Battles of Salt and Sighs (Rise of the Death Fae Book 1)

by Val Saintcrowe

  She had to force herself not to react to that thought, to the feelings that shot through her at Larent’s touch. Instead, she pretended as if she didn’t mind. She even gave him something that might be termed a smile as she poured the wine for him.

  He watched her with a lazy sort of expression, as if her movement pleased him, lording all of it over her.

  She could still taste him on her mouth.

  She felt…

  Well, she didn’t really know what the word was for it, but she wished she didn’t feel it.

  She handed him his wine. “Will there be anything else…” She licked her lips. “Dominus?” When she said it, it hurt, because she didn’t wish to afford him the same respect he afforded her. Even if she tried to think of it as addressing him the way she’d address any landowning human man, it still smarted, because he was fae, he was a slave, and she should never have to address him like that.

  His lips curved at the word out of her mouth, though, and he seemed to enjoy it. They were pretending, both of them, but there was something in his expression that hinted that his pleasure was genuine.

  Something lurched inside her.

  “Not now, ancilla,” he said.

  Slave girl. He just called me slave girl. She retreated, stifling any reaction to the word. She took her place along the wall, behind his chair, and she stared forward. Her hands shook, and she thrust them behind her back so that no one could see.

  MAGDALIA WAS TAKEN to lavish chambers in the palace. She did not know, because she had never been to this part of the palace before, but she strongly suspected these were the chambers of the csaerina, because they were so very vast and because the bed had a canopy and gold-stitched coverlets and an ornate headboard carved from fine, polished wood.

  She was left there and her meals were brought to her. Fae came to help her dress (in beautiful, fine dresses made of silks and velvets), but they didn’t speak to her, and they didn’t follow her orders.

  Two days passed.

  On the third day, she was summoned to a courtyard behind the palace. There was a chill in the air and the sky overhead was overcast. She had a cloak that she wrapped around her body.

  Ten fae were standing in the courtyard, all of them bound hand and foot. She recognized some of them. One was the fae who’d taken her from the wedding. One was the fae who’d brought her food on the ship. The others looked vaguely familiar. Perhaps they had been on the ship as well. She could not be sure.

  Eventually, Duranth appeared. He was also wearing a cloak, a long black one with black fur trimming the edges and the hood, which fell behind his long midnight-blue hair. He came and stood next to her and he was silent as he looked back and forth between her and the men. When his gaze fell on her face, he seemed to be searching for something there.

  She schooled herself to look only annoyed, and when he wouldn’t speak, she finally burst out with, “I was quite comfortable in my chambers. I’d like to go back there.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t want to be in this courtyard with these men, of course,” she said. “I would think that would be obvious after what they did to me.” She was insistent on sticking to this story she’d made up and she didn’t know why. Even if she had been molested in that way, it would not make any difference to her current situation or to Duranth’s treatment of her. She couldn’t think of one good reason to stick to the charade.

  “Which of these men?” Duranth’s voice was low and even, and he looked at her while he gestured at the men.

  She shrugged. “All of them.”

  He snorted. “Some of these men were not even on the ship.”

  “Well, I don’t know,” she said. “It went on for some time, so I closed my eyes and pretended it wasn’t happening.”

  “You’re lying,” he said.

  “I’m not.” She gave him a nasty smile.

  “Well, which of them started it, then?” said Duranth, raising his eyebrows.

  She turned her gaze on the man who’d pulled her out of Onivia’s arms. “Him.”

  Duranth turned to look at the man.

  “Your Majesty,” sputtered the man, “you know that I am loyal and that there is no force on the earth or in the sky that could compel me to disregard your orders. She was not harmed in any way.”

  Duranth squared his shoulders. “Well, there’s some reason she singles you out.”

  “Because I captured her. Any man who did that would displease—” The man crumpled to the ground.

  It was so shocking to Magdalia that it took her some moments to piece together what had happened. Duranth had stepped forward and touched the man, and then the man had stopped speaking and he’d fallen.

  He was dead.

  She could see that from the way his skin had gone grey, how his eyes had gone still.

  She’d seen Duranth kill that way before.

  She let out a tiny, tiny little noise in the back of her throat.

  Duranth rounded on her.

  She forced herself to laugh. “You idiot. You kill your own men and expect me to feel some guilt for it? Of course I will accuse them. I will accuse them all if you will kill them, because how does it not serve me for the fae to be dead?”

  “So you were lying?” said Duranth. “The truth now, little Magda, has anyone touched those round, firm breasts of yours or will I be the first?”

  “You will never touch me!” she cried out.

  He smiled, looking satisfied.

  “I… all of them.” She pointed. “They all—” She stopped on the man who’d brought her the bucket, who had refused to feed her until she cleaned her mess. “Him. He was abominable to me.”

  Duranth’s smile widened and he went over, snatched the man by the neck, and then that man fell to the ground too, dead.

  Magdalia sucked in a breath, and she wasn’t sure what this feeling was, surging through her, but she couldn’t say it was entirely displeasing. It was power. He had just done that at her command, taken a man’s life, a man that might be useful to him.

