A/N: Whooo, that was a long one.

Thanks again to Ashilaa_A03, as well as to my roommate and my SO for all your guys' work in making sure this chapter made sense and offering feedback on relationship development, prose, and lore.

Jian stretches as she steps outside, onto the porch of Lynx's cabin. She woke up a few minutes ago and realized that the other woman was on the bridge they'd crossed last night, so she dressed before coming out to see her. Her memories of the night before are covered in an alcoholic haze, but she can't help but feel like something had gone wrong just before she fell asleep.

Lynx still looks to be asleep, lying directly on the boards with her face only inches from the water. Frowning, Jian returns inside to pick up some blankets and pillows before walking over.

Sure enough, Lynx's breathing is slow and steady and her hand dangles in the stream, as though she fell asleep staring at it. Jian places a blanket over her and sits down. She needs to return to her room soon. The archon suggested that her first training session with his bodyguards be this morning and she will need to change into the promised armor. But she has a few minutes to enjoy the rare natural beauty and wait for Lynx to wake up. Without knowing what happened, she is hesitant to hurry the process.

She doesn't have to wait long before the other woman stirs and sits up with a slight groan. "Good morning. You're up, I see."

"I am. How are you? Not too hung-over, I hope?"

Lynx shakes her head. "Not at all. You?" Her tone is stiff, polite and automatic rather than truly wondering.

"Surprisingly, no." A bit of an odd taste in the back of her throat is the only sign of her indulgence last night. "Is everything alright?"

"Of course." Lynx stands. "I should make you some breakfast. You can't spar on an empty stomach, after all." She rearranges her dress before walking towards the house, not making eye contact.

Jian grabs her hand, stopping her in her tracks. "Hey. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I am fine." Still, she avoids Jian's eyes.

"If you're certain. I am sorry I asked."

With a sigh, Lynx pulls free. "As I said, it's nothing. You made it clear last night what you want our relationship to be and I am sorry that I overstepped your boundaries. It will not happen again." She grabs the pillows and blankets from Jian's arms. "Will tea, bread, and cheese suffice for breakfast?"

Jian blinks, confusion filling her. What happened last night? Was Lynx attempting to start a relationship? How could she? Why would she? Surely the archon would kill them both if he found them together in such a way. "Of course. That sounds delicious. Let me help you."

"No, no." Lynx continues toward the cabin. "I am the one tasked with looking after you, sweetie. Just make yourself comfortable and I'll have your breakfast ready in no time."

For some reason, this annoys Jian. "I'm not a snowblossom, Lynx. You don't need to take care of me like a child."

"Nevertheless, it is my role and place." She smiles, and if Jian didn't know to look for the hurt in her expression, she would have missed it. "Please, make yourself comfortable while I finish."

Tired of arguing, Jian takes a seat on the couch and passes the time looking around the room for details she didn't notice last night. The inside of the building is just as simple as the exterior, decorated in the subdued color scheme the drukhari seem to favor to the exclusion of all else. A pair of low couches face each other across a low table with the chessboard still in the middle of their game. Heavy tapestries cover most of the walls and most of the furniture is of darker color, but Lynx has brought in a few sprays of flowers and leaves to soften the look a bit.

She doesn't have to wait long, however, before Lynx returns and places a plate of food in her lap. Jian starts eating, inviting Lynx to sit next to her. She does, but remains at arm's length, staring down at her lap.

"Don't you want to eat?" Jian's brief good mood from last night is rapidly vanishing with this new standoffish attitude. She's not sure if it's sadness or anger she feels, but it hurts nonetheless.

"I don't usually eat breakfast, I'm afraid. But thank you."

Sighing, Jian stands. "Well, I should probably put my armor on. I had fun last night. Thank you for inviting me."

"And I should see that a spare bed is installed before I resume the rest of my duties." This time, there is no mistaking the pain in her voice.

"If you don't want me around, just say so."

"I do."

"Did I say something last night?" Jian kneads at her temples. Perhaps she is a little hung over, despite her statements to the contrary.

"Nothing out of order," Lynx replies. "I overstepped my bounds and touched you in a way that was obviously suitable for a closer relationship than you want ours to be. My offer of a spare bed remains, though."

It is as she suspected, then. The thought is seductive. It might be nice to be with a woman again. Although Lynx is no slave and thus still more than capable of killing Jian with impunity, she somehow feels less intimidated by her than she does by the archon.

