Nightmaster. Susan Krinard
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masculine, but the room she entered was empty.
Once again she paused to get her bearings. His suite was just as comfortably appointed as the Great Room, if a little less elaborate in decoration. It had three interior doors, and one was open. More bookshelves lined the walls. A large desk stood to one side of the room, with a computer monitor facing a padded leather chair. A seventeenth-century map of the world hung behind it, and the dark wood and furnishings made it feel like a Victorian gentleman’s office, his private domain in a world run by servants and women.
All so very “human,” Trinity thought.
She looked to see if anyone was watching and went to the desk. The computer wasn’t on, and Trinity assumed it was seldom used. The internet was a thing of the past, at least in a worldwide sense, but both humans and Opiri still kept electronic data and records. If she could get into those records in Erebus...
“Trinity.”
A chill slid down Trinity’s spine. Ares hadn’t seen her yet, but he didn’t have to. Just as she hadn’t needed to see him to know he was there. Like her, he had other heightened senses at his command.
“I’m here,” she said.
“Come in.”
She followed the sound of his voice through the door farthest to the right. The first thing she saw was the bed, easily large enough to accommodate four people, heaped with pillows and covered with a spread embroidered with a nearly perfect reproduction of the famous Bayeux tapestry. A huge Persian carpet stretched across the floor.
The rest of the room was surprisingly spartan. Ares sat in a chair to the right of the bed, next to a small table set with a plate of delicacies, two glasses and a bottle of wine.
Wine was almost impossible to get in the Enclave. The Nightsiders had taken over most of the vineyards, and living on blood didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy some human food and drink.
For a moment, Trinity felt only anger and disgust for what Ares’s kind had stolen from humanity. She stopped just inside the door, and his gaze swept over her with seeming indifference.
“Abbie should not have dressed you this way,” he said in the Opir language. “I brought you here to talk, not to serve me in bed.”
Trinity had thought she was ready. But now, enduring his intense inspection, she found herself trembling.
And oddly disappointed.
“Are you afraid?” Ares asked, his voice almost gentle.
“Do I look afraid?” she asked in the same language.
“That’s better,” Ares said with a slight smile. He gestured to the thickly upholstered chair on the other side of the table. “Sit.”
She glided toward him, lifting her skirts to lengthen her stride. She took the chair, feeling the silk tighten across her breasts and thighs. Ares seemed not to notice as he filled both glasses with wine.
“A very good year,” he remarked, offering her one of the goblets. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”
“Can I refuse?”
“You have that choice,” he said. He sipped from his glass, and then set it down. “For the time being, I want to know more about my newly acquired property.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer to start by tasting it? Isn’t that why I’m here?”
He leaned back, steepling his fingers under his chin. “What did you do in the Enclave? You speak our language fluently, and you apparently know some history. Tell me.”
Trinity could hardly believe he was genuinely interested in hearing about her work or her past. In fact, her background story was not entirely concocted. She had studied languages and history as her specialty at the Academy, and she was grateful she wouldn’t have to fake it.
“I was one of the lucky citizens to be chosen for an advanced education,” she said quietly. “I learned ancient Greek, Latin and modern languages. And Opir, of course.”
“As I see. You have very little accent. Our tongue is not easy to master.”
“Because it’s a mishmash of ancient languages,” she said, leaning toward him. “Greek, Latin, Babylonian and various ancient Indo-European languages we have yet to decipher.”
“A mishmash,” he said drily. “I am certain our own experts in human languages would find that description less than amusing, especially because they believe all ancient human languages derive from ours.”
She held his gaze. “Did I offend you?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want your opinion.”
“Why would the opinion of a serf matter to you?”
He smiled slightly, and she felt a deeper stirring of interest that went well beyond helpless sexual attraction. He was treating her almost as an equal, and she doubted that this was his ordinary way of dealing with new serfs.
“You intrigue me,” he said. “You’re clearly intelligent, and your spirit has not been broken by your deportation from your city.”
“And so that’s the reason I’m here. That and your interest in the human perspective. But on what?”
He nodded at her glass of wine. “Drink.”
Reluctantly she picked up her goblet and sipped. The wine, as expected, was glorious.
“I don’t suppose you share your wine with your serfs as a rule,” she said, setting the glass down again.
“Not as a rule.” He stared intently into her eyes. “What crime did you commit to be sent here?”
She hesitated, as if it were a painful memory. “I didn’t pay my taxes.”
“Such a small thing,” he said.
“They’re finding it more and more difficult to gather criminals to send to you as serfs, and they don’t want to break the Treaty.”
Ares was silent for a while, perhaps brooding over her insolent behavior. But he didn’t chastise her. To the contrary, he appeared more intrigued than ever.
“And why weren’t you able to find a protector to clear you of these charges?” he asked. “You are a beautiful woman. Surely some powerful male would have been prepared to spare you exile in return for—”
“Is that what you think of human women?” she interrupted. “That we give ourselves to men so they’ll protect us from the consequences of our actions?”
“Trinity,” Ares said in a soft voice. “Do not speak to me in that manner again.”
All at once, without warning, he was master and she his slave, utterly subject to his will. She was reminded that, in spite of his mild manner now, taking liberties with him too quickly might result in her being punished, or even sent away.
Or perhaps it would arouse his sexual interest again. The kind that had gripped him—and her—just after the Claiming.
“I’m...I’m sorry, my lord,” she said meekly.
He picked up his glass and set it down again without tasting the contents. “I warned you before that you should consider the consequences of your behavior, Trinity. In Erebus, those consequences can be much worse than mere exile.”
“I know,” she said. “But if you’ll allow me to explain...”
When he waved his hand to grant her permission, she continued more carefully. “The women of the Enclave aren’t like that,” she said. “Most would never think of seeking that kind of protection from a man. All people, regardless of gender, are equal.”
“But it was not always so,” he said, relaxing again. “I remember. Among my kind—through all the ages—there has never been any significant distinction