As always, thanks to Ashilaa_AO3 and TheLadyNovelist for all the reading and insightful commentary.
This chapter was really hard to write for a variety of reasons, but I'm quite pleased with the finished product.
Random side note, apparently a jian is a kind of double-edged straight sword, traditional in China. This was unintentional, but I'm amused by the connection, especially given that Jian herself wielded a doubled-edged straight sword as a Howling Banshee.
Jian awakes slowly. She's lying on her stomach, still naked, with Valthiel's arm draped over her shoulders. She can tell by his breathing that he's still asleep. For a few minutes, she lies still, drowsing in the warm, soft cocoon of the bed. Her body aches, but with a pain that comes from exertion rather than abuse. Still, it feels like something is missing. She searches her mind for what the strange absence might be until it hits her.
I'm happy.
She can't remember the last time she felt this way, simply existing in a pleasant moment without an undercurrent of pain or fear or hopelessness souring it. It feels like if she moves, the spell will break and she'll be back to the same mire she's been struggling through for the last few months.
So she waits, eyes closed, floating in and out of sleep. She doesn't know how long it is before he stirs. He yawns and stretches luxuriously before pulling her into an embrace. "Good morning, dear."
"Is it morning?"
He shrugs. "It might be. It feels like it, though." Another yawn. "How are you feeling?"
"Good. Very good." It's hard to articulate exactly what has changed. "Thank you."
"Thank you for what?"
"For… that." She waves her hand vaguely. "The evening. I really enjoyed it."
"Enjoyed it, huh?" He nibbles playfully on her ear. "I see my reputation has been significantly blown out of proportion, then, if you merely enjoyed it."
She scrambles to reassure him, but reminds herself that it's only a joke; she doesn't need to worry. "I mean, it was good. I just don't know that I've had enough experience to compare yet."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean – " She swallows, suddenly nervous. "You're the first man I've ever been with. It's different. I don't know what I like yet."
"Well, I guess we'll just have to figure it out together, won't we?" He tenses a bit, then resumes stroking her shoulder. "I didn't know that," he says carefully. "The archon said something about it, but I wasn't paying attention."
"There were a few boys I liked when I was a girl, but none of them were ever interested." Back on Yme-loc, where life had seemed so simple and ordered. Before she'd made the mistake of trying to be a hero. "And then Reena confessed her feelings and it didn't matter anymore."
"I see. I'm sorry that – "
Jian cuts him off before he can go further. "What about you? Have you ever been with a man before?" This line of conversation is too close to things she'd rather not think about: the early days of their relationship and all the pain that will bring her tiny refuge crashing in if she were to acknowledge it. Even if he has realized how much it still hurts her, she will never hear about it. An archon cannot afford to feel regret, especially not for something so mundane as putting a slave to the use for which she was purchased.
"I have." His tone is light again and she relaxes. "In fact, when I first struck out on my own, I was so happy to be free from my former mistress's control that I had sex with men exclusively for several years."
"I… see." Not for the first time, Jian wonders what other pains lie behind Valthiel's casual demeanor. But if she doesn't want her wounds examined, she will leave his as well. "Did you leave right away after her death, then? Or did you stay on with the crew?"
"No, I left. It didn't make sense to explore the suddenly opened galaxy surrounded by the shadows of the past."
"Ah, I see." She falls silent, unsure what to say next or what subject to bring up instead.
His hand slides down to her arm, where he begins working at the muscles there. "Did you have another question?"
"How did you fall into the care of a mon'keigh in the first place?" Any craftworld would have done anything to avoid losing one of their scarce children to the dubious care of another race. And although she doubts that the dark kin have particularly much affection for their offspring, there are a myriad of reasons why they would never hand one over to a lesser species, particularly a trueborn as he seems to be.
Valthiel sighs heavily. "I do not remember anything before the human pirate queen's ship. Some days, when I have focused, I find images and impressions of an older woman with enough of a resemblance that I believe she was my mother. She was saying something to me, trying to cheer me up, I think, but she was crying and bleeding from the mouth and I couldn't understand her. There was a spear in her gut. Then someone picked me up and took me away and I can't remember anything else of her. I have always assumed she was killed by the crew of the same ship where I was raised."
Jian swallows past a lump in her throat as she twists to face him, offering the only real comfort she can in a gentle hand run along his jawline. "I suppose it's fortunate for both of us that she decided she'd had her fill of violence for the day. I'm sorry that happened to you."
He hums in response. "It's alright. I'm alright now."
"No, it's not. I know it was hard, and I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
"If you ever need to talk about it, I won't tell anyone." That, at least, she can offer.
