Lady of Chains

by Scottie Kaye

  "Hey, Hellen!" the woman called. "This your girl?"

  "Let me go!" Lassyne shouted, struggling. The knife cut into her cheek, making her gasp.

  "Shut the fuck up, newbie," the woman said. Her skin was light brown—Soma—but her arm was thick with muscle, and she had a whole head of height over her captive. Ahead of her, Lassyne watched with dread as Hellen ran out of the stacks. Zaina was nowhere in sight.

  The pale woman scowled. "Yeah, that's her." She stepped closer. "That's the bitch that's getting Zai killed."

  Lassyne's captor instantly tensed, and Lassyne squealed as the knife trailed up her cheek. She was too terrified to feel the pain or the blood, squirming fruitlessly as the blade neared her eye.

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" she exclaimed, once she could gather together a coherent thought. "I didn't kill anyone! All I did was a Truthing!"

  Hellen stepped right up to her feet, and shoved her face at Lassyne. "You should have lied," she growled, her blue eyes seething.

  And with a grunt, she punched Lassyne in the stomach.

  Lassyne's captor dropped her immediately, letting her collapse to the floor, her mouth wide open as she fought for air. Stars danced in her eyes, but she kept herself together. This was nothing compared to the half-dozen times she'd been poisoned. Once she could breathe, she took calm, measured breaths.

  "Ha! Not bad for a rich girl," the tall woman said.

  "I didn't—kill anyone," Lassyne managed, looking up.

  She watched as Hellen's jaw worked, and then the big woman snatched the knife from her friend's hand and knelt in front of Lassyne. Lassyne's every thought, every muscle went dead still as Hellen prodded her neck with the point of the knife.

  Hellen seemed to chew on her tongue for a second, deliberating. Lassyne realized that a small crowd had gathered. All of them watching, no one helping. Faces full of disapproval and hate.

  "We had a good thing, you know, before you showed up," Hellen hissed. She paused to flick some blond hair from her face with the knife. "Orra had plausible deniability, see. Can't possibly know for sure that an initiate is pure, when you're getting their entire life story in one second."

  Lassyne's hands closed into fists, and she dropped her own voice a few octaves. "I haven't the faintest idea what you're—"

  And Hellen drew back the knife.

  Lassyne tried to roll, but the tall woman stomped on her shoulder, and Hellen's knife came down with a thunk. Lassyne slammed her eyes closed, but there wasn't pain. She opened them and turned to see the handle of the knife.

  Hellen had stuck it between the floor tiles by her throat.

  Lassyne pulled away on instinct, but the knife held her fast. She stared at it in amazement. Hellen had stabbed through her collar to the floor, somehow without slicing her open.

  Hellen pointed a finger into Lassyne's face as a door opened nearby. "You," she said, and then she stopped, eyes widening in rage as she chewed on her next words. "If you ever, and I mean ever, send one of my initiates to the gallows again, I swear to the five Queens that I'll hang you up on a meat hook and butcher you until you bleed out."

  With that, Hellen rose, wiping her hands on her haf-buttoned dress, leaving faint smears of the blood from Lassyne's cheek. Lassyne's first instinct was to invoke her family name, or her father—to explain just exactly what the Read family would do to anyone that hurt their precious heir—but fuck that, fuck that all to the hells. What was she doing, just laying down here? She'd survived twenty years with an assassin inside her own house. She could handle one dumb blonde—

  "Now, now, ladies," said a new voice, a male voice. A beat passed—and then Lassyne shot upward, the knife tearing her dress. She barely had time to catch the front of her hasha as the shorn fabric flopped open, but it didn't matter, none of this mattered, because Loren Stone stood directly in front of her.

  Eighteen

  She breathed his name, wide-eyed, and he frowned at her, smiling with one side of his mouth. He didn't recognize her—of course he didn't recognize her—

  Then his eyes widened. "I know you," he said, stepping closer. "You're—you're Jessyne's daughter." She watched as the realization dawned on his face. "You're the birthday girl—you're Lassyne True."

  "You know her?" Hellen said.

  Loren laughed. "Of course I know her. She's the heir to the Read fortune." He glanced at Hellen. "What the hells were you doing to her?"

