Order of scorpions, p.26
Order of Scorpions, page 26
“Why am I here?” I ask, leveling Tarek with a hard expression as I work to affix the apathetic mask I mastered at the ludere.
“Answer what I asked you first,” he counters, and just like that, my flimsy controlled veneer dissolves as I sigh and fight not to growl with frustration.
I want to rage, but it’s being overpowered by other things that are teasing the back of my mind. Startling things I shouldn’t be thinking about right now, if ever. I shouldn’t be focusing on how Riall feels against me. Or that Curio’s blistering gaze is leaving a hot trail over my exposed skin, while Tarek’s cool perusal works to soothe the delicious burn.
I don’t know who they are or what they’re doing to me, but I need to get a hold of myself. I need to take back my control. With great effort, I retract my fangs as I force my emotions to level out. I swear Riall groans an objection, but it’s drowned out by the screech of a stool being pulled out so Curio can plop his huge frame down as though he’s settling in for the exchange that Tarek isn’t going to back down from. Curio pushes his long dark locks back from his face and eyes me like he’s not sure what to expect next and he loves it. Skull wore that same wickedly amused look when his eyes were glamoured black, and it further cements that they’re one and the same.
“You want me to kiss your feet for saving me, but all you’ve done is unlock Tilleo’s shackles and then put on a pair of your own. I am not your slave. I don’t want to be caged,” I snap at Tarek, and his eyes narrow with menace.
“You don’t look as though you don’t want to be caged,” Curio remarks, peering pointedly at the way Riall is pressing against me.
Both of his large arms are boxing me in against the wall. I can’t even say when he did it.
Warm breath skates over exposed skin, and I realize that the neck of my tunic has sagged down my arm again. Riall leans closer as though my bare shoulder has sent out a personal invitation to his mouth. A tingling tremor works its way up my back, and goose bumps crawl over my flesh in a way that makes me feel flushed and chilled simultaneously. I try not to think about what it might feel like for him to run the tips of his fangs up my throat, or better yet, sink their sharp depths into the juncture of my neck and shoulder. I ignore the shiver of pleasure that snakes up my spine and instead, focus on the smelting judgmental glint in Curio’s gaze as I try to push Riall away.
It takes him a moment to realize what I’m doing. It’s like shoving a mountain—a warm, muscular, delicious-smelling mountain—for all the good it does me. But then Riall registers my efforts and backs off, giving me space. He peels his body from mine, his arms dropping from around me after a slight pause as though he doesn’t want to let me go. I don’t acknowledge how it feels to drag my body against his as I slide down until my feet are back on the floor. I ignore the emptiness that fills the space between us as Riall steps back to give me the room I stupidly demanded.
Reluctantly, I force myself to step to the side away from the wall. I need room to attempt to think clearly, and yet as Riall moves further away from me, I want to command that he stop and climb back into his arms.
What in the blood moon is wrong with me?
Riall shoots a vicious glare at Curio as I try to clear my head of all the confusing and conflicting thoughts. I want to hurt them, take from them like they’re taking from me, and yet there’s a part of me that doesn’t want that at all. They flipped my switch from rage to reeling in less than a beat, and now I’m nothing but churning chaos and confusion.
“And what gives you the impression that we want you to be our slave as opposed to our…guest?” Tarek demands.
I get the impression that he was about to say something else other than guest, but his icy eyes are frosted over with indignation, and I can’t see even a hint of what could be hiding in their fathomless depths.
I glower at him, defiance sparking in my gaze. “Guest?” I challenge.
His scowl deepens. “For now, yes,” he vaguely supplies.
I huff an unamused snort at the ambiguity in that statement.
“You bought me. You’ve brought me here. You removed your glamour and exposed me to secrets I didn’t ask to know.” My frustration rises with each unfettered fact. “I know what this means,” I continue, waving at them, at the absence of the glamour that kept me protected. “You’ve made me a liability. You’ve filled my mind with shit I don’t want in there.” I look at Riall and Curio. “Which of you wants to remind Scorpius about what happens to fae who know too much in this killing business?” I snark.
