“I…” She looked to Alba, Dommik, and then back to me, “I…”
“Where is Rhaz—His Majesty?” I finally asked, doing a poor job at feigning indifference.
“He is—” Dommik blew out a heavy breath as he folded his arms and leaned against the closest wall “—occupied.”
An unladylike sound burst from me. “Right, occupied.”
Alba consoled the shaken female as Dommik reminded me, “My lady, this Hive is not our home. Things are different here.”
“Notsodifferent it would seem,” I said quietly, rubbing my chest and sending my gaze to the ceiling.
How did I get here? To this place. Waiting my turn to be a chosen decoration to an important man. How did this keep happening to me?
Alba cleared her throat. “Lord Thorne. There isn’t much time.”
“Right. This is Talia.” He gestured to the now swaying, mentally distant woman.
Evidence of past beauty lingered between the external abuse and trauma her body carried. I tried to rein in my natural sneer and count my blessings. Because I’m the exception, and her role within the Hive is the norm. I should be thankful it wasn’t me, malnourished, sun deprived, stripped of all free will, standing in a stranger’s room in a repurposed grain bag.
“One of seven sisters. Eryx rotates them.”
“His seven, special sisters. One for each day of the week.” Talia’s pale bottom lip quivered. Eryx said that he and Rhazien had drained one of the sisters before the ball. So much for a favorite of the Northern Hive regent getting special treatment and so much for his daily rotation of fresh blood and bodies.
My heart ached thinking about my one daughter who I’d given away for a better life. But Talia was one of seven. Her mother birthed seven babies. Seven people who carried her legacy, heart, and soul through this world. Their lives boiled down to nothing but sustenance for a cruel regent.
“Right.” Dommik offered her a soft, comforting smile that melted something inside me as well. “Talia, we think you can help us.”
Her eyes widened like a doe who had just heard a twig snap. “Help you? With what?”
“We need to find something. We think you might know where it is,” Dommik explained.
She shook her head. Her mouth agape and brown eyes flared with fear. “No. He’ll?—”
Dommik splayed his hands in an attempt to calm and sway her initial refusal. “Talia. He won’t know.”
She chewed on her bottom lip. “How?”
Dommik pivoted and gestured to me.
“She knows where the stone is?” I asked Dommik before addressing Talia.
“She might.” He tipped his head side to side. “We won’t know unless we try.”
Dommik proceeded to describe the lore of the stone. What it lacked in size or even its style and quality of cut, it more than made up for in power. It sounded unremarkable.
I’d received vague descriptions by clients in the past, but those items had been owned, worn, held by the client seeking them out. Lorana’s Stone was unknown to everyone in this room. Possibly everyone in this entire Hive.
“That’s not much to go on.” I exhaled.
“Maybe. But Talia has lived here her whole life and her experience with precious gems is much more limited than yours,” Dommik countered under his breath.
My cheeks flushed and a sour feeling of guilt swirled in my throat. I was once again reminded of my fortunate position. Talia didn’t choose her circumstance and this subterranean life filled with darkness and pain and unrelenting abuse was all she knew.
No glittering balls. Not even an affectionate touch. No one asked her what she wanted. She didn’t pout when she didn’t get her way. Her mere presence humbled me.
My slippers tapped lightly on the stone floor as I cautiously approached the skittish woman.
“Talia, I’m Reyva,” I said in a soft tone I might use to greet a fearful child.
