The air left Amelia’s lungs in a rush.
She’d be residing here, in these chambers. With him.
What on Earth did he want from her? And how far was she actually willing to let this pretense go?
And it was a pretense. Even if for the moment, she was kind of trapped here. She’d find a way to escape and vanish without a trace. As soon as she’d learned everything she could.
This temporary slavery would turn out to her advantage.
“Reside here, my lord?” Amelia queried, this time opting to use the correct form of address but still refusing to call Roan Master. That was one of the things she certainly couldn’t make herself do, and strictly speaking, he hadn’t ordered her to do so. He’d only indicated that he should.
“Yes, Amelia.”
When he didn’t elaborate, Amelia forced herself to ask, “Have I done something wrong, my lord?”
At her hesitant inquiry, those cobalt blue eyes softened a bit, making him appear more approachable and a lot less like his tyrant of a father. He seemed more … human, somehow. Though he wasn’t, Amelia hastily reminded herself, shaking her head at her momentary insanity.
“No, Amelia. You’ve done well enough, and you haven’t displeased me,” Roan assured her, seeming to understand her underlying question. He even went so far as to add, “This isn’t a punishment. There has simply been a change of circumstances.”
And what about her trip to the clearing, then? Why hadn’t that displeased this male?
Amelia sighed.
Everything was strange and confusing. Aroan never did what she expected, and for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom his motivation. Still, Amelia nodded her understanding, and the Fae Lord stood.
“Well, then, you should go and gather your belongings. The second door on the left leads to the chamber you will be staying in,” he said, gesturing to the door in question, and Amelia inclined her head anew.
At least it seemed Aroan wouldn’t be requiring her to sleep in his bedroom.
“Do you remember which chamber my father brought you to upon your arrival?”
“I do.” Roan raised an eyebrow, so she grudgingly added, “My lord.”
“That’s my study. I’ll spend most of the morning there.”
He walked over to Amelia, and as he came to a stop right in front of her, Amelia realized with a start how much taller and stronger he truly was than her.
Gazing down at her, Roan said, “Come find me when you’re finished.”
Then he walked out, leaving Amelia standing in the middle of the empty sitting room.
Chapter Thirteen
It didn’t take Amelia long to collect her meager possessions.
Even after weeks at the mansion, the only things she’d acquired were a few toiletries and a change of simple clothing. Though she’d considered piecing together a weapon on her own or smuggling a knife out of the kitchens to add to her belongings, it simply wasn’t worth the risk. If anyone caught her in the act or saw her carrying it on her person later on, there’d be instant retaliation. It could mean her death, and knowing the Fae, it probably would.
Thus, Amelia was left feeling exposed, but it wasn’t like she could pull a weapon on somebody, anyway. Not until she was ready to run and leave this wretched place behind for good – or until she came back to collect, which was a very real possibility now that she knew exactly where she was.
Still, having her own room had not only provided Amelia a bit of privacy but had also meant that she had a spot where she felt relatively safe, so it took her quite a while to bring herself to move and vacate it for good. Despite her unease, Amelia was smiling as she exited and strode down the hallway, though.
Earl of Wentbur, indeed.
In his insistence upon propriety, Aroan had revealed a lot more than he’d ever believe possible. For example, Amelia now knew for sure that Roan’s sire was no other than Byron mac Conaill, a councilor with royal Fae blood in his veins – quite diluted, to be sure, but still, it was royal blood – who could trace his line back to the great goddess Mongfhionn and was very, very distantly related to the current High Queen of the Faery Realm.
Lord Byron was a mighty High Fae who’d been on the erstwhile Fae Council for decades and, thus, used to have the full confidence of the Ravenells before their untimely demise.
Also, Wentbur was a territory in the hill country, so Amelia had been right about her rough location. The province lay north and east of the Great Mounts, though not directly at the coast, and was closer to the southern border than to the Fae capital. And apparently, it was ruled by Aroan, since his father spent so much time away, presumably on council business, and thus in Cerridwen.
It was so good of her alleged lord and master to confirm the identity of some of her enemies, even telling her where she could find them in the future.
On another note, Amelia had hoped to bump into Evana on her way out of the servant’s wing, even though she was aware that the elfling had to be busily at work in the kitchens, just as she’d be if her duties hadn’t unexpectedly changed. No matter, though. She’d find a way to let the girl know that she’d been reassigned, and then they’d puzzle out how to meet up and talk from now on.
Why make all these changes, though, Amelia mused as she hurried down the hallway, clutching her possessions to her chest. If she’d done a good enough job in the kitchens, why alter that arrangement?
She turned a corner, heading in the direction of the stairs, when suddenly a hand clamped around her forearm, whirling her around and sending the items she carried flying. The small pot of salve she’d kept hidden in her room to treat her injuries tumbled to the floor, shattering into pieces.
“Why, you clumsy little …”
Amelia was sure the tirade went on and on, but she didn’t perceive any more of it as the head servant’s palm crashed into the side of her face with such force that it left her reeling. The world shrank away, and the sounds around her didn’t register in her ringing ears any longer. Her awareness narrowed down to the sensation of her body meeting the cold tiles, her head smacking into the hard surface a second later. Then a sharp pain bloomed in her cheek, and Amelia tasted blood.
