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I just have to hope Malachi is too busy torturing someone else to notice.
With a long sigh, I resign myself to leaving my tent. It was a mistake, going to the cove in the daytime, and I truly wish I could turn the clock back and hold on to what we had before. It was thrilling but safe, in a way, and now I’ve ruined it all.
No one seems to notice me as I slip into work seamlessly.
Weaving baskets is not hard work, by any stretch. There is much harder work on the mainland, and I should be grateful I have not been reassigned. But I am too small to be of any use in the field. So, I am here on the Yaccarres Isles, to satisfy the debt of existing as a human in a world made for dark elves.
I keep to myself with my head down.
Others are at work on the same task, creating baskets for the fishermen and the goods they pull from the sea. I am one among many. I don’t stand out by any measure, and I hope it’s enough to avoid Malachi’s scrutiny.
But even as he passes, he spots me instantly.
He doesn’t make it immediately known, but I can feel the press of his gaze, never straying for long as he does his rounds. Most dark elves wouldn’t bother with managerial obligations, but he’s a special kind of meticulous.
I have seen people lose hands for the wrong weave.
Personally, I’d like to keep both of mine.
When he passes a third time, I know it is no accident. He stops at my station and shoes one of my unfinished baskets. “You’re slow today.”
I grit my teeth but say nothing, weaving with a little more urgency.
“By now, you usually have had six done. You won’t earn your rations at this rate.”
I finally glance up at him, unable to look away once our eyes lock.
His dull purple gaze is one of cruel humor. “Stand up.”
I set the basket down and do so. To disobey would be to spit in his face.
“It’s been said that you took a leisurely stroll earlier.” It’s not an accusation, by any measure, but it’s laced with a threat. “Walk with me.”
I step in line behind him, keeping a safe distance. But even as I do so, he slows to a stop and ushers me to take the lead. I swallow hard, keeping my gaze cast to the ground for fear of retaliation. The heat of him is too close as we resume our walk.
He seems to wait until we’re out of earshot before speaking again. “Beautiful.”
Disgust crawls up my spine.
When I feel the graze of his fingers over my shoulder, I go rigid. “Truly. A creature like you doesn’t need to be toiling away making baskets for fish.” He leans in, and I can feel the warmth of his breath wash over me. “I could make you a free person if you chose me.”
I almost scoff at the irony. “I would never be free in your shadow,” I finally dare to say, not entirely sure where this boldness came from. Perhaps it is because I’ve spent my terror on that creature, and Malachi is nothing compared to that. But I don’t turn around, still wary of his dark disappointment. “Your kind only knows how to put us in cages.”
“And what a fine cage yours would be. You wouldn’t even notice the bars, lovely.” He’s so close, I can taste his last meal. He moves to snake an arm around my waist, but it reminds me of the monster’s tentacles and I lurch away before he has a chance to seal his grip.
I finally whip around to face him, both of us a little shocked by my audacity.
The fires of rage spark behind his eyes. “So, you choose disobedience?”
The word sends a shock wave through my entire being. “No,” I say quickly and without thinking, then collect my thoughts since he’s still considering a proper punishment for me. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for a dark elf to sully himself by touching his human slave.”
A sneer forms. “Are you truly concerned over decency? Or are you simply afraid I would sullyyouwith my touch?” When I don’t answer, he seems to grow amused by my silent admission, taking a step forward. “Because there are so many ways to ravish a little creature like you. To bend and break you into the perfect pet, until you’re begging at my feet for me to ravish you.”
His hand shoots out and grips my jaw, holding fast as he looks me over.
My disgust overflows, and I know we are too far gone to take this in stride. I catch his wrist and yank free before putting distance between us. “I’dnever.”
Malachi rubs his wrist as if I’ve injured him, straightening to his full height. “If you insist on doing this the hard way, then I have a fishing boat with your name on it.”
