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2
ANARIA
Iswallowed hard, panic flaring as Berenger Havlocke’s empty, cold gaze raked me over. The High Lord was impossibly handsome, his face chiseled to arrogant perfection, a shock of dark hair falling artfully over his temple, as if he’d willed it so.
“I said.” Berenger advanced as his friends—I refused to count how many—circled behind me, cutting off my escape. “What are you doing out here? The formal gardens are forguests, or have you forgotten the rules?”
Lord Havlocke’s deep, cultured voice was tinged with boredom and cruelty, like every other Descendant’s.
I wondered if he’d used that voice to woo Evangeline before he’d slid a ring on her finger. I wondered if she liked his tone, or if she, too, shuddered every time she heard it, as if Berenger was dragging his nails down my face, leaving gouges in their wake.
“I was just…” My face flushed at his expectant grin. Somehow, I knew Berenger wanted me to say the words out loud. As if peeing was some dirty secret, as if that somehow mademedirty. “I am heading to the barracks…to fetch cleaning rags for the Mistress.”
I had no idea why I lied.
Maybe because I refused to play his game.
Maybe because if they thought I was on an errand for the Mistress, they’d leave me be.
“Ah. Here she comes now.” Berenger murmured; lifting his gaze over my shoulder. Every muscle in my body stiffened and with his Fae-enhanced senses, he sniffed my lie on the air, his friends laughing as they crowded closer.
“You little liar.” I winced when he grabbed a handful of my already-abused hair, bit my lip to keep myself from crying out, not willing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me.
“Did you know the Mistress carves out the tongues of liars and thieves? When I was a boy, my friends and I would watch and bet on who would survive. I usually won those wagers and I can assure you…”
They all laughed as he leaned close enough, I caught the sweet scent of Menrovian liqueur, “You would not.”
He was drunk.
All of them were drunk.
“Let’s take her into the maze, Ber, and have some fun.” Estienne Rivière was Berenger’s best friend, just as wealthy and every bit as dangerous. “I’ve never had this one before, have you?”
A shudder wracked my body and Berenger smiled, anticipation sparking in his eyes.
I’d heard stories. Seen the defenseless girls dragging themselves back to the barracks after a Descendant caught them out alone.
Sometimes they didn’t drag themselves back at all.
I resisted the urge to fight back, although I doubted compliance would save me when Berenger was this drunk. No, I should have crossed my legs and toughed out the rest of the night, then walked to the barracks with everyone else.
Safety in numbers was our most important rule and I’d chosen the wrong night to forget that truth.
Now…
Now I’d lose the most valuable thing I had.
I didn’t have much. Nothing, compared to the Descendants.
For my friends who hadn’t had the choice stolen from them, they’d succumbed to stable boys and blacksmiths and minstrels over the years, while I had managed to keep the only thing of value I had.
My virginity.
Saying no had become my act of quiet defiance in the face of every freedom denied me. The only thing I possessed that would have to be given, not taken away, like everything else.
Or so I’d thought.
I fought to remain calm, but couldn’t still my heaving chest, which made Estienne’s eyes burn brighter. I trembled when the males closed in, their sharp nails pinching and prodding my flesh.
