She shook her head, casting a look over her shoulder as if she might comment further, but merely smiled instead.
“There.” She pointed to a half-hollowed out tree. Inside the tree, a blanket of Nirvana Root lay in wait. I turned sideways and let myself slide down the tiny hill, not giving a single fuck about the avalanche of mud that now painted one ridiculously expensive shoe.
“How long were you a slave? Before Isabella and Atticus…” Her voice trailed off as if the paralysis I suddenly felt had been contagious. With a fistful of root, I turned back to face her. How did she know?
“...Yes.” She hadn’t asked if it was true, but the question threw me so much I had forgotten the original question.
“Before I found them, I lived out here. With my mother. I lived in exile. She was exiled.” She offered. Her gaze searched the crumbling leaves that littered the forest floor as if she were too ashamed to lift it.
“So?” I asked, stuffing the leaves into the basket.
“What do you mean so?” she whispered over a sardonic laugh.
“So, what?” I scoffed, looking over my shoulder while plucking two more handfuls. “Who gives a fuck? No one will ever call you on it. You were what you were. And now, you are what you are. A fucking Krypt.”
I deposited my loot into the basket and moved toward a similar tree a few feet away, it, too, had a steep offering of Nirvana Root hidden inside.
“Did you really murder your owners?” she hesitantly asked.
I placed the root into the basket and dusted my hands off before answering her.
“The only thing I murdered was my own misery. But yes, I took the lives of the individuals who were responsible for it. Those who thought to own us.”
Rather than some sign of sated curiosity, I saw a narrowing of her amber eyes and another kindling of questions.
“Who is us? Oh. Demetri. Wait. Demetri was a slave?” Chalice’s thoughts were being verbalized as fast as they came to her.
“I think the basket’s full now,” I noted, desperate to change the subject.
In that moment of discomfort, I completely forgot my original intent. It was still daylight. We would be home before dusk if we left now.
She nodded her head and brought the basket closer to her body to prevent spillage. I had promised to prove that the root wasn’t for me. At the time, it had seemed like a fine idea, clueing her in on my side of the family business. Maybe it would keep her off Messiah’s tail and all the things she wasn’t ready to know yet. She was, after all, a potential source for the product… but now, my good sense had suddenly come crashing back to me.
Maybe she forgot. It’d been a nice trip. We’d spoken on many things since then.
“Where to now?” she asked, the minute we crossed the bridge. Her big brown eyes were shining up at me and an expectant smile lingered on her lips.
“Uh… well.” Well. Fuck. I closed my eyes and cursed myself. How the fuck had I spent all day detouring her, only to end up at House Kantor anyfuckinghow? I cleared my throat with more than a little contempt and started for Klarissa’s mansion.
By the time I found the porch, she was looking twice as uneasy as I felt. Realizing she thought I didn’t know about her little excursions with Kantor, I stood a little straighter. A bit of calm and superiority briefly soothed me, and I wondered how much disgrace I could dribble over Keifer.
“Bold. Always the bold one, eh, Krypt?” Klarissa’s husband called from behind Chalice. I turned to see him ambling toward me with a solid looking cane. My eyes narrowed on it. My brain warred that he wouldn’t have the balls, but I knew he was just that ignorant. He swung and Klarissa bellowed like a sound from Lake Last itself.
“Enough.”
Her spiked heels clicked crisply against each step. The lengths she went, to get a notable entry. Someday she would learn it wasn’t the decor or paint that left impressions. Charisma, personality—those were the things that swayed crowds.
“You are really bold, Ender. Coming here. After what your people did.”
I knew by her tone that it wasn’t my people she blamed. The hate in Klarissa’s dark eyes was all for me.
“I didn’t kill your son, Klarissa. I’ve a good deal of blood on my hands, but I assure you, none of it is his...” I hated to argue with people, especially when I knew they were in the right.
But there was no way I would ever admit to any knowledge of what she was spewing. Nor would I help her with evidence toward my family. We both knew it was a House Krypt order, but only I knew that it hadn’t come from Atticus.
