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Nektos bowed and hissed at Fen to do the same.
"Wonder no longer, dearest princess. I was only ensuring the kitchen was bringing more of the wine you like," Nektos replied.
The woman laughed like a beautiful bird. "How kind of you. Is this strange creature one of your new stock too?"
"Indeed, my princess. One of the few taken from the frozen northlands of Geb," he replied.
"Lift your head, slave, and let me look at you," the princess demanded. Fen did as she was told and lifted her eyes. "Unusual color to her. Are you sure you don't want to sell her to one of the pleasure houses? You know how they like exotic things."
"I do, but I am told she is quite feral, and her temperament would not suit such places. It's a shame in some ways, but she will still make me my money back."
"I have no doubt." The woman held out her glass goblet, and Fen carefully refilled it. "You always have such a good eye for business, Nektos. We can always find a way to break feral creatures to suit our purpose."
I would love to show you how feral I can be, Fen thought, watching the woman walk away.
Strong men and stern women had thought they could mold her into something they wanted over the years, and it had never worked out well for them. It had only been the gods that Fen had bowed to, and now that Odin had abandoned her, she would no longer trust him enough to worship him. Only Freya hadn't left her.
Just thinking of the goddess made her rune grow warm on Fen's thumb and magic release from her. The princess stumbled a little, splashing wine on her delicate sandals. Fen's lips twitched, but thankfully, Nektos didn't see it.
Someone had, though.
Fen felt the whisper of magic in the air—and it was not hers—and she turned to try and find its source. Lounging beside a small table of fruit and flat glazed loaves of bread, a pair of dark eyes stared curiously at her.
The magic brushed against her again, caressing her with the sensation of fresh rain and green growing things. Fen's eyes widened.
Unlike many men in the room who dressed in strange skirts, this man wore loose black trousers, a black robe embroidered with golden thread, and a strange symbol that looked like an upside-down teardrop on a cross.
The golden half mask he wore did nothing to hide the intensity of his black eyes or the confusion in them. A whisper of magic tickled up her spine again, and she knew without a doubt that it was his.
Fen tilted her head in curiosity. Without breaking eye contact, the stranger lifted his empty glass goblet.
Fen walked through the crowd towards him, unable to stop her own desire to understand the strange pull of his power. He held his cup out to her, and she moved to fill it.
"Who are you?" he asked in a deep, soft voice.
"A slave, my lord."
The dark eyes flashed behind his mask. "I can see that. Whatelseare you? I felt magic."
"I have no idea what you mean."
The man smiled a little. "I saw you make that wine spill. Did she deserve it?"
"Yes," Fen replied because she had lost whatever self-preservation instincts she had left. Not that he could prove any of it.
"I'm not surprised. Be careful using your magic, or someone other than me might take notice."
Fen smiled, her first in weeks. She leaned down towards him. "Good advice for you too. I can feel your power as well."
The dark eyes behind the mask went wide in surprise. "You can? What does it feel like?"
"Water. Earth. Green things," Fen said, adjusting her grip on the amphora. She didn't know why she felt compelled to answer him. She had always loved magic, and seeing a man using it was strange. Seiðr was only used by women, and even Odin had to get Freya to teach him.
Golden rings flashed as the man reached out and gripped her by the wrist.
"What is this?" he demanded, looking at her rune mark.
Fen was unsure of what to tell him. She didn't have to think of anything because Nektos was suddenly beside her. The man released his grip on her, his fingers brushing over her tattoo as he did so.