"Thank you." Valthiel takes a shuddering breath. "I don't think I will, but I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart."
For a long time they remain together. Valthiel plays with Jian's hair and she runs her hand in soothing circles on his chest. It's funny, she thinks. The story he told is no different than the one he told her on the roof on their first afternoon together, albeit in slightly more detail. But rather than annoyance and fear, this time it only evokes sadness and regret on his behalf. Not for the first time, she wonders who he might have become had things been different.
Screams echo through her mind and echoes of remembered pain radiate through her soul. Her own mother, dying alone and in agony.
No, stop. She can't think about this now. Please, let me be alright for just a few more minutes. She will deal with the guilt and the questions later.
"Thank you," she says to distract herself. It's become one of her automatic statements when she isn't sure what else to say, a theme of the path she now walks.
"For what?"
She thinks for a moment, trying to decide what prompted her words this time. There is something she's grateful for, she realizes. "For earlier. It really was quite lovely. I feel great."
"I'm so glad to hear that."
"I don't know what happened. I should be exhausted, but I haven't felt this clear in months."
She expects another reassuring or happy comment, but instead, Valthiel clears his throat. "How much do you actually know about – you know what, scratch that, it isn't really important. You have heard about how my kind feeds on the pain and suffering of our victims, yes?"
"I have. It's why we fear you so much."
"That is true for the Kabal of the Ashen Rose as much as any other. My people attend the gladiator games and engage in the local… pain economy… As do I, to some extent."
Jian nods. "It's how you keep She Who Thirsts at bay, yes?"
"It is. Replacing the holes in our souls with the life of another." He sighs. "Since you've arrived, your essence has been ebbing away, but without anything to replace it, you've just been slowly weakening."
"But… I follow a path. The ordering of my thoughts to a specific purpose is supposed to prevent that." Even as she says it, Jian knows that she's wrong. Her mind is far from the single-minded dedication of a craftworld, and without rituals or prayers, she has nowhere to lock Khaine's call when she's not in combat. Even now, she can feel the desire to hunt and kill gnawing at the back of her mind, mixing with a longing for pleasures and sensations and experience. Some small, guilty part of her even wants to feel the energy and the rush of the mon'keigh's anguish and defeat washing over her. She sighs.
"Regardless, you've been fading ever since you got here. It's slow, you're young yet, but the city eats at you just like everyone else." He hesitates, then continues. "And I'm afraid I have not been helping."
"It's fine, really." She isn't sure what he means.
He shakes his head and his chin brushes her hair. "No, it isn't. I… don't always enjoy experiencing the pain of others, and I've found that I can gain some energy through other methods, at least enough to space out the pain. Methods such as sex and pleasure."
"You… fed from me?"
"Only a few times, I – " He stops and collects himself, chest moving up and down in short bursts. "I had started to care for you and I could feel how much damage it was causing with no way for you to replace the losses. I didn't want to make you suffer like that."
She sighs. "That makes sense. I understand." It had been what she was expecting when she arrived in the city, and if she was being perfectly honest with herself, what she had assumed was going on anyway. Pressing closer, she speaks muffled by his chest. "Regardless, I feel wonderful now."
"I'm glad." He runs his hands slowly, rhythmically, through her hair. "I'd hoped that you'd have a chance to feed on the raid, but I couldn't be sure it would work." Falling silent, he ceases his motion and pulls her closer to him.
After perhaps half an hour, she stirs. "I should go. I'm sure you have things to do, and the girl you gave me is probably ready."
"Mmmm…" Valthiel mutters before sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. "Yes, I suppose I probably do. Would you like to join me for a meal later, though?"
"Of course I will." She needs time to think and process, but seeing him later would be… nice. "And thank you again for the girl."
"Of course; you deserve her, and much more. Be warned, though, she'll likely be a fighter. You are going to have to watch her to ensure she stays under control."
"Oh? Why do you say that?"
He laughs. "Didn't you notice? The girl is a Black Priest. Not a very experienced one, probably a trainee, but a rare and valuable prize all the same. My guess is that she was part of dear Louvenia's entourage."
Apparently noticing Jian's confusion, he continues in a more serious tone. "It's one of the rarer orders of the cult that the mon'keigh follow. Like many such groups, they have a militaristic bent and in this case, they focus on finding and destroying the corruption of the neverborn."
"She could be an asset, then."
"She could indeed. And I trust you to figure out how best to make use of her." He reaches out to take her hand and grins like a small boy. "Have fun, dear."
She smiles back as she wraps a robe around herself and returns to her own quarters.
