Page 2 of Caged By Dance and Desire

“She considered that, but. . .no. He has yet to disobey a direct order. He dislikes disorder, and drugs are extremely difficult to micromanage. I don’t think he’s behind it. I don’t even think he’s trying to take advantage of it.”

But I was willing to keep an open mind to the possibility.

I gave Lord Ashlyun no warning of my arrival, though my sudden appearance on his doorstep could be rightfully construed as aggressive.

He wasn't a twit, however, and his refreshing lack of idiocy was reflected in his servants. The warrior at the door didn't blink a lash, bowing smoothly before she escorted us to an antechamber to wait. Stupider Fae would have challenged our presence.

I sighed. I really was aching for a good fight.

Constin gave me a sidelong look, speaking though his lips didn't move. “Just fuck her already. You'll be unbearably emotional until you do.”

The need to disembowel him evaporated when the door to the antechamber opened and Lord Ashlyun stepped in.

He was old Ninephene by lineage, though he'd resided long in our city. Tall and pale skinned with angular single lidded eyes and hair so black it was like looking into an abyss, falling down his back in a smooth sheet of silk. Narrow jaw and slashing cheekbones, full lips and graceful control over his body. On the surface so lovely and civilized, one wouldn't know he was responsible for the majority of the vice trade in the city.

He wore scarlet robes sashed in gold, the sleeves long and wide and impractical—but the clothing wouldn't impede him in a fight. A certain caste of their warriors trained for battle in their draping, dramatic layers of cloth, making a pretty art of killing.

I'd have to take care never to introduce my Anah to him. I'd been hard pressed to say no a century ago when he’d offered me his bed—a human would never be able to resist his lure.

“High Lord Andreien,” he said with a bow, dark eyes impassive. “Lord Constin. I’m honored by your presence, however unexpected. Is this a matter of some import?”

I matched his chill hauteur. “Are there matters not of import to which I turn my attention?”

“I see. We will converse in the room where I receive guests of note.” He glanced around. “This one is not suitable.”

I stifled a grimace. Ninephenes and their convoluted social customs.

Constin and I strode after him as he led us to a different room in the house, one minimally but artfully appointed in the fashion of his people, who made a practice of refined beauty. My own city leaned towards the wild and the overindulged.

When we were seated on cushions, he offered tea and sliced fruits and cheeses, sipping as Constin and I shook off our manners and accepted the offerings.

He hadn't, in theory, had time to poison anything. I pretended as if I believed that, and tasted the tea. He pretended as if he wasn't aware of my suspicions.

“I have little time this evening, Lord Ashlyun,” I said, setting aside the tea cup once I'd taken the obligatory sip. “Forgive my bluntness.”

“Then let us adopt haste,” he said in an equally pleasant tone. “Why are you here?”

I fixed him with my gaze. I was younger, and in theory less powerful though we had never tested each other; but I was still city Heir.

“Tonight, you may have received a message from a human in your District informing you of my interest in a female technically under your jurisdiction.”

I used the feminine noun to denote a Houseless mortal woman, and the inflection that made technically a matter of easily overlooked custom.

Not a single lash flickered to betray his thoughts. “Oh?”

“I request you disregard the message. The female is mine, and is under my protection. I will soon be removing her from Coal District. If any touch her, there will be blood in the streets, Lord Ashlyun, and at this time that would only take your attention away from more important matters.”

“I see.” He paused. “I received such a message, and as my week has been somewhat quiet, I bothered myself to read it. The human was presumptuous.”

I gave him a thin smile. “The human is dead.”

Ashlyun set aside his tea cup. “Undoubtedly. Such is the fate of pests who overstep their intelligence. What do you want, Andreien?”

“What I want, Ashlyun, is simple. Keep your knowledge of her existence, her import, to yourself. Do not speak of her. Do not cast your gaze in her direction.”

His expression remained calm, neutral. “You are young, Lord, if you will forgive me for saying so. May I offer you my advice?”

I didn't move, didn't shift my gaze from his. “You may offer.”

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