Well, the Fae were a lot stronger than humans.
The head servant’s hand clamped around her wrist again, dragging her to her feet.
“Now look what you’ve done! Not showing up for work in a timely manner, and then also creating a mess in the hallway. You’ll clean that up first thing,” he hissed at her, shoving his face so close to Amelia’s that his angry features registered even in spite of her blurry vision. “Lord Aroan will hear of this, and if you aren’t where you’re supposed to be by the time I’m back … You better hope I never find you.”
With that, the head servant whirled around and stalked away.
Amelia allowed her battered body to fall back against the wall, then sank to the floor again. Her surroundings were still foggy, and she needed another second to gather herself. Her senses were slowly returning, but the severe ache in her cheek remained. Lifting her hand, Amelia gingerly touched the area and hissed, both in pain and in anger.
The side of her face was already swollen, and her lips… yes, they were bloodied, all right, Amelia verified by gazing at her fingers. She didn’t even want to know how bad she looked. Sensing it was more than enough. Though at least none of her teeth had been knocked loose by that brutish male.
She supposed she should be grateful.
So, now what, Amelia wondered as she climbed to her knees and gathered what was left of her possessions. She folded her spare garb, then deposited it to one side with the other items that had remained intact and set about gathering up the shards. She’d need a rag and a bucket of water to clean up the ruined salve, but maybe it’d be better to deposit her things on the third floor first as she’d been instructed by Roan.
Course of action thus decided, Amelia made her way to the lord’s quarters and peeked into the room that would be hers for the time
being. She didn’t know what to expect, but it definitely wasn’t a lavish four-poster bed draped with soft sheets that harmonized with the wood panels and the thick, cream-colored carpets strewn across the floor. An elegant armoire sat against the far wall, and a giant fireplace took up most of the one across from it.
It must be his room, after all, Amelia thought with sudden dread, but somehow, that conclusion didn’t seem right. The chamber was simply too feminine to suit a male like Roan, and he definitely wouldn’t need a vanity.
The chamber must’ve been meant for a lady, possibly for his Lady Wife, or maybe a mistress, since the lady of the house usually had her own set of rooms. It sure as Hell wasn’t intended for a human slave who, for whatever reason, had to be close at hand, though. Yet Amelia had been instructed to bring her things and take up residence there.
Shaking off her astonishment, Amelia reminded herself that she couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take in more of her surroundings while she was alone, and she continued her perusal. The great windows offered a view of the gardens on the northern side of the mansion that she hadn’t been able to explore yet. They even allowed her to survey a section of the forest that surrounded the building on three sides.
All things considered, these changes might prove very useful, Amelia thought as she set down her possessions on the bed and hurried back downstairs to clean up the hallway before she reported to the study. Hopefully, she’d be able to move around freely now and learn more about the masters of the estate by staying close to Roan. Maybe she could even gain some insight into the plans and strategies of the Fae Council.
~ *** ~
Roan
By the time Amelia arrived at the study at last, Roan was starting to wonder what was taking the girl so long.
He bid her enter upon hearing her knock but didn’t immediately look up. Instead, Roan finished reading a report first, scribbling a couple of notes and remarks on the margin. Only when he’d reasoned out what he’d have to do concerning the matter at hand did he finally lift his gaze, intending to reprimand his human for wasting so much time, but as his eyes came to rest on Amelia, the words died on his lips.
Roan leapt to his feet without conscious thought and had rounded his desk before he even realized what he was doing. He managed to refrain from reaching out and touching the slave’s face, at least, although restraining himself took considerable effort, and that was a great surprise in itself, since he shouldn’t feel the need to do so in the first place.
He wouldn’t have thought it possible for him to ever feel compassion for a human, nor to want to touch her.
The cause of his current alarm and astonishment was the girl’s disheveled appearance, though, and the left side of her face that looked discolored and puffy. Amelia’s lower lip was also swollen, and in the corner of her mouth, Roan detected dried blood.
“What on Earth happened to you?” Roan exclaimed.
“I’ve done as instructed, my lord,” the girl said, with her eyes lowered, kind of in answer, which made Roan wonder whether she was afraid to tell him.
She couldn’t be cowed, though.
Roan noticed that the girl’s shoulders were back, just like every other time he’d seen her.
But then why was she brushing aside his inquiry?
Whatever her reason, Roan had to know what had occurred, so he pressed her on the matter.
“Amelia, look at me,” he commanded, waiting till she did so before asking anew, “What happened to your face?”
Golden eyes clashed with cobalt blues, the fine starbursts in the girl’s gaze glinting with obstinacy.
“You defy me on this?”
Amelia remained stubbornly silent.
Swearing, Roan ran a hand through his hair, then demanded to know, “Why? Why would you choose to do so instead of answering a simple question?”
She wet her lips, then said hesitantly, “My lord, denouncing someone to you wouldn’t be wise in my position.”
