From Blood and Ash(16)

Gods.

Not all Ascended were like the Lord, who wielded his power and station like a poison-tipped sword, but Lord Mazeen wasn’t even the worst example.

He steered me to the left, nearly causing a servant to drop the basket she carried. He seemed completely unaware of her as he strode forward. Whatever hope I had that he planned to speak to me a few steps away ended quickly as he took us into one of the shadowy alcoves between the doors.

I should’ve known.

He swept aside thick, white curtains and all but pulled me into the narrow space where the only source of light was a small sconce above a thickly cushioned chaise. I had no idea what the purpose of these half-hidden rooms was, but on more than one occasion, I’d found myself trapped in them.

I stepped back, a little surprised that the Lord allowed it. He watched me, the smirk returning as I positioned myself so I was close to one of the curtains. He sat on the chaise, stretching out his legs as he folded his arms across his chest.

Heart thumping, I chose my words carefully. “I really cannot linger. If someone were to see me, I would be in trouble with Priestess Analia.”

“And what would happen if the good Priestess of the Temples were to hear you were lingering?” he asked, his body appearing loose and relaxed, but I knew better.

Appearances could be deceiving. The Ascended were fast when they wanted to be. I’d seen them move in a manner that made them nothing more than a blur.

“Would she report such misbehavior to the Duke?” he continued. “I do so enjoy his lessons.”

Disgust was a weed taking root inside me. Of course, he enjoyed the Duke’s lessons. “I’m not sure what she would do.”

“It might be worth discovering,” he mused idly. “At least, for me.”

My fingers curled inward. “I don’t wish to displease the Duke or the Priestess.”

His lashes lowered. “I’m sure you would not.”

A sharp, stinging pain radiated out from where my nails dug into my palms. “What is it that you wish to speak to me about?”

“You didn’t ask your question appropriately.”

Searching for restraint and calm, I was grateful for the veil. If he could see my face in its entirety, he’d know exactly what I was feeling.

Which was red-hot, burning hatred.

I didn’t know why the Lord found such great entertainment in harassing me. Why he found such enjoyment in making me uncomfortable, but he’d been this way the last several years. He was worse toward the servants, though. I’d heard the whispered warnings to new staff. Avoid gaining his attention or his displeasure. No matter what, there was a limit to how far he could go with me. With the servants, I didn’t believe he felt there was even a line to cross.

I lifted my chin. “What would you like to discuss with me, Lord Mazeen?”

A hint of a cold smile appeared. “I realized it had been a while since I last saw you.”

It had been sixteen days since he’d last cornered me. So, not long enough.

“I’ve missed you,” he added.

Doubtful.

“My Lord, I must be on my way—” I sucked in a sharp breath as he rose. One second, he was stretched out on the chaise. The next, he was directly in front of me.

“I’m insulted,” he said. “I told you I missed you, and your only response was to say you must leave? You wound me.”

The fact that he’d said nearly the same words Hawke had uttered no more than two nights ago didn’t go unnoticed. Neither did the vastly different reactions I had to them. While Hawke had come across teasing, Lord Mazeen spoke the words as a warning. I wasn’t charmed. I was revolted.

“It wasn’t my intention,” I forced out.

“You sure?” he asked, and I felt his finger against my jaw before I even saw him move his hand. “I have the distinct impression that was exactly your intent.”

“It wasn’t.” I leaned back—

He curled his fingers around my chin, holding my head in place. When I took my next breath, I thought his fingers smelled like…a flower, musky and sweet. “You should try to be more convincing if you wish me to believe that.”

“I’m sorry if I’m not as convincing as I should be.” It took great effort to keep my voice steady. “You shouldn’t be touching me.”

He smirked as he trailed his cool thumb along my lower lip. The sensation of thousands of tiny insects skittering over my skin followed. “And why is that?”

The Lord knew exactly why.

“I’m the Maiden,” I said, nonetheless.

“That you are.” He trailed his fingers down my chin over the scratchy lace that covered my throat. His hand continued, brushing over my collarbone.

