Jarek was not put off. He stepped in closer, careful not to turn his back to her brother and the scrublander. The commandant never turned his back on a threat.
“Dance with me.”
Asha stared once more at the slave pouring tea. “You know I don’t dance.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” Jarek’s grip tightened, allowing him to easily maneuver her away from her brother and his scrublander friend.
“Hey.Sandeater.” Dax grabbed the sleeve of Jarek’s shirt. “She doesn’t want to dance with you.”
Jarek’s eyes flashed. He shoved Dax. Easily.
The heir stumbled into Roa, spilling his cup of wine over them both. Roa’s lips parted in shock, her hands fluttering to the maroon stain seeping through her creamy linen dress.
“Excuse us.” Jarek smirked, forcing Asha into the crowd, toward the music. As he did, Asha glanced back over her shoulder and caught a glimpse of Roa’s narrowed eyes.
“I haven’t seen you in a month,” Jarek said in her ear. “I buy you a dress three times the price it’s worth. Now it’s time for you to do as I ask.”
Asha was about to repeat her refusal—more clearly this time—when that voice returned, calling her name. She didn’t look. She knew she’d find no one there. And besides,wherewould she look? The voice called to her from a hundred directions at once.
Asha. Asha. Asha.
It reminded her of a story....
She forced the thought out of her head as Jarek dragged her onward, closer to the music. He pulled her into him, locking his arms around her waist so their bodies aligned. So she could feel his desire—hard and prodding.
Feeling sick, Asha turned her face away. She shouldn’t have. It was dangerous to show weakness in front of the commandant. But after ten days of hunting in the Rift, Asha didn’t have any energy left for games.
“I don’t dance,” she said again, pressing her hands firmly against the black silk of his shirt, trying to force space between them.
“And I don’t take no for an answer.” His hands tightened around her. His eyes seemed too hungry tonight. Like a starved animal.
Asha looked away, over Jarek’s shoulder, right into thefreckled face of his slave. The skral stood in a semicircle of musicians at the center of the courtyard, their backs to the calm water of the wide basin.
While Jarek spoke, Asha watched, spellbound, as the slave’s fingers moved like spiders across the strings of his worn, pear-shaped lute. His eyes were closed in concentration, as if he’d gone somewhere else entirely, somewhere far away from this courtyard.
Sensing her gaze, the slave opened his eyes. At the sight of the Iskari staring him down, his fingers fumbled the strings. He recovered quickly, then looked to the man holding her captive. That dreamy, faraway look vanished, replaced by a scowl as dark as a storm cloud.
“Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” Jarek asked.
He sounded so far away.
For the last time that evening, the call rang out. Her name on the wind. Only this time, it echoed through the whole courtyard.
Surely, everyone can hear it,Asha thought.
But when she looked around, draksors danced and laughed and sipped their tea, oblivious.
Something was wrong. Asha could sense the wrongness buzzing in her bones. She needed to get out of here.
Asha wrenched herself from Jarek, who wasn’t expecting this kind of answer and let go more easily than usual. She stumbled, tripping over dancers as she did, and the music screeched to a halt.
The call drummed in her ears. Beat in her blood. Pushed out everything else.
Asha, Asha, Asha.
It made her dizzy. When she looked up, the eyes of Jarek’s slave were staring into hers.
Look away,she warned. But the sunset sky was rolling down now and the courtyard floor was rolling up and when Asha closed her eyes to make it stop, she felt herself sway... and then fall.
