Chapter Text
Midsummer coincided with the final day of rounds, before the two-day journey back to the castle.
Jack reflected on the past three weeks of travel and business. Robby wasn’t the only one working–Jack used his time to check up with the local sheriffs and patrols. Some of the men he’d fought beside in the past were reassigned to these regional law enforcement outfits. Some had been discharged, injured in worse ways than Jack, and lived their retired lives in quaint hamlets. And some had headstones in the cemeteries of the churches now used for saving lives.
Jack was never religious, but he was grateful that the churches continued to allow the deceased to rest, instead of building over them.
And when Jack wasn’t busy concerning himself with the kingdom’s security, he was concerned with a certain advisor.
It hadn’t really come to his notice until a few days into the expedition. In the first town, he watched from afar as Samira trailed the emira on an outing with Robby. And it struck him like an annoying pebble he realized had been in his boot.
Where had Samira been on the road here? She had not ridden horseback with Baran. He figured she must have been in one of the carriages with Baran’s other people, but when he looked into it after arriving, he discovered that she hadn’t occupied any of them.
As the days, weeks, passed he tried not to concern himself with these mysteries. He didn’t know what he’d say to her if he even tried. Why does it seem like you disappear? Why isn’t anyone else curious about that?
He certainly knew she was real, because her kiss that evening weeks ago was still imprinted on his mouth, even if it was just a featherlight touch. Her very presence was like a small static shock every time she neared him. The hairs along his arms would stand on end and only his vicious control over himself kept him from reaching for her.
So he employed his usual modus operandi–he watched and he subtly gathered information.
He’d never met someone with as good of an unreadable face as himself. When he watched Samira, she gave nothing away. He’d witnessed her doing her meditation in a quiet corner a few times, but he didn’t interrupt like he had the first time.
Once, Robby had asked what he was so preoccupied by. He’d snapped himself out of hypothetical conversations with her to tersely reply that nothing was preoccupying him.
This evening, the earl they were visiting for this last stop was hosting the local midsummer festival. Everyone, from the earl to the villagers and servants, would attend. The evening would be an occasion for dancing, excessive drinking, and pairs of lovers occupying shadowed corners.
The town trickled together in the early evening, when the sun began to descend. Tables and benches set up around the constructed bonfires. Stalls wheeled out to dispense food and drink. Musicians planting themselves around the cleared field. The air was lively with anticipation. The people, coming from the nearby villages too, had worked their fields, ran their shops with unceasing attention. Tonight was a respite for every citizen.
Robby had told Jack to hang up his sword for a little while and enjoy the festivities as a civilian, not a Captain.
“You’re going to be in there,” Jack told him. “In the thick of it. And you’re asking me not to protect you.”
Robby gave him a sardonic smile. “I’m going casual, like I always do. It’s too dark, and people are too drunk to tell.”
Jack scoffed. “You want a better disguise? Shave your beard.”
Robby laughed and punched his shoulder, swinging his hooded cloak around his shoulders. He had dressed in plain clothes, unembellished, scuffed boots, the only concession to his status the straight bearing of his shoulders and tall frame.
Jack made the excuse of checking patrol logistics and left. He passed by the guest room that the emira was assigned to, and he heard hushed, harried conversation.
Baran, and Samira.
“It’s too dangerous,” Samira was saying. “No one would question if you stayed here.”
“Yes, they would,” Baran said. “I’m expected as a guest of honor. It will be fine. I have enough.”
“And what happens when you run out? Then will you tell him?”
A charged silence, and Jack leaned closer to the door gap, his attention now piqued.
Baran said, tightly. “I cannot. Not yet.”
“Why not? Out of every option you have had he will not judge.”
“I won’t, Samira. Not until everything is finalized.”
“So that he cannot back out of the marriage.”
Jack’s brow furrowed.
“I don’t believe that he would,” Baran said, conflicted. “But I need time to know him before I tell him.”
Samira’s voice was almost a hiss. “There is an easy solution to this, you know. Why won’t you say the words?”
“Because I will not use you for something I can fix on my own.”
“You don’t know that you can.”