Yet by the time she's walked the short distance, the smile has fallen from her face. What am I supposed to do with a slave? Does he expect her to break the girl and batter her into submission? But she doesn't want to wind up stabbed while she sleeps, either. As she enters the room, she finds herself acutely aware that she has nothing with which to defend herself.
She needn't have worried. The human girl sits huddled in the corner of Jian's room. Whoever delivered her took care to bind her hands behind her back and her ankles are in cuffs with a chain between them. A collar has already been placed around her neck as well, a heavy-looking band of black metal with the Ashen Rose's heraldry inlaid in enamel. She stares at Jian as she enters, eyes huge in a face stretched oddly by the complex frame of metal inserted in her mouth to keep her quiet. It looks quite painful.
As she enters, Jian notices another addition: a tray of implements, the uses of many of which she can only guess at. Others, she can identify as sex toys more exotic even than what Valthiel has used on her, as well as knives, miniature agonizers, and a set of syringes next to bottles labeled in tiny, neat print.
She walks past the tools to stand in front of the human, whose eyes follow her every move. By Isha, what do I do now? With no one thought making its way through the competing demands, she decides to follow her instincts. She squats down to be on a level with her. "I won't hurt you if you don't do anything stupid, do you understand?"
The harsh, clumsy tones of the language feel odd in her mouth, and she's certain her accent must be terrible, but the girl must understand. She nods and makes a muffled noise that sounds vaguely like an assent. Jian points at herself. "My name is Jian. You may call me 'my lady'." The phrase is spoken in her own language. "And you serve me now. I have no interest in hurting you, or in allowing anyone else to hurt you. But if you test me, or try to escape, you will fail. And you will regret it."
Her words certainly sound less impressive in unfamiliar tongue, and for a moment Jian is certain that the girl will laugh in her face. But she nods again and to Jian's surprise, she can see tears gathering in the oddly-shaped eyes. Stay strong, Jian. Don't collapse now. She's not sure why this is so important to her, but it feels absolutely essential to succeed at this task. Whatever it is.
She successfully manages to keep from hesitating as she reaches out and removes the gag. Immediately, a bit of tension falls from the girl's posture and she works her jaw to loosen the stiffness that must be in it. "Thank you," she murmurs.
"Don't thank me," Jian replies coldly. Killing her would have been a mercy. Valthiel has made living here bearable, but she doubts such things extend to her own servant. "What is your name?" she asks to distract from the questions and doubts that are threatening to destroy her poise.
The girl looks down and for a moment Jian thinks she won't answer before she speaks quietly. "Jaeden Delamonte. Jaeden, if you are being more familiar."
Jian nods. "I am speaking your mon'keigh language for the moment, but I expect you to learn mine, and to speak it when you do." Isha's tits, she's going about this all wrong. Of course the girl is terrified, and Jian hasn't said a single word to calm her except a brief and vaguely threatening reassurance that she'll be unharmed if she cooperates.
She looks back at Jaeden. She's dressed, after a fashion, but in clothing that more resembles the skimpier outfits from the early days of Jian's own stay here than anything else. A thin, gauzy, near-transparent dress that reveals every line of her body and dramatic, sensual makeup. "Follow me," Jian says. She turns to walk over to her closet. With some difficulty, Jaeden gets to her feet and shuffles after her.
A problem immediately presents itself. All her clothes are sized for her, of course, and will be awkward and overlarge on a human's child-like frame. It will have to do, she decides as she selects a knee-length robe with sleeves that come to her elbows. It will be better than nothing. But as she turns to offer it, she realizes that Jaeden's limbs are still bound. How is she supposed to release her?
Their eyes both drift toward the tray of tools and Jian approaches the table. "Stay there," she says, trying to avoid sounding either wavering or too aggressive. She's not sure if it works. Jaeden watches her. Panic flares in her eyes, but she remains perfectly still. Jian is impressed. Her self-control is impeccable.
Quickly, Jian searches the implements for something that might be a key. Amongst the shackles and remote controls, she finds a likely item and brings it back to unlock Jaeden's restraints. To her relief, it works. She hands her the robe and gestures toward the bathroom. "You can start your new duties right away," she says. "By running me a hot bath." They do have bathtubs on whatever strange mon'keigh planet she's from, right?
Jaeden obeys without a word, leaving Jian with a moment to think. This path troubles her. What if she becomes accustomed to having a girl to fill her baths and bring her food and begins asking for more? And what does Jaeden herself think? She's still terrified, she must be, and Jian has no idea how to calm her without being far more familiar than is wise.
It's not that she's not grateful for the gift, but for the moment, it seems to have created more problems that it has solved.