But she can't. Not when the shadow of the archon hangs over them. Jian can't even let her mind start down that pathway. "I see. I'm sorry if I got upset. Being touched like that brings up bad memories. I would love to be your friend. But the archon… I'm really not ready."

Lynx nods. "No need to explain, dear. I will be here if you need any help. I promise."

Confused and upset, Jian leaves the cabin and walks back through the gloom to her quarters. A mannequin has been placed in the center of the room, dressed in a set of armor. She walks around, inspecting it. It's certainly less protection than she's used to wearing. A sleeveless, fitted top overlayed in silver-painted darkmetal that cuts off above the bottom of her ribcage, leather pants that she can tell will fit like a second skin, and heeled, armored boots that reach to mid-thigh. She can only hope that it's more flexible and protective than it looks.

Sighing, she peels off her dress and begins to put on the outfit. The pants slide on with no more than the expected difficulty, but when she pulls the first boot on, she can tell that something is wrong. It feels as though dozens of tiny hooks dig into her, sinking barbed claws through her skin and sending an electric impulse through her nervous system. Jian gasps in alarm and tries to take the shoe off, but it remains, stuck.

She swears under her breath as she walks lopsidedly over to the bed to get better leverage. Yet somehow, as she does, she begins to feel… not exactly used to the sensation. But as the initial shock of pain fades from the forefront of her awareness, she begins to realize that the armor is responding to her movements in a manner similar to the way her wraithbone did. Perhaps the stabbing was it connecting to her nervous system somehow?

Biting her lip, she returns to the mannequin and picks up the other boot. The stabbing repeats itself, but this, too, becomes more of a coldness in the back of her mind as she adjusts to the unfamiliar balance of the boots. She steels herself and pulls on the top half of the armor.

This moment is the worst yet as the armor sinks itself into the soft flesh of her breasts and the muscles of her shoulders, but she pushes down the urge to cry out and turns her attention to adjusting the belt and the fingerless gloves that came with it and to tying back her hair. She's running out of time.

A sword rests on a chair nearby and Jian unsheathes it before strapping it on. The design isn't identical to the power sword she wielded as a Banshee, but it is similar. She hopes the differences will be quickly apparent and easy to adapt to.

Whoever dropped off the armor had the foresight to leave directions to her destination, so Jian finds the gymnasium easily. Taking a deep breath, she straightens herself and steps inside, where her heart nearly stops.

Seven incubi stare back at her, each well more than a head taller than she and much broader. Each man wears a massive suit of black armor, flanged and spiked and glinting with a slight purple iridescence, and carries a heavy, hooked klaive nearly as tall as Jian. Glinting in amongst the points of their armor, she can see small bits of incongruous color. Shattered waystones, each one another one of her people whom the bearer has killed and condemned to She Who Thirsts. Jian can't help but wonder if the rest of her shrine has met a similar fate.

Stupid. An archon's bodyguards… what else had she expected? Perhaps this was his plan all along, to humiliate her by letting his men savage her, confident that if she survives, she will never ask to hold a blade again.

One of the men steps forward. His armor is more elaborate than the rest and the front of his mask painted white, giving the effect of a bleached skull. Jian can feel the judgmental look he gives her, even without being able to see it. "Are you sure that you want to do this?" he says in a deep, gravelly voice.

"Yes." What is the alternative, really? To give up, admit defeat, and accept that she will live the rest of her life as a decoration?

He grunts. "And you have received basic instruction in swordsmanship?"

"I have, my lord." She has no idea how to address him, but this seems safe.

"Very well." He nods at two of the other men. They step forward, klaives at the ready. "You will defend yourself against Trayvan and Kaldrath. I will tell you when the exercise is over. We believe in full contact and I suggest you do the same."

Two? He wants her to fight two of them? Incubi are renowned as some of the best swordsmen in the galaxy, a match for the best Howling Banshees or Striking Scorpions. Jian isn't sure if even Verynia could fight two at once. "Begin," the hierarch's voice rings out.

Settling into a defensive stance, Jian glances back and forth, ready to move at an instant's notice and trying to stay alert for the direction of attack. She can't hope to fight them head-on. The size difference alone would spend her before she had time to make any progress. But if there's one thing she knows how to do, it's move quickly. She just has to stay away from their strikes long enough to find an opening.

The first incubus – Kaldrath, she thinks – makes the first move, aiming for her torso. Jian raises her sword to block, hoping to turn it into a spinning dodge to impede follow-up attacks.