“With access to Michael’s research, I can first know whether it’s possible or not.”
Samira paused. Hushed, she asked, “And will you still do it? Hand me over to him?”
Jack sucked in a breath. What did that mean?
Baran sighed. “Is that still what you want?”
“His people like him. I would rather be placed in his hands than fall into the wrong ones.”
They said nothing for a minute. Jack could hear the tinkling of Samira’s jewelry.
“After, you’ll forget me.” Samira said it as a statement of fact.
Warmly, Baran said, “Then I will have the pleasure of getting to know you all over again, once you belong to Michael.”
Belong?
Jack bit the inside of his cheek. What were the two of them playing at? Jack didn’t know whether to call this conniving or distressing. He needed to know more.
He moved away from the door to leave the manor and resume his duties. He needed time to think of how he was going to approach Samira.
Because if she was a servant–a slave–all along like she’d been hinting at, then Jack would do his damndest to save her.
.
.
”Trinity, promise me that you will dance with somebody tonight.”
Trinity looked at him.
”Somebody that’s not me,” he added dryly.
She gave him a look that said, Why on earth would I do that?
Dennis sighed and looked askance around the manor’s entryway. He lowered his voice between them. “This really is about Garcia, isn’t it?”
She clenched her jaw.
“Trin, it’s okay that you like her.” He studied her, and she started feeling like a sample under his microscope. “Did she reject you? Is that it?”
She shook her head. She hadn’t exactly been invited to kiss her up against the wall, but she also hadn’t been rejected. She didn’t know what to think.
“Is it the fact that she’s human?”
She sent him a complicated look. Guilt and confusion mixed together inside her. She didn’t know which was louder.
He slid his hand into hers. “I know a lot has happened in a short time. You weren’t expecting to even like humans, and you’ve already found someone you like. But this is our life now, remember? We’ve got to go after the things we want.”
Dennis wanted many things, and her thoughts went right to Robby, the bastard. Trinity gestured, And you?
He lifted his chin, stubbornly. “What I want is to go to the Academy and become a doctor. And I will.”
She raised an eyebrow. Once again, a topic she would revisit later. She said, You dance too.
He grinned. “Alright.”
A group of their party’s servants moved as a unit through the foyer, joined by servants from the lord’s manor.
One of them waved at Dennis and Trinity. “Are you two coming?”
Dennis smiled for them both. “We are. Right behind you.”
Over the days they’d spent here, Dennis had managed to become friendly with a few of the servants. Trinity continued to monitor, but so far none of them had crossed any kind of line. Perhaps one or two of them had developed an interest in Dennis that bordered on something to keep her eye on, but then Dennis was so bright and cheerful that it was practically a given that people would flock to him. Right? If it meant time away from Robby in favor of someone more on his level, as Garcia had recommended, then Trinity wouldn’t ruin it for him.
Besides, it was his first human festival.
But as they approached the cleared field and the beginnings of the festivities, she wondered just how deep his affection for Robby ran. She joked about him loving Robby, but could he really be in love?
Surreptitiously, she watched him all night. In between drinks and conversation and exclamations over the performers who entertained people with sleight of hand and acrobatic tricks, his gaze drifted around the field. No one would think anything of it, but Trinity, with her trusty powers of observation, watched where his gaze was going.
It was like Dennis and Robby were dual ends of a magnetic compass. All night they didn’t cross paths, whether by design or coincidence she wasn’t sure. But Dennis’s gaze kept finding him, however briefly.
And Robby’s did the same.
Robby kept with Baran, Abbot, and the earl. Various nobility milled around them, ingratiating themselves or stopping to chat, but the air was still much more casual than Trinity expected. Robby didn’t bring attention to himself. He wore a hooded cloak, and she bet he’d be hiding under it if he could. The earl looked more extravagant than him. Robby looked like any other person at this festival.
One of the manor’s servants who’d become friendly with Dennis came back to their table with two refilled tankards of ale.
He smirked at Trinity. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you want one too, Trinity?”
She narrowed her eyes back at him.
“I’ll go get you one, Trin,” Dennis said.