That might be true, but he still couldn’t let this go, both because Amelia had refused to provide him with information and … for another reason.
Incensed, he rounded on her.
“You were hurt.” When she didn’t dispute that, Roan went on, wagering a guess, “Someone hit you.”
That a member of this household would have the gall to do so – to lay a finger on his human, to even touch her…
Amelia didn’t respond, and Roan grabbed her arm, then immediately let go of her when his touch elicited a hiss of pain from the human.
“Show me your arm,” he ordered instead, and wonder of wonders, the girl complied.
The forearm Amelia exposed bore a big, broad handprint. Definitely that of a male. And her hands … They were raw and red, and one had even been bandaged.
“What’s the matter with your hands?”
“Nothing worth your notice, my lord,” Amelia assured him, then seeing the stubborn look on his face, she supplied, “Most of it is simply from work. And this …” She lifted her bandaged hand. “This is the result of my own clumsiness. I cut myself,” she finished, holding his gaze the whole time.
That still didn’t explain the marks upon her arm. He’d find out, though.
Turning abruptly, Roan made for the door and almost ran straight into the head servant outside his study.
Good, at least he wouldn’t have to look for him, Roan thought. After all, who better to task with uncovering who had dared to injure his human than the male who oversaw the whole staff?
“Harold, I need you to find out what happened with the human girl this morning,” he began, not even giving the head servant a moment to recover from the close call in his urgency. Roan couldn’t fathom why he was so distraught, but even the dark mystical energy he usually had such good control over was rearing its head, wanting to lash out, to punish … to protect.
The realization – and the ferocity – brought Roan up short. Sure, he didn’t condone unnecessary violence, and Amelia was his, but still ... To actually want to protect a human …
What in the Gods’ name was wrong with him?
“My lord, if I may.” The head servant cleared his throat to bring Roan’s attention back to him. “I did not wish to disturb you, but since you already seem to know that something is amiss …” The male stood up tall and went on with an air of self-importance. “I was informed that the human slave didn’t show up for work this morning, my lord, and when I went to find her, she created such a mess that I …”
The rest of the puffed-up Fae’s little speech didn’t register with Roan in his infuriated state. It was insignificant, anyway. What mattered was that this creature had dared to touch Amelia. He was the one who’d hurt her, and the mere servant even seemed proud of that.
Roan had gotten his answer.
“How dare you,” he hissed, balling his hands into fists by his sides to prevent himself from physically assaulting the other male.
His power had no such compunction, though. Actually manifesting, the dark energy surrounded the servant, wrapping around him in a chilling, vaporlike cloud. Roan barely managed to keep it from squeezing the Fae like a bug and stealing all the air from his lungs.
Fueled by his emotions, his ability wanted to kill and destroy, and the darkness could do so without Roan intentionally transforming it into a weapon or attacking someone with a thousand teeth and claws. He didn’t have to consciously decide to penetrate his prey’s head and squish his brain until it came leaking out of his ears.
All it would take was him failing to retain control.
Shocked into awareness by a gasp behind him, Roan just barely managed to rein both himself and his power in before thought could transform into action. Though his rage was still very much present, logical thought slowly returned, and he realized what he’d been about to do to a trusted member of his own household. To the male who’d been appointed head servant by his grandsire long before Roan was even born, for Heaven’s sake.
He’d lost control over
his power – something that hadn’t happened since he was a little boy – and nearly taken the life of a fellow Fae to avenge an injury inflicted on a human slave.
Roan took a deep breath to regain some of his composure. He didn’t withdraw the dark cloud from around the shell-shocked servant, though. A bit of a fright was the least he deserved for harming Amelia.
“You hit the girl,” he stated, and the Fae managed to squeak, “Yes, my lord.”
“You touched Amelia without my say-so,” Roan reiterated icily.
The head servant nodded in affirmative.
“Have you even bothered to ask why she wasn’t in the kitchens, Harold?” He stalked over to the frozen male, barely leaving any space between them. “Have you?”
“No,” the servant whispered, white as chalk.
“‘No, my lord’,” Roan snarled, getting in the head servant’s face. “The slave was following my instructions. She didn’t do anything wrong.” He paused to let that sink in. “Regardless, disciplining my slave is my prerogative. No one else has the right to do so.” His eyes glinted threateningly. “If you ever touch the girl without my express permission again, you will lose more than a month’s wage,” he then informed the male, delivering the only warning he’d get, and amped up his power for good measure. “Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, Lord Aroan,” came the immediate answer.
“Good.” Roan said. “That goes for everyone in this household. For each and every guard and staff member. Make sure they know. And get out of my sight!”
Done with the other male, Roan marched back into his study, allowing the door to close with a gentle click behind him.
Chapter Fourteen
Amelia
Going forward, things changed for Amelia in many regards.
Chopping vegetables, stirring fires or sweeping and mopping floors weren’t part of her chores any longer. She hardly even entered the kitchens, and when she did, she only stayed long enough to fetch some food for Aroan or deliver a message in place of Branley, the lord’s valet.
Hidden Revenge (The Kingdoms Book 1) Page 9