“Get out,” she hissed in a tone that was flat and deadly.
Chalice’s chin lifted, and she stepped toward us a little. Klarissa laughed and cut her gaze toward Chalice. It was a look of warning but carried more than a little taste of dare with it.
“If I go, I take the Root trade with me. Can you afford…”
“Never you mind what I can afford,” Klarissa spat, turning her attention back to me.
“Stop the performance, Klarissa. If you cut me out, you’re fucking yourself out of a hundred gold a week. You can’t even afford class as it is. Believe me when I tell you, there isn’t much that you can afford to lose… Save another heir.”
She flew toward me, hand raised high, and intent shining in those dark eyes. Chalice caught her arm before she could swing and managed to send her stumbling and sprawling backwards.
Root had begun to fall from her basket, I grabbed what I could and hurried her out the door. Once I was on the porch, the magnitude of my error hit me.
What the fuck had I just done? Had I really just tossed away that much fucking coin?
“Fuck,” I whisper-hissed, nearly taking the decorative gate off its hinges. I palmed my hair and shook my head with a groan.
“Give me,” I offered, taking the basket before she could object. I really expected Klarissa to fly out there and put on a show. It didn’t come, though. I continued toward the surgery, and Chalice followed along without incident… or so I thought.
Chalice
My heart leapt into a race I hadn’t expected, and everything went in slow motion when I saw Klarissa preparing to strike Ender. Admittedly, I wanted to slap the shit out of him almost daily, but damned if anyone else would. Especially not her. I wasn’t sure what it was about her, but I didn’t like her.
I followed along, listening to him curse and stomp, until I made it to the district that boasted the Surgery and Law Office, then had seen him home. Now I had places to be. Keif to meet. Supposing he still wanted to see me… I had sort of put my hands on his mother. But she asked for it! What was I supposed to do? It’s not like I hurt her or sought violence.
I meandered through the market, trying to decide if I would mosey past his mansion, or maybe I’d linger closer to the lower district gate and wait to see.
“Are you okay?” a voice hesitantly called from behind me.
I whipped around, half expecting one of Klarissa’s henchmen to attack, but all I met was Keif’s easy smile. I melted against his side, unable to resist a hug of relief.
He murmured contently but quickly straightened up and placed his arm between us.
“Are you afraid of a little scandal?” I teased.
His bright brown eyes surveyed me for signs of jest. When he didn’t find any, the corner of his mouth twisted, and he shook his head in a playful denial. “I welcome any scandal you see fit to offer, Lady Chalice. Always and without question.”
Laughter bubbled within me and color spread over my cheeks in a warm wave. He always knew what to say, that was for sure.
The Sip Room was noisy and full of life. Everyone seemed to be whispering the same thing. Our booth was taken, so we settled for a space large enough for us to both stand in near the serving counter.
I knew he liked the fruitier offerings, like wine and seasoned juice, but I wasn’t in the mood for such.
“Two tall Cognacs,” I called when a younger looking girl paused briefly in f
ront of us. I recognized her from the other day and laid a few extra coins down. She smiled brilliantly and set to fetching our order.
“Lady Krypt!” Dagma called from the counter. He shoved himself off his stool without further ado and demanded I take the seat. “Say, ‘what’s a nice wee one like you doing down here?”
“Hiding. From all pretense, expectation, and other formal fuckeries,” Keif spoke up, silently saluting the man with his drink.
Dagma guffawed and raised his glass as well while I climbed onto the stool.
“Well, your’n secret be safe with ol’ Dagma. Never ye worry!” he assured before slipping into the crowd.
It amazed me how scandalized they were by my being in a closed in wine house. That’s all it was really—well, except for the prostitutes, err… Painted Ladies. Were they really Painted Ladies if they didn’t wear the make up? Or clothes for that matter?
Various conversations sifted over the crowd. Lucky for me, I wasn’t the only Lady who was tossing caution to the wind.
“Dagma, what say you… will the Authority call her on account o’ the spying? Or ye reckon them charges will ne’er make it to the powers that be?” a voice called nearby.