Dennis, already light in the head, attempted to stand with pathetic results. She pushed him back down and signed, I will.
The servant turned himself back to Dennis and resumed their conversation.
Perhaps she’d need to keep a closer eye on that one. She didn’t like the arrogant glimmer in his eye.
Trinity wove through the bodies toward the barrels and her foot caught on the leg of a bench. If she could speak she’d have sworn ripely. Her big toe was already throbbing and she hoped the nail hadn’t lifted.
Her heart racing, she thought of Dennis. She whirled back and all but ran to his side. She shook his shoulder, asking, Are you hurt?
He was drunk, but he considered her seriously enough to reply, “I’m fine. What happened?”
She pressed her lips together. He didn’t act like his foot hurt. And Dennis wouldn’t lie to her.
In fact, it was her foot that hurt. She could already feel a bruise forming.
Her breath quickened, and she waved him off, stumbling back toward the ale.
What did this mean?
If harm came to her, Dennis would feel it. So why hadn’t he? Why did Trinity feel this pain? Was it The Shark’s spell wearing off? Not likely.
Trinity ran the event through her mind over and over. Every time it came back to an accidental injury.
Accidental.
Her blood beat loudly in her ears, even over the music and shouting.
Had she just discovered a loophole?
.
.
If the emira enjoyed the festival in a modest manner, then Samira looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.
She had that ever present guise of otherworldly ennui, as if she’d seen it before and couldn’t be bothered with it.
She did smile when children raced past, and when Baran whispered something to her.
But in the back of Jack’s mind all he could think of was the conversation he’d eavesdropped on. Where before he considered Samira with curious interest, now his skin itched with the sense that not all was as it seemed. He vacillated on whether it was possible she was a slave or if he’d misread their conversation.
She couldn’t be. How could a slave hold such a high position? Be adorned in the finery of a noble and treated like a trusted advisor? Her bearing rang of nobility, not of a commoner taught to fake it.
The things she said were cloaked in metaphor and riddle, but surely she could say outright whether she was indentured or not. It’s not like some magic power held her tongue from saying it.
Jack’s concern for her was out of pure curiosity. He didn’t know her well enough to let feelings like affection rule his actions. That she was beautiful and, in a way, sad did not signify.
From afar, he watched her say something to Baran and then she stood, walking away from the festival toward the edge of the forest. Jack pursed his mouth.
He passed off his ale to whoever was next to him and retreated from the group to follow her.
He hadn’t brought a lantern, and the light of the bonfires didn’t reach the trees here. He could navigate the dark woods better than the average person. Could Samira?
The further he walked, the more puzzled he became. Where was she? He couldn’t spot her through the trees anymore, and he couldn’t tell which direction she walked based on her tracks.
He walked until he heard the river, and a voice behind him said, “Why are you following me?”
He spun around, and Samira stood behind him, her hands linked.
Her skirts shimmered with embroidered gold thread, the veil of fabric hung around her shoulder and draped over her hair.
He wet his mouth. “I saw you walk into the woods.”
A small smile lifted the corner of her lips. “Concerned for my safety?”
Well, yes, he wanted to say. He managed, “Festivals lead to drunken behavior. Unwanted advances. Anyone could have followed you.”
“Like you?”
He made a face. She laughed, and he’d never heard her laugh before. It was like an angelic bell, and her hand came up to cover her mouth.
“I’m not drunk,” he said. “Are you?”
“I’m not. Just uplifted by collective mirth.”
“You didn’t look all that happy.”
She tilted her head. “You have been watching me all night?”
He didn’t want to walk away this time without at least some answers.
So he threw on a smile. “How could I not?”
Samira stepped toward him, nearing enough that he could have–should have felt warmth emanating off her. It felt more like the heavy, concentrated air before a storm, pressing against him. She was a storm he’d willingly stand in.
He had to tip his chin down slightly to maintain eye contact. She was close enough that he could reach out the scant amount and his hands would hold her waist.
Her voice was like honey. “You don’t watch me with pure attraction. You watch me like I’m a puzzle.”