Tarek’s gaze narrows, not amused by my cheek in the slightest.
“Why the fuck did you heal me?” I demand, trying to tamp down the savage storm brewing inside of me. “I would have rather died that night than trade one master for another!”
“You speak like all masters are the same,” Tarek retorts, obviously offended at being compared to Tilleo.
“Are you not?” I counter. “Was I asked what I wanted? Do you even care?”
Tarek chuffs with exasperation. “So we should have left you there in the desert?” he growls. “Let our ma—let you die, or worse?”
“You’ve done it before, why should this time be any different?” I snarl.
Tarek steps closer, danger written all over his face. I square my shoulders, refusing to let the heat that tries to surge through me at his threatening advance drown my outrage.
“This time was different. We weren’t in a position to do anything for you before; now we are,” he counters as though it’s as simple as that.
“Now that I have something you want, you mean,” I correct him.
Icy blue eyes glint with promise as they drop down my body and slowly rise until they’re once again fixed on my now flustered stare. I try not to squirm under his perusal, angry that part of me likes it. I’ve never had anyone look at me the way these Scorpions do. It feels like a scalding promise that’s also laced with a frigid threat. I both relish it and hate that my body is so quick to succumb to that call, whatever the fuck it may mean.
“I understand that, up until now, life has shown you a very limited view of things. You may think all of this is very black and white, but I promise you, Little Dagger, our existence is far grayer than you realize. Yes, we want things from you,” he admits, his deep voice dropping even further as he practically hums the word, “but we’re offering you everything you could ever want in return.”
His promise washes over me, but I refuse to let it settle where it wants to.
“I don’t want to be owned.” I growl at them. “I don’t want to be bought and sold on the whims of greedy, weak fae. I’m not an animal. I deserve more.”
“We are not greedy or weak, and we didn’t buy you,” Riall defends, cutting off whatever Tarek was about to say.
“What does that even mean? Did you steal me?” I question, not understanding the latter part of that statement.
Fear flutters through me at the thought that they took me without permission. Will Tilleo send someone after them? Am I being hunted as we speak? The twitchy need to run begins to overtake me, but I work to calm myself and think things through. It’s the Order of Scorpions we’re talking about here, the most prolific house of assassins anyone has ever known. Even if Tilleo wanted me back, who would he send to get past these seasoned killers? Who would survive an attempt to drag me back to the ludere?
No one.
It would be a suicide mission, and I doubt some lowly blade slave would be worth the wrath of these three powerful fae. My racing heart slowly calms as I inhale deep reassuring breaths. Bewilderment replaces my apprehension, and I cross my arms over my chest as I glance back and forth between the three Scorpions, still waiting for an answer to my question.
Curio sighs and leans back against the table. “We didn’t buy you, because we technically already owned you. We finance the ludere.”
I reel back in shock, the admission hitting me harder than any master or blade slave ever has. “You…you own that place?” I stammer, as though not even my mouth can wrap itself around the truth of those words.
They own me?
Tilleo and the ludere belong to them?
Flashes of all the torture and brutality I’ve experienced in that hellish hovel flash in my mind. Pain suddenly explodes in my shoulder as though I’m reliving some long forgotten injury. I rub it absently as I stare them down. I don’t know what in the crowns is going on.
Is this why they killed Dorsin that night? They wanted what he’d built?
No wonder they left me there, they probably thought I’d been bought and paid for. Why would they take me from exactly where they wanted me to be? Every ounce of interest and need simmering inside of me goes sour. I try to breathe through the mess of emotions bombarding me. I can’t believe I thought for even a second that these Scorpions might be different. They’re just as rancid and evil as every other master I’ve ever met.