  Lassyne expected Hellen to back away, to feign innocence. She did neither of those things.

  "Yeah, well, fortune or not, she just nullified your Rose Contract with Zai."

  Lassyne couldn't speak. She could only look at him. He was a pace away from her—closer even. Ten times more handsome than she remembered. Sandy hair from some far-flung Optic bloodline; skin like warm cocoa on a blustery day; eyes as blue as the ice-rimmed oceans of Audit; and shoulders that went on for miles—

  Her body woke as his eyes traced the shape of her face, her senses tingling as his gaze stopped on her blood. Open-mouthed and still frowning, he drew a handkerchief from a chest pocket and handed it to her.

  "Nullified my Rose Contract," he said faintly.

  "Yes," Hellen growled. "Nullified Zaina's contract. You know, the girl you paid for?" She stepped closer, her voice lowering to a whisper. "The girl you convinced to spread her legs early? The girl who'll die because you don't like the word 'no'?"

  Loren blinked, some ancient spell breaking on his face as he turned. "You sent for me," he said to Hellen. "Where...?"

  Hellen shot a glare at Lassyne. "Not here. Not with her." She nodded once at the tall woman. "Get her out—"

  "What! No!" Lassyne cried, finally able to use words again. She shoved the tall Thorn away and stomped forward, getting in Hellen's face. "Look, bitch, I don't know what you think I did to your stupid slut friend, but if you want me stay bloody quiet about what I heard back there, then you'll give me a gods-damned minute with the lieutenant general here. Either that, or you'll have to finish what you started with that knife." She pointed at the stone floor where the handle still protruded. "Well, Farm Girl? What will it be?"

  Lassyne held the other woman's gaze then, feeling obnoxiously satisfied by the loathing in her eyes. She didn't know anything about what she had witnessed, but it was clear that Hellen didn't want her spilling it. And she couldn't kill Lassyne when Loren was there—unlike the circle of gorgeous women around him, he was a witness who would actually talk.

  "You have ten minutes," Hellen said. She turned to Loren. "Then you'll meet me in the back booth, you get me? Or it'll be you on the meat hook."

  Loren laughed at that. Nothing changed on Hellen's face. "Yes, ma'am," Loren said, reaching out and clasping Lassyne by the elbow. He nodded to the library doors. "Shall we?"

  He's touching me. He's actually touching me. All the pain, the fear, the rage drained out of Lassyne as if it had never been. Still clutching the flap of her dress to her chest, she let Loren lead her out of the room.

  The hallway had dimmed since she'd last been in it, the oil lamps turned down, so that the wood paneling ceased to exude any warmth. Somewhere close by, a male voice was shouting in the rhythm of pleasure, showing off a great deal of energy. The sound made her stomach churn, in a good way. She very nearly pressed up against Loren. Her hands itched to get at his belt.

  Easy on the goods, coiner, she told herself, laughing inwardly at Hellen's racial slur. Olfactory merchants were known to get itchy hands whenever a profit drew near. He might remember you, she thought, but he barely knows you. He might not even remember seeing you, after Ragen.... He doesn't know that his secret is safe with you. That he is safe with you.

  No—she would have to sell this, and she only had ten minutes to do it. Orra might be able to get her a second audience tomorrow, but what could happen between now and then? Hellen might hunt her down, or something. She needed to get out of here fast.

  But she couldn't do that by getting her mouth on him, here and now.
The man ate virgins for breakfast. She had to use her brains for this one.

  "My Rose Contract is for sale," she blurted. "And you are going to buy it. And you're going to pay fifty thousand marks."

  He had never stopped smiling at her, in a calm, bewildered way, but now he laughed. It made his eyes crinkle. Gods, how many years had she dreamt of those little wrinkles? Feeding off every memory of him at the opposite end of a banquet table. .. every little smile, every habit, every word....

  And now here he was, smiling at her, smiling because of her. She would give anything to wake up to this smile, every day for the rest of her life.

  "That's a hefty price to pay," he said, his voice light, "for a woman whose clothes are falling off."

