I don’t watch. Don’t pay attention. Just stare at the back wall and pretend I’m somewhere else where my mind’s not being picked at.
It was nice when he began plucking through my thoughts, leaving my words redundant. Like a convenient tickle.
Now it stabs.
He returns with a black leather-bound book with a pearly Moonplume embossed on the cover, a pot of ink, and a bundle of coal sticks. He also has a small metal sharpening tool that looks capable of withstanding the force of the stone I very much intend to use to punch the linchpin free of my shackle.
He piles some gold coins into a pouch I suspect is my “change,” packs it all into a brown leather tote with a flap that buckles into place, then slides it across the counter. “Your measurements are in the ledger?”
“I believe so.”
“Then I’ll send a lark once your purchases are prepared and ready to be collected.”
“Thank you.” I take the bag, the leather supple beneath my grip.
Such a beautiful, high-quality knapsack. It seems wasted on m—
“It’s not,” he says, garnishing me with a soft smile. “Rain is coming. I don’t want your diary to soil. It’s such a beautiful one, and I want you to be able to enjoy it.”
Frowning, I look to the ceiling. To where a round window is spilling a bold beam of sunlight that ignites eddies of dust. “It looks perfectly fine to me.”
“You’d be able to hear it coming if it weren’t for the iron cuff. And if you bothered to listen.”
His words pinch all my tender spots, my blood chilling as I realize how deep he’s dug. “It’s easier not to,” I bite out.
“You listen to Clode.”
I grind my teeth so hard I fear they might shatter, feeling like a skeleton picked of all its meat—just bones left to bleach in the sun. “Clode’s playful, wild and vicious. Strong and feisty. She doesn’t wallow or sulk or feel sorry for herself.”
“Rayne is—”
“Tears. She’s bloodshed. Rayne’s the frost that sticks to the skin of the dead who are tossed over the wall for the beasts of The Shade to feast upon. Rayne’s the snow that coats the shaded half of this fucked-up world. Rayne’s—”
“Power, my dear.”
My next word sputters on my tongue.
“Rayne is power,” he continues. “Half a world coated in powdered power no one is strong enough to wield. Though you could, if you did not tuck sadness into that icy lake within you, along with—”
“Thank you, kind sir. For accepting my candlestick as currency.”
There’s a stretch of silence before he dips his head so low it could almost be a bow. “It’s been my greatest honor, Raeve.”
With the leather satchel clutched close to my chest, I spin, making for the door, feeling like a sour bogsberry was just squeezed all over my brain and rubbed between the folds. Massaged real fucking deep.
This dae may have started off on a high, but it’s swiftly losing its luster.
Afemale came to me this dae with the same ember eyes as the male who visited last slumber. Just as remarkable to look at, with thick, curly hair and freckles on her nose and cheeks. She cradled a bowl of food she was brave enough to set down beside Slátra’s coiled tail.
I took one look at it and fell back to sleep, only to be woken some time later by the beautiful, heavily scarred male scooping me into his arms.
I thrashed and screamed, but Slátra did nothing. Nothing! Not even a growl.
The male tucked me against his chest, his arms so strong I realized that fighting was useless. And tiring. I had so little energy left and not much left to fight for anyway.
He carried me up the tunnel of stairs and into the Imperial Stronghold. He dumped me in a tub full of warm, bubbly water, fully clothed, then stormed from the room, leaving me alone with the female I suppose is his kin.
She undressed me, and I lacked the care to stop her, but I did try to hide myself as she bared my breasts. She pushed my hands away and scrubbed me down, telling me that where she was brought up, bodies are not seen as something to be shy about, no matter their shape or size. That flesh is not treated as some great secret, and breasts are worshiped for the way they nourish the younglings of their clan.
She introduced herself as Veya Vaegor and apologized for her brother’s behavior, talking to me as if I was conversing back.
I wondered which brother she was speaking of. I don’t believe I could ever accept an apology for what Tyroth Vaegor has so willingly taken from me.