I stood and gripped him by the shoulder.
“We will find a way to make it happen,” I had said.
So, we did. Over the next two years we covertly reached out to other Mageia to build alliances.
Some were skeptical at first, others outright hostile, but over time we started seeing friendships grow between the factions. The one sticking point was that those relationships didn’t seem to survive the Machi Thanatos. Every single Hoplitewho was part of our alliance and was sent to the Machi did not return. Suspicion was running rampant. Were they killing each other? Were the Elusians murdering them? If the number of “graduates” wasn’t so low I might have bought it, but very few were returning from the Machi at all, so I held out hope.
By the time I got back to the cell after meeting with Maia, Vlakas was already inside, sitting on his cot, his hands clutching something. He looked deathly pale. He’d headed back to our room immediately after the evening meal, but since I had also stopped to grab our clean uniforms from the laundry and speak with Maia, he’d made it back to the room before me. Even from the doorway I could see something was wrong. As shitty as this day had been, I couldn’t figure out what could make him look so ill.
“V,” I asked. “What is it?” I said sitting next to him. “If it’s about Maalik, he’s just a dick.”
For a long time he didn’t say anything. When he finally looked up at me, he was so pale I thought he was going to puke and looked far younger than his eighteen years.
“I…” he stopped, then took a deep breath and began again. “We’ve… been Called.” He turned his clenched hand over and opened it. In his hand were two crumpled pieces of parchment. One had my name written on it and held a yellow wax seal with a bird emblazoned on it. House of the Sparrow. Not a bad house to serve a Calling. But the other… The other had V’s name and a broken red wax seal with a dagger dripping blood. I knew that seal.
The House of Eros.
The House of Eros was one of the most sadistic brothels in the city. It catered to a very expensive clientele who enjoyed inflicting pain on their victims. And their preferred victims were usually young Mageia.
“Fuck, V,” I whispered.
I pulled him close and wrapped my arms around him, feeling him shudder.
Vlakas was just so damn young. Far too young for the House of Eros. He was barely eighteen, and most of those years had been a life of pampered protection. He’d been a prince. THE prince. Before he developed his powers, Vlakas hadn’t known an unkind word, a blow, or even missed a meal in his entire life, and now they wanted him to serve a Calling in the House of Eros? Bastards.
All Mageia were Called to Serve at some point as we went through training, just like all slaves were required to submit to a Calling with their Master. Like Mitera and the King. Serving a Calling in a House brothel was supposed to be part of our training as Mageia. After all, if we failed at the Machi Thanatos, we could be sold to a House of entertainment or one of the Brothel Houses. It was part of the punishment we received for being born Mageia. Many of the Houses weren’t bad, but like all things, they existed on a spectrum. The less challenging a House, the lighter their colors. The color of the House of Eros was black.
But V… V had never been Called to serve before. Fuck, as far as I knew, he was still a virgin. I’d done everything I could to protect him in this place, including teaching him what to expect in a Calling. Being Called to service some aristo female in the House of Feathers or Dahlia House wouldn’t have been a big hardship for him. I’m sure some of them would love the thought of being fucked by a former prince. V didn’t seem to want to talk about it, but he said he liked women well enough, and while it would be servicing on demand, he hadn’t seemed overly concerned about the Calling at one of the lighter houses. The House of Eros was a different story, though.
The last time members of our Legion had been Called to Serve in the House of Eros, it had been a pair, a brother and sister who were both Earth Mageia: Ethan and Aria. Iremembered all too clearly. Ethan had returned a broken, bloody mess. He’d been covered in whip marks and cuts and had numerous broken bones. His left hand was missing, and his right hand clutched a bloody ear. His sister’s ear. For days he’d lain on his cot, refusing to eat or drink.
Aria hadn’t returned at all.
Ethan never talked about what happened to them at the House of Eros. He just kept repeating “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” over and over.
We had all talked to him, tried to convince him that none of what happened in the House had been his responsibility. When Called to Serve we had no choice, we were not allowed to refuse any order. The Elusians could literally do anything they wanted to us; and in the House of Eros, they did.
We’d done the best we could to help him heal, physically, but a few days after Ethan had recovered enough strength to walk, he had hung himself.
I saw the memories flash across Vlakas’ face. He’d only been with the Legion a few weeks when it happened. He hadn’t known Ethan and Aria well, but I had.
“Thea na eisai eleimon,” I whispered, gripping his shoulder. Goddess be merciful.
While Vlakas had certainly grown up in the last few years, he was still such a gentle soul, mostly at home with books and histories. All he really wanted was to be left alone to learn and make beautiful things. He had told me that he hoped that once he passed his Machi Thanatos he would be allowed to serve with the artisans in metalworking. His affinity for Earth was useful in creating intricate jewelry and weapons. I had kept my doubts that the King would allow him such a happy ending to myself. Anyone who would allow their son to be sent to the Legion without protest was a prick. No point in making the boy suffer when I didn’t have to.
His whole body began shaking. The stories we had all heard about the House of Eros were enough to give anyone nightmares.
“What am I going to do, Kat?” he whispered after a while.
“I won’t let them take you,” I growled, tightening my grip. I didn’t give a fuck that Vlakas had been a prince. Vlakas was my brother, I’d known him his whole life. He was the only person who had fought past the anger and resentment that had been my armor after my twin died and continued to see the person inside.
He nodded slightly, but I could tell he didn’t believe my reassurance. We didn’t have control over our Callings. Callings were assigned by the Temple of Vesta representative within each Legion.
Our Vestal was a man named Livius. Livius held himself apart from all of us. Some Legion gossip said it was so that he couldn’t be accused of favoritism when it came to Calling assignments. Other gossip whispered other, less savory things about him.
“I’ll talk to Livius,” I told Vlakas.
“And tell him what, Kat? He must send someone. It’s just… my turn,” Vlakas whispered.