Food, food might help a bit. Jaeden likely hasn't had anything to eat since her capture, at least, and Jian is somewhat hungry herself. She calls for two meals to be sent up and enters the bathroom, carrying a glass of water. The girl has done as she was told, and filled a tub of steaming hot water and soap bubbles. It looks wonderful. "This is for you," she says as she hands over the drink.
Jaeden looks at it dubiously. "What is this?"
"Water. You're thirsty, are you not?"
She looks up and Jian is surprised to see anger filling her expression. "You can stop playing games, xeno. Just hurry up and fuck me already." When Jian doesn't immediately respond, she continues. "That's why I'm here, right? To be raped and abused before you torture me?"
"No, that's not why you're here." Jian stiffens as the words bring back a surge of bad memories. Things that should stay buried.
"They why am I here?" Jaeden's arms are crossed over her chest and she's stuck her chin out defiantly.
"To be my maid and companion. Run my baths, do my hair and clothing, generally assist me." She removes her robe and climbs into the bathtub, sighing involuntarily as the warm water sends a wave of sensation over her bare skin. "Talk with me."
Jaeden frowns. She doesn't seem particularly interested in the naked woman in front of her, Jian notes, but her stance is a bit less tense. "I have no experience with any of that."
"You can learn." Jian looks up from the water, brow furrowed. "Would you rather I raped and tortured you?"
"It would be more straightforward, at least," Jaeden mutters, but she picks up a cloth and steps forward to help Jian wash.
"If that genuinely is what you want, there's no shortage of people who would be willing. But I had hoped to give you another opportunity." She doesn't think the mon'keigh wants that, not really. But some part of her does understand the desire for a simple, uncomplicated relationship, even if it must be a painful one.
"No! I am very grateful for your mercy." Her voice drops to a whisper. "I did ask for it, after all."
"You're welcome." Jian feels a surge of relief. She didn't know what she was going to do if the girl decided to put up a fight.
They work in silence for a few more minutes, until a knock at the door signalss that food has arrived. Jian indicates with her head for Jaeden to get it. She returns a moment later with the plates.
"The other one is for you," Jian says.
"Thank you, my lady." She already sounds somewhat cowed, and Jian watches her through her eyelashes as she eats. She devours the food eagerly, although she takes only a bite of the frinol grain before moving on, coughing. Apparently it's not a dish that appeals to the mon'keigh palette.
She finishes her bath and eats her own food without taking time to savor it. Jaeden has set her plate down and moves to take Jian's from her. "Thank you. Set it on the table in the hall and someone will clear it later."
She obeys without a word, giving Jian a moment to compose herself. She has done what she can, right? She has given the human girl a clear explanation of what will be expected of her, done her best to prove the truth of her words, ignored the knowledge that she could do anything and no one would bat an eye. Now she needs to decide how to proceed.
A moment later, Jaeden returns. She looks exhausted, dark circles under her eyes showing even though the heavy makeup and a slump to her shoulders. Jian stands. "You must be tired." Time on her own, to think through what has happened and release some of the tension that must have been building in her since her capture, that is likely what the girl wants.
Jaeden nods shyly and Jian finds herself wondering where exactly she should put her. There is only one bed in her cabin, and she can't exactly ask the drukhari for a cot for her slave. She'll have to sleep on the floor. But where? The human girl seems calm and fairly compliant for now, but it might be an act as well, getting Jian to lower her guard so she can try to strike back at her. Letting her sleep unrestrained in the same room seems unwise.
She realizes that Jaeden is still waiting for her to tell her what to do. "Follow me."
The closet in her cabin is much smaller than the one she has in Commorragh, but it should be large enough for someone to lie on the floor. She gestures for Jaeden to step in, then returns to her bed to retrieve some blankets and pillows. If she's going to lock her in the closet, she should probably temper it with a bit of kindness.
Not that she'll have to do without her own comfort in any case. Valthiel has seen to it that her bed is piled high with more plush bedding than she could use on the coldest of nights, along with a dozen stuffed animals of various species. She picks out two blankets and a pillow, then, after a moment's consideration, adds a gyrinx to the pile.
Jaeden looks at the toy in confusion as she takes the items, but doesn't comment. Instead, she steps back into the small room, pressing against the racks of Jian's clothing.
"You can sleep here," Jian says stiffly. "Goodnight."
"Looks a lot better than how I assumed I'd be sleeping this cycle." Jaeden shrugs and starts to lay out the blankets.
Eager to get away from the situation, Jian goes to shut the door, but stops when Jaeden looks up. "My lady," she says, doing her best to avoid eye contact. "Please, can you leave the light on?"