The klaive slams into her sword with a blow that sends sharp tension echoing through her whole body. Jian's wrist bends with the impact, sending a sudden deep ache up her arm. She has no time to consider the injury, however. A wave, a pulse of some kind ripples into her stomach, hot and thick. Her blood boils, searing her veins and lighting her nerves on fire. She screams.

A fist slams into her face, hard and spiked, and her nose gives way under the impact. Blood streams into her mouth. Jian grits her teeth and blinks the tears from her eyes. His partner will try to press the advantage, she can't let the pain overwhelm her defenses.

The second incubus dashes toward her, aiming a slash toward her more open side. She's learned her lesson, though, and ducks forward to avoid the strike altogether. Her slash at his legs goes wide as he easily jumps over it, but no blade bites into her back. A success.

Her blood is up now and despite herself, she smiles. A cold expression. Her war mask is not lost, merely hidden. Kaldrath is going to strike at her back. A kick will do nothing with their relative sizes and the weight of his armor. She dives backwards, channeling her momentum into a roll that will bring her back to her feet.

A flash of pain shoots across her back, followed a second later by a diagonal line of warmth as blood wells up in the wound. Before she has time to cry out, before she even has time to realize what's happened, another armored fist connects with her face, knocking her from her feet.

She can't give up yet. She lashes out blindly at the hand as she falls, hoping to at least distract her attackers long enough to keep them from finishing her off while she's in the air. As soon as she hits the ground, she's scrambling backwards, trying to put distance between herself and them while she gets to her feet.

One of the incubi stomps on her knee and she feels it give way with a snap.

Jian screams.

Her sword is slapped away even as she raises it. Something hard presses against her stomach and again, the horrific heat, drying her throat and turning her shout to a hoarse croak.

Images rise in Jian's mind. Her mother's life draining away while the redheaded archon laughs. Jian helpless and forced to watch. A man in the same armor standing at her side and ensuring it all went smoothly.

They haven't called the exercise yet. The thought fills her and she claws out, blind, to show that she hasn't given up.

Another cut, almost delicate this time, blossoms across her belly. The red haze turns to black and she passes out.

The next time she's aware of herself, all she feels is pain. Like someone slashed her with a sword and stomped on her face, she supposes. But she's not dead, at least not yet.

Shifting her position, she feels bandages wrapped around her abdomen, a bed beneath her and a light covering on her naked body. She drags her eyes open. The room is small, clinically white.

"Well, someone had fun." Lynx's voice.

Jian looks and finds her sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. "My head hurts." Yet somehow, she doesn't feel bad, exactly. The aches and stings fill her mind with a clarity that she hasn't felt since before.

"What were you THINKING!" says Lynx, her voice rising into a shout. She stands and walks to the side of the bed.

Instantly, Jian feels defensive. "I can't sit on my ass all day while the archon is busy. I need something to do."

"Yes…" Lynx rolls her eyes. "And you have no other options, and I'm sure that Valthiel will have no problem with you showing up in his bed already carved up like a fresh steak."

"I need a sword in my hand, Lynx. And he was the one suggested this."

"And why do you need a sword?" She crosses her arms over her chest.

How to explain… how to get across the lack of purpose and the feeling of drifting that had plagued her since the constant terror abated? "Because it's the thing in the whole galaxy that makes me feel the most alive," she says softly.

Lynx crosses her arms over her chest. "You're still making a mistake."

"I'm sure I will improve with time. I'll be fine." Gods, does Lynx think that little of her? Going back fills Jian with fear, but it's not as though she'll be doing this poorly forever.

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then I will deal with it then."

"Fine," Lynx snarls. "You keep doing that, and I'll keep patching you up each time. But I'll leave it to you to explain to the archon why you look this way."

Jian blinks, taken aback by the sudden venom. Lynx must still be upset from their conflict last night and this morning. Whatever it was about.

"You are in functional condition. You're free to leave whenever you desire and spend the day as you see fit. I would recommend you take it easy, though." She turns and leaves without another word.

With yet another sigh, Jian makes up her mind to apologize to her later.

But that's just the problem, isn't it? How can she even want to be friendly with people like this? She should be ashamed of herself. What would Verynia think of her, training with incubi?

Closing her eyes, she lets the pain block out everything else and push the questions and fears from her mind. She has no idea how long it takes her to calm herself, but eventually she finds herself centered again.

She can do this. She can go back, learn everything they have to teach her, no matter how difficult the lessons are. Feel just a bit less helpless in the wastelands of Commorragh.

For now, though, she should get dressed and return to her room. Her master may want her.

