Page 17 of Forge the Blade

“See. You did murder someone—someones!” Ash pointed at Ellisandre.

“Can’t prove it.” Ellisandre lopped off a large section of pancake and stuffed it in their mouth.

Ash groaned and sagged down into the chair until his back was nearly on the same level as his ass.

Ellisandre chewed and swallowed. “For someone you’re accusing of murder, you don’t seem very afraid of me.”

“I’m surrounded by psychos.” Ash threw his hands in the air. “Ms. Linda is the most normal of all of you, and she’s currently mocking up a skyline on the kitchen counter with celery. Also, she’s wearing your clothes from two days ago.”

“But we’re your psychos.”

“Yes, for better or worse. You’re all my psychos.” Ash threw his arms wide as if to encompass everyone who was not currently in the room. “Since when did I become the normal one?”

Ellisandre chuckled and mimed flicking a bit of food at him. “You, Ash, are not normal. You’re Dana’s monster.”

Ash narrowed his eyes at Ellisandre. “So I’m the monster but you kill people?”

“Some people are fond of monsters and not fond of people.”

Ash snorted and stood up. “Psychos. All of us. I’m going to get a computer and go erase that footage. It would help if you could tell me when and what.”

“Take Alice with you to watch your back. She knows what you need to erase.”

Eating breakfast only took up so much time. They were delaying the inevitable, facing Sevastyan in the light of day. Yesterday, under pressure, things had been simple. There was a mission. And there still was a mission. One that had expanded significantly. But the pressure wasn’t in the red zone.

Sevastyan had a slave. Sevastyan had a slave he loved. A slave he was prepared to die for. No, a man he was prepared to die for. Why did they keep thinking of Rei as a slave?

Because Rei was one. He registered as different. His mannerisms, the way he looked to Sevastyan, the way he deferred even to the other slave. He triggered instincts in Ellisandre that felt wrong.

The rules were not clear. And Lisa was a complication on top of it. He was close to Rei. He had reached some sort of understanding with Sevastyan as everything had come apart. But he wasn’t part of whatever was between Sevastyan and Rei.

Layers upon layers.

Ellisandre scrubbed their plate. They preferred it when they knew the rules. When there were no rules, they made the rules. But there were rules here. They just didn’t know them.

They were going to have to discover them.

Ellisandre fetched their phone and logged into their security system for the Bolthole, put in a headphone and brought up the audio and video feeds, then finished cleaning the kitchen and forced themselves into their room to change. Nothing interesting was happening in the Bolthole. It looked like the three men were taking turns helping each other shower.

Ellisandre surveyed their closet, preparing to do the same. It was a “fuck it I want to intimidate the world” kind of day, but they were also going to see Sevastyan’s slaves again. While the taller one, Lisa, acted tough, and was actually tough, he was just as scared as Sevastyan’s other one, Rei.

Ellisandre dithered for a moment, considering a soft pair of jeans and a brown turtleneck or a pair of black parachute pants in distressed jean material with strategically placed buckles and straps.

Never make yourself small for anyone ever again. Ever.

If Lisa and Rei were going to become part of their lives, they might as well start off on the right foot. They’d get over it. Ellisandre grabbed the parachute pants and snagged a black skin-tight turtleneck and a men’s lace up corset vest in black leather to go over it. The outfit was monochromatic, but they could add jewelry and spray some temporary color into their hair, maybe blue.

Ten minutes later they were showered, dressed, and in front of their makeup mirror waiting for their moisturizer to settle into their skin while they sprayed a tint into the ends of their hair. It was almost time to get their sides shaved back again. The conversation in the Bolthole had become interesting. Sevastyan was trying to explain how he’d met them. Lisa was asking the obvious questions. Whatever that man had been through, he hadn’t lost his mind or his tongue.

Ellisandre shot off a voice to text, correcting Sevastyan’s version of events. He’d been so focused on protecting the two kidnapped children from the violence going down around them that Ellisandre hadn’t been one hundred percent certain at first that he’d been one of the criminals. He’d done a good job, too. Those children were grown adults now. Well adjusted and successful.

The color set while they touched up their face, using green-tinted cream to smooth out any redness. They added leather arm garters to their upper arms and a brutalist silver neck ornament made up of wide bars in various lengths spread out like a solar array in three hundred and sixty degrees. It was too heavy to be a necklace, more like a fashion collar, the way people had once had detachable lace collars they added to various outfits when lace was expensive. It went well with the buckles on the parachute pants.

Lisa called them a creep over the audio feed; Ellisandre grinned in the mirror as they answered, “My house, my rules.” But then they needed to focus on adding weapons to their outfit. It took almost as long to do that as it had to get dressed, but when they were finished, all the necessities were strapped down and out of sight. The last thing they added to one of their pockets was a strong plastic bag, large enough to wrap around a body. If the Merchari wanted to send trash their way, it was annoying, but they’d incinerate it for them.

Ellisandre sailed out of their room, military boots in one hand, black Stetson in the other. Their leather bag was on the couch where they’d left it.

Time to face the music.