The woman’s head shot up. “Ker,” Aneka said, her voice rich yet weightless, like the plucked string of a harp.
“What are you doing here?” Cassandra asked, jealousy ripping through her gut, hot and churning.
Had Aneka been here before?
She thought back to that night when she and Tristan had seen Aneka at the Serpent’s Den. There’d been not a hint of familiarity on either of their faces. But perhaps they were just trying to hide it from August, Aneka’s master?
She couldn’t help the visions that slithered through her mind. The two of them entangled on the couch behind her, Tristan’s head bobbing between Aneka’s creamy thighs.
Curse Letha, Cassandra had watched too many dirty memories.
And based on her own recent experience with Tristan’s tongue, she knew all too well that talent like that didn’t miraculously appear without lots andlotsof practice.
August’s taunts echoed in her ear.
Do you know how many mortal women I’ve had over the centuries? How many your master has had?
It seemed so simple to ignore Tristan’s history when they were together. But as soon as they were apart, the notches on his bedpost—not to mention the scar on his palm and the gaping wound in his heart—became all too apparent.
She stammered through the unwelcome vision. “How…how did you know where Tristan lives?”
“I didn’t come to see him. I came to see you. I wanted to make sure you were okay after what happened at the Vicereine’s party last night. I found Tristan’s address in August’s office after I visited the Temple this morning.”
Her blood-boiling envy cooled, though confusion swiftly took its place. “The Temple?”
“I go there to have my memories pulled sometimes. It’s…it’s easier if I don’t have to remember.”
Aneka pulled back her hood and realization sank, sharp and heavy, into Cassandra’s stomach.
A deep purple bruise surrounded Aneka’s left eye, and only a sliver of striking, pale green shone through the swollen lid.
None of the woman’s typical slinky confidence was on show. She seemed more like a broken doll, discarded without a second thought.
“Did August do this to you?” Cassandra asked.
Aneka hung her head, her pale golden hair spilling around her shoulders while she wrung her hands together. “I assume so. He…he was quite angry after we left the party. Only Letha now knows whatever happened between us once we returned to his townhouse.”
Any jealousy or possessiveness Cassandra had felt over Aneka’s obvious covetousness of Tristan hardened into righteous anger. No wonder Tristan had wanted no part of that scene.
Aneka tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, lowering her voice further. “I’m so envious of you. Tristan looks at you like you’re someone to be cherished. Not a piece of property to be used and then—” Aneka’s voice caught as she choked back a thick sob, and drops leaked from her swollen eye. “I want to get away from him, but I don’t know where else to go, what else to do. What options does a mortal woman have in a place like this? I can’t become a Sister. I’m…spoiled.”
Cassandra weighed her options, her compassion, as always, overriding her good sense. No one deserved to be treated the way Aneka was being treated. Guilt twisted Cassandra’s stomach that she herself was the catalyst for August’s anger and therefore the cause of Aneka’s garish bruise.
And she remembered the look of concern in Aneka’s eyes at the party last night. How Aneka had seen August hauling Cassandra off the dance floor then darted away. Tristan had shown up moments later.
Perhaps she and Aneka could continue to help each other.
She only took a moment before deciding to share her secrets with the broken woman standing before her.
“Come inside,” Cassandra said, stepping back and holding the door open. “And Aneka? My name isn’t Ker.”
* * *
“Well,do you have any idea when he might be back?”
Tristan placed his fingers on the desk of Ronin Matakos’s assistant, a Windrider female with dark-brown skin and fleshy wings, who sat outside the male’s temporary office on the second floor of the Secretariat.
He’d spent the afternoon placating his brother and the Vicereine, reassuring them that though Cassandra hadn’t gained any specific evidence last night, she had been able to bait Councilor Lambros into admitting his disdain for the Emperor.