Jian nods and shuts the door, shoving a chair in front of it to deter her from trying to break out in the middle of the night. Just in case.
She has no desire to sleep, but still she climbs onto the bed. She needs to unwind from the constant pounding of sensation and emotion. She picks up a book and tries to focus.
From the closet comes a muffled sound of sobbing.
Jian puts the book down and dresses quickly. She's should go for a walk, get out of here. Her stomach churns as the noise follows her down the deserted passage.
The return to Commorragh passes relatively quickly. Valthiel has fewer demands on his time than he did on the journey out, so he and Jian spend nearly every evening together. The time is hesitant at first, almost as though they are once again meeting for the first time. In a way, Jian feels that they are. They discuss territory they have already covered, unraveling the other's interests like a knot of fine thread before eventually settling into a routine. Dinners, music, art, reading. Sometimes they spar or he tells her tales of his corsair days. Always, however, there is a sense of holding back. However much he claims to love her, and perhaps even means it, there is some facet of himself that he can't bring himself to share.
For her part, Jian slowly forces herself to loosen the knots of her spirit and let him know her, but each step, each moment of relaxation or trust, brings with it new waves of fear. She wants to trust him and feel that connection with someone again, but if he were to abuse the faith she's putting in him…
Not that any of this has much effect on their time in the bedroom. While Jian feels more in control, more confident in her ability to refuse his affections, as soon as their clothing comes off, she finds herself swept away in the current of his passion. The teeth marks and scratches, the bruises left by his hands and the various equipment he so loves to use in rendering her helpless and open, they all dot her body with the same frequency they always have. But part of Jian doesn't mind. The adrenaline rush calls to mind the feeling of being in combat, the high of pain and pleasure mixed into a frenetic pace that overwhelms her nerves into a pleasant blur. She could get used to this.
The rest of her time is spent in relative peace compared to her experiences in Commorragh. Jaeden proves to be an intelligent and reasonably compliant maid, picking up the aeldari language quickly and doing as she's told with a minimum of snark. Jian finds she rather likes the spirit and only reprimands her when it gets especially flagrant.
Her training sessions with Ayslinn continue. At first, Jian grows frustrated quickly with the need to go back to the basic principles, feeling like a raw trainee again with her new weapons. But her progress is rapid as her body and mind learn to adapt old instincts to new techniques. As she grows accustomed to the flow of the movements, she has to admit that Ayslinn chose well. The vambrace blades keep much of the best features of her old Banshee power sword, while being even faster and lighter and allowing her to strike with both hands simultaneously.
She sees little of Lynx on the trip back. She seems to be secreted away in one of Valthiel's laboratories, helping him with some kind of project related to the samples he collected in the raid. Jian is unsure of the details and doesn't want to intrude by asking.
All too soon, however, they return to Commorragh. The rush of physical and psychic noise is almost overwhelming, filling Jian's mind with the cacophony of pain and lust and hatred that she has never quite become used to. Unlike her first arrival, however, she finds a curious sense as she steps off the gangway of Death's Grace on Valthiel's arm. Not of belonging, exactly, but perhaps… familiarity. The kabal is a place that she knows, where the boundaries and the turns of hallway are known, and similar faces appear in her life frequently, even if she can't possibly hope to keep track of the tens or hundreds of thousands of beings that make up the population of their little corner of the webway.
Her life has continued at its slow, measured pace for perhaps a week when she wakes up in the middle of the night to an urgent knocking. Valthiel sits up beside her with a speed and coordination that makes her suspect he was already awake. Pulling on a robe, he walks swiftly to the door of his quarters and, after a brief hesitation, opens it. Hushed conversation follows before he returns to the bedroom and turns on the light.
"I need to attend a meeting," he says as he begins to dress in his armor. "I'm not sure when I will return."
"What kind of meeting?" Something that rouses him in the middle of the night is likely urgent, dangerous, or both.
"One of the lhamean sisters has been murdered."
"Surely that's not uncommon?"
"It isn't, but the circumstances surrounding her death give us cause to be suspicious that this wasn't just a jealous lover or petty power play. Miarya and I are supervising an autopsy."
"Right now?"
He nods. "The longer we wait, the more chance any evidence degrades."
Jian frowns, considering. She has no inherent desire to see whatever gruesome remains there are of the lhamean. But it could be an educational experience, especially in light of what she has been meaning to speak with Lynx about ever since they returned from the raid. "May I come?"
Her statement stops Valthiel in his tracks. "Why?"
He just wants to know, she reminds herself. "Because I wish to learn more about the workings of the kabal. It is my home, after all."
