ChapterThirteen
SCORPIUS
She slaps a sword out of a tall male’s hands with the useless bow they’ve given her to defend herself with. They didn’t even provide the slave with arrows, only an impotent bow to use against the melee in the pit. All of this nonsense because Taos mentioned one time that he wanted to see what she could do with a non-weapon. It makes me want to skin the wolf and set his glamoured pelt in the entryway of our home so we can stomp on his ass every day.
Chaos rings from the largest circle of sand in front of the risers where we sit. We’re on day three of these shows, and I’m about two and a half days done with the superfluousness of it all. I’ve never enjoyed these events. I’ve always understood the advantages they can provide if worked just right, but this Bidding is different. From the first test, where my brothers and I finally learned Slave’s true name, to then hearing all about the torture she’s endured at the hands of the masters, followed by the days of useless tests and the long nights of pretending like most of the Orders don’t want to kill each other, I’m starting to lose the battle with my ever-waning patience and my progressively building temper.
What’s worse is it’s not as though I didn’t know what happened in this ludere. I know the kind of fae Tilleo is, so why does the fact that Auset is here bother me so much? Why are we drawn to her? I’m a sucker for a smart mouth. I figured that was the lure when I first interacted with the blade slave, but Skull and Bones are enthralled too. She’s not what we initially thought she was, which now has me wondering just what in the Kings’ names we’ve walked into here.
My suspicious stare once again finds her unique white-gray hair in the tangle of action in the pit. Her skin is sun-kissed and slick with sweat as she weaves and dodges around her attacker’s extensive reach. I watch the little moonbeam struggle against everything that’s stacked up against her, and it makes me even more wary. The masters weren’t exaggerating when they ranked her skill and competency. She’s the best option here. Even when she holds back in order to stay in the middle of the batch’s standings. However, if Tilleo thinks my brothers and I are dumb enough not to see right through this obvious setup, then he hasn’t been paying close attention all these years to what the Scorpions are capable of.
She’s too perfect, too good at this game. She’s the ideal fit for the Order of Scorpions, and I don’t trust it for a second. It’s obvious she’s a highborn bastard. If her looks didn’t give it away, her strength and abilities scream it. She has the perfect wounded fawn backstory, one the masters were all too eager to shove down our throats. They’ve even gone the extra mile with setting her up for failure with every task the blade slaves have been given. Of course she doesn’t fail. Time after time, she finds a way to rise to the occasion.
It’s maddening to watch and impressive.
I scowl as I watch her sprint and then gracefully skid through the sand, scooping up the discarded sword as she cuts through the gritty desert floor as though it’s nothing more than water at her feet. She attacks, bow in one hand and hard won sword in the other. Her opponent is two heads taller and spans thicker than she could ever be even if they were feeding her properly—which I have no doubt they aren’t. I shake my head as I watch her take on the behemoth of her batch with a gleam of reprisal in her silvery gaze. She’s the perfect underdog. Her story and circumstances are an intricately woven net in which to ensnare us. As though my brothers and I are that easy. As though we’re that dense.
I glance over at the colorfully dressed slave master. He watches the test with a bored mien. He has a glass of bloodwine in one hand while the other pinches at the breast of the house slave that was fanning him before he found another use for her. I glower at him for a moment before looking back at the action of the fighting blade slaves. The slave master has tipped his hand, and he hasn’t even realized it. I’m sure he thinks he’s playing us just right, but what my brothers and I have can’t be bought or infiltrated. Not even by something as enticing as Auset. She’s a plant, an informer of some sort. I’ve pieced together that much. What I don’t know is why.
Our relationship with Tilleo has been cordial since he took over Dorsin’s interests. He doesn’t know that my brothers and I are the reason Dorsin’s interests were even up for grabs, but he’s never needed to know that detail. So why now is Tilleo dangling this bait in front of us? What’s his endgame here? I doubt he’d want revenge if he found out about Dorsin and the part we played in his death. We also fund his enterprise here at the ludere in exchange for the information collected at these Biddings and long after. Why fuck with that? The only conclusion I can come to is that someone has paid him to infiltrate our Order.
