“Maybe it’s better not to know,” I offer, and he answers with an incredulous snort.
“Weren’t you just saying that you wanted to fuck her?” he points out.
“I do, but no cunt is worth the risk of tearing apart what we’ve built. I don’t care how wrapped up in moonbeams and stardust it is. Listen,” I start, striding over to him and patting him on the back while I pluck a tumbler from the tray and fill it with wine.
I drink deeply, feeling the alcohol sink into my weary body where it works to reinvigorate my sore and tired muscles.
“We’ve been here for less than an hour,” I remind him. “The trip out is always a pain in the ass, and we both know Tilleo will pack so much shit in the next few days that we’ll be willing to spend any amount of aurems just to escape. We’ll finance the ludere in secret, just like we always do, and then we’ll go home alone, just like we always do. We were thrown by a smart mouth set in a pretty face, wearing only strips of fabric. We’ll meet the other blade slaves, find a house whore to share, and realize this minx isn’t nearly as appealing as we thought,” I reassure him.
He chuckles hollowly as he runs his palm over his face. “You’re right. We’re all travel weary and horny. This is nothing more than that.”
I throw back another glass of bloodwine and then pat him hard on the back in camaraderie. “That’s the spirit! Now, let’s get a little drunk and then head off to this bloody awful dinner we’re being forced to attend. I say it’s high time Bones spent his night keepingusout of trouble,” I declare, lifting another glassful in toast.
Scorpius sighs and then clinks his tumbler with mine. “To trouble,” he agrees with a deep laugh, and then we both drink and refill until the tent undulates all around us and we both forget the tight body and the full lips of a blade slave, who no longer matters and never will.
ChapterEight
AUSET
The sand radiates heat up at me like a warning as I cross the wide distance between the ludere and Tilleo’s manor. Harsh keeps looking over at me like he expects me to leap at him and slit his throat at any moment. I’m seconds away from growling at him to cut it out.
The night is growing deeper, but the sun’s caress over the sand all day is still radiating up at me as I trek across it with the other blade slaves. Bright stars twinkle merrily down at me as though they too are ready for the party. Their touch invigorates me, filling my reserves with a cooling, calm power that serves to reinforce the decisions I came to earlier.
The closer Harsh and I get to the manor, the more music and chatter reaches us from the open windows of the wings closest to the front of the house. I suspect that’s where the house whores stay, but I don’t know that for sure. My stomach dips at the thought of all the Order members congregating inside, ready to feast, drink, and fuck with the slaves. Worry roosts in my belly at the thought of once again coming face-to-face with the Order of Scorpions. I still can’t find it in me to regret how I behaved, but I know I need to be very careful playing with fire so I don’t end up nothing but ash before I can go to work on fucking up this place.
Harsh turns and leads the rest of us to the back of the gargantuan property where we go down a small flight of stairs that leads us to the slave’s entrance. There are guards and some kitchen servants standing outside of the large door, puffing on pipes and other sticks of inhalants. We pass them with no issue, and Harsh opens the door and leads us into pure chaos.
Cooks and servers are scrambling about, shouting out things and hurriedly placing large dishes of food on trays and in bowls. What seems like a thick invisible wave of scents assaults me as I wind through the loud melee. My taste buds suddenly wake up, and saliva pools in my mouth while my stomach rumbles a request to taste everything. I’ve never smelled anything like it in my life, or if I have, I can’t recall. Savory scents tease me, dancing for my senses and inviting me to track them to their source. A servant runs past me with a stunning cake on a stand, and I find myself abandoning Harsh’s lead to follow the pastry instead.
“Out of the way, you useless gash,” a lanky fae yells at me as he rushes for a row of sinks with a large steaming pot clutched in his hands.
I jump back, not missing the glare Harsh lobs at me as he gestures for me to follow him. We leave the loud clamoring of the kitchen behind us, dodging more servants who are running food up a steep set of stairs while others run empty trays back down. My stomach growls jealously, but I know there will be nothing more than gruel in the morning for the likes of us. This feast is just one more thing to add to the tally of why all of these fae need to die. The hallways are dark as we wind through them. Clearly, Tilleo doesn’t see the purpose in paying for slaves to see down here, although the cool temperature is certainly appealing in the stifling desert heat.
