Season notes: traumatized people people triggering each other, abuse, torture, fictional slavery, con noncon*, (attempted) blackmail
Jahlene examined the room from behind her mask. Mattin waited a pace behind her. He had done a remarkable job since arriving at court, better than she had ever dared hope. In hindsight, even his inability to stay calm around Marta had been perfect, revealing vulnerability Oeloff would think to exploit. If he could last the night, the worst would be over.
“He’ll be here. Wait until the music starts, then allow yourself to become separated from me. It will be his best chance, so expect him to find you then.”
Mattin bowed, sweeping an arm forward in silent acknowledgment.
“Good.”
Striding out into the ballroom, knowing he would stay behind her until the game started, she smiled. It would be an interesting and hopefully victorious night.
Mattin followed Jahlene, trying to get his bearings in the madhouse of the ball. Jahlene and Falthro had agreed: the costume ball being thrown by the Empress would be their first attempt to trap Oeloff. Given the interest the Empress shown, it seemed like a good omen. For the past several weeks, Mattin had stayed close to Jahlene, never leaving the suite except in her company. Now he would “lose track” of her in the confusion of the costume ball and hope Oeloff found him.
Hundreds of people in outrageous costumes cluttered the room. There was barely room to walk between a giant bear and a group done up as forest sprites (sisters or a lady and her slaves? Mattin couldn’t tell). The heat was overwhelming, and the reek of dozens of clashing perfumes made him nauseous. The problem, he thought, wouldn’t be losing track of Jahlene but keeping up with her.
As they plunged into the crowd, his world shrunk to flashes of fabrics and Jahlene’s back. He was bumped and jostled on all sides. Most people in the room wore full face masks, reveling in a chance to be anonymous among their friends and enemies at court. Jahlene had ordered Mattin’s costume so his face would be obscured but recognizable. His wire frame mask was decorated with jewels and sequins and shaped like a fox head; the rest of his costume mimicked the same theme. Jahlene’s costume was a much more elaborate wolf. Her mask included a furred hood that flowed down into a cape. The silken gray dress was decorated with paw prints running across the hems and a pattern of wolf silhouettes woven into the fabric.
As they moved through the crowd, Jahlene mingled and exchanged pleasantries. Mattin did his best to track what was said and by who.
Doors slammed open and pillars of sparks leapt up on either side. All eyes focused on the far side of the room as the Empress entered with mincing steps. Her silvery costume shimmered like flowing water as she moved.
Looking around, Mattin cursed—he had been distracted by the Empress and lost track of Jahlene. Not good, very not good. He looked for the wolf costume but didn’t see her anywhere.
The Empress signaled for the music to begin. Mattin breathed a sigh of relief. His timing could have been worse. Moving through the crowd, he acted like he was looking for Jahlene. Really, he was edging toward the alcove where Falthro was supposed to wait. The fae lord was nowhere in sight.
Mattin had to trust that he’d be there.
He eventually reached his goal, a small alcove set into the wall. A statue usually filled the space, but the Empress had ordered the room cleared of decorations. Another time it might be filled with human slaves who slipped away for a few minutes. Tonight, when they might mingle unknown with the fae masters, few would resist the food laid out along the walls.
Mattin soon got caught up in watching the figures swirl about the room. The whole thing was a dance—even the people who weren’t dancing with the music still followed the intricate steps of the fae court. Not knowing what was behind the masks just made the currents stand out more.
Movement next to him pulled his eyes away from the main floor. Oeloff glared down at him. The male was dressed in a costume of deep black satin, with a half-mask Mattin couldn’t identify.
Mattin inclined his head, giving the motion the right shading for a slave to a strange noble.
“Well, if it isn’t the inn brat. What a pleasant surprise. Has someone managed to teach you manners?”
Mattin swallowed and bowed slightly.
“Heh. I am almost impressed.” He walked around Mattin like a farmer inspecting livestock. “If the little bitch who calls herself your mistress can manage this, then she has more skill than I thought.” He stopped by Mattin’s ear and whispered, “Maybe when I destroy her, I’ll claim you for my household.”
He then stepped back and said in a more normal tone, “I’m sure it’s been a great treat for you to see your sister again. She was very special to you, wasn’t she?”
Mattin forced himself to remain silent and stared across the room. If he let himself listen to the lord, he would lose control.
“Ah, I forgot. Rumor has it you have been ordered to silence. I guess your mistress must have found your tongue as annoying as I did. How frustrating to see your sister again and not even be able to greet her.” The cruel delight in Oeloff’s voice washed over Mattin. He felt stained listening to it. “She’s in good health, as you have seen. Though that won’t last for long. Humans break so easily.”
Mattin flinched—he couldn’t help it.
“You know, there might be a way you can keep her healthy. Would you like that?”
“I…” He silenced himself, cursing.
“Oh? Perhaps not as well trained as I thought. Well, don’t worry. If you are a good boy I won’t report your little slip. Now tell me, would you like to keep your sister healthy?”
Mattin swallowed and answered, “I would do… anything to keep her safe, Lord.”
“Anything? Well, I won’t be asking for something too difficult. Yet. But if you were to see to providing me with the information I require, your sister might find herself somewhere safe.”
Mattin gritted his teeth and made himself bow, “I understand, Lord.”
Oeloff smiled under his mask. “Good. My people will be in touch.” He turned, and Mattin glanced around for Falthro. He didn’t see the other fae lord anywhere—Oeloff was getting away!
He waited until Oeloff was almost back in the crowd. Falthro didn’t appear. “Lord!”
Oeloff turned in place, glaring at him.
“What—what assurance do I have?”
Oeloff took a single step towards him, “Assurance?”
“Of my sister’s safety.”
“You dare—”
“Oh come, Oeloff, it’s not an unreasonable question for the toy to ask.”
The tall fae appeared behind Oeloff. For the first time since Mattin met him, Falthro did not appear in the least laughable. A specter, in dark gray and silver, he loomed over Oeloff. His long narrow face was white and his eyes colorless, like the face of the dead.
“Of course, a far more reasonable question might be, why are you breaking the Emperor’s law? Or did you not know the toy was collared?”
Mattin backed away from the two fae as Oeloff whirled to face Falthro.
“No, you knew—why else would you be asking him to spy on his mistress for you?”
“This is none of your affair.”
“Dear Oeloff, I thought the Emperor’s laws were everyone’s affair. Shall we ask his opinion?”
Oeloff growled.
“No, I rather think it’s better we not disturb him. Perhaps you can meet with Jahlene and I privately tomorrow, hm? Rather than disrupt the Empress’ lovely ball?”
For a long moment, neither of them moved, then Oeloff jerked a nod and stalked away.
Mattin breathed a sigh of relief. Falthro grinned at him. “Not bad, little toy, not bad. Now go find your mistress before she gets into trouble.”
And he disappeared into the crowd.
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