He leans down to his right and says something to Domanikk, who shoots me a pointed glance that slowly rises to a smirk as Reth nods.
“We’re lacking evening entertainment. Take off those clothes,” Reth orders.
My mouth opens slightly, not quite believing what I heard.
When I don’t comply immediately, a low growl rises in his throat.
“Now!”
My anger turns to hot tears as I step out of the leather boots, untie and pull the shirt over my head, and pull the trousers down over my hips to pool at my feet.
Though I’ve spent more time here without clothes than in them, I cover my breasts and middle with my arms, their embrace a comfort.
“Music, Tahani,” he calls down the table. A black-haired, purple-eyed Equitae at the far end reaches down beside his seat and picks up an unusual-looking flute with strings strung down its front. As he begins to play, a soft, rhythmic melody floats in the air.
“Dance for me, Alaya,” Reth says from below his furrowed brows, sneering at me.
The humiliation sets my body on fire, a burning sensation that creeps up from my chest and spreads across my skin. Heat rushes to my cheeks as I begin swaying slowly to the music, moving almost mechanically to the rhythm. My arms are still clutched tight around myself, a protective barrier that shields nothing from the dozens of eyes I can feel boring into me. Every slight movement feels exaggerated and awkward, like my limbs don’t quite belong to me anymore.
“You can do better than that. Entertain us,” Reth drawls, his lips curling into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
I reluctantly bring my arms up to sway and put more effort into my movements, forcing myself to follow through with each gesture even though every fibre of my being wants to stop. The quicker he’s entertained, the quicker this ends, I tell myself. I just need to get through this.
I look to Domanikk for reassurance, for some sign that this will end soon, that everything will be okay. But fresh, hot tears well in my eyes when I see the lustful leer on his face, the way his gaze rakes over me with undisguised hunger. My stomach turns, and I feel a wave of nausea wash over me as I realise there’s no comfort to be found there.
He’s enjoying this.
Most eyes around the table train in on me, their assessing gazes boring below my skin. I close my eyes to block them out and continue swaying.
I expect a call to stop, some signal that I can finally rest—but when it doesn’t come, when the music carries on, I open my eyes and feel sharp pain grow low in my belly when I see they’ve all gone back to eating as if nothing has happened.
My feet ache and my legs tremble with exhaustion, but none of them seem to notice or care. I’m merely part of the ambiance, background entertainment to accompany theirmeal, no more significant than the music drifting through the air.
“Fucking bastard.”
Reth holds up his hand and the music stops.
“What did you say?”
Oh Gods, I said that out loud.
Reth crooks his finger at me, beckoning me forwards. With each step, my heart pounds harder, until I’m standing beside him, heart hammering against my ribs.
In one quick, fluid movement, he grabs me by the arm and pulls me onto his lap, one arm holding me in place so he can stare into my face.
“I repeat. What the fuck did you just say?”
“Fucking bastard,” I reply through clenched teeth, bringing my palms to his chest and pushing myself from his grip.
He roars and grabs my wrists with both hands, his grip so tight they instantly burn from the pressure, his fingers digging into my skin with bruising force. He shakes me, jerking me back and forth until my head snaps forwards and backwards, my vision blurring with each aggressive movement. The pain radiates up my arms as his grip tightens, and I can feel my pulse throbbing beneath where his thumbs press into the delicate bones of my wrists.
“Touch me with those dirty Earthbound hands again and I’ll cut those fuckers off, Little Wildie,” he hisses at me, spraying spittle across my face.
He throws me from his grip, and I topple backwards onto the ground, pain shooting up my back.
Ceira looks down at me with a nasty sneer. I rise again, and Domanikk holds out his hand to help me. I keep my head down and I join him, sitting in the empty chair next to him.
For the rest of the meal, I silently eat whatever Domanikk puts in front of me, tasting nothing. As early evening turnsto night, the Equitae grow louder with each jug of Fae Wine consumed. They dance around the fire to Tahani’s songs and break off into groups to talk, to fight, to fuck—inhibitions abandoned.
