A stone floor polished so intensely that Amma’s reflection stared back from below ran down a wide but dimly lit hall, walls left craggy and natural climbing up and away to tunnel overhead in stark contrast. Along the rough walls, light dripped, a curious liquid that held its own illumination seeping out from somewhere above to run through the crevices of the stone. The moving light danced over the reflective surface of the floor to pool in narrow troughs on either side of the hall. Amma could not make out the hall’s end, though something was there, black and swaying.
Ice pressed into Amma’s shoulders, and she jerked beneath the touch. A deep, throaty chuckle answered her jolt as one hand slid to the back of her neck, even colder on her bare skin, the sharpness of a nail playing along its length. The woman from the entry was behind her, leaning her face down just beside Amma’s and taking a deep breath, and then those freezing fingers wrapped under her chin. The woman’s touch was gentle if frigid, and would have been easy to pull out of, but Amma was struck still by both the starkness of the woman’s beauty and the growing fear that pulling away might be considered rude despite that the intimacy of the touch was definitely not what Amma would consider appropriate.
The woman’s skin was so smooth that the glowing water reflected in a blinding glint off the point to her cheeks as she circled Amma and appraised her. Eyes the color of gold—an exact match for what she may have seen before in the alchemist’s tower—held her gaze. “So small,” she said, her second hand coming around to meet the first so that she tipped Amma’s face up to her own, “but so warm.”
“Yes, yes, she’s like a hearth.” Damien’s voice cut through the long stare Amma had been giving her, and that frigid touch was suddenly removed, though the iciness lingered on her skin. The sounds of the hall intensified then like the world was waking up around her, and Amma could hear the soft shuffling of fabric at its end, the tinkling of the water over the walls, and even the unseen breeze somewhere near the ceiling as it whistled over the rocks.
Damien had taken the woman by her wrists to remove her, but a shiver still crawled up Amma’s back, feeling as though she would be left permanently cold. She clenched fists at her sides to keep from embracing herself and rubbing warmth back into her freezing limbs, another thing she thought might be a tad bit rude.
“Jealous?” The woman’s attention was turned onto Damien, and broken of her touch and mesmerizing eyes, Amma was able to see things a bit clearer.
She didn’t like what she was seeing.
The woman swept her long fall of auburn hair over a shoulder, sidling right up to Damien and taking another deep inhale, ample chest heaving up against him. “I didn’t forget about you. How could I?” Maybe rudeness was relative.
Amma frowned, looking to Kaz for some kind of loyalty which she should have known was pointless. The imp was paying no attention, however, just tapping a taloned foot and craning his neck to the hallway’s end, spindly arms crossed.
Damien hesitated under the woman’s touch but didn’t step back. “I do appreciate your quick reply to my raven and your willingness to help me with my,”—his eyes flicked to Amma—“my problem.”
His words fell like a stone into the pit of her stomach, a hollow splash that coated her insides with irritation. So, she was aproblemthen? Fantastic.
“I would love nothing more.” She looked down a long nose at Amma, a piteous knit to her brows.
Amma felt about as small as Kaz.
“Come,” she said, a bit quicker, turning from them both sharply and leading them to the curtains at the hall’s end.
Feeling Damien’s eyes on her, Amma couldn’t return his gaze, already embarrassed enough. Discourtesy be damned, she wrapped her arms around her middle and hurried along, needing to jog to keep pace with the long strides of both Damien and the stunning woman who was just as tall.
The curtain pulled itself away as they approached and revealed a massive chamber that had Amma coming to a full stop at its entrance, arms falling limply at her sides. Cut out of the cave with an interminably high ceiling, there was more of that luminescent liquid crawling in thin rivulets down the walls, but candelabras dotted the space to give it a warmer glow. An exquisite amalgam of every style of furnishings were set in matching groups atop extravagant rugs and animal hides, couches, chaise, and high-backed armchairs, each with fine detail along their ornate legs or backs. The smooth, reflective stone spread out on the floors, an inverted echo of the chamber mirrored back like a perfectly still lake. And then there was the slightest movement, and Amma realized the space was filled with people too.
Their bodies melted over the furniture and one another as if they had grown right out of the cave itself. Draped in rich, dark fabrics, jewel toned or velvety black, many were poised with books and languishing on sofas while others sipped at wine, but no one spoke. In fact, the room was nearly silent if not for the gentle popping of candles and a stringed instrument that echoed throughout the space, its origin unseen. But there was a flicker of golden lights as eyes moved to settle on the entry, and Amma’s blood went cold under their metallic gazes.
Their hostess stared out over the dozens of still bodies then tipped her head upward almost imperceptibly. Two women who had been seated together at the back of the room stood in unison as if being lifted, each move smooth and long. The three traded glances from across the room, an eyebrow twitching, a lip curling, and then the two finally approached, eyes set on Amma.
“This is Ivory,” said their hostess, running her knuckles down the cheek of a shorter woman with ghostly white skin and black hair in massive curls, “and Asphodel.” She touched the other one under her chin, a remarkably slender woman with silver hair pulled into a slick bun to reveal the pointed ears of a half-elf. Amma could not decide between them which earned the place of second most-beautiful woman she had ever seen.
The two were wearing the same overly pleasant smiles. Asphodel’s sharp eyes flicked to Damien and then to Ivory who for the first time moved quickly to return the look, and then the two began to snicker.
Gods, why on all the planes of existence did Damien think Amma wouldlikethese people?
Their hostess then turned for them, and they both fell silent.
“Apologies, Rapture,” the two said in unison.
“Well, do try to remember. Our visitor will think you very rude if you only attempt telepathic communication.” Their hostess, Rapture, winked at Amma, or at least she thought that was what the woman intended, but her heavy lashes moved as if coated in honey. “Now, Lord Bloodthorne and I have some terms to discuss, not to mention a bit of catching up to do. Please keep our sweet guest company in the meantime, and be sure to look after her.”
“We will.” Asphodel’s voice was as eager as it was sultry. Beside her, Ivory reached out and took Amma’s hand in another frozen grasp.
“Lovely.” Rapture hooked her arm into Damien’s and began to guide him away. He shot a glance at Amma, but Ivory was tugging her in a different direction, and Asphodel crowded into her other side. As they parted, Kaz’s crotchety form skittered off to disappear into the shadows. Amma had never been so loath to see him go.
The women moved quickly though it seemed they put no effort in. “What are you called?” asked Ivory in a breathy, high voice.
Mouth gone dry, Amma lost every bit of confidence she’d ever had, whispering her name into the quiet of the huge room.
“Oh, no, I don’t think so.” Asphodel drummed long nails on her lips in thought.
The room’s other occupants twisted to watch them go, moving like they were swimming in syrup. Almost every one of them was female. “Er, yes I—well, my name’s actually Ammalie, I guess.”