I bite back the growl of frustration that wants to crawl up my throat, and stop myself from running disgruntled fingers through my smooth glamoured hair. I study the other spectators, wondering if one of the other Orders could be behind this, but immediately I dismiss the idea. It would have to be someone with more financial backing than the Order of Scorpions, and the only houses that can claim that are the royal ones.
Mentally, I tally the threats and enemies we’ve made in the royal houses over the years. No one stands out as being a viable option. Even if one of them was patient enough to come up with this plan, they’d never get the financial backing without one of the Crowns finding out about it. Luckily for us, our fathers have their uses for what we can do and what we’ve built as an Order. We may be the bastards of kings, but we’ve proven our worth to our sires time and time again over the years.
Skull hisses next to me, and I focus back on the mock battle occurring in the pit in front of us. Patches of red spot the surface of the circle as fights turn more fervent and brutal. The parched sand greedily drinks down the scarlet splatters while determined grunts and growls bounce off the walls of the ludere. Masters rebuke and cheer with equal frenzy, making it easy to see who they’ve put money on or bet against. I don’t know why Tilleo thinks this manic fighting is beneficial. We’re assassins, masters of subterfuge, secrecy, sneaking, and death. Why we’d need to see what these slaves can do in battle, is asinine. What’s happening in front of me right now is nothing more than sport.
I watch Auset move lithely as she goes in for the kill. Her opponent leaves his stomach open and she’s on it, pummeling him before I can even blink. Could she be from the Winter Court? I wonder as I take in her coloring. I try to recall any of the noble lines there that might have similar features, but we don’t deal with the Night Court often, and my memory is hazy. The Night Court is the only royal house currently lacking a seat at our table. I suppose it’s possible they’re the ones behind this, and yet they have no reason to want to infiltrate our ranks. King Korven is sterile. He hasn’t filled the empty throne at his side since Queen Akiruh died. Which means her useless nephew, Leyev, is the sole heir.
Leyev has bred a handful of bastards, but none of them are old enough to make a run for our ranks. The future heir spends his days wine drunk and buried between the legs of anyone willing. His biggest worry in life consists of planning what to wear at the next big party. Nothing more is required of him, and he likes it that way. There’s no chance he’d pick a fight with us. The king stoically locks himself away, his kingdom managed more by his advisors than by him directly. We have no issue with him or his court, so the question remains, who the hell is Auset, and more importantly, who is she working for and why?
Bones tenses next to me, and I’m pulled from my thoughts to find the fight still hasn’t ended. I thought Auset had the other blade slave, but they’re both back on their feet, and the large male is wobbling unsteadily toward her. His face is nothing more than bruises and dripping blood, and he’s favoring his left side. Undeterred by his injuries, he swings wildly at her. He’s outmatched in every way by the stunning blade slave, but it seems someone forgot to make him aware of that fact.
There’s no denying that whoever trained Auset created a lethal masterpiece. Maybe when all the curtains have been pulled back and the players revealed, we’ll kill Tilleo and hand over this ludere to the fae who polished this slave and made her sparkle the way she does. The realms know the Orders need more candidates like her. She’s a moon-kissed nightmare, and there’s no escape for her prey.
A rope snakes out from nowhere, lassoing one of Auset’s ankles and pulling her off balance. Immediately I see what’s made Bones taut with fury as several masters work to give Auset’s opponent the upper hand. They laugh as she struggles against their interference, she bobs and weaves avoiding the other blade slave’s sloppy swings while trying to pull her leg free of the rope. A tide of cheers rises up around us as another fight ends. A fight that several of the Orders were keenly watching, but I can’t pull my gaze from Auset.
I observe as anger floods her features just as she gets her leg free, only for the masters to quickly wind the rope back and prepare to try to snag her again. She snarls something at them, but there’s too much noise all around us to hear what it is. Before they can interfere once more, Auset leaps for her opponent. She’s utterly fearless as she attacks, knocking him to the ground and destroying him until he’s no longer moving. There are no cheers for her as she rises off her opponent’s wide chest, bloodied and breathing hard. All at once, her hand snaps back, and before I can track the movement, a broken piece of the bow she was fighting with goes flying through the air. It hits the master with the rope in his hands, square in the chest, the force of the blow knocking him on his ass.
