Feed

“M’lord.”

A brass fountain, a warm circular chamber, plumes of violet smoke…the images flicker in and out of my memory like a dying flame. Fragments of a dream, no doubt. If I could just focus without this pounding headache, maybe I could remember—

“M’lord, please wake up.”

My eyelids part, searing sunlight pouring through the narrow slits to reveal the blurred interior of my bedchamber. Afternoon light bathes the room in its warmth, spilling past the white silk curtains onto the oak flooring, illuminating the marquetry furniture and extensive array of packed bookshelves opposite my bed.

“Her Ladyship is asking for you. She says it is urgent.” The chambermaid smiles encouragingly from across the room, her voice ringing sharply in my tired ears.

“Tell her she can wait,” I groggily slur.

I rub the sleep from my eyes, a drawn-out yawn escaping my lips. As my hands fall to the sheets, I see it: the purple ankh burned into my right hand. The sight of the blistering, still-raw skin makes my stomach drop; a wave of horror crashes down on me as it all floods back into memory. The thief, the tavern, the scrolls, and the man.

Soren.

My heart flutters at the thought of his name, the dread I felt moments ago morphing into a sort of twisted intrigue. My curiosity is desperate to know what manner of beautiful, unspeakable act transpired between us—and more importantly, what must I do to see him again?

“Alric Valtor!” A cackle erupts through the chamber doors as they are recklessly flung open. “It’s already past noon. Come pay attention to your lovely wife!”

As is her customary fashion, the giantess to whom I am wed waddles in, boisterously making her presence known.

“What time did you even get home last night? I don’t remember seeing you come in.” Her double chin quivers as she scolds me. “But regardless, we have an emergency. I’m out of astralberry wine! You simply must order another few cases—how could you let me run out? As your wife, I expect more. These kinds of mistakes are simply unacceptable!”

“If you stopped your incessant day-drinking, this wouldn’t be a problem.” I let out an exasperated sigh as I discreetly hide my marked hand under the covers.

“Dearest, a few drinks at noon never hurt anyone. Now be a sweetie and get that order in. If you need me, I will be in the cellar looking for something decent.” Without a look back, she teeters her way out of the room, leaving me some much-needed peace.

“Please prepare a bath and lay out my clothes—I have important business in the city today. I will return home late,” I instruct the chambermaid. “And bring me some gauze. I seem to have cut my hand last night.”