“What if it’s both?”
“Attraction is fleeting. And puzzles wouldn’t be if they were so easily solved, would they?”
More riddles. He furrowed his brow, his hands lightly encircled her arms, just above her wrists, above the bangles. “This is not fleeting,” he said. “And if you are trapped, I will help you.”
Her lashes fluttered as she broke eye contact, her dispirited gaze lowering to his chest.
Aha.
“Samira,” he whispered.
“Can I tell you a story?”
He nodded.
“A long time ago there was a young girl who was born to a mother and father with no love lost between them. Her father passed, and she and her mother worked themselves to the bone to live. She wished for a miracle. She wished to be able to hold responsible those who contributed to her father’s death. She made it her life’s work, but she still wasn’t free from her mother’s burden. The young woman just needed power. Power was the only thing that would change anything.
“Her desperation led her to be acquainted with a traveling merchant who promised power for an exchange. What else could she do but accept? Now she had power. But as with all things, it came at a cost.”
When he spoke, it was with his teeth grit together and his voice tight. “Samira. Are you being sold? Is that what this is about?”
“This?”
His fingers tightened around her, though he tried with every ounce of control to keep from squeezing. “I heard you. With the emira. She said she would give you to His Majesty. What kind of deal are they actually working?”
She blinked. “You would think so low of your king?”
“I really don’t want to believe it, but I don’t know what to believe right now.”
She smiled. “I’ve met many people in my lifetime. Honor with honesty is rare. You have a chivalrous morality, Jack Abbot.”
“I try.”
She laughed softly.
“You’re very good at avoiding answering my questions.”
This time, her hands lifted to his shoulders, resting lightly. “I am not a slave, nor am I free.”
He shook his head. “That makes no sense.”
“Much about the universe is beyond sense. I may do as I please, but I am beholden to my mistress.”
His hands drifted up her arms and down the soft fabric of her garments until they settled at her waist. “You feel real,” he said, not quite sure if he meant to imply that she was not. What else could she be?
“I am real.”
“But you’re also… not,” he breathed.
She smiled. “Now you’re getting it.”
He sighed, a deep, frustrated sound, and dropped his brow to hers. He pulled her body minutely closer to his. “None of this changes how much I want you, Samira.”
“Then why aren’t you kissing me?”
God, did he want to. But standards were standards. And Jack clung to his all his life. “I won’t ask you for anything you’re not willing to give. And I won’t take anything until I know you’re completely free.”
She managed to surprise him. Samira closed the space between them and laid her head on his shoulder, her brow tucked into the hollow of his throat. She smelled of jasmine, and he ached.
The sound of the river, of the frogs chirping, and the distant sound of festival revelry faded, like the two of them were in their own quiet chamber.
.
.
Robby had only heard half of what was said to him all night. He partook of drink, he partook of entertainment, and he partook of conversations with the earl and his subjects that gave him ideas for future projects, once the partying ceased and he returned to the city.
But half his attention was snagged all night, like a constant loose thread on a nailhead, by Dennis.
He got along so easily with people he didn’t know. Robby chuckled to himself. Wasn’t that how he got to know Robby?
He loved to laugh, and even the sight of Trinity reluctantly enjoying herself beside him made Robby smile. She may have had a resting attitude to her face, and she couldn’t speak, but perhaps it was Dennis’s brightness that softened her presence, much like a hardened soldier with a fluffy dog. The others included her as much as they included Dennis.
But as the evening wore on, perhaps the drink was flowing a bit too freely.
Robby stopped drinking, an unnameable sensation telling him that he needed to be on his guard pricking at his brain. And not for his own sake. Not for Baran’s, or Trinity’s.
The night wore on as festivals always did. Music, cheering, singing, dancing.
People danced around the bonfires, twirling partners and reflecting the firelight in their glassy eyes and wide toothy grins. When Robby next lifted his head to take note of Dennis’s whereabouts, he didn’t find him right away. His stomach lurched, but he mastered his face.
And then he saw him, dancing arm in arm with a young man from the earl’s manor. His steps were unsteady, from the drink, no doubt, and his throat shimmered with perspiration.
