A pale, grumbling man opened the door and showed Adrasteia to a nook. He brought tea. Only one cup. Didn’t put it in front of her.
A woman Adrasteia didn’t recognize came in ten minutes later. She was young and Ruthgari, with the vanishingly rare true blonde hair and blue eyes. It would have made her an exotic beauty if she didn’t also have such a long, horsey face. She was dressed in a casual dress, well cut, and she wore only a few jewels. Her hair was long and gorgeous, but bound up in a practical bun right now. In all things, she looked like an extremely wealthy lady taking her ease in her own home. She sat. Sipped the tea.
“This isn’t hot, Gaeros,” she said.
The man apologized profusely and took it away. He returned almost immediately, put a hot cup in front of her. “We’ll need privacy,” the woman said.
“Yes, Mistress.” He left and shut the door after himself.
“So,” the woman said.
“So?” Teia asked.
“I’m your owner, my name is Lady Aglaia Crassos. You may call me Mistress.”
“My owner is Lady Lucretia Verangheti.”
“There is no Lady Verangheti. Or I am Lady Verangheti, depending on how you want to look at it. My family has enemies who would block us from placing slaves in certain households or positions—say, the Blackguard. The fiction of ‘Lady Verangheti’ helps me circumvent such pettiness.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress, I don’t mean to be rude, but out of loyalty to my mistress…” There had to be some way to say this. “Hrm…”
“You don’t believe me,” Lady Crassos said. She sounded amused, which Teia hoped was good. “It would be an interesting bluff, would it not? Of course, it would only work on slaves who never meet their mistress—meaning my slaves. Sad.” She pulled out a single piece of vellum and handed it over. It was Teia’s title; she recognized it instantly. Attached to it on a separate sheet was a writ of transfer, signed by Lucretia Verangheti and Aglaia Crassos. The handwriting was the same.
It took Teia a few moments to understand. If Aglaia wanted to keep her ownership of Teia secret, she couldn’t own Teia’s title under her real name or anyone who bothered to inquire could find out to whom Teia belonged. But she needed to have the writ of transfer already finished in case something came up that required her to prove ownership quickly—so she kept the writ and simply didn’t file it at the Chromeria.
Teia’s throat tightened. Why would the woman reveal her ownership now?
“How good of a liar are you, girl?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Simple question. If you’re willful, you will be beaten exquisitely.”
Exquisitely? “I’m pretty good, when I try. Mistress.”
Aglaia Crassos’s face lit up. “Good. Good. Exactly what my sources have told me. Continue to answer honestly and your service for me need not be wholly unpleasant.”
Fear stabbed through Teia. Not wholly?
Aglaia looked around, as if searching for something. She rang her little bell, and the serving man instantly came in. “My crop,” she said.
Gaeros knuckled his forehead and disappeared. He was back in moments. He presented her with a riding crop, then turned his back.
She cracked the riding crop low against his back. He jerked, but said nothing.
Aglaia dismissed him with a wave. “My slaves must anticipate my needs. I believe in disciplining you personally when you don’t. When a lady hands off discipline to someone else out of some misplaced sense of daintiness, she can’t know if her discipline is being enforced with too much mercy or too much gusto. And slaves—like children or hounds—are best disciplined immediately. I will not always have an enforcer with me, but I carry my strong right arm wherever I go. So when we conclude our interview today, I will beat you. I think it’s important for you to know how firm of a hand your mistress has. It will also let me know how easily you bruise, in case I have to beat you someday before you’re to be seen in public.”
Teia swallowed. The weight of dread made her knees quiver. “Yes, Mistress.”
“Kip Guile is your partner in the Blackguard training.”
“Yes, Mistress. Your pardon, but he was disowned weeks ago. He’s no longer a Guile.”
“I’m aware of this. But I have reason to believe that Kip may be welcomed back into his family when Gavin Guile returns.”
Teia ducked her head, made her face show contrition. She was a slave, not a fool.
“Adrasteia, my brother was the governor of Garriston. He was trying to save that worthless city when Gavin Guile shamed and murdered him and made him look like a traitor. And now my slave is partnered with his bastard. A bastard about whom he apparently cares. These are facts.”