Hidden Revenge (The Kingdoms Book 1)
Page 15
The offending digits remained where they were, though, so she looked up into the Fae’s face, but it was wiped clean of all emotion.
“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t make a scene,” Aroan said, voice crisp and measured but barely above a whisper. “When I release you, you’ll wait for me to start moving, then you’ll follow obediently. Then once we reach our destination, you’ll go along with the overseer I direct you to without any complaint. You will do as you’re told and be on your best behavior.”
Fear snaked through Amelia, and Aroan must’ve noticed something, because his mouth softened somewhat when he added, “I am not leaving you there. You’ll just take a look at the slaves’ lodgings while I inspect the work.” His fingers tightened around her wrist in warning. “But I will do as I must, Melia, so don’t provoke me.”
Their eyes locked, hers lit with fire, but his glittered with icy determination.
He meant it. Aroan meant every word.
Even though he hadn’t ever hurt her, even though he’d had the nerve to call her Melia now, dirtying those illusive hours they’d shared, he’d do as he’d said.
If Amelia pushed him, he’d do as he saw necessary. She felt it in her very blood.
She should’ve been happy that she’d finally managed to provoke him enough so he’d reach his limit, maybe even push him a bit farther to see how he’d react, what exactly he’d do to her, but she wasn’t. Far from it. What blazed in her heart was fury and hatred. What she also felt, though, was disappointment. And a treacherous sense of betrayal.
Amelia didn’t do anything, though.
She didn’t act upon any of those feelings.
Instead, she went along first with Aroan, then with the overseer she was led to like a good little slave, taking a thorough look at the miserable structure Aroan dared call the slaves’ lodging, as well as at the shed that housed their tools and the pen the Fae kept the humans in while outside, along with the sturdy pole they shackled those to who were about to get beaten for an infraction or as a lesson to all.
Amelia took in every little detail.
She couldn’t compromise herself then and there. She couldn’t cast off the role she’d been forced into, ending this wretched, laughable charade once and for all. Not if she wanted to help others – and she would.
This people deserved better, and Amelia was done.
Done with playing games. Done with Roan – no, damn it, done with Aroan.
At the first opportunity that presented itself, she’d be gone, and taking as many of the slaves with her as she possibly could.
Chapter Twenty
Roan
By the time they returned to the mansion, dusk was upon them, darkening the sky along with Roan’s mood.
Melia had been perfectly well-behaved since he’d reprimanded her on the way to the plantations. She’d done as instructed and gone where she was told to, not saying a single word – which bothered Roan to no end, even though it shouldn’t have. After all, this was how a human slave was supposed to act, and how he’d need Amelia to conduct herself once they reached Cerridwen.
This was what Roan had set out to achieve when he’d decided to take the girl with him that day.
Still, he was acutely aware of the lack of their brief conversations and the remarks Amelia let slip when she forgot herself around him. He missed the glimpses into her vibrant personality. And now that her beautiful face was wiped clean of emotions, his inability to discern how she felt left him utterly frustrated.
Amelia had shut herself off from him completely, robbing him of … well, herself.
And her companionship.
This was the way it had to be, though. Roan couldn’t have Melia keep acting out, and there didn’t seem to be any middle ground. It’d be cruel to pretend his human was anything other than a slave, allowing her certain liberties in private, just to strip her of them as soon as someone else entered the room. Roan didn’t want to mislead her, and in this land, he couldn’t be anything other than a fair, consequent owner to her. That’ be a whole lot more conductive than being too lenient.
The near miss on the road still chilled the blood in his veins. They’d come so close to disaster yet again.
Too close.
Roan had barely managed to intercept her in time, stopping Amelia from doing something colossally stupid. It was sheer luck that none of the overseers had noticed her jerking her mount to a halt all of a sudden, spine going ramrod-straight as her body firmed and an eerie calm descended upon her. A deadly calm. He’d no idea what she’d been about to do, but he couldn’t wait and find out. Anyway, there hadn’t been any planning involved. Amelia had reacted on impulse.
This human girl’s gut hadn’t told her to keep her head low so she would remain safe and unharmed. Her innate instinct hadn’t been to hide or flee in self-preservation but to fight back. To attack and defend.
Roan hadn’t expected that response.
Amelia had actually started towards that Fae overseer, not cowed by the male’s superior strength and power, nor by his status. And when she’d whipped her head around to stare Roan down, her golden eyes had turned molten. They’d been ablaze with such a fury that it’d truly scared Roan for a moment, halting his motions. That emotion had been so strong that Melia hadn’t managed to mask it.
Then that blink of naked fear.
Amelia had though that he’d leave her at the plantation. Just hand her off to those overseers.
What he’d seen in those large, mesmerizing orbs – smelt on her – had been trepidation. No, more than that. True fright.
She’d been afraid of him.
Then that emotion had vanished, or rather, turned into something Roan hadn’t been able to quite decipher before Melia’s face had cleared of all expression permanently, denying him any insight into the girl who was his and leaving him exasperated. And rattled.