Satisfaction flares in her eyes before the reality of what she just did slowly overtakes her indignant stare. The ludere instantly quiets. Apprehension and tension thicken the already cloying air all around us, the atmosphere growing even more blistering with each expectant heartbeat. The master Auset just assaulted is helped to his feet. Embarrassment and rage simmer in his eyes as he steadies himself and rubs at his chest.
He snarls a command that sounds more like a bark from a rabid dog than words to me, but whatever he growls, it makes Auset straighten. Without argument, she turns and strides over to a large log that’s been pounded into the sandy ground just outside the ring they’re currently fighting in. Her face flashes with fury before she steels herself, a careful mask shuttering down and blanking all expression as she lifts her arms expectantly.
Skull and Bones have both gone rigid, and I can tell that just like me, they are holding their breath. There’s a slight tremble from exhaustion, barely visible in Auset’s extended arms, but it disappears as another master wraps a leather band around her wrists, securing her to the fixed whipping post in the yard. He says something to her, which causes her to steady her eyes on the pole itself and pull in a deep breath as she readies her body for what’s to come.
How often do they do this to her?
The master that tied her hands pulls a dagger from his waist and runs the blade down the back of her pitiful armored chest plate before then shearing the tunic she’s wearing underneath it until her back is exposed. It’s smooth and muscular, without so much as a mark on it, but there wouldn’t be with the healers I know Tilleo employs here. My stomach roils as the fae moves away from her, leaving her alone and vulnerable as the master Auset knocked on his ass takes his place behind her. He tightens his grip on the brutal whip now clutched in his hands, and even at this distance, I can see the manic look on his face.
Fury and disgust constrict around my heart at the enjoyment I know this fucker is about to get from this. I want to rip him in half. I want to cleave his head from his shoulders with my bare hands and spit down his spurting throat while I stomp on his still beating heart. I want to rage, to demand all of this stops now. But I know I can’t. I have to sit here, still and silent as they try to destroy something too wild and beautiful for the savage world they live in. To do anything else would open us up to weakness, and that’s something my brothers and I can never afford.
A sharp crack rents the air. I fight the flinch that wants to jerk through me as the whip connects with Auset’s back, quick as a striking snake. She’s a monolith of strength against the large wooden beam. There’s no recoil, no gasp of shock or hiss of pain as the tips of the braided leather slice open her skin and muscle. I instantly hate that she’s good at this. That she knows what to expect because she’s been here too many times before. That keen understanding sinks in my gut like a stone in water, unsettling me in ways I can’t look at too closely right now.
My nails dig into my palms as I clench my fists tighter and tighter with each punishing blow and resounding crack in the air. They come fast, a steady rhythm of pain and punishment, and the only hint Auset gives of the agony she has to be in is the white-knuckled hold on the leather straps tying her in place. I stop counting the lashes when it starts to take all my effort not to rise from my seat and bellowenough. Blood pools at her feet, and a tremor moves its way down her legs as she begins to struggle to keep her legs locked despite the torture these craven masters are putting her through.
Order members around us go back to their drinking and whispered conversations as though all of this is just part of a typical day. Looking at some of them, it probably is, but none of this sits right with me. It’s one thing to keep ranks in line, it’s another to torture and take your anger out on the powerless. As assassins, most wouldn’t think that we would care one way or the other, but the Order of Scorpions does. Tilleo once did too.
I observe the slave master as he downs another full glass of wine and laughs heartily with a member from the Order of Crows. He’s completely indifferent to the cadenced cracks of the whip against Auset’s back. It seems Tilleo has lost sight of things in more ways than one. Skull’s weight rocks forward as though he’s preparing to pounce, and Bones shoots out a hand to stop him. Skull sends an agonized look over his shoulder to me, and it makes my jaw clench and my fists tighten even more.
