I run my mouth as if it has a mind of its own. “A few soldiers from your breed were belligerently drunk. They arrested us by accident. I believe they were running after a few individuals who were caught stealing.”
“And they simply…threw you into a cage?”
“Yes. Like I said, they were obscenely drunk.”
Malcolm pinches his lips together. He knows I’m telling the truth, because the black rose of the well shouldn’t give me a choice. But the story is still puzzling him.
“What foul behavior. My Breed is usually very disciplined about drinking while on duty. The punishment is usually steep, ten days of isolation at the bottom of our prison well without any clothing at all.”
I give Crow Ivast a once-over. “Jack and Sophia are your test subjects?”
“Indeed.”
“Why? They are quite nice.”
“To you, I’m sure. They don’t particularly like me much after my procedures have effectively ended the lives of their twin siblings,” Crow remarks while reflecting on past mistakes the way a librarian would jot down slight imperfections to an old book.
I fall out of character. Twins? Siblings? I don’t think Mom knew about that. Grandfather Jack had a twin? So did Grandmother Sophia? And they were killed here? Being tested on by the infamous fucking Crow Ivast?!
“And was it random that the two of you were placed next to such valuable subjects of our esteemed doctor?” Maxwell interrupts.
“You should ask your drunk soldiers that. We were thrown in the cages because two of the soldiers had to stop and take a piss in an empty cage across from Sophia and Jack.” Niklaus follows my lead with ease. Speaking at a relaxed, lethargic pace, as if we’re around a group of inquisitive friends and not the tyrants of Vexamen.
“And you’re from Dementia, judging from your accents and the devastated health of your wife.” Maxwell bores his condemnatory frown over my ribs and collarbone.
“Yes. We came here seeking refuge,” Niklaus answers.
The Mazonist brothers laugh, exchanging amused glances. Crow snickers into his hand.
“I do not think we have ever received a refugee.”
“We’ve had countless seeking refuge from us, in fact.”
They chuckle among themselves again.
“We’ve heard great things of the impressive work you’ve done with your country. It puts Demechnef to shame.” Niklaus doesn’t let his serious expression falter. If only these two tyrants knew the future leader of Demechnef was playing them for a fool.
“Yes, well, who can fault you for that? Demechnef has the government of hormonal menstruating woman,” Malcolm muses.
“Orin and Abraham should have been put to death in Alkadon, not for treason, but for having these beliefs that are nothing more thanlaughable,” Maxwell agrees.
“You can imagine how difficult it is to desire citizenship from the inside of your prison.” Niklaus swishes the last sip of his drink around in his cup, then finishes it off. “Which is why we desire to be released as soon as possible.”
The dim, muggy room is a bed of stagnant water as the brothers contemplate the request. They stare at us, silently weighing their options.
“I will give your wife a choice, as she has claimed to be a witch.” Maxwell leans forward in his chair. “You can either spend three nights and three days in my bed chamber so that I may sire Mazonist heirs. Your eyes are very interesting. Perhaps if I impregnate you, our children will have similar eyes…” he trails off topic.
Niklaus stands abruptly.
I’m going to hurl. “And the other option?”
“You can spend those three days in my prison, proving you are a real witch. I would release you and your beloved husband from prison and offer you employment.” Maxwell shifts his weight and looks to his brother. “I’ve never had a witch work for me before.”
Malcolm lifts his fluffy eyebrows. “Just as you’ve never impregnated one either.”
The three men laugh again, as though I am not sitting in front of them. As though Niklaus isn’t standing with balled fists despite the enormous guardian in the room taking cautious steps toward him.
“No one will be impregnating my wife,” Niklaus states with a growl.
