Page 17 of Petals for Vicious Secrets

Lenna was writing on her book of Cause in the middle of the quiet library at the North House. Writing her thoughts and notes down in the book that had accompanied her for years was the best use of her time before lunch was due.

The quiet library was quiet no longer when her father, Jasper Brachyan, stormed in with Ayla and someone else.

“In anyway, it was a much needed discarding if they had been repeatedly stealing food. Shame the roixers didn’t catch them earlier. Here you are,” said her father. Lenna didn’t lift her eyes from the sentence she was finishing, whatever they wanted from her was not more important than not losing her trend of thought. “We have visitors, Lenna. I’m going to ensure lunch is ready. If you can kindly introduce them, Ayla?” And with that, Jasper left.

“Give me a minute.” Lenna continued writing. The pain in the ass that having constant visitors and pretending to give a shit about them was.

There was a low chuckle coming from the third person, and Lenna lifted her gaze from the book of Cause, shutting its cover with a bang that hopefully stated what she felt about being interrupted in the peace of a library.

The man looking at her with a side smile was the most handsome man she had ever seen. His amused silver eyes towered over her, so in contrast with his black hair and his smooth skin. He was dressed in dark, neat leathers that marked his torso and arms but also made him someone to be respected. Or even feared.

“What’s so funny?” Lenna asked, standing up from her chair and sitting on the corner of the table she had been using.

“I am trying to figure out which one of you was moaning so loudly the last time I spent a night here,” the man said, the corner of his lips still upward.

Ayla shook her head, covering her green eyes with a hand as she said, “Cardinals guide us. Lenna, this is Jake Coralt, heir of the Organ House and son of the Organ Mandor. Jake, as you know, this is Lenna, my twin sister and heir of the North House.”

“The moans were mine, thanks for your concern,” Lenna winked at him, completely ignoring her sister. “Staying in the guest house in the gardens, I take it. Discarding duty brought you here?”

Ayla answered for him, “He kindly discarded a family of seven last week for sleeping in the streets of Borealia, disrupting the flow of our streets. And today two teenagers who had been stealing for too long. Jake has been very generous and offered us to join him next time, which will be after our Fifth Ceremony.”

Lenna was going to be sick. “And you will gladly join him, will you not, sister?”

“Won’t you be joining me?” Jake asked Lenna before Ayla could reply.

“I wouldn’t join you over my dead body. You and your discarding duty can fuck off.”

Jake Coralt lifted his chin just a tiny bit, surveying Lenna from top to bottom. His eyes darkened, as if he was mentally listing all the ways he could make her moan at his mercy. He was definitely being used to being feared and obeyed.

“Not in your wildest dreams,” Lenna said.

“Precisely in the wildest ones we would have the best time,” his voice was grave.

“Shame I don’t fuck entitled pricks,” she added. Especially not ones used to getting everything and everyone they want, as the illegally attractive subject in front of her.

“But you do fuck many others. I wonder if you'd benefit from another cock in the room. Just in case.”

Ayla almost choked. “May I remind you that profound intimacy between heirs of the Houses is at high risk of a panomquake. It would cause so much disturbance. I'm sure it's not worth your hormones.”

Jake's dropped his stare to every profound bit of Lenna. A silent side smile on his lips, as if he'd love to take the risk of shaking the entire island just to taste her.

Lenna smiled. “She's not the heir. Feel free to offer your cock to her anytime.”

“It isn’t her that I want. You will come begging, sweet fire, and I'll be waiting for you.” His voice was a grave whisper, and Lenna’s core unavoidably tightened.

11

Hope

From her spot in the wide circle of beings that surrounded the Trading Table, Hope looked to Nina on her right, who half smiled. A smile on a pretty face that might have meant pure innocence to a stranger, but Hope knew exactly where Nina’s daggers hid in her boots.

Hope looked to her left and saw her mother staring at the sandglass and if looks could kill, that sandglass would have already exploded. Her mother’s curled lip was a promise of death. To anyone that would become a danger. To anyone who would be in their path. To the Rulers, for playing these stupid games with desperate people.

The sandglass suspended in air right above the Trading Table kept dropping grains of sand, marking the remaining minutes until past meridiem, apparently unaware of the hate that surrounded it. Every trader had assumed by now the raw reality: that the Trading was not about getting a stomach full or finding useful devices that would make their lives easier. No. The Trading had become a trading of their lives. A weekly civil war with just one rule: do not approach the table until the cloth drops.

Hope repositioned the belt with the four daggers she was wearing on her waist. She readjusted the two swords on her back, tight to her body and as comfortable as they had always been. They were not her preferred weapon by any means. Too big, too bulky, but a clear sign to anyone who dared to even think about becoming a nuisance. She would not be messing around. Not today, with her mother and Nina by her side. Hope had not counted the weapons her mother had equipped herself with. She knew she could only see half of them, anyway.

No distractions. Find clothes for Nina’s mission with the Roix. Find more red vials, providing how effective they had proved to be. Grab some food to briefly satisfy their already used-to-starve stomachs.

---