Weeks pass. The archon seems to accept her explanations of being out of practice to account for her injuries, although she notices he brings it up repeatedly, as though it concerns him. Perhaps he doesn't find bruises attractive. He doesn't order her to stop, though, so she continues attending her training every time she's healthy enough to attempt again.

It doesn't get better. Even a dozen sessions in, Jian finds herself barely able to hold her own for a few seconds before whichever incubus she's fighting that day has her on the ground, pressing a boot into her chest. Sometimes she manages to crawl out of the ring and bring herself back to her room to lick her wounds, but more often her next awareness is of waking up under the care of one of the sisters. It becomes increasingly clear that the incubus captain – Bealfor Vrash, as she's learned is his name – has no intention of giving her any actual instruction. At first Jian assumes that this is on the archon's directive, but she later concludes that it's more likely the result of creative interpretation on Lord Vrash's part.

At least spending so much time unconscious makes the days pass quickly.

True to her word, Lynx helps tend her injuries, but remains aloof. Jian finds every attempt to apologize for rejecting her or to bridge the sudden coldness that has remained between them rebuffed with a polite deflection. Perhaps giving up on the sword training would improve Lynx's mood, but Jian can't bring herself to do that. The pain grounds her and gives her strength. Like the sword and the armor and the movements of combat itself, it makes her feel alive in a way little else here does.

Life between sparring sessions takes on an oddly slow pace. The archon sends for her most days, although often only for a short time late in the evening or first thing in the morning, leaving her alone in her room much of the time. Unsurprisingly, her sexual services are requested regularly. Jian learns to please him in more positions than she'd ever thought of attempting in her prior life, although he seems to particularly enjoy it when, as on that first morning, she uses her mouth. None of her subsequent attempts are quite as horrifying as the first, though. The knowledge that she can deny him on occasion makes it easier to tell herself that it's just this one time, that next time she can say no if she just does it this once. Sex becomes pedestrian, a duty rather than something to be particularly anticipated or dreaded. The archon is domineering and aggressive in bed, particularly during the frequent bouts of vague sadness that seem to plague him, but never cruel. Any additional bruises their activities generate seem to be accidental, and he at least keeps to his word of not pushing her to spend nights in his bed as well.

Much stranger to her is how often he appears content to simply spend time with her. With increasing frequency, Jian finds her master offering her walks in the garden, games of chess or cards, meals and wine tastings, and even a place on his lap while he reads aloud from ancient scrolls of the aeldari myths and legends or listens to a musical performance. The intimacy of these hours spent in his presence frightens her, as does the message she reads in it – she is expected to whore herself to him emotionally as well as physically. Yet at the same time, she can't help but find herself enjoying the contact. A reminder, perhaps, that she's more than a piece of meat to be kicked and stabbed and fucked for others' amusement.

A reminder that would be welcome this afternoon, she thinks, as she lies bent over the edge of the bed. Her face presses into the soft blankets and metal cuffs are tight and cold around her wrists, held together at her waist with a short chain. The archon's nails dig into the skin of her back and with each thrust he slams her hips into the bedframe again. Still she can't help the tension building in her stomach, ready to spill over into ecstasy. She wants this just as much as she doesn't want it.

Jian's moan turns to a cry of alarm as his fingers hook around her collar and into her hair, jerking her toward him. The tension inside her explodes into a burst of dark light. Her knees go weak with the rush of sensation that she's experienced a hundred times at his hands yet is somehow new each day.

A moment later, she feels the telltale release of tension as he finishes and pulls himself out of her. Her job is done for the moment, even if the metal ring holding her mouth open and ready for him still sends rhythmic, tingling pulses of electricity through her and he still holds her naked body pressed against his.

Jian breathes a deep sigh and stares vaguely at the wall. Her mind is filled with warm, soft waves of pleasure and desire that leave her weak and listless as he lowers her back onto the bed. Like a drug that can't help but have a biological effect even as she hates herself for injecting it again.

"Mmm…" the archon sighs happily and lays down behind her, adjusting her arms so they aren't as uncomfortably pinned between them. His soft fingers brush at her ears, sparking smaller flashes of the same pleasure. "How are you feeling, dear?" "Mhh-hmm-mmm" The gag distorts her speech to an primitive grunting and she falls silent. She can feel the mix of semen and her own saliva dripping from her mouth and wetting the fabric at her cheek. "I see." He keeps up his stroking of her ear. "How about we spend the rest of the afternoon here in bed. You can sleep and I'll order up some bread and tea." She shakes her head. The fog that fills her mind won't be helped by staying here being fondled. Adjusting their position so she faces him, the archon looks down into her eyes. "Are you sure?" Jian nods in response. "Well, then, why don't you get yourself cleaned up while I finish a few things here? We'll go for a walk."