I was dying, and it was their skeletal faces that invaded my thoughts. I dared to believe that the strange draw to them might be fate working on my side for once. And here they’ve owned me this entire time. All the abuse, the mind games, the constant struggle for survival was because of them. Maybe not by their hand directly, but surely by their purse. They paid for it all.
Pain and anger pit my soul. A brutal haze coats my vision. Everything in me is crying and begging for me to move, to strike, to kill. I want to make them pay for every lash, every broken bone and attempt to break my spirit. Every disfiguring scar slashed into who I am, now has their names etched inside too. I want to rip their fucking heads from their bodies, but I know I can’t. It’s a fight I won’t win, and they don’t deserve my end. They don’t deserve another second of my life. They’ve taken enough from me.
I refuse to submit to the anger that’s broiling me from the inside out, so instead, I shut everything down. I deaden every feeling, every flicker of fury, every unwelcome brush of betrayal. My expression goes blank, and my body relaxes as I let go. I can’t take all three of them. I’m not delusional. I’ll do what it takes to survive today, just like I have for too many years, but a reckoning is coming. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but they’ll pay. I’ll make sure of it. I already promised myself that I’d destroy the ludere if it was the last thing I ever did. These three just added their names to that list.
As though the sudden change in me has charged the air in this room with warning, Tarek steps back, his tall hard body almost shielding Riall and Curio. It’s a silent declaration that to get to them, I’ll have to go through him first. I like that he sees me as a threat.
He should.
I don’t know what the kind of devotion and partnership that he’s showing the other two feels like; all anyone has ever done for me is turn their back when I needed them most. If I think about it long enough, it might sting, but I shut all of that out.
Fuck them.
“Stop,” Tarek commands, and my enraged focus tunnels until all I see is him.
I taste magic in the air, and his order moves over me like an encroaching fog. It doesn’t nip forcefully at my skin like I expect. It’s as though he wants me to know that he could compel me to listen, but he’s not. I had no idea fae could do this, that they could feel this powerful. I should probably be terrified, but all it does is piss me off even more.
“We know that your life hasn’t been easy,” he starts, the tinge of power winking around me like sun sparkles over water. “But before you act on the righteous indignation simmering in your eyes, you need to understand that there’s more to this than you think, Auset. We help condemned fae have a chance at more. The ludere and the Orders are the best option any of them have. You may not like the methods, but we give fae an opportunity to overcome their shitty circumstances at birth. We show them a way to fight what fate had in store for them.”
His message sounds noble. Maybe if I hadn’t spent the last six years having their methods and opportunities whipped, beaten, and scored into me, I might fall for the earnest gleam in his blue gaze, but it’s all bullshit. No one in the ludere has a choice. Maybe things get better for the blade slaves once they leave, but everything that happens up until that point nullifies any good the Scorpions think they’re doing.
I scoff and shake my head. “Whatever you tell yourself to help you sleep at night.” I glare at each of them. “You can paint pretty pictures about where you get fae from, but you still make slaves of them. You’re as rotten as every other powerful person who preys on the unfortunate.”
“They would have been slaves whether we stepped in or not,” Skull counters. “Whether the skin trade got them or they were pulled in by a thief’s guild. Maybe, by some miracle, they find a job, but in the end, it’s all some form of slavery. One fae slogging away for another, dependent on them for everything they have. It could all be stripped away in a second, and often is. Don’t pretend that the realms don’t work the way that they do. We’re all slaves to something or someone.”
“So that makes it okay?” I demand, disgusted by the rationale.
“It makes it what it is,” Riall offers grimly. “We at least give fae a chance. We don’t doom anyone to a lifetime of nothing but suffering. The ludere teaches the skills needed to crawl out of the shit-ridden holes the Crowns would rather see them drown in. It’s something, which is infinitely better than nothing.”
“Like we said, it’s gray, Auset, even you have to be able to see that,” Tarek adds.
