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Something cherished but utterly captive.
Relegated to uniting the opposing concepts into one inescapable existence.
14
The white couch—the death couch—was soft beneath me. Supportive, luxurious, and a place I now knew no one but me was allowed to use. Ever.
Because Cyderial acquired it for me.
The man having no idea of its reputation or why it made me so nervous before.
I had been placed on it in his attempt to comfort me the night he killed the redheaded boy. I heard stories that all those asked to sit down on it never returned. The academy was bursting with mythology that felt far too real.
But it was my couch. A pristine, pure seat designed for hybrid females to cuddle on.
And the thoughtfulness of this manic gesture touched me a little once explained. Same with the abundance of flowers, the colors of the rocks, the soft lighting. All of it had been selected with me in mind.
The male happy to preen and show off all he prepared.
While I blinked and said nothing.
But I did sit on the couch. I let him spoil me.
I ate the plate of fruits he arranged.
And sipped cool water.
So he might observe me, stare at me, think thoughts I didn’t want to know.
He’d raped me in this room, right there on the floor.
“Take another bite.” He knew why I was so cagy. Why I worried at my collar and fought for more than shallow breaths.
This was where I had to meet with Maeve. This was where I would be expected to spend my time when I was not training the children to kill vorec.
Forever.
Finally speaking more than nonsense, I set aside my plate. “I’d like to save the rest of the fruit for Maeve. She’s probably never tried anything like it.”
The warning look he gave me spoke volumes. “Thayer might not appreciate losing the opportunity to give his mate her first taste of unprocessed food.”
As if it were some male rite of passage to watch their victim eat something other than cubed meat or pressed vegetation for the first time.
The liberties men thought they were due….
But the huge golden male needed every opportunity to make Maeve happy, so I relinquished the plate with a frown.
Focusing on inequality was not the point of this meeting. Everything was riding on my getting Maeve to agree.
I’d had time to collect myself, to straighten the foreign instructor uniform and wash my face. I looked every bit the military female I’d been born and raised to become.
Give me a sword and splash me with vorec blood, and I could be the poster girl for academy bullshit.
“Are you ready? Maeve will be here any moment.”
No. “Yes.”
A knock came, Cyderial moving behind his desk, just as terrifying and imposing as ever.
