Nightmaster. Susan KrinardЧитать онлайн книгу.
you? Even after what I did to you?”
He meant the kiss, she thought. As if he still felt badly about it. Even guilty.
Surely that wasn’t possible.
“What must I do to prove myself?” she asked.
With a sharp, almost clumsy motion, he turned away. “Have you eaten?”
“I was told a tray would be brought here for me.”
“And clothing?”
“The same.”
“Then I will leave you.” He walked out the door with a single, smoldering glance over his shoulder.
Trinity’s mouth was dry, and her breath seemed to burn in her lungs. She quickly found the shower and removed her shift, intensely aware of her body, even more so than when Palemon had forced her to strip. Her breasts were tender, her nipples hard, her legs trembling.
She turned on the water, adjusting it to the coldest setting. But as soon as she began to lather her body with the sweet-smelling liquid in the dispenser, her imagination began to kick into overdrive. She felt hands caressing her breasts, teasing her nipples, working the soap into her stomach and lower regions. She felt the hand slip between her thighs, sliding into her natural wetness.
Ares’s hands. And his lips grazing her neck. His teeth...
Trinity half stumbled out of the shower and snatched at the towel hanging from a rack set into the wall. She rubbed herself furiously, removing every last drop of moisture from her body. Then she dragged on her shift and sat on the bed, closing her eyes and focusing on regaining her equilibrium.
When a young serf knocked on her door to deliver a tray of fresh, fragrant food, Trinity ate it as if she had an appetite. Soon afterward, Abbie arrived with a gown: a simple, floor-length, amethyst silk slit to the thigh and cut low in the neckline, though not as low as Cassandra’s. Trinity allowed the tailor to help her put it on. There were no undergarments to mar the clean lines of the gown or disturb the liquid caress of the silk gliding over her skin.
Elizabeth arrived just as Abbie was leaving. The two women exchanged a few brief words in the hall, and then the older woman came into the room. She looked Trinity over with obvious appreciation.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said. “Abbie has outdone herself this time....” She hesitated. “Are you all right, Trinity?”
“I’m fine,” she said with a look of carefully constructed tranquility. “I’m ready.”
Elizabeth sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m afraid we really haven’t been of much help to you,” she said slowly. “But I want to make sure you aren’t afraid of Ares. When I was quite a bit younger, I belonged to another Bloodmaster. It was not a pleasant experience. When I had grown too old to interest him, he offered me for open Claiming.” She released a breath. “It’s usually reserved for cast-off serfs, and most are only valuable for increasing the number of an Opir’s staff, and his or her prestige.”
“What happened to you?” Trinity asked.
“After the Bloodlords and Bloodmasters have chosen all those serfs that interest them and paid their former owners the pittance they are worth, the rest are available to Houseless Freebloods. You understand what Freebloods are?”
“Former vassals converted into full Opiri.”
“Made free to build their own destinies,” Elizabeth said. “Some become clients either to their own Sires or other Bloodlords. But they can also choose to fight their way up the ladder and form their own Households. For them, acquiring serfs is not a simple matter of bidding. They fight for their property, and many die.” She sighed. “Two very nasty Freebloods were fighting over me when Ares stepped in and claimed me. I have been here ever since.”
“So he saved you. What would have happened if he hadn’t?”
“Freebloods live on the edge. A serf’s life under such circumstances is fragile. And often short. Now I have a comfortable home where I can be useful. And I’m not alone.”
“Thank you for telling me this,” Trinity said.
“No need to thank me.” Elizabeth rose again, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. “I’m just saying that even if Ares doesn’t keep you with him, you’ll have a comfortable life. Cassandra deliberately sets herself apart from the rest of us. It won’t be that way with you.”
“No,” Trinity said. “It won’t.” Suddenly self-conscious, she smoothed the silk over her thighs. “When do I—”
As if in answer to her unfinished question, the serf she’d seen with Ares in the Claiming room entered the infirmary. Daniel, she remembered Ares calling him—a young man of medium height, with sandy hair and light blue eyes. “Good afternoon,” he said, the words as flat as his expression.
“Is it afternoon?” Trinity asked, glancing up at the ceiling as if she might see the sky.
“We keep clocks in the Household to remind us and help us keep to our routines.” He looked her over appraisingly. “Are you ready? Ares said he’d wait if you needed more time.”
“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be,” she said. “But I’m not afraid.”
Daniel’s eyes warmed slightly. “Ares chose you for more than just your looks.” He gestured toward the door. “Come with me.”
Keenly aware of her naked skin under the gown, Trinity followed Daniel through another series of corridors to a curved staircase ascending to the main floor. At the top of the stairs, a plain door opened onto a hall that could have been the throne room of a palace, elegant and imposing.
Daniel escorted Trinity between stately Grecian columns to a set of double doors. Behind the doors was an antechamber, one wall decorated in the style of ancient Athenian vase paintings. Yet another door, carved with images of ancient warriors in battle, stood at the end.
Daniel touched a panel to the right of the door. Beyond was a room unlike anything Trinity had ever seen. It stretched out in a vast semicircle, a huge, shuttered window taking up half of the curved wall at the back. The floor was strewn with embroidered cushions, and couches from many historical periods were scattered in groups around the room.
On the other half of the back wall hung nearly a dozen paintings, some of which Trinity recognized as well-known masterpieces lost in the War. Sculptures, most in the Greek and Roman style, stood on stands or in wall niches, interspersed with several shelves of old-fashioned books.
“Philosopher,” Palemon had called Ares. But what kind of philosopher? How much of this was for show to his fellow Nightsiders? “The Great Room,” Daniel said, unaware of her musings. He pointed to an arched entryway to the left. “That door leads to the harem chambers, unoccupied at the moment. That door—” he swept his hand toward the opposite side of the room “—leads to Ares’s personal suite. Cassandra lives in rooms adjoining his, but with a separate entrance from the antechamber.”
“I was told she’s been his Favorite for three years,” Trinity said, feeling breathless.
“Yes,” Daniel said, his face turning cold. “Perhaps she won’t retain her place for long.”
He doesn’t like Cassandra, Trinity thought. “Does Ares intend to make me his Favorite?” she asked.
“That’s not for me to know. He has seemed content with Cassandra, taking her blood about once a day.” He met her gaze. “If you feel any gratitude toward him, encourage him to take yours.”
“I am grateful,” she said. “Did he save you, too?”
Daniel look startled, as if she’d read his mind. “That’s unimportant,” he said, gesturing toward the door to Ares’s suite. “Go right in. The master’s waiting.”
He retreated through the doors to the antechamber,