His face softens into a fond smile. "Of course you can, sweetheart. Be ready in five minutes."
When they reach their destination, Jian finds herself seated in a small operating theater. A body lies on the table in the center of the room, a white shroud obscuring its features. More than just procedures, the place is clearly set up for an audience. At least a hundred drukhari could fill the seats that surround them, although only about a tenth of that do so now. She tries not to wonder if this is because it is normally a teaching establishment, or an entertainment venue.
Some of those she recognizes. Miarya stands at the head of the table, a long white smock with the Ashen Rose's insignia covering her clothing. Nonetheless, her hair is still perfectly coifed and held in place with silver combs, and her facepaint is immaculate. It may be a truism, Jian reflects, but the woman does manage to look sexy in anything. A sister in a similar garment, worn far less impressively, stands at her side, arranging a tray of tools.
Lynx and Bealfor are also present in the seats, along with several lhamean sisters that she vaguely recognizes. She thinks she notices Derfahn lurking in the shadows as she enters as well.
After a few moments of quiet consultation with Miarya, Valthiel joins her. The other sister pulls the sheet off the body and Jian stifles a noise. Although the skin of the dead woman's body is still intact, it hangs loosely from her frame, forming wrinkles and closed pockets that appear to be filled with some kind of liquid. Her features are misshapen and discolored, mottled in purples and greens and even stranger hues.
Miarya steps forward, scalpel in hand, and the other sister retreats and picks up a quill and parchment. Jian watches in mixed horror and fascination as the blade slices into the bloated tissue.
"Subject's skin appears to be unaltered in texture," Miarya begins. A flow of thick, foul-smelling liquid dribbles from the wound. "Significant edema and hemorrhage." Her assistant begins to write.
The autopsy continues. As it does, it becomes clear that the dead lhamean's skeletal muscles and fat have liquified, leaving her organs floating in a sea of bloody pulp. The process likely took hours, according to Miarya, and the woman would have remained alive until fairly late, when her diaphragm finally disintegrated.
"Disease, or poison?" asks Valthiel, in a tone that indicates he already knows the answer.
"Poison, although the degree of damage makes it difficult to determine the method of delivery. Contact, I suspect, injection would not have gone unnoticed and she does not have food in her stomach."
Jian remains silent, wanting to ask a question but hesitant to speak up for fear that it will be unwarranted. Fortunately, Bealfor saves her the trouble. Leaning forward in his seat, he makes an unimpressed grunt and says "And are you sure that this wasn't her doing? Poison is your order's specialty; she could have been – "
"Of course not." Miarya says shortly, managing to convey outrage with little change in tone. "Syrinas was one of my best students. She would not have made such a mistake, nor would she have created something so clumsy."
Bealfor returns to his previous position, apparently satisfied. Valthiel, however, is not. "Clumsy how?" he asks.
The high priestess gestures to the lhamean holding her notes, who steps forward. "We have not isolated the chemical yet, but its action was irregular, doing its damage more slowly in some places than others and leaving entire sections of the thighs and neck untouched. Although it is similar to many of the poisons we employ, no member of our order would use such an inferior product."
Bealfor looks as though he's going to speak again, but Valthiel doesn't give him the chance. "No, you are correct, Mia. The responsibility for Syrinas' death does not lie at the feet of the Kabal of the Ashen Rose, or anyone inside it. This was the work of someone seeking to undermine our work and the lhamean order, and to strike at the foundation of our organization."
"You speak as though you have someone in mind," Miarya says.
He nods. "There are several kabals devoted to the cult of Lhamea, to Lilitru, or to both, but most have established markets already. No, if there is another drukhari responsible for this, it will be Lord Urkdreth."
Jian notices Lynx react at the name, but no one comments. Valthiel continues. "The Kabal of the Dying Wish has been making soft attacks against me for months, poaching our clients and besmirching our reputation as the finest source of courtesans in the dark city. I have no doubts that it is they who have chosen to strike at us in such a violent manner."
"And what is to be our response?" says another drukhari that Jian doesn't recognize.
"Simple." A wicked smile spreads across Valthiel's face. "We attack the Dying Wish, and we completely, utterly destroy them, turning each and every one of them into an example of our superiority. After all, we are the heirs of a Dark Muse… it's time we reminded the city of the terror that my ancestor once brought."
The meeting concludes quickly after that. A war council is arranged for the next morning and Derfahn is dispatched to eliminate a succubus that Lord Urkdreth appears to be courting as an ally. The various high-ranking kabalites in attendance are ordered to begin preparing their divisions for war and mention is made about purchasing weapons from the Kabal of the Flayed Skull. Lynx is named as lead consultant on the war plans, a development that seems to surprise everyone except Miarya and Lynx herself. Jian makes a mental note to ask about this as soon as she gets the opportunity.
