“We are.”
“Sir, I don’t mean to—”
“Do you like your new dress?”
Aida snapped her mouth shut, glancing down at the river of bloody hues dancing around her mincing steps as he guided her towards the staircase that ran a circular path from her tower to the main wing of the castle.
“It’s… very lovely, sir.”
“You dislike it?”
“It’s not that I don’t like it, sir,” Aida whispered, fumbling through the words as her tongue grew thick and unwieldy, the taint of acrid fear blooming beneath the heavy scent of roses. “It was… unexpected. I of course appreciate your endless generosity, but it is quite—”
“You would do well to remember how generous I have been, Aida,” Otaso said through a growl, the shuddering resonance echoing through the oppressive space.
“Yes, sir. I do.”
Falling into silence as they descended, Aida felt the walls closing in. Charcoal black stone soaked up the light dancing in the sconces, yet the space remained illuminated to a drowsy golden hue. Bright enough she could pick her way out beside him, it left far too many shadows. Each one reaching, grasping for her hem. By the time the first window appeared, signaling their journey not even half done, Aida was molding herself to Otaso’s side. Hiding away from the imagined terrors even as he took her towards a whole wealth of them. Cowering in his shadow to keep her safe as foreign scents and sounds drifted up the stairs towards them.
By the time the raucous din of male voices became a wordless roar, the clang and rattle of metal and wood shivering through her bones, Aida was near to tears. Arms wrapped tight around Otaso’s, he corrected every attempt she made to dissuade his course. Maintaining the long strides that kept her scurrying along, his arm firm at the small of her back, hand firm on her hip.
“S-Sir, please, I… I’m frightened,” Aida whimpered when the glow from the main hall extended its spindly fingers up the stairs. She would have tucked her face against his chest, begged him with sobbing entreaties if she didn’t think he would grow angry with her at mussing her hair and paint.
“Do you think so little of me, that I’d have my sweet doe dine among the crass filth of my army?”
His sudden stop left Aida lurching, his hand at her shoulder shoving her into the bitter stone wall driving the breath from her lungs on a caustic rush of panic. Jaw caught in a cruel grip, he jerked Aida’s face up, lengthening the line of her throat to leave it bare and vulnerable as he brought his face close.
“Answer me.”
“I don’t know!” The words came out on an airy sob. Her hands fluttered in anxious sweeps, reaching for him only to wheel away. Rushing on in a pained whisper, she hoped to appease. “Sir, you said only that I would dine with you. A testament to your power! I do not know what that means.”
Aida held what little breath she could drag in around the churning knot lodged in her throat, watching, waiting for him to explode in a rage. This close to his men, they would come running. Abyss take her, she didn’t want to know what would happen to her then. Surprise squeezed her chest all the tighter as Otaso’s jaw softened, one corner of his mouth tipping up as he came ever closer. Mellowing as his breath mingled with her shallow pants, he rubbed his nose along hers and made a sound she did not understand at all. She did not enjoy it, felt no easing in her panicked dismay, but at least he wasn’t yelling.
“No, you wouldn’t, would you, my sweet little jewel. So innocent and pure.”
Otaso gathered her closer, angling her body away from the wall. One hand cupping her hip, the other at her back, he lifted Aida to his chest to bury his nose against her neck. Dragged in a noisy breath and let it out in a growling thunder before the wet heat of his mouth closed over the patch of flesh where the line of her neck swept to her shoulder. A smacking, open-mouthed kiss laid there, his hand rustling the heavy layers of her skirts to grip high on her backside.
“S-Sir?” Joints locked in jagged ice, she remained stiff and frozen as Otaso pawed at her. His hands strayed no lower, skimming over the rounded edge of her curves before grabbing at some other part to keep her aloft. His sounds becoming darker, deeper, pressed against her chest with a violent intensity she didn’t understand.
“Yes,” Otaso breathed against the delicate skin behind her ear, groaning as he let Aida slide down the length of his body. Clutching her close, his hips rocking once, twice. “Yes, soon you will see exactly what I mean, my dear.”
Aida’s hands slapped against the icy stone at her back to stop from shoving him away when she felt the thickness pushing against her. Thankful for the first moment of the heavy silk encasing her ribs and stomach that she didn’t feel more than the pressure of it as Otaso ground against her with another slow sway.
It was a long moment before he came back to himself, stopping the nuzzling of her hair, quieting his wretched sounds. Drawing back, he gave Aida another one-sided smile, tucking her tight against his side and wrapping a massive arm around her, leaving her to scurry on tiptoe as he started them on their journey again.
To Aida’s surprise, the huge doors leading into the great hall were shut tight, the great racket of his men still loud through the iron bound planks as Otaso led her down a path towards a series of chambers, every room they passed showing a closed door. He left nothing to chance, not even a single guard making rounds through this section of the castle as he showed Aida into an expansive room with a long, glossy table and sturdy chairs.
Everything about it was utilitarian, austere in its simplicity. Even the thick drapes blocking the cloudy panes of the windows were nothing more than what was necessary. Seated in the uncomfortable chair to the right of the head of the table nearest the windows, Aida watched her guardian move with the firm, decisive actions of a man more accustomed to decreeing commands than arranging his bulky frame on the chair at her side in preparation for a meal.
“Sir? Will it just be us?” Hope sprang to life in her chest, a flickering candle in the darkest hour of night as Otaso took his time to respond. She even dared to smile when he took her hand, pressing his lips to her knuckles in an act that felt far more intimate than it should have.
“Molaro and Varazi will join us, my doe. A few others only.” Dark arches of his brows snapping together, he glanced down the line of the table, gripping her fingers to the point of pain. “You have nothing to fear from them. They will meet a slow end if they dare anything.”
Any thought of protesting fled her thoughts as the door opened and several others drifted in with a rustle of robes and the creak of leather. Keeping her wide eyes trained upon the smooth surface of the table, she clenched her free hand in her skirts to keep from jumping with each scraping rasp of a chair, the murmured obeisant greetings of the many males.
Their musky power filled the room to bursting, clogging the back of her throat so she wanted to sputter and cough. Wished she could rake her nails over the flat of her tongue to scrape away the taste of sooty darkness and dusty ash.
Counting the small, shallow breaths the corset afforded her, she slid her gaze to where Otaso still held her hand. No longer crushed, her fingers now rested placid across his large palm. She wondered if anyone else could see the fine tremble there, would note the stink of fear under the heavy perfume. Not just her own, either. She could scent their anxiety as clear as hers, but whether it was for this performance or Otaso himself remained to be seen.