Their power demanded it.
“What’s your name?” I kept my voice thin, wary of Egath or Tallon lurking beyond the door, ready to turn this into another terrible joke.
Her mouth pressed into a pale line. A faint shake of her head answered me.
Breath left me in a slow exhale, and I eased back onto my throbbing stomach.
“Aida.” She worried her lower lip between blunt front teeth and traced the tray’s rim with a ragged nail.
“You’re human.” The words slipped out before I could cage them. I held still, fighting the instinct to seize her chin and inspect her mouth.
Another glance flicked toward the door. Her shoulders drew inward. “We all are.”
“But your teeth—they’re flat.” I tore a strip of meat with my fingers and wiped grease across the sheet. Oil soaked into linen, already damp with sweat and old blood.
Aida hooked a finger inside her cheek and pulled. Four teeth had been carved into sharp points, crude and animal-like. Shereleased her mouth and folded her hands together. “They mark status. You needn’t fear the flats.”
“The more sharpened teeth, the higher the rank?” I barely shaped the question, then took another bite to encourage her to keep talking.
“The flats carry no magic.” Air hitched in her chest. Her lips sealed tight, regret flashing across her face as she glanced at the door.
“Aida, I will speak nothing of this. Please. Don’t leave me.” My hand lifted toward hers, then faltered. The gesture had been meant to comfort, but she looked at it as if it were a snake aiming to strike. I withdrew before she flinched.
“If Egath catches me,” she breathed, voice thin as thread, “I’ll be sent to the farms.” Panic hollowed her eyes. “Force feeding is only the beginning. Do not anger the nobles.”
She rose once she saw me chewing and smoothed her dress with careful palms. The cut matched the other servants. Sleeves to the wrist, hem brushing stone, neckline stretched wide across her shoulders. Pale scars traced her collarbones.
My chest pulled toward her retreating figure, hunger for something beyond food gnawing deeper than the ache in my belly. I needed an ally. A voice that did not drip with cruelty. Yet suspicion prowled close behind the longing. What if this kindness masked another trap? Deimos enjoyed elaborate cruelty. Tallon adored spectacle. He would let her near me, let trust take root, then slit her throat before my eyes to prove ownership.
“Will you bind my back?” I called as she neared the door.
“If your handler permits.” The words barely carried across the chamber. Her fingers closed around the latch. She slipped out without a backward glance.
“Good dogs get treats.” Tallon’s grin flashed as he tossed a lacquered box onto the mattress.
I squeezed my eyes shut and gathered the tatters of my strength before facing him.
“Deimos won’t be happy,” Egath muttered.
“I don’t care what your king thinks of how I treat my pets.”
“He’s your king as well. Remember that, princeling.”
I forced myself upright in time to catch the venom in Tallon’s glare. Egath did not react. He settled into the plush chair as though boredom shielded him, hands braced on his knees. Damp hair clung to his temples, water still darkening the strands—fresh from a bath. Emerald irises caught the lantern’s glow.
He should have been handsome.
Instead, my stomach knotted with terror.
No ally waited in him. I was a trophy. Spoils dragged in by hounds and tossed at another beast.
“Open it.” Tallon thrust the box toward me.
Pain split across my back as I shifted. Each movement sent burning agony through torn flesh.
“Gods, you’re such a child.” He snatched it away and ripped the lid free.
White gauze replaced the blood-red I had worn. The cloth drifted onto the bed like shed skin. He reached inside again and drew out a tangle of gold chains. A collar rose from the mess, tall and gleaming, fashioned in the same cruel shape he had forced on me before. Scales shimmered along its curve.