I stare at him, his words swirling all around me like pecking birds looking for a place to swoop in and perch. I refuse to give them one. I smother the flames of fury that try to flicker through my chest and offer the Scorpions a cold smile.
“I don’t think you want to know exactly what it is I see,” I challenge, my tone so saccharine that it makes Curio’s mouth pucker against it.
“We’re offering you a place with us, Auset. We don’t offer it lightly, and you shouldn’t dismiss it simply because we see the world differently. Being one of us won’t right the wrongs done to you—no one can do that—but it can give you what you truly want in life,” Tarek offers, and it’s almost as though the other two are holding their breath as he stares at me pointedly.
“And what would you know about what I want, Scorpius?” I bite back.
“More than you’ll admit,” he smugly retorts, one of his eyebrows ticking up as though he’s daring me to deny it.
I want to argue, but it would solely be for argument’s sake. I know nothing about these three fae in front of me, and he’s right, knowing that what was done to me is wrong doesn’t erase that it was done. The notches in my soul are a permanent part of who I am now. I don’t know much about the realms outside of the ludere, but it’s not hard to see that too much about them is severely broken. It makes me want to burn it all to the ground, but that’s nothing more than an unrealistic fantasy, and I think the Scorpions are delusional enough for the both of us.
Even if the abominable systems could be toppled, I have no doubt that something equally as heinous would find a way to rise from the rubble. I know all too well that life is nothing more than a brutal dance between predator and prey. I’ve had the keen misfortune of being prey since I can remember, but now, if I accept the Scorpion’s offer, that could change. I wouldn’t have to live the rest of my life being hunted. I could finally be the hunter.
Like he can sense the chips in my resolve, Tarek’s shoulders lose some of their tension. “You wouldn’t be alone anymore,” he tells me as he steps to the side and leans back against the table next to Curio.
He must think the worst that could happen between us has passed.
“You’d be a Scorpion, and you’d be entitled to everything that comes with that designation,” he continues as though this conversation has shifted from chaos to casual in less time than it takes to blink.
I wish I could say the staggering flip back and forth hasn’t been our entire interaction so far, but I keep flashing from wrath to wonder so fast that I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore or why. Tarek stands there as though he’s not working hard to dangle an irresistible lure in front of my face.
“You’re one of us, Little Dagger. I know you feel it,” he tells me, and it’s exactly what I need to hear to see this for what it is.
“You don’t know me,” I contend, scowling at his presumption.
“Then let us get to know you,” Riall counters, as though it’s as simple as that.
He’s a mere arm stretch away, and his body tightens as though he wants to move closer but is stopping himself. I brush off the longing and justifications that try to seep through the cracks in my armor. They know exactly what to say to coax out my deepest desires and buried insecurities, but I know I can’t trust it. The offer is enticing, but it lacks the one thing that’s kept me going all of this time. I don’t ever want to bow to anyone again. Whether it’s three powerful assassins or the kings that rule over these shitty realms.
Let them all leave their castles and their cooks and their servants. Let them be bought, sold, and used as they come up in a ludere, and then maybe they’d be worth listening to. Until then, they can fuck themselves with an iron dagger for all I care.
I don’t remember who I was before I woke up in a cage, but I hadn’t been starved. I didn’t have any bruises, broken bones, or a mark on me until the iron bars burned my back. Dorsin and the orcs expected to ransom me, which makes me think that I came from a place where I was wanted, valued. There were people somewhere out in the realms who would have paid a great deal to get me back. I was once cared for, maybe even loved…and now I’m nothing.
I’ve been fractured beyond all repair, and I’m now standing in the home of the fae who helped—in more ways than one—to break me. I’ve had enough.
“I belong to no one but me. I never did and I never will,” I proclaim, my head high and my stance proud. “I want nothing more than that. Dressing up the cage doesn’t change what it is. I don’t give a fuck how comfortable you make your chains or what benefits might come with them, they’re still chains.”
