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The scar in my neck throbbed as Nytara’s power rolled over mine. My skin erupted in gooseflesh as her freezing cold energy nipped across my liquid magick, leaving little frostbitten sheets of ice across my aura.
My breath caught in my throat and I tensed, just as Trenton looked up from his conversation with Sofia, who was handing him a room key. Blackwood slid the key into the pocket of his suit pants and turned towards Dossidian and I, his gaze raking over us critically.
Trenton Blackwood was clean cut, with short dark hair and could often be found in expensive, tailored business suits. He had a square jaw and blue-grey eyes that resembled chips of ice. He held himself with the air of someone who came from old money. I had always found his demeanor out of place considering his upbringing. He had been raised primarily in foster homes after he allegedly killed his own parents as a child.
Trenton was not much older than I was. We’d interacted several times in the past, usually at Board meetings. None of our interactions had ever been particularly pleasant, and by the way he was looking at Dossidian and I, I had a feeling this one wouldn’t be any different.
Sofia, sensing the tension in the room, spoke up before anyone else had the opportunity to.
“I will remind you, Trenton, that the chalet is a neutral space. Any magick used against another board member or their guests within the bounds of these wards is forbidden and will result in the termination of your membership.”
Trenton spun his signet ring on his finger with his thumb, as he gave Sofia a saccharine grin.
“Sofia,” he drawled, giving her a charming smile. “I wouldn’t dream of such a thing. I think it’s noble of you to allow Mr. Brown an opportunity to present his case. I’m sure it will be an excellent learning experience for him. Are you looking forward to your first opening meeting, Conrad?” He asked me, examining his perfectly manicured nails.
This is what Trenton did. My grandmother had called it ‘emotional sniping.’ The words themselves were not where the insults lay. It was the way they were delivered. When Trenton spoke, or addressed someone who he felt was less than, it was always difficult to put your finger on what it was he said that was so grating and offensive.
Any reaction or retaliation would be seen as over the top or aggressive, which is precisely what he wanted. I had played this game with him before, and the best way to handle someone like Trenton, was to respond to the words themselves, and not the intended insult behind them. Nothing infuriated a narcissist more than completely failing to rise to the bait.
“Yeah, mi looking forward to it.” I smiled at him easily. He smiled back at me, though it didn’t reach his eyes.
“I always forget how strong your accent is. I’m sure that won’t affect your case at all, though. You shouldn’t worry about it.” He winked at me before nodding to Sofia. “Thank you for the room Sofia, I can see myself up.”
“Who is this daemon you have brought with you?” Sofia asked sharply, gesturing to The Siren. “Will she need a room as well?”
Trenton paused, looking at Nytara, as if he had forgotten she was there. A distinct look of disgust crossed his face before his charming mask slipped back into place.
“She certainly won’t be staying with me.” He replied easily, before turning away. “If you feel the need to waste resources on her, be my guest. Otherwise, there’s a shed or two out back that I’m sure will do just fine.” He laughed, and I was suddenly overcome with the urge to bury my rapier into the perfectly straight seam in the back of his suit jacket.
I looked over at The Siren, and she cast her gaze downwards, her expression unreadable. I narrowed my eyes and exchanged a glance with Dossidian, who also looked conflicted.
There was a crushing, heavy, moment of silence, before I looked expectantly to Sofia, curious to see what she would do. There was no way for Sofia to know that The Siren had played a role in preventing us from waking The Origin in our previous mission.
I hated her, for having stabbed me. I hated her, for being the reason Amon and Kasha had been taken, but it was more complicated than that. She was also enslaved, and a large part of me wondered if she had a choice in the matter, if she would really choose to follow Ash Nevra.
My hand fell to my shadowstone rapier, and I allowed my aura to gently brush against the slavery bond that kept Nytara’s wintery aura in check. Regardless of who Nytara was to me, the way Trenton had just treated her felt inexcusable. My grandmother had raised me better than that.
“Yuh a guh give har a room?” I asked Sofia darkly, my tone implying that to do otherwise would make me think less of her.
Sofia pursed her lips but nodded her head slowly, reaching under the front desk to get a key out for Nytara.
The Siren’s eyes shot to mine, and her expression grew cold.
“I don’t need your pity.” She snapped at me. Sofia held out the key to her, and she glanced at the witch in disgust.
I frowned. “Trust mi, mi nuh pity you. Mi just think even you deserve better than a shed.” My tone was colder than I meant for it to be.
I really didn’t like her.
The Siren glared before brushing Sofia off and stalking toward me. I tensed, wondering for a moment if she was going to attack, but she just rammed her shoulder into me on her way by, glancing down at my sword as she did so.
“I hope you know how to use that, Obeah Man. You won’t be so lucky for round two.” Her voice was flat and cold, but she slammed the door hard enough on her way out that the walls shook.
I clenched my fists at my side and exchanged a look with Dossidian, who pursed his lips.
“Let’s make sure we practice every day.” He said softly. I nodded, rubbing my hand over the healed wound on my neck.
I really hoped Meredith had found what she needed to replenish her hemoglo stock. I had a feeling that neither Trenton or The Siren had any intention of following the house rules.