It's phrased like a question, but Jian knows there's no real choice in his words, so she waits while he removes her bindings before walking over to the washroom. By the time she's cleaned up the evidence of their activities, the intoxication has begun to fade and she's thinking more clearly. She splashes herself with cold water to finish the process and soothe the bite marks that dot her shoulders before stepping back out into the main part of the suite

The archon beams at her as she enters. "Perfect. Now get dressed and we'll take a walk."

Jian obeys, considering as she slides into the bits of leather and silk and adjusts the straps of her latest outfit. Something has changed while she was washing up, some subtle shift in his attitude. She's not sure what it means, but it doesn't seem to be for the worse.

As she finishes, he appears behind her and wraps something around her shoulders. A cloak, she realizes. He fastens it and takes her hand. "You'll need this."

"What for?" she replies, tugging at the soft purple fabric.

He leads her towards the door. "I thought I would take you on a tour of the kabal this afternoon. This is your home now, and you might like to see a bit more of it than the gardens and the top floors of the spire."

"Alright." Jian isn't sure if it sounds like a good idea or not. She is starting to feel trapped in a very small space, limited to a few rooms and supervised trips outside, and it might be nice to see more of how the kabal functions. Anything to break up the monotony and give her mind something to do. On the other hand, who knows what horrors he plans to show her? The archon may be shockingly civilized, but she's under no illusion that his pretty face and pretty rooms and pretty gardens aren't maintained by the suffering of thousands.

They emerge from the building on a small landing platform, where one of the small flying craft that speed through the skies waits for them, driver at the ready. With a strange twinge, Jian realizes that this is the same spot where they landed on her first evening here. It feels like much longer ago than it really was. At least many of her fears have proven unfounded. Even if not all of them.

Settling into his seat, the archon offers her his hand to enter and helps her arrange her cloak as the flyer takes off. They sit in silence for several minutes before he speaks. "I hope you're settling in well. You seem a bit less tense these days."

"Do I? I'm glad." She likely does. Time has proved Lynx's reassurances true; he does not seem to be planning to torture her for his own amusement. This, coupled with the gradual inuring of her mind to the atmosphere of Commorragh itself, has helped her relax a bit. She's not sure if that's a good thing. Perhaps she's just numbing to the horror and the next step will be participating.

"Sometimes I hear you singing in your room." He twists his fingers into her hair, pressing her head against his shoulder.

"You do?" She had assumed she was alone.

He nods. "Sometimes when I walk by. You have a beautiful voice." His tone turns teasing. "And a rather impressive volume. I can almost believe you didn't need the mask to make those shrieks of yours."

Jian doesn't respond. What exactly is she supposed to say to that?

With a sigh, the archon takes up the slack in the conversation. "Do you play any musical instruments?"

"No. Singing was the only thing that interested me. And my voice was always with me, so there was little incentive." Why does she keep talking? Why does she keep letting herself get sucked into his fantasies of relationship? She's as complicit in her taming as he is.

"Is there anything else that would make your room more comfortable? More books, perhaps?"

"More books would be nice." Reading is a good way to pass the time, and she's gone through everything that was on the shelf twice. She considers more. "Perhaps something to draw with?"

"Of course! I didn't know you liked to draw." The archon sounds excited.

Jian feels her face flame, remembering that it's one of his hobbies as well. "I don't. But I thought perhaps I could learn."

"Of course! I'll teach you!" The archon slides his hand down to her shoulder. "I'm sure you'll be great at it."

"Alright." More time in his presence. Just what she needed.

A few minutes later, the flyer touches down and the archon helps her out. This landing platform is atop a hill. The wind is stronger here, and it's even colder than it was back at the palace. Jian pulls her cloak around herself as she looks around. Fields stretch around them in every direction. She doesn't recognize any of the plants growing, although she's too far away to see much detail. Massive, long-limbed contraptions float above the rows, a being or two on top of each.

"We grow most of our own food," the archon says. "Perhaps not the most efficient use of our space, but anything that makes us less reliant on the rest of the city will benefit us in the long term."

Jian nods, without looking away from the fields. "Lynx mentioned something like that." There's fewer people then she expected. "Is it mostly automated, then?"

The archon nods. "Here, let me show you."