  It spoke of the depths of his evilness, of course, but it also spoke of…

  He did it for me.

  Now Duranth wasn’t looking at her. He was moving amongst the other men, cutting their bonds, and he spoke gently to them. “Understand this, then, and make sure you tell the rest of the fae. She is important to me. She is not to be treated poorly. Don’t hurt her. Don’t make her angry. Let everyone know what I will do for her.” He let loose the last man. “Even if she lies, I will believe her over others.”

  The men were all terrified, and Magdalia could see that in their expressions and the way they held themselves up. That was pleasurable as well, somehow, that power.

  “Go,” said Duranth, gesturing to the entrance to the courtyard. “You’re all free to go now.”

  They hesitated for a minute, and then they rushed away, leaving Duranth there, and now Magdalia was alone with him and the two dead bodies.

  Duranth gazed at her.

  She found herself feeling too warm in his gaze. She let her cloak hang open, wanting some of the chill air to touch her skin, to cool her heated face.

  “Understand that if I thought you were serious I would have done this immediately and that they would have suffered,” he said.

  “I was serious,” she said.

  He closed the distance between them. “It’s adorable that you’re trying to make me jealous. It’s also unnecessary. Do you want me to say that I want you? I do. Always have.”

  “Always?”

  “Well, not always, I suppose,” he amended. “Not when you were very small. But even before, when there was nothing sexual about it, it was always romantic, don’t you think? You felt it, too, Magda. You feel it now, and you don’t want to say it out loud, because it’s shameful for you to want a fae. It’s beneath you.” He was close enough to touch her and he reached out and found her hand.

  She tried to pull away.

  He wouldn’t let her. He lifted h
er hand and placed it against his ear. He forced her finger over the pointed tip of it.

  She shuddered.

  He shuddered, closing his eyes as if her touch affected him, even though he was making her do it.

  She tried to pull away again. This time he let her.

  She clutched her hand against her chest. Her fingers felt branded with the feel of his skin.

  “Fae,” he said. “Slave. Beneath you. And you’ve always wanted it. You want my hands, my mouth, and my fae cock, and it’ll go easier if you just admit it to yourself.”

  She gaped at him, horrified.

  He only smiled.

  “You say you want me, and maybe you do, but you don’t like me,” she said, and her voice was quavering.

  “Sure I do,” he said, his voice soothing.

  “Not really,” she said. “You see me the way everyone sees me, as stupid and silly and flighty. You don’t respect me.”

  “Well, you don’t respect me either,” he said with a smile. “And anyway, you are stupid and silly and flighty.”

  “Fuck you.”

  He chuckled. “Such a filthy word coming out of your little mouth, Magda. I can think of lots of other filthy things for us to do. Should we do that first, or should we work on our magic first? I have to admit I can’t decide how best to proceed. Perhaps if you were… were close to me, it would be easier to convince you to help me. On the other hand, I suppose, what I really need is your magic, not your, er, closeness, and I probably only pursue that for selfish reasons.”

  “I’ll never let you touch me, and I’ll never help you with anything.” Rage was overtaking her now, making her limbs tremble. She clenched both of her hands into fists, and his refusal to take her emotions seriously—indeed to take any part of her seriously—was making her furious.

  “I thought we had a discussion about how I could take whatever I wanted?”

  Before, this had frightened her, but now she was too angry for fear. “Just try it.”

  “Was that an invitation?” He raised his eyebrows. “We both know you want me, so it might as well have been.”

  “Simply because you say things like that, it doesn’t make them true.” She sneered at him. “I’ve never wanted you. How could I want something inferior to me?”

  “Inferior?” His eyes flashed.

  “Not used to people insulting you? Well, it’s likely because they’re all afraid you’re going to kill them with your touch,” she said. “But we both know that won’t work on me.” She knew no such thing, actually, and she wasn’t sure why she even said it. She had practically challenged him to try to kill her, and that was surely folly.

  But no, maybe that was the only course left to her. If she stayed alive here, she was going to end up raped and tortured or… or worse, she would give in—

  No.

  He reached out and brushed his fingers over her cheekbone.

  She felt his magic surging into her. But she could also feel that it wasn’t all of his magic. He wasn’t trying to kill her, but he was curious as to what would happen if he attempted it.

  It traveled through her, and she felt that feeling she’d felt all those years ago for the first time when they had made the circle between him and her and Csaer. They were a closed circuit, and he was warmth and safety. Together, they made something complete and balanced.

  She let out a gasp at the sensation.

  He poured more magic into her. It flowed out of his fingers and into her jaw and neck, where his fingers touched her. From there, it flowed like ink through her body, curling out and settling into all her nooks and crevices, possessing her.

  Now, his magic belonged to her. She felt her own magic rising up, mingling with his, melding with it. A new magic now rose in her like an ocean wave. It crested and she put both of her hands on his chest and pushed.

  He staggered backwards, uttering a grunt. Recovering, he lifted his gaze to hers, surprise all over him.

  “You were saying about forcing me?” She glared at him.

  “I also said I don’t want to,” he breathed. He studied her, and that furrow in his forehead was back. “You’re proving difficult, Magdalia, I have to admit that. I hadn’t expected you to be so difficult.”