Robby sat up straighter and his brows pulled together. The man leading him in the dance looked far more sober than Dennis. He smiled down at him, not at all hesitant to hold his hands and circle his waist with his arm.
God fucking damnit. Dennis had every right to celebrate with whomever he wanted. He had every right to choose whomever he wanted. What was Robby going to do? March over there, rip Dennis out of the man’s hold and claim him for himself? That was the dark power talking again. And because he could do just that very easily, Robby kept his seat and stewed silently.
He tore his attention away from the merman and tried to rejoin the earl’s conversation. It felt like he’d succeeded for two minutes before his stupid, uncontrollable need made him look back for him again.
But Dennis was no longer dancing, and neither was the man who danced with him. He searched the crowd, looking for him at food stalls or drink stalls. He scanned each table overpacked with bodies, but he didn’t find bronze curls anywhere.
His stomach crawled with apprehension. Was this what Dennis’s bad feelings felt like? The feeling that something was inexplicably wrong?
Robby stood and excused himself. He flipped up the hood of his cloak and made his way to the fringes of the festival grounds. If he went somewhere then he couldn’t have gotten far.
Or if he was taken.
Robby breathed deep and even through his nose, afraid of what he might do if he let the idea that Dennis was taken take root.
If he wasn’t part of the group, then Robby wondered if he’d left. But he glanced back, and Trinity was still amongst a group at the tables, her attention on some game they were playing.
There was the manor, but that seemed too far away. And it was a similar distance to the nearest buildings in town. That left the stables and the attached stone-walled workshops.
He could hear horses inside, the ones that weren’t dozing were snuffling or shifting on their hooves.
And then he heard a plaintive call of, “…Robby…”
His blood ignited. He rounded the backside of the workshops.
”Let’s go back,” Dennis said with slurred words.
“Let’s make the most of your last night here,” coaxed a much more sober voice.
”But I want– I need to find Robby.”
”I don’t know who that is, but you’ve got me, love.”
Robby peered around the corner and the man from the manor had Dennis wedged into another, boxed in on either side. He didn’t even remember what the man’s role was in the manor. And it didn’t matter anymore because Robby would see him relieved of his duties.
Barely contained ferocity rumbled in his voice. “Get off of him.”
The man flinched back and turned his face, brows bending together in annoyance.
“We’re alright here. Go find your own.”
The sight of Dennis pushing weakly at his arm was all the proof he needed. Robby dropped the hood from his head and watched recognition strike fear into his eyes. “I said get off of him.”
“Your Majesty– I–”
”Fuck off,” he barked.
He moved briskly around Robby and disappeared around the wall, his footsteps fading as he broke into a run.
Dennis leaned unsteadily against the wall, his mouth spreading into a grin on sight of him.
”Robby!” He crooned. “I wanted to find you.”
”I know,” he breathed, bringing himself under control despite his runaway pulse. “Are you alright?”
Dennis blinked slowly up at him. “Of course I am. Should I be not alright?”
He clenched and unclenched his jaw. “Did that man hurt you?”
”Hmm? Oh, no. He said he was going to show me something.”
That’s it. Robby was going to stuff Dennis in his quarters and teach him about human duplicity until he learned not to wander off with–
Dennis pulled himself off the wall and staggered into Robby’s front. He wrapped his arms around Robby’s middle, nuzzling against his chest. Robby’s chin landed among his curls. He smelled like woodsmoke and ale. He frowned, realizing he missed the seasalt scent of him, light and fresh.
“You had a lot to drink,” Robby said, glad he could sound calmer now.
“They kept bringing me drinks. Why didn’t you tell me being drunk felt so good?”
To prevent things like this from happening.
“I had a lot of fun,” Dennis said, his voice piercing Robby’s chest to soothe his fear. “But I wanted to find you.”
Robby’s arms banded around him, content now to simply hold him and know he was safe. “Yes?”
