The Claimed: Rashika's Resistance

Chapter 12: Acting

My heart knocked out a sickening thump like a hammer on a rotten log. I staggered back a step, kicking over a lantern, and an array of shadows convulsed across the wall in a twitchy jig. When the lantern clattered against the wall and stopped, my eyes adjusted, and I registered the sight before me.

Makandi stretched out across the floor, clothing half-askew and half-discarded and slender limbs intertwined with someone else.

Roki?

The servant detangled himself from Makandi and scuttled away on his hands and knees. Then he tugged up his pants and popped to his feet. His Adam's apple bobbed with noisy swallows.

"Epsa, I was just... we were just..."

"Fucking," said Makandi with a lazy grin. He planted his palms on the floor beneath him and slowly pushed himself up to sitting, lifting his bottom to slip his trousers up over his hips. Even from several feet away, the prak seeping from his skin stung my nostrils and pricked my eyes. "But what were you out doing, oh sweet Epsa? I am most curious about that."

My gaze stuck on Makandi for a moment and then swung to Roki, who was tugging on a tunic with one hand and fumbling to button his pants with the other.

"Roki, could you leave us, please?"

His head bobbed in several fast nods. "Yes, of course. I'll just, uh... I'll just..."

Roki shot another quick glance at Makandi, but Makandi's eyes remained fastened to me, his smile unwavering. Roki swiveled on his heel and scampered toward the staircase, and my gaze returned to Makandi.

The footsteps pattered up the stairs. The door opened. Shut.

Makandi tilted his head, still grinning. "Well?"

I scoffed, fingers flinching over my hips. "A servant, Makandi? Really?"

His smile faded a little as he shrugged. "Admittedly not my finest moment, but also far from my worst. But I want to hear about you! What Royal Guard mission could require you to use our family's secret exit in the middle of the night?"

I drew in an uneven breath, catching over each false start at a plausible answer. Finding none, I launched a stiff, feeble counterattack.

"You are not in any place to be asking me questions."

The grin returned, and his eyes rolled toward the ceiling. "Oh, the perfect Epsa has a secret! I hope it's a lover, and I hope you have been fucking for hours." He hiccupped and pressed a hand over his gut. "Goddess knows you need it."

My brow furrowed. "You're drunk."

"I'm always drunk."

"You're drunker than usual."

He cocked his head to the side, and his shoulder sank with his head, slumping back against the wall. A grating chuckle disintegrated into a wheezing snort.

"Perhaps."

"Makandi, did you... did you want this? Did you really want Roki?"

He lifted one finger and stared at the wall ahead, tongue flitting between his lips as though composing his thoughts. Then he belched and sank down a bit further against the wall.

"Those" — he stopped to hiccup once more — "Are two very different questions. I absolutely wanted this. I absolutely did not care whether it was Roki."

"Makandi, what would Paranila think?"

He spread his arms wide in an elaborate shrug. "Don't know. Don't care."