere, breaking me from my thoughts, and I jumped at the sudden sound. Kieras stood, pulling me after her, every movement like liquid. “Come on. It’s the meal bell.”
I followed her into the main part of the massive room where the other girls gathered around a spread of food being placed across a long table situated along the back wall. Three women served—sirens, I noted, each with a band set with a green stone around their necks. With the Nest lit by candlelight I couldn’t tell if the other girls were sirens or selkies, though I saw none with the scales and fins of merrows. Given the way they moved, like water and moonlight, and the ever-melodic pitches of their voices, I guessed I was surrounded by sirens.
So, Raeth preferred his girls to be sirens. He didn’t pull from the other races. And we were served by sirens as well. Strange for a Court made up of three races living and working together to be so segregated.
The small lunch consisted of bread and a salted fish I’d never had before, which I pushed around my plate before Kieras assured me under her breath that no human she’d seen eat it had died from it. We sat around the table in tense silence, a few of the girls speaking in low voices to each other and ignoring the rest while others watched me. I forced myself not to return their icy looks.
The meal was functional rather than social: the second they were done, most got up to return to whatever they’d been busy with before. Though Kieras finished before me she reclined in her chair, one elbow propped against the back, and inspected her fingernails. “I’m curious, Hania, what made him take such an interest in you? I’ve seen him claim humans before, but never let one into the Nest. And, not to offend, the armies have brought back much prettier human girls.”
What was safe to say? Part of me was comfortable around Kieras, with her casual, calm attitude and easy smile, but I didn’t know her. Tidespeople were masters of games, and for all I knew she was playing one now. Even if somehow I doubted it
when I looked at her. And I was aware of the other girls present and how easy it would be for them to overhear anything I said.
“I’m not sure,” I said, and it was mostly the truth. I really didn’t know what Raeth saw in me. “He just did. What about you?”
“Oh, I was born for it,” she answered dismissively. “My parents had more daughters than they knew what to do with, and certainly not with how little money they had, so it was arranged before I was born that if I was a girl I’d be sold into the trade. I was raised in the kitchens—hard work, but not the worst—and worked my way up to serving in the private quarters of the nobility. And then I was offered a place in the Nest.”
I winced at the story, even delivered as nonchalantly as it was. Sold into slavery before her birth simply for having too many sisters, for being born too late for her parents to care for her. I’d known the Court was a harsh place. I’d known tidespeople were far more attuned to a cold attitude than humans. But part of me had been too blinded by the silk and gold around me to remember that slavery was slavery, and poor was poor.
“I’m sorry,” I murmured. Kieras shrugged.
Whispering stole my attention, and I looked from the emptying table and across the Nest where the other girls lined up along the wide center walkway. Most straightened their hair or gowns, watching the woman who marched past them. A servant like any other, marked by her plain gown and gemstone-inlaid collar, green as the others. A leather bag hung at her hip.
She paused before Kieras and I and held out a rolled paper. Creamy off-white, fine and thin, and closed with a ribbon and wax seal. I looked from it, to her, to the girls behind her, shooting searing looks at us, until Kieras nudged me. I took it and paused to study the seal—an intricate crescent moon. My fingertips tingled as I broke it and unrolled the paper.
Lord Tiraethsi requests the presence of his newest prize.
That was it. No other orders. Nothing telling me where he requested my presence. Though, I suspected I wasn’t going to be left on my own to wander around the Court in search of him.
Kieras peered over my shoulder and let out a soft whistle that pierced the dead silence in the Nest. “That was soon.”
“Is soon bad?”
“I don’t know. Go on. You don’t want to keep him waiting.”
I couldn’t keep my legs from trembling a little as I stood, and I knew everybody in the room noticed. I caught a smirk twist Azali’s lips as I passed, the silent woman who had brought the message behind me. All eyes watched me leave, making the back of my neck prickle, and then the doors closed and the horrible quiet was replaced by the ambient echoing of the hallways. Two escorts waited there for me and took up position on either side to replace the woman, who veered off, fishing another paper from her bag.
Word must have circled the Court; everybody we crossed stared at me. Some eyes were cold, disgusted, others intrigued or shocked. I didn’t give any of them the satisfaction of a reaction, even as the weight of their gazes felt like it would grind me into the floor. Kieras had said Raeth’s girls—whatever that entailed—held their heads high, slaves or not. He demanded it, and they would settle for nothing less than pride.
I didn’t care much about Raeth’s demands or the pride of slaves. But if I was going to go unnoticed among them to do my work I’d act the part. Although a little part of me raged at the idea of bowing to some of these people. Weeks ago, I would have without hesitation—bowed to any tidesperson I saw. Cowered. Done whatever they’d asked if I thought it would spare me.
When would that little, ever-thinning thread binding me to my home snap? What would I do once it did?
My two escorts—young, male sirens, and only a fraction less startling and unearthly than Raeth—stopped before a guarded door. I studied it as the men spoke and knew it must lead to Raeth’s quarters: like Aven’s it rose tall, gilded, decorated with the likeness of moons and vines rather than roaring waves. Show above function. The Court was confident in its security, if its most valuable nobles slept behind such clear markers.