Her chance comes as soon as the assembled eldar stand to leave. Valthiel stays behind to discuss the assassination bid with Derfahn, promising to meet her back in his chambers when he's finished.
Walking quickly, she catches up to Lynx. "How are you doing?" she asks.
"I'm fine." She doesn't sound fine. Lynx's emotions have always been difficult to read, but Jian can tell that she's upset.
"Are you sure?" Jian frowns, trying to guess. "Was Syrinas a friend?" This is almost certainly not the case, but it's the best place she can think of to start.
"What? No, I barely knew her." Lynx's expression grows stormier. "I said I didn't want to talk about it."
"Alright. Do you want to take a meal with me? There's something I wanted to ask you." Lynx might well prefer to be alone right now, but Valthiel has been even more cautious about her traveling alone since he returned, and she still has more she wishes to say.
Nodding without a word, Lynx falls into step with her as they return to Jian's chambers. When they arrive, she settles on the small couch while Jian goes to get herself something to drink.
"I knew him," Lynx says before she has time to finish.
Jian turns back to her, drink in hand. "Who?"
"Lord Urkdreth. Back when he was just Haradrach. Or Drach to me."
She pauses and Jian nods. "Do you need a drink?"
"Something strong." As Jian pours more liquor, she continues. "I don't know where I came from. My first memory is of the slums around the bottom of one of the lower spires. It's an awful place, Jian. I've killed over a piece of rotten fruit that fell from a passing Venom." Her eyes flash with sudden pride. "I wasn't like them, though. I've tested my genetics, I'm no half-born."
Jian nods and hands her a beverage, taking a seat again with her own. To be born naturally is a status symbol here, a sign that you are nobility above the vat-grown that make up the vast majority of Commorragh's population, who are barely better than the slaves in many cases. As horrific as her life seemed in the early days, there are much worse things outside the gleaming upper floors of Valthiel's kabal.
Taking a gulp of her drink, Lynx pulls her legs onto the couch. "Drach and I were… friends, I guess you could call it. He'd play lookout while I broke into flyers and helped me fight off the older children. And when we got old enough that the kabalites started to find us attractive, we'd hire out as a pair sometimes."
It takes all of Jian's willpower not to let her horror and disgust show. None of this is unexpected, but to hear about it so casually is infuriating. Lynx was a child. They were both children.
"There was an older girl in our block who went by Ahrina. She killed most of the others her age and organized the younger ones into her personal army. What she said, we did, and if we didn't she'd carve chunks from our flesh or worse. She forced one of the girls to drink the fuel from a raider until she vomited blood and cut off another boy's penis."
Lynx's previously detached expression twists with hatred and disgust. "Drach and I decided to kill her. I provoked her into beating me, and while she was distracted, Drach poisoned her drink." She laughs cynically. "I should have known better than to expect things to improve."
Jian can tell where this is going. "Did he try to take her place?"
"And succeeded. Did everything she did and more."
"I'm sorry."
Lynx shrugs. "Not to me, though, I left before he got the chance."
Jian suspects she's lying, but knows better than to push her. "And you haven't seen him since?"
"No. I thought about going back to finish him off, but Miarya found me before that happened. I only found out he'd become an archon a few months ago." Putting down her empty glass, she stands. "But now you know why I'm involved."
"I do." She watches Lynx stalk toward the door. Her mannerisms are curt, abrupt, as though she resents Jian for listening to her tale. This wasn't easy for her, Jian realizes. Like all drukhari, she hates looking weak. "Wait!" she calls. "I still haven't asked my question."
Lynx's hand stops on the door handle, but doesn't turn around. "What is it?"
She's been waiting to ask for weeks, but now that the time has come, she feels oddly bashful. "Would you… take me on as an apprentice? I want to learn what you know."
Frozen in her position, Lynx remains silent for what feels like an eternity before slowly facing Jian. "You want me, to teach you the arts of seduction and poison?"
Jian nods.
"Why?"
She takes a deep breath. "Because I am done being merely a decoration on Valthiel's arm. If I'm going to stay here, I need to be useful, to him and to the kabal, when he is too busy for lovemaking."
"That makes sense. But," she begins carefully. "That explains why you wish to do something. Why this, in particular?"
"You know that fighting brings me joy. But we don't go on raids every day, and Valthiel has perfectly good bodyguards already." She smiles sadly. "I won't pretend that I could do much against a serious threat to him anyway. It's not that I don't feel Khaine's call anymore, but it's different. I need to find my place here."
