The voice came from nearby, casual in tone but not in focus.
A woman sat in front of her, legs folded beneath layers of deep ruby-red fabric spilling in waves from her waist. Her sleeveless bodice was snug, made of dark leather stretched across her torso and cinched at the waist. And poking out from under the skirt, bare toes rested on the stone floor as she eased forward, chin resting on her hands, elbows braced on her knees.
“It is the truth.” Aimee’s fingers ached to rub her temples.
Fool. It was too early for questions like this. She didn’t know enough about this world to sound like she belonged.
Maybe Kazuma had a point. A few broken ribs or a head wound would’ve made this much easier to explain. Something clean. Amnesia.
“Then convince me.” The woman leaned back, arms folding neatly across her chest as she shrugged her long, deep red ponytail over one shoulder.
Looking toward the bed where Kazuma stirred under the old woman’s hands, Aimee’s mouth clamped.
Proving loyalty usually only ended one way.
“You want me to kill him.”
Her knuckles dug against her sternum without thought.
I’ve killed millions. Why would this one be any different?
“Kill him?” The other woman’s brows rose. “Great Phoenix, no.” Her tone held genuine offense as she bent forward again. “Unlike theHavens, we value all life here.” Her nose wrinkled as she looked toward Kazuma. “Even one so tainted.”
Reaching back with both hands to catch the end of her own ponytail, Aimee twisted it loosely around her fingers. “That’s too bad.” She finally exhaled. “I was actually looking forward to it.”
“Liar.”
The word rasped from the bed. He coughed once, then again, harder this time, and the old woman tending him swatted him lightly on the forehead.
“Be still.” She pressed his head back into the pillow. “I will not have you wasting my efforts.”
Kazuma groaned, eyes fluttering shut again, mumbling, “Women.”
And then went quiet.
“Well.” Aimee’s interrogator pushed herself upright, red skirts whispering against stone as she rose. “You’re going to have your hands full with that one.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Aimee surged to her feet, the chair scraping against the floor behind her. “For the hundredth time—we are not together.”
“You are now.” She stepped in and took both of Aimee’s bound wrists in her hands, clasping them lightly around the woven metal.
“No. Madam. Please. I only brought him here because he forced me into a bargain.”
The restraints began to warm, and a moment later, the cords unraveled and fell free, pooling in the woman’s hand like a strand of quicksilver.
“And you kept your word.” She tucked the rope into a pocket at her hip. “I can appreciate that.” Her eyes leveled with Aimee’s. “But now he’s your responsibility.”
Aimeerubbed at the raw skin of her wrists, circulation prickling back with a flare of heat. “What does that mean—‘my responsibility’?”
The woman’s eyes slid toward the bed where Kazuma lay motionless.
“You should both be dead.” Her lips compressed in the beginnings of a scowl. “Outsiders are not permitted entry to the Hearth. Not under any circumstance.”
Aimee didn’t speak.
“But he’s been marked by the Serpent,” the woman continued. “And you…” She hesitated, just enough to be noticeable. “Our Mistress is curious about you, Aimee.” The woman stepped back, smooth as ever. “So you will both remain here for the rest of your days.”
“Therest of our days?” Aimee chased after her, voice rising. “What the hell does that mean?”