  Lassyne looked down at her torn dress—still the commoner's getup she'd worn upon her arrival to Touch—and she adjusted it, lowering the ripped hem as far as she could before her nipples popped out. And then she used her arm to push her ample breasts up as high as they'd go. His gaze instantly fell into the cracks.

  "What? Am I supposed to dodge every knife that gets thrown at me?" Lassyne said.

  "I suppose not," he replied. His fingers tightened on her elbow. Brains, not breasts, she reminded herself. But she could already feel herself getting wet. His attention ran rivers inside her.

  She closed the gap between them, her chest to his now, her lips inches from his smiling mouth.

  "You are going to buy my Rose Contract," she said, "and you are going to pay every cent, and be grateful for the deal. Because I, Mister Stone, am going to give you the best night of your life. The tightest, hungriest, most expensive pussy this side of Creation is going to make you come so many times, you won't be able to father children for a decade." She drew closer, smiling darkly, her lips brushing his as she spoke. "And then I'm going to give you something even better than that," she breathed, looking up into his eyes. Her lashes were heavy now, her vagina aflame, her hands rising up his chest to his shoulders to his hair—

  "Yeah?" he breathed, lust dancing in his eyes. "Because I'm sorry, Lady True—" he gripped her ass, pulled her closer "—but I have trouble imagining what could be better than this."

  She curled against his erection. "I'm giving you what you want most of all," she said.

  "And what's that?"

  Lassyne gripped his hair, sank her mouth against his.

  "I'm going to give you the power to kill Ragen Wise."

  Nineteen

  Brains, nothing. She had him. It was easy. Night had barely fallen before the contract was signed:

  I, Lassyne True, do hereby give Loren Stone the privilege of my virginity, in exchange for the palace buyout of fifty thousand marks....

  ...followed immediately by Loren Stone's hand in marriage.

  Lassyne read the words again, once, twice, a dozen times:

  He shall have as a dowry my fortune, my standing, and my fidelity. In exchange, he will be faithful to me until his dying day, and allow me free reign of my person at all times, or else forfeit all his rights to my name.

  It was foolproof. Love, freedom, power, money. She knew her parents would go along with it, if only to keep the best bloodline intact. And if they didn’t, what did she care? Between her personal standing and Loren’s, they’d have the world in their hands.

  Signed, Lassyne True

  Signed, Loren Stone

  Signed, Orra Read

  (Confirmation of Terms)

  Signed, ………….

  (Presiding Housemaster)

  She frowned at that last one, at the space where Jorr Portent's signature had to go. Orra had assured her, when she tested Lassyne for her purity, that Jorr would agree. "He's never not agreed to a Rose Contract, even a buyout one. And if he did, you could always appeal to Lord Ragen, or Housemaster Idris. Both of them wouldn't mind their palms getting greased by that little fortune of yours."

  But Lassyne was still leery. Jorr had wanted her to be a Thorn; he had wanted it badly. And the man was a spy, most likely a killer. She hadn't forgotten how easily he'd put Hellen in her place, when she'd gone mad after Zaina's Truthing.

  "It's a formality, really," Orra had said. "He'll just read it over, check the terminology, make sure you're not getting screwed. That's all he's ever done."

  And yet here Lassyne sat with her contract in hand, on a mattress that still had no blankets, doing her level best not to chew on her fingertips as she waited for the knock on the door. Night had fallen, and she'd left the lights off so the double moonlight could flood the room. The window was open, the early spring air raising gooseflesh beneath the oversized silk shift that Orra had lent her. It hung too low—she was well-endowed, but not nearly so well-endowed as Orra was—and her nipples were hard and obvious from the chill. One good tug, and her breasts would be bared to the world. Or to any penises that might want to slip between them.

  Faithful for the rest of your life, she thought. But not tonight, if it becomes necessary.

  Any moment, Jorr would knock. He'd come in, look over the contract, and tell her no. And she'd convince him. She'd get right down on her knees and she would suck him off like she'd never sucked off anyone before. She would give him the magnum opus of blow jobs. Even Loren would never see its like.