Lynx nods. "And you think it might be Lhilitu and Shaimesh who hold it?"
"It seems as good a place to start as any." If she's being honest, she's not even sure if it's Khaine that she feels driving her forward anymore, or if She Who Thirsts is starting to lay claim to her soul.
"Well, then, I would be glad to help you. At the very least – " Lynx flashes a grin. " – It gives us an excuse to spend more time together. Start tomorrow morning?"
"That sounds perfect. Thank you."
Jian watches as Lynx leaves the room before lying back, suddenly exhausted. It feels like she's spinning, rudderless, without a path to guide her. If she's not simply waiting for Valthiel to grow bored with her, then what is she doing? Hopefully, this will help Lynx, at least.
She has no idea how long she lies there, perhaps half an hour, before someone knocks at the door. "Jian?" Valthiel's voice.
"Come in." She sits up.
He enters, smiling at her. "How are you doing?"
"Just fine. Tired."
"Do you have the energy for a short trip?" He extends his hand.
She takes it. "Of course, but… where?"
"You'll see." He looks sideways at her. "Did you walk back by yourself?"
"No, Lynx brought me."
He nods in approval and falls silent. Jian speaks up after a moment. "Do you really think that the Kabal of the Dying Wish was responsible for that lhamean's death?"
Valthiel shrugs. "Perhaps."
"It would certainly be convenient if they are."
"Indeed." He flashes her a grin. "Indeed it would be. And who knows. Maybe they are." He stops in front of a small, unassuming door. "Right now, though, I have something to show you."
"Show me?" What does he have for her now? Not another wardrobe, surely.
The grin disappears. "I'd hoped to have a bit more time to put the finishing touches on it, but with war on the horizon, I doubt I'll have spare time for months. You shouldn't have to wait that long."
He hands her a small, hexagonal metal bar. "This is the only key that exists for this room, and it is yours. No one will enter without your permission, not even me. If there is anything that it lacks, tell me and I will provide."
Jian looks down at the key. "Thank you. I – I do want to stay with you. I just need a place to be alone, sometimes."
"I understand." He kisses her on the forehead. "Take all the time you need. I'll be here for you when you are ready."
"Thank you." Suddenly nervous, she opens the door and steps through.
The door slides shut behind her, but she barely hears it. Rather than a room, she stands in a small garden, enclosed by high hedges and pale blue sky. A crisp breeze blows gently on her face, bringing a scent of flowers from the groomed beds separated by gravel paths. At the center is a small pond and as Jian approaches, she feels the heat radiating from it. Another hot spring.
A small building sits on the far end of the space. The door opens at her touch, sliding soundlessly back to reveal a single room, sparsely furnished. A bed, a low table with cushions for seating on wood floors. A shrine bearing the images of the aeldari gods as they once were, before their race became the broken shell that it is now, fills the far end of the structure. A tiny pocket dimension of her own to escape from Commorragh.
Jian's knees go weak and she sits to stop the room spinning. I'm alone. For the first time in more than a year, there is no one to give her orders, no need to please or danger of her thoughts being the fuel that drives another's cruelty and hatred.
She curls into a ball, shaking with sobs. If the tears are sadness or joy, she has no idea.
The lost girl hides in her tiny refuge, finally free to experience the pain that she has done her best to hide as her grief erupts in song. For days, she sings a lament for her mother, for Verynia and the rest of the Banshees, for Reena and herself, melodies wrapping over each other until her voice is horse and her lips cracked. Then, she simply sits, immersing herself in the silence until the demons in her mind fall quiet. Only then does she reemerge to face the city and its horrors, ready to become a woman.
Part of me feels like Jaeden should have put up a stronger fight, but I keep reminding myself that she's young and inexperienced and has already been through the trauma of being captured by xenos (and you can bet that Val's people weren't nice while they were getting her cleaned and patched up, either). Not to mention that she's no fool and has realized that staying calm and escaping later is a better shot than putting up a fuss.
I realized on the reread just how sad this chapter is. Pretty much everyone gets their woobie moment. I'm finding that denial is becoming a big theme throughout the story, which is something I didn't originally set out to do, but is kind of interesting.
I'm not actually sure if it's canonically possible for drukhari to feed off sex like Val is suggesting, but from what I can tell about canon and what's actually taking place, it should work. After all, you're essentially just feeding Slaanesh with the energy of another instead of your own, and Slaanesh is the god of other things besides simply pain. In my headcanon, it's monumentally less efficient, but the kinkier the sex, the better it works.