They spend the next hour wandering through the fields, the archon showing her all the different crops the kabal grows and the vast barns that house rows upon rows of animals to feed the high-ranking members alongside huge vats of artificial protein for the rank and file. Thick forest lies beyond the fields, apparently stocked with beasts for the higher-ranking members of the kabal to hunt for sport and additional meat. By the time they make it back to the flyer, Jian's mind is filled with images of animals trapped in tiny cages, pumped full of nutrients and artificial muscle stimulation. She supposes it is indeed better than the alternative, which the archon claims is to follow the path of the other kabals and rely on food won in realspace raids.

"We still need to buy or capture some of our supplies, but if need be, we could feed seventy percent of our current numbers solely from these fields," he says as he climbs back into the flyer. He offers Jian his hand.

Their next stop is the barracks where the kabal's foot soldiers spend most of their lives. Some train in shooting ranges and sparring gyms, others eat in a massive cafeteria hung with banners in the kabal's heraldry: black with a stylized rose in bone white and a dull, poisonous green. Rows of bunks line long dormitories where warriors sleep or while away their off-duty hours with cards, conversation, drinking, or sex. Jian spots a few engaged in some kind of game involving a row of daggers laid out on the floor and sudden bursts of motion followed by shouts of jubilation and frustration.

For some reason, the last of these scenes sends a pang of sadness through Jian. Not that she wishes for this life any more than she wants her own. But there is some alure in being faceless, one of many. Not suffocated by attention and expectations.

The archon moves them along fairly quickly, however. There's something a bit unusual about his mood today, Jian notices. The change in his mannerisms that she noticed earlier hasn't disappeared. He's nervous, or possibly excited for something.

Another ride in the flyer lands them outside the second spire, where the lhamean sisters tended to Jian's wounds when she first arrived. A willowy sister with thick dark hair that curls softly around her face arrives to greet them, bowing as she approaches. "Good afternoon, my lord. What can I do for you?" She peers at Jian with pale amber eyes as she straightens.

"Miarya," the archon replies. "This is –" He pauses for an instant and his eyes slide over to look at Jian. "This is Jian. I'm taking her on a tour of the kabal."

"I see," says Miarya. She turns to Jian with a movement so smooth it seems more like floating. "Welcome to the Kabal of the Ashen Rose."

"Mia is the head sister here, and the matriarch of both the temple of Lhilitu and the academy where we train young girls to serve as lhameans."

Miarya smiles politely, still speaking in a soft, lilting voice. "Would you like me to guide your tour, Lord Aire?"

"Of course." The archon wraps a shoulder around Jian and guides her forward as they follow Miarya inside.

Despite her instinctive distrust of the woman, Jian can't help but feel somewhat aroused by her voice and mannerisms. She supposes that centuries of training and practice as a courtesan have turned sensuality into an art as natural as breathing. In a way, the dark kin are as relentless in their pursuit of perfection as her own people are. It's an odd and disturbing thought.

They take a different path through the spire than they did on Jian's previous visit, descending a staircase into a web of sublevels. Each is packed with laboratories. Dozens of women bend over benches and isolation cabinets, colorful liquids boiling in flasks and dripping through lattices of delicate glass tubing. Most, according to Miarya's narration, are poisons and antidotes with a myriad of effects. Poisons to slow the heart and induce a death-like coma, to rot flesh to a necrotic slime, or to send body temperature skyrocketing and boil their victim alive. The information is as fascinating as it is horrifying and Jian finds herself with a new respect for the skill involved in creating such substances.

Her head is spinning by the time the emerge at ground level, even the tiny bit of tainted air she's breathed setting something not quite right in her body. Or perhaps it's simply the effects of poor ventilation. Miarya leads them on, however, so she keeps pace with the archon and continues nodding along and asking polite questions when it feels appropriate.

"That way is the medical bay," the matriarch says, gesturing to her right. "But I'm sure you're already as familiar with it as you need to be."

Jian remains silent. This, like several other comments, hits just slightly wrong. Miarya is obviously trying to insult her by reminding her of her status and of her continued failures in the training grounds, but couching it in such benign comments that it's impossible to respond without seeming prickly. So she remains silent and looks up at the archon. He smiles down at her. "Yes, let's see the school instead," he says.

The lhamean school is perhaps Jian's least favorite part of the tour. The layout itself is familiar and expected – dormitories and sparring rooms, laboratories and classrooms. Sisters instruct lhamean trainees in fighting with a variety of close-combat weapons, although slim knives, short swords, and some kind of long, needle-like implement seem to be favored. There are classes in poison brewing and etiquette and what looks to be the history of Commorragh and the known facets and political status of various kabals. And of course, there is instruction in the arts of the bedroom, with the trainees practicing postures and positions down to the smallest detail. The more advanced ones move to hands-on work, either with each other or with what Jian assumes are male slaves brought in for the purpose.

