Page 16

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

X enia was only half-listening as Mistress Ostere, the head of the human staff, lead her on a tour of Stoneridge’s lower floors.

Xenia tensed every time they rounded a new corner. Every time the woman opened a new door. Every time they reached a new hallway.

But Xenia had yet to encounter what she was looking for.

Gray eyes, grumpy frown, lone wing.

When Xenia had arrived earlier, Master Laskaris had given her into the care of Mistress Ostere, who seemed kind enough, if not a little curt. Grumbled something about having to train new staff at a time like this.

“Here’s your room,” the woman said, opening a door at the end of a low-ceilinged hallway. The cramped nook contained nothing but a pine-framed bed and wardrobe.

More comfortable than Xenia’s last cell, but still a cell.

“Shared bathroom’s over there.” Mistress Ostere gestured down the hall before opening the wardrobe to reveal three evergreen dresses and white aprons, plus several pairs of gray stockings. “Your new uniform.” She pulled a box from her pocket and handed it to Xenia, who rattled the contents. “Hair pins. Keep that wild mane of curls tamed. From now on, you’re invisible. Your goal is to blend in with the furniture. Do not speak to the Fae unless spoken to first. And even on those rare occasions, be absolutely certain a verbal response is desired. And keep away from the High Councilor’s sons. Especially Tomas, the blond one. If he gets a hold of you, it’s best to just let him have his way. Don’t fight him. He’s killed human girls for less.”

Xenia shuddered, trying to find the positives of her situation and coming up empty. She was nothing but a piece of property—bought and sold to a new master. Barely different than the Shrouded Sister she’d been in the colonies.

Though there was one positive here.

Cael.

She needed to find him and convince him to…do what, exactly? Escape with her? Return to the colonies? Join the rebellion she’d heard Laskaris yammering about during their journey?

“Get yourself dressed, and pin back your hair,” Mistress Ostere said, exiting Xenia’s room to give her privacy to change.

“It’s time for your introduction to the High Councilor.”

Xenia stood in the darkened hallway outside High Councilor Zephyrus’s office, pulling at the hem which barely passed the top of her thigh-high wool stockings. She didn’t want to expose her thighs, especially not in front of Phidion Laskaris, whose growly voice echoed through the thick oak doors.

Mistress Ostere was already gone, having deposited Xenia here moments ago. She’d told Xenia to listen for a pause in the conversation, then knock to be let in. Xenia was a bit shocked to be left to her own devices.

Was the woman not concerned that Xenia might try to escape? She hadn’t toured these upper floors yet, but they were as silent as the night outside. Perfect for prowling.

Xenia had already risked plenty to find Cael. Why stop now?

She’d only taken a few steps away from the office doors when someone shuffled up behind her and a deep, amused voice whispered into her ear, “What are you doing up here alone, little human?”

She spun to face a handsome Fae male with melted chocolate eyes and the same tousled hair as Cael. His wry smirk exposed a hint of fang, and his fleshy wings rose over his shoulders.

Xenia didn’t know if she should answer or not. Had he seen her slip away from the door? And what had Mistress Ostere said? Don’t speak unless spoken to.

The male was very obviously one of Cael’s brothers. If she hadn’t been able to tell from the hair, his long nose and sharp jawline would’ve given it away. His lips were fuller though, and he had an air of casual sensuality that didn’t match Cael’s severity.

He stepped closer. “Are you new here? You seem lost. You can answer me, you know.” He held out a hand. “Erik Zephyrus. Third spare heir and indolent lay-about.”

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 that any human 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 perfect addition 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 were Cael’s eyes 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’s wedding gift.

“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 of drachas Laskaris 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.”

She rushed over, didn’t dare hesitate, and he grabbed her by the back of the neck. Before she could tense her muscles, Arran pressed the needle underneath her ear and pulled the trigger.

Fiery pain radiated through her jaw, and she clenched her teeth to muffle a scream.

“A tracking device,” Arran whispered. “And if you try to leave the estate or remove it, well...” His bloodthirsty smile was the most terrifying thing Xenia had yet encountered on the continent. “Let’s just say you wouldn’t be very pretty anymore.” Xenia quivered, lifting her fingers to the wound before Arran crushed her hand in his fist. “Don’t touch it. It’s coated in healing salve and will heal quickly. Return to your quarters.”

Xenia darted for the door, trying not to think about how drastically her circumstances had just changed. A fucking tracking device ? Oh, her mission to find Cael was going great.

She wrapped her fingers around the bronze handle and pulled the door open.

Then nearly collapsed to her knees in bone-deep relief when she saw who filled it.