Then Dennis picked his head up and lifted his arms to wend them around his neck. His pupils were so big and black they edged out the blue. They were languid and drunk, but they roved over Robby’s face, his beard, his mouth. “I wanted to tell you,” he said, like he was aware of how much he was slurring and tried to correct it, “that I missed you. And that I love you. And I wish that there were a hundred more festivals we could go to together. And that even if you marry the emira, it’s okay because I’ll still love you, even though they said I shouldn’t.”
Before Robby’s brain could even catch up to what he said and what it meant, Dennis held his face between his hands, gently stroked his beard, and pushed up to his toes to land a crooked kiss to his lips. He was unpracticed and eager, but so much more exquisite than he could have imagined.
Robby’s hunger leapt out like a wolf from a cage. His fingers dove into Dennis’s hair, cradling his head as he helped align the kiss better. He held him tightly around the waist, and rocked forward, needing to brace him against the wall.
Robby traced his plumped lip with his tongue, and Dennis’s sweet whimper nearly had his knees buckling. Dennis used the wall as leverage to press himself closer, arms wound around his shoulders. He wrapped himself around Robby, impressive strength hidden in his lean limbs. He moaned with faint frustration when he fought to get his hands underneath Robby’s cloak to dig his fingers into his shoulder blades. Robby covered him, held him up, and bore down on him all at once.
Dennis’s skin was hot, his pulse like a rabbit’s. He was a malleable precious metal in his arms, firm but pliant.
He finally had his beautiful boy in his arms, professing his love for him–albeit drunkenly–and desperate for his touch.
Robby had to end this.
He stroked his hand up and down his back, but it only made him curl into him more. “Dennis,” he breathed. “You need to go back to Trinity.”
His hands clung to the front of his clothes, trying to pull him closer. The begging sounds escaping Dennis’s throat had his groin tightening. “I’ve never kissed anyone before. Kiss me a little more now.”
His heart simultaneously wrenched open and became buoyant as a floating lantern. He pressed his brow into Dennis’s hair and exhaled roughly.
What would be the harm in staying here in this dark corner a little while longer? The part of him that wanted to claim Dennis would take advantage of his pliancy and kiss him until his lips were raw and his neck reddened by his beard and a whole lot more. The part of him that held himself to high standards knew that taking advantage of him this way and forcing more out of him would only hurt the both of them later. Robby would never be able to look at him again without guilt. Stronger than the moment’s current desire was the knowledge that he couldn’t bear Dennis’s mistrust of him.
And if this was to be the last, he would make it count.
Robby pressed one last, hard kiss to his mouth. To seal his vow never to hurt him hereafter with his wild obsession. He could feel Dennis’s smile against his mouth, and then Robby tore himself away.
He stepped back so suddenly Dennis’s eyes were still closed and he steadied himself against the wall. The only sound between them was their racing breaths.
“Let’s go find Trinity,” Robby said.
Clearly, Dennis wouldn’t be able to walk on his own. Robby slid a respectable arm around his shoulders as he guided him back toward the festival. He prayed to every god that they didn’t look like they’d just kissed until they’d all but fused.
Dennis, thankfully, stayed quiet, only murmuring some assent about finding Trinity. The alcohol-fueled passion that had surged out of him mellowed.
Robby spotted her wandering the fringes of the crowd, like he had, her head on a swivel, looking for someone.
He lifted his arm to wave at her, and her eyes widened with relief. She hurried to them and immediately took in Dennis’s state.
What happened? She asked.
Repeating it brought Robby even less comfort than in the moment. “One of your new friends from the manor got him drunk and tried to make off with him.”
Astonished fury rose visibly in her.
“Trinity,” he calmed before she could stalk the man down. “I dealt with him. This isn’t your problem to deal with. It’s mine.” He nudged Dennis toward her. “He ought to call it a night. I’ll have a headache remedy brought to your room in the morning.”
Trinity replaced him at Dennis’s side, sliding her arm around him while looking him over with worried fright. Dennis smiled at her and hugged her.
Thank you, she told him, her eyes flickering with moisture for just a moment before she blinked it away.
”Always,” he told her. “Hey, look at me. I promise nothing happened. He wasn’t aware of what the man was trying to do.”
