Atticus pokes his head in. “Boaz just stepped through the door.”
Zander curses.
“To the right and follow the corridor until you reach the back alley,” Bexley says, her rich, violet-blue eyes landing on me where they linger as her lips curl back. Two fangs slide out from her upper jaw, lethal but oddly delicate, their pristine white glimmering like jewels against the lantern’s glow.
I struggle to school my expression as my heart races. They’re not as unsightly as I first thought. Threatening, nonetheless.
Kaders grabs Bexley’s narrow waist and hauls her onto his lap, yanking up the layers of her dress. She wriggles her thighs around his and with his first groan, it’s safe to assume he’s seated himself in her. They’ve dismissed their audience entirely.
My cheeks are flushed as I scoot sideways across the bench to exit, but not before I see Bexley gingerly sink her teeth into the side of Kaders’s burly neck, earning a second guttural groan from deep within his chest.
Zander grabs my hand and tugs me out just as Bexley begins to rock her hips. On impulse, I swipe three gold coins from the table on the way and slip them into the inner pocket of my cloak.
Atticus leads the way, ushering us to the right as instructed. We dart along the hall, passing a slew of occupied stalls. By the time we step out into an alley that smells of rotten garbage and urine, I’ve seen at least a dozen immortals feeding off humans, a few of them in copulatory poses.
“Elisaf said this was a tavern.”
Atticus chuckles. “It is.”
“If tavern means brothel.” And not even a respectable one with private rooms.
“Where did you think we would collect the most pertinent information? Over a loaf of dark rye at the market’s bread stand?” His grin is smug beneath the lantern as his eyes roll over me from head to toe. “Was that too much for your delicate disposition?”
“I’m not delicate,” I snap. I’ve stumbled upon more than my share of lewd acts—blow jobs behind convenience stores, hand jobs against the wall at the club, sex within the shadows of a public park or the dingy stalls of the subway restrooms. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Zander gently slips my hood over my hair and then takes my hand. He’s wearing an oddly pensive expression. “We need to get back to the horses.”
The three of us run along the backside of the buildings, the cats and rats scattering out of our way. We pass two men and a woman tangled in a complicated menage of limbs and flesh. I assume there are fangs somewhere in the mix, but I can’t decipher who is doing what to whom without pausing to shine a light on them. Regardless, the sounds they’re emitting are ones of seedy pleasure, not distress, and they aren’t the least bit bothered by our fleeting presence.
We emerge onto a side street.
“I’ll get our horses. You two wait here.” Atticus disappears into the night, leaving Zander and me alone.
It’s quiet here but people linger, stealing glances at the two cloaked figures standing at the street’s edge.
“Royal guard, up ahead.” I nod to the two men approaching on horseback, but Zander has already noticed them. He wordlessly leads me across the street and into another alleyway, this one cleaner than the last but narrow, Zander’s shoulders nearly brushing the brick on either side. We’re twenty feet in before he stops. “This should be far enough.”
Far enough that they don’t catch the honeyed scent of my Ybarisan blood, he doesn’t say.
There’s nothing to do now but stand here, in a confined, dark space with Zander looming over me, until Atticus returns.
“I can’t believe we’re running from your own captain.” I feel the bubble of laughter threaten.
“You know how unpleasant Boaz can be.” Zander’s voice is low and gravelly.
“I’ve noticed.” Thankfully, Zander has kept him away from me. “You like sneaking around down here, don’t you?”
“I enjoy the freedom of being anonymous, and unseen.” He pauses. “As do you.”
It’s what I’m used to. It’s what I know. I smile into the darkness. “This was fun.” I feel more like myself tonight than I have in a long time. “What do you think about this Gesine tip?”
“She could be traveling under an assumed name.”
“That’s what I thought too, though I wonder what happened to the other caster she was with.” I think back to the conversation in the booth. “Kaders knew what Bexley had planned for him, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” I hear the humor in Zander’s voice.
“And he didn’t mind? I mean, he wasn’t afraid?”
“That is not the first time that has happened to him. And no, he put on a good show for us, but his pulse was racing, and it was not from fear.”
“It didn’t hurt him?”
“Nothing more than a slight prick at the beginning, from what I’ve heard.”
I grimace, rubbing the spot on my neck where the daaknar sank its fangs into me.
“I’ll wager it’s significantly less unpleasant than what you experienced,” Zander says, reminding me that he has no trouble seeing me in the dark. “A lot of the Seacadorians come to Islor for that type of evening, and it is almost guaranteed in a place like the Goat’s Knoll.”
“Are you saying they enjoy being fed upon?”
“It’s a novel idea, is it not? That when the humans are not forced into servitude, this symbiotic relationship between immortal and mortal could be different.”
“And you think humans would allow themselves to be fed upon if they weren’t forced?” I ask doubtfully.
“Many would not,” he admits. “But some would because humans have great capability for compassion. And others would do it if there was monetary gain. The difference is they would have a choice and not a keeper. I realize it is a provocative notion, one that has stirred debates and worries among my kind, but I think it is a notion worthy of exploring because it is what is right. Another way to live and to survive. A better way.”
“There were tributaries in there.”
“Servants, but likely not tributaries. They serve their keepers in other ways, as house and farmhands, and trades helpers. This is where they choose to come on a rare night off or if they’ve stolen away from their burdens for a few hours. Bexley charges a fee for the tables, and people use them however they wish, whether it’s enjoying mead or mortal. In some cases, the humans charge for access to their veins. Sometimes, as with Bexley and the Silver Mage’s captain, they both take enjoyment from it.”
“So, they’re already living what you’ve envisioned, then.”
“Not quite. They are earning too little in stipends to support themselves. This extra coin allows them to live a little better. Perhaps buy finer clothes, but not more. In a better version of this world, they have their own homes and families and goals, with no keepers to answer to. There would be mortal villages like there are in Ybaris, with mortal lords and ladies. They would not be at the mercy of those who need their blood to survive, and those who choose to sell it would be compensated appropriately.”
And the power would shift from the immortals to the mortals in a drastic way.