She shook his proffered hand. It was warm and soft, no hint of those warrior’s calluses Cael sported. She couldn’t be sure if she had anything to fear from Erik. He wasn’t the blond brother Mistress Ostere had warned her about, but she had no idea if Erik shared Cael’s tolerance of humans.
She dipped her head as she answered, making herself as small and meek as possible. “My name is Xenia. I just arrived today. Mistress Ostere brought me up here to meet the High Councilor.”
“Come then, I’ll introduce you.” He lifted her chin. “But you must cower and pretend to be terribly impressed by my father, otherwise you’ll bruise his fragile ego and he’ll force Mistress Ostere to assign you some terrible task like mucking the stables or cleaning the toilets.” He opened the door and, placing a hand on the small of her back, led her into the room.
The smell hit her first, a charred licorice scent she didn’t recognize. And then there was the smoke—whipped cream clouds so thick she could only see seated silhouettes through them. Across the room, a massive oak desk was piled with folders, logbooks, and loose documents. A violet commstone had been discarded atop the mess.
“Ah, here’s the gift I was telling you about, Arran.” Laskaris swatted away the smoke, revealing his pudgy face, then pushed up from the leather couch and extinguished his cigarette. His pupils were so dilated, he could’ve been drinking Delirium. But she didn’t see any bottles on the coffee table.
Erik nudged her forward, and Laskaris’s palms fell upon her shoulders as he examined her face, hair, and uniform. His glazed eyes snagged on her skirt, and she fought an urge to tug her hem down again. “Yes, they’ve cleaned you up nicely.”
He turned Xenia toward Arran, and she averted her gaze to the floor, suddenly terrified that Cael’s father could see right through her. That he knew who she was, what she and Cael had done, and would punish her for it.
Or worse, punish his son.
Her brief glimpse had revealed braided copper hair, a long, groomed beard, and two enormous dusky wings tipped with sharp black talons.
Arran Zephyrus was not a Fae thatanyhuman would dare look in the eye.
Laskaris petted her hair. “Pretty thing, isn’t she? And quite tall, for a human. When I saw her, I knew she’d be the perfectaddition to your household. You don’t have any blondes, do you?”
Xenia didn’t dare look up, though she heard Arran’s sniff before his voice cut through her, sharp as steel and twice as deadly. “No. We don’t.”
Her heart hammered as the toes of his thick boots invaded her line of sight, and she rubbed clammy palms on her apron.
Arran snatched her jaw, not gently, and forced her head up.
High Gods, those wereCael’seyes piercing her. Flint gray and unyielding.
He turned her face side to side, then released her chin to peruse the rest of her, grunting his disapproval. “This one will be a distraction. You really shouldn’t have, Phidion.”
Laskaris waved a hairy hand. “Nonsense. I asked around for weeks, trying to figure out what to give my oldest friend and most cherished business partner. And soon to be co-grand-parent, Faurana bless us.” He wheezed out a laugh, spittle coating his thick lips, and Xenia’s stomach churned.
She’d almost forgotten that she was the family’sweddinggift.
“I don’t usually allow pretty young women onto the household staff,” Arran said. “Not after what happened to the last one.”
Laskaris laughed. “Oh, I’ll bet there’s a fun story there.”
Erik piped up from where he was leaning against the forest-green damask wallpaper. “Fun for Tomas. Not so fun for the human he impregnated.”
Though his words were casual, irreverent even, there was a dark edge to his tone.
“Why?” Laskaris asked, picking a spot of ash from his beard. “What happened to her? When my humans get pregnant, we just add the child to the staff.”
“That’s not how we do things here,” Arran growled, flaring his wings. “I took care of it. We do not sully our bloodline with half-human bastards.” He bent forward, bringing his terrifying face far too close to her own. She was going to vomit all over his boots. “If you value your pathetic mortal existence, you’ll keep your legs closed and stay away from my sons.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
Arran’s hand was instantly at her throat. “Do not speak to me unless I explicitly tell you to do so. Is that clear?”
Xenia nodded furiously, her eyes stinging, trying to suck a breath past Arran’s vise-like grip.
“She’s turning purple, Father,” Erik crooned. “You should probably let go before you waste the surely considerable amount ofdrachasLaskaris spent on this gift.”
Laskaris laughed nervously. “A pittance.”
Arran released her and she gulped down a breath as quietly as possible, not wanting to anger him further. He strode to his desk and opened a drawer. The device he pulled out resembled a stun pistol, but the barrel ended in a thick needle-like spout. He placed something into the chamber, then racked the pistol. Xenia jumped at the terrifying click before he snapped his fingers at her. “Come.”