The guards were still engaged in whatever brisk conversation they were having when the doors were pushed open from the inside, silencing them all. I locked my knees to keep from stepping back.
“I asked you to bring her here a half hour ago,” Raeth said, crossing his arms. I blinked at the sight of him—raw power and grace and danger, no trace of it played down, not like Aven. The guards scurried back, as if that would take them out of his sights.
“We came as quick as we could, Lord,” one of my escorts assured him.
“And yet I find you socializing rather than working. Leave us.” It was a simple, cool dismissal and Raeth turned and went into the room. My escorts didn’t hesitate to hurry down the hall, out of sight. I stared after them, wondering how far I would make it if I ran now. When I didn’t move in either direction, Raeth spoke again, a shaper note in his voice. “Well?”
I jumped and hurried into the room, and the doors closed behind me with an ominous finality. The room was as large and grand as Aven’s, but where his was soft and open Raeth’s was…powerful. Richer, lush, dark wood and black silk, leather and metal. It was immaculate, without any of the comfortable, lived-in feeling of Aven’s room.
Not unlike Raeth himself. I pulled my attention to him as he paused at a cabinet set in one wall and poured himself a glass of amber liquid, then dropped into a chair. His sea-green gaze, practically the same color as the siren gem he wore, turned to me, close and attentive, making me squirm. I wished I knew how to get him to stop doing that every time I was near him.
“You’re oddly silent, for being in the private quarters of a Lord,” he commented.
I had no idea what to make of that. “I—I’m sorry, Lord,” I managed. I tugged at the gown—so thin for this cooler mountain air, and when the edges of the slit skirt brushed against my legs it sent an instinctive wave of heat through my face—and when I noticed his gaze following my hands, I folded them behind my back.
“Do you not like the dress?”
A dare to say something. Of course, he knew I’d be uncomfortable in it. A hundred terrible things I could choose to say leapt to mind but I forced them away. “It’s not what I’m used to, Lord.”
“Oh, but it looks lovely on you. And you’re free to do away with the subservient act in here. We both know a little piece of you wants to claw my eyes out every time you call me Lord.”
“Do you not want me to consider clawing your eyes out?” I asked and winced as soon as it left my mouth. His comment couldn’t be genuine. It must have been a test, and I’d just failed.
Raeth shrugged and sipped his drink. “I don’t mind either way. It’s not as if you’d do much damage if you tried. Remember, Hania, I give you the choice to disobey, and I can take that choice away.”
I remembered that all too frequently. “I’m aware.”
“Good. My point was that when we’re alone, you’re free to insult, argue, backtalk, or anything else that fascinating brain and wonderful tongue of yours come up with. You wouldn’t be as entertaining otherwise.”
I folded my arms, though I searched his face for any sign of a trick. He waited. “So I’m entertainment to you?”
“Of course.”
“That’s why you talked the Queen into letting you claim me? So I could amuse you?”
“Among other reasons.” He stood and crossed to the cabinet again. I held my ground and watched as he refilled his glass and then a second one. “Have a drink.”
I stared at the offered glass. “I don’t accept drinks from strangers.” I didn’t feel the need to tell him I’d never accepted a drink, period. Or been offered one. Papa always said it was better to work hard and keep a clear head than to end up a drunk, and I was inclined to agree.
Raeth grinned, a smile that was far from warm or comforting. “I’m not a stranger, Hania, I’m your Lord.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I took the glass and stared into the liquid. “Aven was suppose
d to claim me.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t need your help. Everything you said in the prison about what to do he’d already told me. You argued for no reason.”
“I do everything for a reason. That’s the first thing you should know if we’re going to be spending time together. I know all about you and your selkie and your precious, idiotic romance, and I know all about what you planned to do. And I also know Marassa would have you executed before she’d let you serve Aven. Though, I suspect she’s a little late in that department.”
I’d become less sensitive to such remarks since meeting Aven and Moray, but that one set my cheeks flaming. “I never—” I started, but Raeth wasn’t interested in my protests.
“You’re human, and a young one at that. You know nothing about the workings of a Court, and I’ve known the rest of the High Court my entire life. I know when one of us is going to lose, and Aven was not going to win that conversation.” He scoffed and downed the last of his drink, muttering, “And I wasn’t going to let you go to Namak to be painted across his walls.”
“Why?” I asked. He glanced to me and raised one eyebrow, waiting. “Why do you want me? Because you want to spite Aven? Because you want to torture the human? Or is what you said before true, and you actually want to help me?”
Another cool smile spread across his lips. “I said, I do everything for a reason. But the thing about reasons is they’re most useful when kept to oneself.” He turned away, speaking as he crossed the room, all business. “I called you here to make sure you know what’s expected of you. Your part in this. You are, by all laws of this Realm and Court, mine to do with what I wish. You’ll act as such. You’ll attend all feasts and celebrations and follow the rules of personal servants: you’ll socialize, you’ll show off that pretty face, and you’ll obey any orders I may give you without hesitation. And you’ll take no drinks except ones I offer you—that’s one just for you, seeing as I would be surprised if nobody tried to kill you.” I shouldn’t have been shocked by that at this point, but I trembled at the thought. “The Nest is your home now. You’ll take meals there, sleep there, spend your free time there. If I need you, I’ll call you. Understood?”
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