It would all be rather unremarkable if the girls hadn't been so young. The youngest students still have the round features and shortened ears of childhood, and even the oldest she sees have barely finished puberty and still have the gawky look that she herself bore not long ago. It feels like an insult to Isha, to put such things on them at that age. Worse, nearly every girl she sees is attentive and even enthusiastic, as though this is exactly what she wants to be doing with her time.

If Miarya or the archon have any discomfort with the process, they don't show it. It seems to be perfectly normal to them. Which, Jian realizes, it is. The matriarch likely was one of these girls, centuries ago, and the archon is simply so used to the idea that he no longer realizes how disgusting it is, if he ever did.

She's glad when they leave the school.

As they reenter the lobby, the archon checks the time. "Thank you for your company, Miarya, but I'm afraid we have to leave." He offers his arm to Jian again and she takes it.

"Of course. It was my pleasure." Miarya smiles and looks at Jian. "It was wonderful to meet you. I'm sure we will be seeing each other again soon."

Jian ignores her and follows the archon out into the twilight of the outside and the garden pathways between the two fortresses.

"What did you think?" the archon asks after a few minutes. He's walking quickly and there's a slight spring to his step, as though he is still anticipating whatever it is that has his fancy.

What does she think? "It was very impressive." That seems safe, and true. "Thank you for showing me."

He looks at her sideways, but apparently decides not to push further. "Thank you for spending the afternoon with me. Next time, I can show you the armory, the slave training facility, and our scourge flock."

"Scourge flock?" The term is strange to her.

"A, erm, a type of winged aeldari. They often carry messages around the city, and we have an eyrie of them here as part of our military forces."

Jian frowns. Winged aeldari? She's never heard of such a thing. But with the level of medical technology present here, she wouldn't be surprised if they could make such modifications. They continue walking in silence. You should tell him, she thinks.

"Your offer to have me join you in your bed at night," she says, sounding stiff even to her own ears. "Is that still something you desire?" It's in her own best interest to let him do it eventually, and she has the courage for the moment.

He stops dead in his tracks. "Really?"

Jian nods. "I await your command."

The smile is evident in the archon's voice as he pulls her into a hug. "My door is always open for you, Jian. I have a meeting with Lord Malidrach of the Flayed Skull to discuss the upcoming raid this evening, but I would love to have you with me when I return. Will you be alright alone or with Lynx until then?"

"Of course, Valthiel." Perhaps she should go to see Lynx again, while she is taking risks. Perhaps it would be easier to solve the problems between them if she makes a point of doing so, rather tacking it onto her morning routine or some other task.

After a moment, the archon releases her and they continue on their way. The expectancy in his posture grows as they approach the spire and take the elevator up to her quarters. As Jian unlocks the door, he places his hand over hers. "Wait," he says softly. "Let me."

Puzzled, Jian allows him to open the door and lead her inside. He's never been in her room before to her knowledge. Why is he entering now?

"Close your eyes," he says, grinning. "And keep holding onto my hand."

Jian obeys, still confused. She takes hesitant steps after him, trying to orient herself by memory. They stop. "Now open your eyes," he says.

She does. She stands in a small, dark space, which she quickly realizes is her closet. The archon slides behind her and turns on the lights.

Jian gasps. The clothes she's been given to wear are still there – the variety of elaborate lingerie and scanty bits of leather and metal and gossamer and silk that comprise her daywear, which only leave slightly more to the imagination. But alongside them are dozens of other outfits, filling the rails and shelves to bursting. Robes and tunics and pants, boots and soft shoes. A pair of mannequins hold sparring armor very similar in design to her old wargear.

She steps over to the nearest rack in a daze and pulls out an item to examine it. Upon closer inspection, it's not craftworld clothing, not quite. A mix, maybe, of slightly more revealing seer's robes and a ranger's coat. The rest of the clothes look to be of similar design.

"Were did you get these?" she asks.

"I have my sources, dear," the archon smirks from his spot leaning against the doorway. "Do you like them?"

"They're beautiful!" Her vision blurs as she spots a stack of nightgowns in soft, fuzzy fabrics, but clears with a few hard blinks. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, dear." The archon breaks his gaze to look down at the floor and his voice drops to a murmur. "I know you're not fond of the way we dress here."