As he entered the huge foyer and headed for the steps, Amelia followed him upstairs wordlessly. Docilely. Looking anywhere but at him. When they neared his study on the second floor, Branley suddenly manifested out of nowhere, being at hand in case Roan had need of him as always. He waved the other male away, though, as he strode into the room and settled into a velvet upholstered chair. He wanted to be alone with Melia, and they needed to talk.
The human didn’t seem to feel the same need, however. She, too, stepped into the study, closing the door with a soft click behind her, but then she settled into her usual position by the wall, standing motionlessly at attention, staring straight ahead.
Compliance had never annoyed Roan this much before.
He cleared his throat.
“Amelia.”
“Yes, my lord.”
That was the only reaction his addressing her prompted the girl to.
Well, then. Two could play at this game.
Roan opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again without speaking.
On second thought, he’d much rather know what was going on in Amelia’s head than win out over her by pretending that nothing had happened. That things had always been this way between them.
“Melia,” he began again, voice much softer than before. “I know what you saw today must’ve been hard on you.”
There. He’d made an effort.
Amelia’s mouth became a firm line, but otherwise, she showed no reaction.
Roan wasn’t about to explain himself to her. He wouldn’t …
“You would’ve seen how other Fae treat humans in Cerridwen, anyway …”
The look Amelia shot Roan shut him right up.
“How other Fae treat humans?”
As she spoke, the girl’s voice was dripping with venom, taking Roan aback.
“Well, yes. Many of my kind don’t value humans at all, and I felt like you had to know that.” He paused, swallowing. Thinking. Choosing his next words with care. “As a High Fae, I have a certain image to uphold. I can’t tarnish the family name. And while I don’t treat slaves like …”
“Many of my kind don’t value humans,” she parroted, mocking him. “I, the gracious High Fae, don’t treat humans like the others.”
This time, it was Roan who broke in, his tone hard as his ire rose.
“Enough! That’s quite enough, Amelia,” he hissed, looking right back at her.
Had he really missed seeing her true reactions?
And what was he seeing, anyway? Who was this bitter, hateful person?
Where was his Melia?
Voice gravelly, Roan said, “I haven't treated you like a slave.”
Amelia scoffed.
“No? Then why do I have to follow you around like a shadow all day long? Why do I stand around wordlessly while you work, imitating a damned statue, awaiting Your Lordship’s pleasure?”
She shot him a look, and their gazes remained locked as she continued her tirade.
“What about the weeks I spent toiling in the kitchens on your orders? Fetching hot water, scouring stoves and sinks and work tables, cleaning up the garbage and scrubbing floors until my hand bled?”
A muscle twitched beside Aroan’s mouth, but his gaze remained level.
“You performed tasks around the household. Just like any servant would.”
“A servant, you say. Yet I don't remember receiving any wages, nor being at liberty to decide what I do with my free time.”
“You do pretty much as you please with your free time,” Roan cut in angrily.
The part about him letting it happen, allowing her to get away with her escapades, went unsaid. It didn't need to be voiced.
Amelia flushed bright red. Whether it was from shame or in fury, Roan didn't know.
She leveled him with a stare.
“Am I free to leave, then?”
Roan didn't answer, and after a while, Amelia gave a decisive nod.
“That's what I thought.”
“Melia...,” Roan started, reaching out a hand in her direction, but the girl took a step away to stay out of reach.
“With your leave, this servant will return to her tasks, then. Master.”
With a last glance in his direction, Amelia stormed from the room, and for the moment, Roan allowed her escape.
He’d tell her about their impending journey to the capital later.
Right now, he needed time to think, anyway.
Master.
Hearing that word from his human’s mouth for the first time sent a strange shiver through Roan. It felt good. It was right … Or at least it was supposed to be. But somehow, Melia referring to him as her master felt utterly wrong.
Running a hand through his own longish hair, Roan made a fist, holding on and pulling.
“I never said you were a servant,” he whispered to the empty room, dejected.
Then letting his hand fall, he squared his shoulders and set to work.
Chapter Twenty-One
Amelia
A handful of days later, Amelia found herself in the renowned capital of the Fae kingdom.
Although she’d never been to Cerridwen herself, a plethora of memories awakened the moment she set foot into the city. Or rather, the instant the four of them were beamed there – another useful Fae ability that made covering great distances in the blink of an eye even easier than spacing. All it took was a mental picture of the desired destination. Then the voyagers just had to stand close together, and the next thing they knew, it was all done. They were wherever they’d wished to be.
If there was a Fae with that specific gift nearby, that is, who was ready to proffer assistance, which was seldom the case since Beamers were so few and far between. And those with a strong enough aptitude to transport multiple people through time and space to faraway locations were even rarer. A High Fae like the Lord of Wentbur had connections, however. Thus, he and his companions had only needed to exit the mansion so they could cross over.
As soon as the blonde female, Saundra, deposited Aroan along with Amelia, Evana and Damian in the middle of the lord’s assigned suite, she blinked back out, departing the way she’d come with a brief but deferential nod goodbye in her fellow Fae’s direction while Amelia was still reeling from the sudden relocation.