My palm practically burned with the need to feel the hilt of the dagger against it, and my muscles tensed with the knowledge and skill to react—to make him stop. A tremor coursed through me as I fought the desire to fight back. It wouldn’t be worth what would happen. I kept telling myself that as his fingers slid down the center of my gown. It wasn’t just the fear of punishment. If I showed what I was capable of, the Duke would learn that I had been trained, and I doubted it would take any large leap of logic to determine that Vikter was responsible. Yet again, whatever I faced would be nothing compared to what Vikter would.

But I could only tolerate so much.

I took a step back, putting distance between us.

Lord Mazeen tilted his head and then chuckled softly. Instinct sparked, and I moved to step out from the curtain, but I hadn’t been fast enough. He caught me by the hip and turned me. There wasn’t even a second to react as his arm clamped around my waist, and he hauled me back against him. His other hand remained where it was, between my breasts. The contact of his body against mine, the feel of it, sent a wave of revulsion through me.

“Do you remember your last lesson?” His breath was icy against my skin just below the veil. “I can’t imagine you’ve forgotten.”

I hadn’t forgotten a single one.

“You didn’t make a sound, and I know it had to hurt.” His grip tightened on my waist, and even in my all-too-limited knowledge of things, I knew what I felt against me. “Admittedly, you’ve impressed.”

“Thrilled to hear that,” I gritted out.

“Ah, there it is,” he murmured. “There’s that tone unbecoming of the Maiden. The very same one that has gotten you into trouble a time or two—or a dozen. I was wondering when it would make an appearance. I’m sure you also remember what happened the last time it came out.”

Of course, I remembered that, too.

My temper had gotten the best of me. I’d snapped back at the Duke, and he’d struck me hard enough that I’d lost consciousness. I came to, only to feel like I’d been run over by a horse and finding the Duke and the Lord sprawled out on the settee, both appearing to have drunk a bottle’s worth of whiskey while I lay on the floor. For days, I’d felt like I’d come down with the flu. I imagine I had a bit of a concussion.

Still, seeing the shock widen the Duke’s otherwise emotionless gaze had been worth it.

“Perhaps I will go to the Duke myself,” he mused. “Tell him how disrespectful you’ve been.”

Fury boiled my blood as I stared at the gray stones of the wall. “Let me go, Lord Mazeen.”

“You didn’t ask nicely enough.” His hips pressed against me, and my skin flushed with rage. “You didn’t say please.”

There would be no way I’d say please. Consequences be damned, I’d had enough. I was not his toy. I was the Maiden, and while he was incredibly faster and stronger, I knew I could hurt him. I had the element of surprise on my side, and my legs were free. I widened my stance as I felt something damp and wet against my jaw—

A scream tore through the alcove, startling the Lord enough that he loosened his hold. I tore free and spun to face him, my chest heaving as I slipped my hand through the slit in my gown, to the hilt of the dagger.

The Lord muttered something under his breath as the screams came again, high-pitched, and full of terror.

Taking advantage of the distraction, I darted out from behind the curtain instead of unsheathing the dagger and slicing off what I was sure was the Lord’s most prized possession.

The Lord threw aside the curtains as he stormed out, but the screams were bringing others rushing into the banquet hall. Servants. Royal Guards. There was nothing more Lord Mazeen could do now. Through the veil, my gaze met his. I knew it. His nostrils flared. He knew it.

The screams came again, ringing out from one of the nearby rooms, drawing my attention. Two doors down, the door was open.

Rylan was at my side. “Pen—”

I skirted his reach and headed toward the sound. What happened in that alcove with the Lord fell to the wayside as my fingers curled around the handle of my dagger. Screams were never a good sign.

A woman rushed out—the servant who’d been carrying the basket. Her face leached of all color as her hand opened and closed against her throat. She backed away, shaking her head.

I reached the room at the same time Rylan did and looked inside.

I saw her immediately.

She was lying on an ivory-colored settee, her pale blue gown wrinkled and bunched around her waist. One arm dangled limply off the side, her skin the shade of chalk. I didn’t have to open my senses to know she felt no pain.