“Ahhh,” Dagma crudely scoffed, “She be a dirty spy, fer sure. The filthiest o’ kinds too! No. She’ll ne’er see a day o’ jail. Mark it.”
I took a few swigs of the Cognac and shook my head to clear my thoughts. The long curtain of dark hair tickled my chin where it met the leather neck corset.
Keif’s thick, warm fingers chased it back and tucked it behind my ear. Once he had, his hand settled over the neck corset and his thumb skimmed across my lower cheek. It was a simple gesture, but the forbidden atmosphere combined made it so much more. I felt amazing and free.
Somewhere in the back, a bawdy tune loudly cried from the piano. Someone brought in a wind instrument, and I closed my eyes and leaned into him. My body fit perfectly against him. A flesh blanket of sorts, that swayed in the wind with me.
It felt like I was swaying in the wind anyhow.
The drink was going down too smooth for me to recognize the heady feelings within me. All I knew was, I didn’t want it to stop. I wrapped my arm around his neck and dropped just enough of my weight for him to understand my need. Well, I hoped he did. I stared up at him.
He stared back at me, too. A familiar carnal gaze that I recognized in my hazy state. It was the same way Uncle Icarus looked at Isabella, the same way he had looked at me the night of the winter ball.
Keif’s hand had fallen, the knuckle barely grazing against my side as he surrendered to my snug embrace. Its weight skimmed over the top of my hip, before sliding to the small of my back, and settling with just as much pressure as I had claimed him with.
I was in a trance, a beautiful, tempting trance that left my body grazing against his to a tune that gave me a pulse in places I didn’t know I possessed. Giving in to the sensation and urge it inspired, I brought my mouth up to his. The moment my intent was clear, he beat me to it, crushing and commanding my mouth until everything melted around us.
Except the fingers that suddenly shoved their way across my forehead and pried me off him. My nose was barely clear of his, when Ender’s fist crashed into Keif’s face. I screamed on impulse, and back peddled until I was sitting on top of the serving counter.
The pair of them scuffled, shoved, and smacked each other about until the door became clogged. Patrons were fleeing, and Messiah and his army of city watchmen were forcefully trying to squeeze their way in to gain control of the situation.
Oh, fuck. Oh. Fuck.
The way he looked at me caused my stomach to swallow my heart. For a moment, I considered sliding over the counter and arming myself with one of the liquor bottles.
The watchmen formed a circle around Ender and Keif who were both bloodied by now, preventing them from tearing up anymore of the establishment. Messiah was hot on their heels. He hopped into the circle, grabbed the front of each of their shirts and shook them violently. It took them a moment to realize who had them.
When they did, both settled down until they were heaving and glaring.
“Get them to the jail,” Messiah growled without raising his voice past its usual whiskey tone. He hadn’t told me not to move, but his eyes were fixing me to the counter. A couple of working women huddled in the back, gawking and whispering amongst themselves.
“Business is closed tonight by the Dock Authority. Out.” He hitched his thumb toward the door, all the while walking toward me. The counter keeper was surveying the damage to the tables nearby. “You deaf or daft old man? Out.”
The proprietor looked to Messiah and then gave a final wide-eyed glance toward all the damage again.
“Sir,” he hesitantly agreed.
Messiah stalked him all the way to the door without moving a muscle. When he did, it was to crane his neck back toward me.
His hazel eyes flashed with so many things. Incredulity, anger, was that… fear? His jaw and mouth waivered back and forth between concern and undeniable rage. Every time he shook his head, the long draping dreadlocks rolled and settled somewhere new.
“Messiah…” I started but never made it passed a strained whisper.
“No.” His arm shot out and his palm stared back at me. He tipped his head and shook it one more time while sucking on his teeth. “Get. Just get to the jail, before anyone else sees.”
In my mind, half of me had already leapt to my feet. The other half was trying to further cement itself to the counter. I was sure he would snatch onto me or rattle me around like he had Reverie. Fuck, even Ender and Keifer had been little more than dolls in his hands… and at the same damn time.