  And then he would sign, and she would be free. Free from Ossyne. Free from closed rooms and locked doors. Free from her mother and father's limitations. Free to read what she liked, do what she liked, and fuck her husband in every way she could think of. She would show him a love he'd never known existed. She would show him the terrors they shared. She would spread her legs, and she'd heal them both. And she'd stab Ragen Wise right alongside him, once her fortune and her duchy made it possible to destroy him. She'd watch the color fade from the eyes of the beast, and then she'd set her sights on Ossyne.

  "You know," said a voice, and Lassyne leapt to her feet, "I didn't think nobles could stand this much darkness."

  "Jorr," she squeaked, her voice a shadow of itself. He stood in the corner of her bare room, casual as always, hands in his pockets, a hulking dark mass of assassin. "I—I didn't hear you come in."

  He smiled at her; it was tough to see, exactly, but she felt the pressure of the smile, imagined its coldness. She turned and fumbled around for the lamp on the wall by the door.

  Jorr reached out, and put his hand on her wrist.

  He moved like a wraith, not quickly but with an unearthly slide, drawing up beside her, his Sen-blackened eyes like a pair of dug graves. She could hear his breath in the stillness, though his chest didn't seem to rise and fall.

  "I heard you had a contract for me to look at," he said.

  Her mouth dried up. Spy. Killer. Lover. The memory of his fingers, his flicking, eager touch. And his whisper in her ear.... Not my kink.

  Husband. You're about to have a husband. She could barely tell whether she was aroused or terrified.

  "The moonlight's enough for me to read by," he said. His breath shifted a stray curl on her cheek.

  "Oh," she managed. "Yes. Right." She turned, certain as she did so that he'd close his arms around her waist and pull her back, shove her shift up her hips, tear open his trousers and render her Rose Contract null—

  He didn't. Of course he didn't. She picked up the thick page that composed her contract, and stepped quietly to the window. He followed her.

  "You tore off the curtains," he said.

  "Yes. I—" She paused. "I don't really like enclosed spaces."

  "Hmm," he mused, taking the contract from her hands. "I can't imagine why."

  She waited as he read it. Counted her heartbeats as his eyes jumped up and he read it again.

  I'll do it slow, she thought. I'll tease him first. I won't stop until I have him panting. I'll let him come wherever he wants....

  The muscles clenched between her legs. Orra had already signed the contract, after all. So if Lassyne wanted to let him come inside her....

  "It all looks good," Jorr said. "I just need to add something.
You have a quill?"

  The words caught her off-balance. She'd been leaning toward him. "What?" she said.

  "A quill," he said. "I can't sign without a quill."

  She blinked. Her chest felt light, all the air gone out of it. "You—you're signing it?"

  He chuckled. "Why wouldn't I?" He looked around, his gaze landing on her side table. "Ah. There we go." He strode toward it, sat on her bed, and lifted the quill she had left for him. She felt dazed, somehow drunk on the moonlight.

  Husband, she thought, feebly. It was like a whisper trying to speak over wind.

  A scratching noise as he signed it. She took a step closer, jaggedly. She stopped.

  You—you wanted him not to sign it, she thought. You wanted... you wanted... you....

  "There," he said, lifting the page into the beams of pale light. "Read it over. If you like the changes, I'll sign."

  She was a ghost, insubstantial. She took the page. He'd only added a sentence.

  He shall have as a dowry my fortune, my standing, and my fidelity. In exchange, he will be faithful to me until his dying day, and allow me free rein of my person at all times, or else forfeit all his rights to my name. Should he break any part of this pact at any time between the date of this writing and the date of the marriage, then the agreement is rendered null in all terms, and Loren Stone will forfeit to me both the original fifty-thousand-mark rate, and a reparations fee of thirty-five thousand marks.

  Lassyne had to read it a few times to understand it.

  "I can cross it out you like," Jorr explained. "But I think you deserve for it to be there. You see, he could easily run off and fuck half a whorehouse after you two sleep together, but before you get married. That might only be a day of time, but the man is industrious, and I wouldn't put it past him. I don't think you want that—especially if he happened to catch a disease, or get someone pregnant, or whatever." He smiled. "But maybe he loves you and wouldn't do that. How would I know?"