Trinity nodded, and her lips quirked up in a half smile. Robby sent them off with one of his own. He almost laughed. He’d finally gotten a smile from Trinity. Dennis would say that it meant he was fully ingratiated into her good will.
He watched the two of them stagger off toward the manor, and this time he didn’t worry so much about them, knowing that Trinity could and would use her daggers on anyone who so much as breathed in Dennis’s direction.
He wound his way back to where the earl was seated with Baran. She smiled up at him.
Robby glanced around. “Where is Captain Abbot?”
”I’m not sure. I haven’t seen him in a bit. I lost Samira in the crowd as well.”
The earl boomed at him, “Your Majesty, please have another drink!”
Robby shifted his jaw and replied, “Thank you, but I’m done for the evening. You and I need to have a talk about one of the servants in your employ.”
.
.
Trinity waited until people wandered back to the manor after the festival drew to a close. She sat up in bed while Dennis slept hard beside her.
Ever since Robby told her that someone had tried to take advantage of him, she knew exactly who he was referring to. She had paid attention to the one young man whose eyes shined with interest whenever Dennis was around. It was less of an innocent interest and more of a calculating one.
She only regretted that she’d lost sight of him and Dennis in the crowd and gotten to him too late. Robby’s intentions may still be somewhat suspect, but she was thankful that he’d intervened before something worse could happen.
Trinity looked down at him sleeping. Too naive. Too trusting. Even when they were merfolk he’d been like that. Because he was the youngest brother, the inheritor of the healing magic, he was sheltered and made only to study medicine, and not involve himself with the grim reality of life such as his brothers knew. Trinity saw that early on in their acquaintance, when she was fostered by their clan as a youngling. Traded back and forth between his clan and hers like a bargaining chip. As long as Trinity wasn’t harmed amongst the Whitakers, the Santos clan would continue to uphold the peace agreements.
Trinity’s safety wasn’t what her clan cared about. Her father claimed he loved her, and that was why he fostered her with Dennis’s clan. He was really looking for an informant. What they called her intermittent good-will fostering was more like a thinly veiled threat. And when she finally made it clear that she wouldn’t be his informant, he’d sent her a message stating that if she crossed into Santos territory again, he’d sell her off to whichever warrior deigned to have her as a wife. Santos wives were treated like broodmares, and she’d never be that.
Dennis had already claimed they would wed to keep each other safe, and her father’s message made him more adamant about keeping her by his side. They weren’t yet officially married and Trinity already viewed him as her family. He may be the only person she could say she loved in her life.
So when the hour grew exceptionally late and the manor quieted with sleeping revelers, Trinity slid out of bed and stalked silently toward the servant quarters. She slipped behind the young man’s door. She didn’t even remember his name, and had no desire to.
She braced a knee on his mattress by his hip and leaned over him. He wasn’t going to wake up on his own, so she grabbed his face, squeezing her fingernails into his jaw. He jerked awake, eyes flashing wildly before blinking and settling on her.
“What–”
She bared her teeth and hissed.
He swallowed, his throat bobbing thickly. “Trinity,” he said. “What–”
She unsheathed a dagger and pointed the tip at him, then held it out in the direction of their room below.
His eyes shifted constantly between her face and the dagger. “It was just a harmless mistake,” he stuttered. “Nothing happened. I wasn’t going to–”
She held the tip of the obsidian edge to his lip and he bit down on his words.
Never look at him again.
You’re lucky nothing did happen.
Fuck you.
She wanted to say them all, but she couldn’t. So she pressed the tip into the corner of his mouth until he whimpered and blood beaded. She dragged the dagger into his cheek, leaving a two-inch long cut that welled blood in the flickering light of the single candle on his bedside table.
She moved off the bed and sheathed the dagger, walking out without bothering to shut his door.
Back in her and Dennis’s bedroom, she finally changed into her night clothes and reclaimed her side of the bed. Dennis was just as she left him–sprawled and nearly snoring.
She was glad they were leaving for home in the morning.
And the fact that she considered Robby’s castle home had a complicated feeling of warmth and frustration warring in her.