  She sneered again.

  He shook his head. “I’ll escort you back to your chambers. How are you liking them, by the way?”

  “Far too small,” she said in a nasty voice.

  He smirked. “Yes, you’re as difficult to please as ever, I see.” He leaned close. “I actually find I like that about you.”

  She jerked away.

  He only laughed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ONIVIA DIDN’T SPEAK to Larent about their kiss or about what they had called each other, and he didn’t speak of it either, much to her relief. She wanted to pretend it hadn’t happened, and that was easier if he wasn’t calling attention to it.

  The next day at meals, there was no more kissing, but Larent did put his hands on her again. She didn’t speak, and neither did he. She wordlessly performed her duties and smiled at him. He watched her with that maddening look on his face, as if she belonged to him.

  And Marta commented on it. “You’re mostly talk, I see, and I’m glad of that, because I like you, and you’ll be better off that way.”

  Onivia didn’t know what the other woman even meant and said so.

  “I mean that you talk a lot about defying Larent, but I see that when you’re with him, you do your best to pretend to be pleased by him, and that you must do a good job, because he seems to believe it.”

  “Oh,” said Onivia. “That.”

  “I see the way you smile at him. I suppose I know you better than he does, because I wouldn’t find the smiles particularly believable, but from the way he smiles back, he must.”

  No, it was only that Larent was far better at pretending than she was. She wondered if she was really fooling anyone. If not, he would be displeased. The message had gone out to Magdalia, which was something, but what she really needed from Larent was for him to use his influence to send her to be with her sister. If he became displeased, he might not do that. She sighed heavily. She would do better.

  “Maybe he’ll fall in love with you,” said Marta, giving her a wink.

  “That’s preposterous,” said Onivia. “They hate us.”

  “It’s happened,” said Marta. “It could happen again. There was a girl here a year ago, and one of the centurions married her. Sent her off to some plot of land on some liberated villa to raise their child until the war is over.”

  “I don’t want to marry Larent.” Her voice was laced with contempt. “Don’t you think that eventually the imperial legions will crush this rebellion?”

  “They haven’t thus far.”

  “They haven’t taken it seriously,” said Onivia. “But they will. They must. They’ll call back the troops from the borders, the ones fighting with Emmessia. They’ll call back the troops trying to take new land for the empire. They’ll call them all back and the fae will stand no chance against the best army in the world.”

  “Say they do,” said Marta. “What do you think they’ll do with us?”

  “We’re human women—”

  “Used and tainted,” countered Marta. “We’ll never be of any sort of worth to them. Maybe if you have family left somewhere, they might shelter you, but all my male relatives were killed in the uprising on my grandfather’s villa, even my brother, and he was only twelve.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Onivia. “I’m so—”

  “I don’t need that,” Marta snapped. “What I’m saying is that we are worthless to human men, don’t you see that? None of them want fae leftovers.”

  Onivia thought of Albus again. He would… well, no, he wouldn’t want her now, but then he hadn’t wanted her in a while, she supposed. Still, he was an honorable man, and he would make sure that the human women were protected. “Maybe we could go to serve in the temples as Fortune’s matrons,” she said softly
.

  “I’d rather suck fae cock,” said Marta, shrugging.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m not one for meditation and vows of silence,” said Marta. “Or vows of chastity, for that matter.”

  “But you don’t… you don’t enjoy—”

  “Not at first,” said Marta. “But it gets better. The way he smiles at you, and what they say about Larent, it can’t be so bad as all that with him. He seems like one of the better ones.”

  “What do they say about Larent?” said Onivia, who realized, suddenly, that Larent would have had girls before her, and, oddly, this was not exactly a welcome thought to her. She couldn’t understand how she could possibly feel possessive of her captor, her rapist, her abuser.

  I’m in an impossible situation. My brain isn’t functioning properly, she decided.

  “Well, he’s never had a girl before you,” said Marta.

  She let out a bitter little laugh. Well, then.

  “Why do you react that way?”

  “I…” She shook her head. “Continue. What do they say?”

  “Well, he declined it for a long time, saying he didn’t find human women to his taste or something, and this was all fine until Akiel decided to accuse him of being a human sympathizer. Akiel hates him, but that’s because Akiel hates humans and Larent is a half-blood.”

  “But there are quite a few half-bloods,” said Onivia. “Does Akiel hate them all?”

  “Yes, and he resents the fact that they can use the metal weapons when he can’t,” said Marta. “The fae need Larent and they need half-bloods if they wish to win, but Akiel wishes that weren’t true. He wants it all to be pure-blood fae, triumphing over the humans through magic only.”

  “Akiel is horrible.”

  “He’s one of the worst ones,” said Marta, nodding. “If I can help it, I will never go to his bed.”

  “But we can’t help it,” said Onivia.

  “I don’t know,” said Marta. “I am making inroads with Dandren and perhaps he would protect me. It’s different with him, because he picked me himself, and I was already used to things when we came together. It’s…” She shrugged. “He tells me things, and he listens to me, and I sometimes feel as though I even almost like him.”