My mind screamed to get out. For a taste of fresh air and a chance toward… freedom… to run to the house where he, too, slept? Panic swallowed me, heat flooded me, and goosebumps broke out on my flesh.
“It wasn’t a suggestion, love. I’m asking as the Dock Authority. I need you to go now. Quietly, please so there is no further disgrace toward House Krypt.” Yes, he was asking nicely, but I couldn’t move. Not even my lips. I sat silent, staring blankly at him.
“Chalice. Please. Don’t make me arm myself to escort you. Please.” His voice dipped with each plea. His jaw, however, was still set firm. I saw a tug of war being played behind his hazel eyes, and it only fueled the tension and determination in his expression. “I will not arm myself against you, Chalice. Go... I’m warning you…”
Something in me snapped. Not in that violent explosive way that it usually did after I had stayed quiet so long. No, this was something else entirely. It began as a sharp bark of laughter, that transcended into a giggle and mask of disbelief.
“Warning me?” I laughed, trying desperately to restrain it.
That fucking Cognac. Damn that Cognac.
“Fuck me,” he scoffed over a groan while reaching for his pants. He began to undo them, and I couldn’t help it, I slid from the counter, compelled by the urge for a closer look at whatever it was he intended to negotiate with.
The sound of leather zipping through the loops of his britches wasn’t exactly something I would have wasted time on… but I wouldn’t complain about how he got there.
While I stood in anticipation of the laces being plucked, he looped the belt through itself and slid it down until it was wrapped securely about his hand.
This crazy goon meant to hit me with that thing?
I didn’t realize it until he gave it a second tug and pointed toward the door. I was already shocked and rocking about on my spiked slippers from the drastic change in my fantasy. I tried to think of something clever to say, but damned if I didn’t open my mouth and Ender crawled out.
“Enough with the performance,” I mimicked, laughing on a sigh as I recalled the performance Ender had given. He had really cut Klarissa down to size. Quick too.
“Perform…” He laughed on a scoff. “Oh, I’ve got a performance for you, alright.
He was quick
, too, I realized much too late. His belt bit my legs, and that was all it took to send me stumbling in the damn fancy slippers. I kicked them off and tried to keep putting distance between us.
“Unpin that fucking dress before you hit that door… so help me,” he bit out. What the fuck was he talking about? I reached about my neck to check the ties and the leather bit me again. “Your legs are bared before the Mountain and everyone on it, for fuck’s sake.”
I jerked the hem wildly and scrambled to my feet.
“Bastard,” I hissed, not without speeding up, of course. Every dozen steps or so, I glared back at him and tried to determine if I had enough distance to run. I didn’t want to know what fate await me at the jail. I didn’t want to know what Atticus might say.
I didn’t want anything more to do with any of it.
“Why are you putting us in jail? Your own family?” I hissed back, loud enough for him to hear.
“What the fuck else choice do I have? Neither of you fools gave a thought to how many witnesses were present. I will look incompetent and be replaced if I look the other way with something like this,” he growled once he had closed the distance a bit. I started to trot but slowed when I saw him putting his belt back on.
“Do you have any fucking idea…” he began, only to grow quiet when we topped the hill.
Between us and the jail, Dagma stood before a crowd. His back was to them, and he was politely trying to wave to us in welcome. Messiah stepped in front of me and used his hand to bid me stay close behind.
“Sorry to cause ya trouble, Sir. We…” He motioned to the massive crowd of peasants. “We saw the two gents who had the misunderstandin’. He took his hat off and tipped his head respectfully before Messiah. “The one fella, he stopped ‘cause the lady needed a spot of water. She was ill, ye see. The other’n, he went to assumin’ as any concerned brother naturally would.” He nodded a few times, and then peeked up at Messiah to see if the crowds agreed upon statement were acceptable.
Messiah surveyed the many nods and calls of agreements before slowly awarding Dagma a smile and patting him on the shoulder.
Chasing the Night (The Krypt Series Book 1) Page 12