Page 58 of Caged By Dance and Desire

I turned towards Lord Ashlyun and stared. He was beautiful, with single lidded dark eyes and sharp features, his skin pale except for rosy lips, his long hair black. But all Fae men were beautiful.

Focusing on that. . .helped. His face blurred for a moment, then snapped back into focus. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, hands resting on the table between us.

It took me two tries to speak. My voice worked fine. The abductor had taken away my ability to scream.

“I’m sorry, I'm not trained in the etiquette for a situation like this. I'm Hasannah.”

He gave me a kind, neutral smile, though it didn't quite meet his eyes. Still, he seemed friendly enough, finally moving to pour tea and press a cup into hands I curled around it to conceal the shaking.

“In the circumstances,” he said, “and considering your youth and humanity, there's no need for formality. You are quite shaken.” He gestured. “Please drink. It is a simple restorative tea, one of my own blends.”

I debated the wisdom of drinking an unknown beverage versus the wisdom of offending a Lord by refusing his hospitality.

I picked up the teacup, sloshing a little of it, and sipped. “It’s very good.”

“I’m pleased to hear you say so.” He sipped, an echo of my movement, and I wondered if the mirroring was his attempt to put me at ease. An old psychological trick.

I rallied a bit more. Small talk. I could do banal, inoffensive small talk. “What do you use to sweeten it? I’m sensitive to the nuances of sweeteners but I don’t recognize the flavor. ”

“Ah. You wouldn’t, I think. It’s from a honey cultivated just outside Ninephe.”

“I’ll have to make inquiries. It might suit my cold brew better than what I brought from my home.”

Ashlyun smiled again, and this time a little of it reached his eyes. “In the meantime, allow me to make a gift of a small jar.”

“I’d be pleased, my Lord. My gratitude.”

We fell into companionable silence, if that was possible. Maybe he was happy with my manners. Something about his expression seemed less like the smoothness of alabaster stone, and more like the quiet of contemplation.

Hasannah?Andrei’s voice in my mind. Calm, but with an undercurrent I shied from. I was in so much trouble.

I’m with Lord Ashlyun. I don’t seem to be a prisoner.

I’m coming for you.

Ashlyun regarded me, his dark eyes impassive. “You have excellent control for a human. That bodes well for your future, Lady Hasannah.” He poured a second cup and drank it down like it was wine after a long day, in anticipation of a longer night.“I'm curious, however, and perhaps you'll do me the courtesy of answering a small question. How were you taken? Were there any deaths?”

I closed my eyes, my heart sinking. The brief respite offered by small talk was over.

Somuch trouble.

“I was alone, Lord Ashlyun. There were no. . .” a polite word for the possible murder of my theoretical guards “. . .deaths.”

“Excellent.”

He lifted a grape off the platter, examining it, then began to carefully strip away the skin. I watched, almost mesmerized at the delicacy of his motions. He turned peeling that grape into a small dance.

“That saves me a feud with your Lord or at the very least bloodgilt. Unfortunate for you since he will assuredly not be pleased.” The peeling paused, heavy disapproval cooling his voice. “Lady Hasannah, you should not be out in the city without guard. I cannot believe he failed to assign you protection.”

This seemed to be the theme for the evening. Apparently for a good reason. I couldn’t stop all the shaking, or how my body tensed in sudden reaction, my teeth grinding with the effort to keep my voice modulated. I’d been tortured.Tortured.

“The stupidity is all mine, I assure you, Lord.”

Ashlyun inclined his head. “Drink some more, child. It will help prevent shock and I would prefer your Lord not find you collapsed in my presence. He is unlikely to behave reasonably, and it is better for everyone if we maintain acceptable manners.”

I obeyed.

“You appear capable of learning from your mistake. And in that case, perhaps this was a fortuitous lesson. The evening could have been so much worse for you.” The High Lord gentled his tone, but I’d stopped paying full attention. When men liked to talk, I let them.

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