Page 38 of Anorthic Anarchy

She doesn’t let me answer, probably because she knows I don’t have one. “You tried so hard to cut off the funds that Wyatt Barrington was channeling to them through the arms trade. And the ones Kline was diverting from the casinos.”

“Well, the East problem took care of itself now that Barrington is dead. South is now independent since Donovan replaced his staff. And West was once Von Dovish discovered his owl mole. So Clavius and Herodius funding is cut short. Step one has been completed.”

Things get quiet again, and I know what she’s going to ask me. “And step two? How is that going?”

I’ve never kept much from Dilan. She was the first slave I stole from my father when we were both twelve. Through the years, she became a best friend, a confidante, almost a surrogate wife. The perfect mistress and madam.

But for the first time, I refrain from telling her my inner thoughts. And feelings. My plan to impregnate my wife ismine, something I wish to keep to myself. “It’s going fine.”

The deafening silence lets me know she doesn’t believe a word. “She’ll fall in love with you. She’s so young, darling. I worry about that and the problems she could cause if you provide her with, um, special treatments. Or your undivided attention…”

There are very few times I have taken a woman alone, other than the one sitting behind me. And I know the underlying worry that she’s not saying. Shaking my head, I tell her, “There’s no special attention I’m giving her. The goal is to give her a child as quickly as possible to assure our victory. That’s it. That’s all she is. A fertile womb to fill with the Strauss family legacy.”

A flash catches my notice in the corner behind the bathroom door and a bright blue eye stares at me before it disappears. Sitting, I start to say something, but she’s gone. Astrid overheard while creeping about. She shouldn’t be near here…but she doesn’t understand the rules yet.

“I’ll tell her to stay away from your rooms if you haven’t requested her, sir.”

Without me even having to tell her to leave, Dilan stands and hands me the loofah.

“The girls will have your dinner tray on the table shortly. How many would you like in your bed tonight, darling?”

My jaw strains as I reply, “None. I want to sleep alone. Thank you.”

She doesn’t make a move, except one of her eyelids twitches. “Yes, sir. Goodnight, darling.” Leaving me to the peace of my solitude, she shuts the door firmly.

Maybe I shouldn’t vary my routine. But I just can’t stomach Lydia’s or Chloe’s annoying noises tonight. Or not having enough space in the bed.

Finishing up, I clean myself thoroughly, then don a robe, eat dinner, and settle against the tall velvet headboard with my book. It’s supposed to be peaceful.

But my mind won’t let me see the words on the page. Instead, all I can focus on is the little girl in the room next to mine. Her expressions today while I was buried inside her. The candy flavor of her tongue. How tiny her body is when it’s wrapped around mine.

And how she killed for me.

My heart thunders as I slip out of the bed and pull on a pair of thin pajama pants, then cross to her connecting door. Why am I nervous about speaking with my wife? Tapping on it lightly, I wait a moment, then enter. It’s very dark, but I find my way to the bedroom area.

The bed is perfectly made, not slept in.

Turning on her bedside lamp, I search the room, but Astrid is nowhere to be found.

I hurry into the parlor and flip on every light, but she’s not there, nor in the bathroom.

Sev rushes in from my bedroom door looking frazzled and my lungs seize their expansion in my chest.

“Sir, I think your wife just escaped.”

Chapter 16

Astrid

This time, I know exactly where I’m going. Slipping into the dark kitchen through the servant’s hall, I grab a set of keys from the rack and shove them into the back door lock, trying one after the other after the other. My fingers shake with every failed trial as the blood rushes through my ears in roaring tidal waves. It slips in, and I turn the knob, throwing it open. With a silent scream of victory, I rush into the cold, dark night.

A gentle patter of rain hits the fallen autumn leaves as I dart through the grounds. Pausing in my hurry, I check my surroundings, not exactly sure which direction I need to go. But when I hear a commotion from the house behind me, I flee straight ahead.

After seeing him in his bath, I’d found a pair of the master’s slippers. They’re so big, they almost cause me to trip. So I ditch them in the middle of a field, hopping out of them while continuing to sprint. A line of trees sways about a football field away, and I dash toward it, wanting the cover from the moonlight.

If I could hide from his penetrating eyes, I would. I don’t want to be a body part for him to use anymore. The thought that I’m nothing without my womb fills me with emptiness. Why should I let such a monster make me feel this way? He’s a liar. What if he’s lying about my brother?

The breath fails me as I try to gather as much as I can, but the air is frigid and hard to contain in my lungs. My shift dress soaks through, the thin fabric clinging to me like a second skin. My thighs ache as I push through the wet mud, trying to grip it with my toes to keep my feet from slipping on the wet grass.

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