Agatine (Terres book II)

Chapter Seventeen

The smoky air was far too concentrated in Wren's lungs. It made her feel like she was suffocating. Phina lounged on the cushion beside her, jade wings folded behind her back. She examined her nails instead of the man that was talking to them. Or rather, was talking to Wren, since he'd been ignoring Phina completely for quite a while. He leaned his back against the wall and leaned close enough to Wren that she felt uncomfortable with his presence. 

He was tall and lean, and he looked at Wren in a way that was both quizzical and kind, but never hid the true reason why he was here. He brushed her arm and a prickle ran down her spine.

"It's quite fascinating, the caravan," he said. Wren nodded and forced herself to look at him. His hand rested on hers and she shuddered. She glanced over at Phina, whose eyes remained completely impassive.

"It was a nice place," Wren said, hoping that he would drop it so they could talk about something else. The caravan was the last place she wanted to think about. She looked away from him to clear her head so the memories wouldn't consume her.

"Mmm," he said, like he wasn't really interested in what she was saying. "You're really quite pretty, you know."

"Thank you." Wren flushed. She was suddenly too aware of the thin bones protruding from her skin and her bad haircut. She wondered if it was a real compliment or one that he said just to loosen her up. Not that he needed it. He probably came here all the time, and he probably was used to getting what he wanted.

"Do you want to talk alone?" he asked. Wren's heart jumped into her throat and she glanced at Phina as if to ask what she should do. Phina sat upright and held a hand in front of Wren, as if protecting her.

"Oh, she's not--"

"--Okay," Wren interrupted. Phina gave her a glance that was halfway between questioning and amused, but Wren didn't say anything. Her heart beat so wildly it nearly deafened her. Her hands trembled and she wondered if he could feel it. 

She let him take her hand. It surprised her how smooth and soft it felt, like he'd never worked outside or held a sword or had to fight. Wren felt the eyes of everyone in the room on her as she followed him down the hallway and through a door, like he already knew exactly where he was going. Her face flushed.

The room was softly lit with oil lamps that hung from the corners of the ceiling. She held her arms around herself. He sat on the edge of the feather mattress that jumped out at her from the middle of the room and patted the space next to him. She walked over and sat down, face burning up with heat.

"You look like a scared kitten," he said as he ran a hand through her hair. Wren shivered and tried not to look at him, He crooked a finger under her chin and tilted her face toward him. He was much taller than her. He smiled, but it didn't do anything to calm the thrumming of her heartbeat. His eyes turned critical and Wren let out a little gasp of air.

"No, no, it's okay," he said. He moved his finger and cupped her cheek in his soft hand. "You haven't done this before, have you?" he asked.

Wren bit her lip and shook her head. He let out a little laugh, not a mean sort of laugh. One that actually made her heartbeat slow a bit, like maybe he wasn't so awful. He looked at her and his eyes were kind and soft and understanding.

"I can stop right now, if you want. We can stay for a bit and talk and I'll walk right out that door. Nobody has to know but us," he said. "I can stop whenever you like. Would you like me to stop?"

Wren thought about it for a moment.

"No," she said. She'd made her choice, and she'd made it with the full knowledge of what that would entail. Her heart raced and there was heat in her face and her hands were shaking, but she would be okay.

His lips brushed against hers, then became more insistent as she closed her eyes. He tasted like chewing tobacco and smoke and smelled like sea breeze. His fingers traced along her neck and down her shoulder, then stopped at the hem of her shirt.

"Remember, I'll stop whenever you tell me to," he said, and Wren nodded as he lifted the shirt over her head. She wasn't sure if it was the air or his eyes that stung her skin. She flushed again and crossed her arms. He took her hands in his and uncrossed them, then laid her down so gently on the mattress that she scarcely noticed his weight on top of her. 

Her wings folded up neatly behind her and for the first time since she'd gotten them, she felt like they were not in the way. He traced his fingertips over the edge of them, where the skin was the most sensitive, and a not entirely unpleasant shudder ran down her spine.

"It must be hard, having them," he said. Wren nodded. He didn't look at her with judgment or fear or pity. He looked at her like it was a fact of life, like death or birth or sex were. Uncomfortable, but there and unavoidable nonetheless. 

"Sometimes," she said. He let his hand travel over her chest and her breath caught in her throat. He wrapped his hand around the point of her hip. It didn't feel soft and weak anymore. She gasped. He let go and brushed what little hair she had back with his hand.

"Okay?" he asked. She nodded and he kissed her neck. Wren's toes curled. She wrapped her arm around his back and pulled him closer. 

It amazed her, really, how gentle he was with her. How much he took his time and went slow and asked her at regular intervals if she was still okay. She was sure, somehow, that all men were not like this. That some would have taken from her without asking or being gentle or giving it a second thought. But as she laid there with her wings sprawled out behind her and her head on his chest, she couldn't help but think that it was nice.

"I hope that wasn't too terrible," he said. 

"It wasn't," she replied, glad that she didn't have to lie.

"Do you have a name?" 

"Wren." She wondered how many other girls had been in this predicament, with so little experience and so much to lose. She remembered what Phina had said, about small pieces of yourself, and realized she'd given him quite a big piece. 

"I'd always expected it to be more painful and difficult," she said. He stroked her arm with his thumb and a chuckle rumbled in his chest. 

"It isn't always. I spoiled it with my wife, I suppose that's why I'm here at a brothel with you. She hardly even looks at me anymore."

Wren blinked. Phina was right, then. "That's too bad."

  "It is. It's fortunate that I have time and money enough to engage in these sorts of...activities. But I always try to make it nice for you girls." He sighed. "If Seltus found out I was in the brothel he'd have my head. Man's not fit to run this city."

"What do you mean?" she asked, suddenly feeling like she'd accidentally stumbled onto something very important. Her heart hammered in her chest. She tried to dull it, afraid that he would hear. 

"He wants this brothel gone. He wants all of you gone, actually. He's been poking around at the sellswords trying to get them to watch you. Keeps talking about storming the place and arresting you all. Apparently one of the girls offended him. Told a secret to someone she shouldn't have. Oh well, it's probably nothing. The man talks more than acts, he's too busy with parties and women." The last part rolled out of his mouth like it tasted sour.

Wren wanted to jump up and run to tell Phina, right now, but she forced herself to lay there with him, heart pounding away like footfalls on a hard road.