We make our way up another set of stairs where we find the other blade slaves waiting for whatever Tilleo wants us here for. Uncertainty mills about. It settles against me like a heavy mongrel whining for attention. I want to fidget under the press of disquiet, but I fight the urge as I watch my fellow savages study our surroundings with concern or masks of boredom. I’m curious about their experiences with their assigned Orders, but I keep my mouth shut, refusing to ask anyone about what they’ve been doing, and simply observe everything instead.
Reddish-brown eyes watch my every move. I can sense Leto’s gaze pour over my body, his concentrated stare needy and imploring me to get sucked into its rich, demanding depths. I leave him thirsting, unwilling to take his bait too quickly and look over. It’s a game I’ve always played with him, one that allows me to feel as though I’m in control and as detached as I need to be in order to survive this place. He always waits me out, content to allow me to come to him on my own terms and in my own time. He’s good with me that way.
We’re not close—the ludere is too quick to kill anything of that nature—but I find myself wondering about him in ways I’ve never allowed myself before. I’ve never asked how he ended up here, we don’t lie around sharing stories and bits of our past, and for the first time ever, it bothers me. I’ve found moments of power and pleasure at his hands, which is more than anyone can ask for in a place like this. He watched over me at a time when I was a fractured shadow of who and what I am now, and because of that, I gave him a piece of me that I never thought anyone would earn. But we don’t really know each other.
Finally, after studying every inch of the bland room we’re in, I cave and sweep my stare across the space of unsettled savages until my silver eyes land on Leto’s hungry russet perusal. His soft lips tilt up in what I know he thinks is a seductive smile, but really it makes him look like he’s been standing too close to a guard who was puffing away on their best pix weed. It’s a goofy come-hither grin that somehow makes me want to genuinely smile, even though that’s not something that I do.
Leto’s eyes flash from mine up to the ceiling, and then he subtly jerks his head in what I think is the direction of the ludere. He’s once again asking me to meet him later in our spot on the roof, and I glance at the others all around us, my eyes askinghow?
He wags his eyebrows at me, and I shake my head at his overexuberant confidence. I shrug once, letting him know that I’ll try, but I won’t put myself at risk for it. His grin grows wider on his face, and then a loud bang pulls my attention away as Crit shoves the door to the room open and it slams loudly against the wall from the force of his aggressive entrance.
We were standing at attention as we quietly waited, but there’s a sudden stiffness to all of us as we pause to hear what required that overdramatic entry by one of Tilleo’s guards.
“Tonight is the first feast night of the Bidding and the only one you’ll be summoned to attend. You are not to eat, speak, or move from your place against the walls of the hall unless handed something by a server or called forth by Tilleo or an Order member. You will keep your backs straight and your eyes forward, or I’ll punish you personally before you test tomorrow and let you bleed while you fight for a place amongst the elite,” he barks, and I feel several of us fight the urge to scoff.
Crit doesn’t have the kind of authority required to back up that threat, not unless Tilleo is there to remove his muzzle and let him loose, but it doesn’t mean that he can’t find some other way to sabotage us or make our lives generally miserable.
“Follow me,” he orders, and we fall in line immediately, first females, then males, as he leads us down a long hallway, through a large door and into a tremendous dining hall.
The ceilings are as tall as the manor itself, with huge quartz chandeliers that cage in dancing fairy light at their tips. Tapestries the size of our living quarters hang on the four sandstone walls surrounding us, each a meticulously painted scene that represents the four fae courts.
Images of the Summer Court, or the Day Court, stand tall behind the head table where Tilleo will sit with different invited guests each night. The Autumn Court, or the Dusk Court, is to the left, behind a long table with benches. There are fancy china and crystal goblets set out all over the surface of the tables, with room in the middle for the mouthwatering dishes I smelled downstairs to sit on display in front of the feasting guests. The tapestry representing the Winter Court, or the Night Court, hangs on the far wall. And the Spring Court, or the Dawn Court, guards another long table set up identically to the one in front of the tapestry of Dusk.
Crit calls out our names and points to where we’re supposed to stand. I move to my appointed place in the middle of the Dusk Court’s stunning artistic scene, where I’ll spend the night watching Order members eat and drink their fill. My body once again grumbles its dissatisfaction that all we’re running on is this morning’s porridge. On our taxing training days, we’re fed a meal of mush in the morning and one at night that has enough mystery meat in it to keep our bodies from going soft with starvation. However, Tilleo must have decided today’s events didn’t categorize as strenuous, which means all we’ll be given is this morning’s bowl of tasteless oats.