It took some time for her head to stop spinning and for the nausea to subside, but once that happened, the first thing she did was look around, taking in her surroundings and charting the room in her head. Her eyes caught the gigantic window set in the wall at the end of the chamber, and she unwittingly took a step in that direction before she could stop herself.
Amelia’s throat grew tight.
Because of their way of travel, she hadn’t yet gotten to see anything firsthand of the great glittering city that used to be not only the seat of the Ravenell dynasty, but also of cultural flowering. Of knowledge, mystical learning and art. As a child, Amelia had often wished she could walk these very streets, though. She’d longed to peruse the diverse assortments in the art shops’ windows, visit the galleries that were famous for their fey exhibitions, and browse through the hand-decorated confections and desserts in Chrystie’s favorite chocolaterie on Canopy Road, maybe even taste the finest-looking ones, just like the Fae girl.
She’d yearned to share those experiences with Chrystie.
Of course, none of that came ever to pass, but the images in Amelia’s mind were still as vivid as over half a decade ago, and those memories also brought back a multitude of feelings that the girl had absolutely no desire to revisit. Thus, she wasn’t too happy to finally be in Cerridwen, to say the least.
It was quite ironic, wasn’t it.
Deep down, she was still curious what would greet her if she stepped outside this building, though. She wanted to know whether Cerridwen still boasted as many concert halls, theatres, dance studios and museums as erstwhile. Whether the current councilors frequented the upscale tea houses, dinners and wine rooms with their retinue that their more loyal predecessors had preferred, and picked out pricey presents at the same old jewelers, hatters and clothiers for their paramours.
She’d liked to know what remained unchanged, and what was gone forever.
She also wondered, and not for the first time, how often Chrystie would’ve sought out the huge, ancient library in University Square that housed more tomes than any other place in the Human Realm. Whether she would’ve retained her love for knowledge and felt the need to attend the Academy of Mystic Arts. Would she have decided to study something entirely different, or chosen to be taught by the best tutors in the privacy of the Grand Palace instead?
Amelia was sure she would’ve sat in on literary readings, rhetoric speeches and great debates at the very least, both because she’d loved books and because she’d always thought listening to someone else’s grand tirade was fun. Provided that she got time to spare for such endeavors, of course … But Chrystie would’ve needed to further her own skills and widen her horizons, anyway. To stay in touch with her—
A light, tentative touch brought Amelia back to the present. Evana’s slim fingers fleetingly closed around hers as the young elf flitted by, reminding Amelia that events were still afoot. Time didn’t cease to move forward just because she got lost in thoughts, uselessly pondering what-ifs.
She had no time for this.
This visit wasn’t about her memories or desires. It wasn’t about the past. Her owner had business to attend to in the capital – council business –, and he’d decided to take her with him, so here they were.
Here they all were, including Evana and her brother.
Aroan had brought them along, too, and he’d done so for a reason.
Amelia had realized the moment the two elves had stepped up to them when they were readying for the spacing that the young ones were the brats Lord Byron had referred to back in Aroan’s office. As to what the Council wanted with them, Amelia had no idea. She was sure, however, that the
three of them served very specific purposes. Otherwise, the older lord wouldn’t’ve bothered to mention them to his son, let alone insisted on their presence.
Anyway, that vehemence didn’t bode well for any of them.
During the past months, Amelia had heard enough to know that Aroan was supposed to join the councilors’ ranks sometime soon – she just hoped that didn’t have anything to do with them. She had no desire whatsoever to face the lot of those traitorous bastards who’d condemned so many good people to torture and gruesome fates that were no more than prolonged death sentences. Not now, while she couldn’t take them on. While she still had to pretend.
It wouldn’t be for much longer, Amelia reminded herself, and she did take heart from the knowledge that their plan was already in motion.
Soon, she’ll be free.
“Evana, Damian,” Aroan spoke, addressing the elves who, unlike Amelia, had already set about the prerequisite tasks, not even waiting for the Fae Lord’s orders to do so. “I am running a bit late, so I need to make haste, and I’ll need you with me. So, come along.”
He threw a glance at Amelia.
“You, on the other hand, will remain here, since you so clearly detest following me around everywhere,” Aroan said in a firm tone, but his choice of words betrayed him.
Since he was throwing her words back in her face, the almighty Fae must indeed be quite angry with her.
Maybe that should’ve frightened Amelia, but all it did was give her a sense of satisfaction.
“You can do the unpacking and settle us in, but do not leave this rooms until we return for any reason,” he went on, adding special emphasis to his orders.
Whatever.
Then as he spoke again, Roan finally deigned to look fully at her, his gaze ensnaring hers for a long moment before Amelia managed to wrench it away.
“I will need you to attend the feast in the morning hours, though, so if you want to get some sleep, now would be the time to do so.” He paused, hesitating before he added, “You should know by now what kind of behavior will do, and what isn’t acceptable.”