"May I put one on?" Jian asks hesitantly.

"Of course!" The smile is back.

Jian sheds her clothes, wrapping herself in the new dress that she picked up first. It still ends just above the knees, but the fabric is soft against her skin and it covers up to the neck and all the way down her arms. The rich green seems coordinated to match her eyes with swirling silver floral embroidery at the hems. By the gods, she's missed this.

"You look amazing." The archon's voice. She'd almost forgotten he was there, watching her.

"Thank you again." She should thank him. She walks barefoot to him and stretches up to give him a kiss. He catches her in an embrace and holds her, but his hands remain at her waist. "I'll – I can still wear the old clothes when I come to see you. Or these ones."

"Whichever makes you happiest, Jian. They are your clothes, and you can dress as you feel is appropriate." Now his hand drifts downward, squeezing her ass. A prickle of arousal races down her spine in spite of herself.

But that is the limit of his use of her for the moment, it seems. He bestows a brief kiss on the top of her head and releases her. "Alright, I need to prepare for my meeting. I will see you when I return?"

"Of course." Jian watches him leave, then turns to stare in awe at the clothing once more. She enjoyed dressing well on Yme-loc, but even then she'd never had such a rich selection of things to wear. It's a wonderful feeling, all the more so because of what she's been forced into since her arrival. She has come to realize as her enslavement stretches on that most of the outfits the archon and Lynx have her wearing are fairly normal for Commorragh. But still she's longed for something to cover her, to cultivate beauty instead of lust. The archon has given her a rich gift.

He has also, she realizes, been planning this for some time. This is likely what he's been grinning about all day like a gyrinx that's caught a bird. This strange bit of care churns in her stomach the same way some of their less sexual activities do. Do the flashes of kindness indicate that he sees her as more than his latest plaything? Or are they simply another way to amuse himself, the same way one might buy a pet a new toy to enjoy watching it struggle to figure out how it works?

She looks down at herself. Maybe she shouldn't question. She should just enjoy the gift for what it is and take a bit of pleasure wherever she can find it. Besides, she has a long night ahead of her.

The lights are on in Lynx's cabin as she approaches, but Lynx herself sits on the bridge, which seems to be a favorite spot of hers. A small bowl sits to one side of her, filled with what Jian hopes are only dried animal parts. Resting across her lap is a board on which she chops a selection of herbs. Her shoulders tighten as Jian approaches. "What do you want?"

Jian sighs. "Can I sit down?"

"Sure. Take a seat."

"What are you working on?"

Lynx brushes some finely diced herbs into the bowl and starts on a different bundle of leaves. "An infectious neurotoxin with an increased transmission rate," she says casually. "I'm trying an alternate formula to see if I can decrease the minimum dosage."

"What will you use it for?" She probably doesn't want to know.

"I will send it to the elder sisters and the archon for extensive testing." Still, her defenses are up and her posture closed off.

Jian sighs again. If she's going to try one last time, she might as well start now. "I want to be your friend, Lynx. I thought you wanted to be mine."

"I di- I do. But it doesn't seem like you want to be mine."

"What did I do to give you that impression?"

Lynx pauses her work and for the first time actually looks at Jian. There are tears in her eyes. "Because you don't even want me to touch you. Even with all my attempts to be friendly – and believe me, it doesn't come easy – you still see me as just another drukhari. I'm not a person, I'm an enemy, and that HURTS, Jian."

She recoils from the sudden venom. "That's not-" she forces herself to calm down and breathe. "I didn't mean to make you feel rejected. I want to be your friend. But when you touch me like that, that isn't what I think you want. It makes me think you want me to do the same kinds of things I do for the archon." Even if he would allow it, the thought of serving in yet another bed is even more depressing than losing a chance at finding companionship.

"I didn't try to do that." In the time it took for Jian to make her statement, Lynx's tears are gone. "I'd hoped I found someone I could trust enough to –" She waves her hand dismissively. "You know what, forget it. I was obviously wrong."

Jian stares at her for a moment. She still isn't sure what is going through Lynx's head, or why she is acting this way. But at least what she has to do now is obvious. She reaches out to take her hand. "It's alright. It was just a misunderstanding. I forgive you."

Lynx tenses under her touch. "… thank you."

"I don't even mind if you touch me. Just, not on the breasts, please. Or between the legs."

"I understand." Lynx stands, setting her work to the side. "Why don't we go inside? I can get us something to eat and maybe you can show me how you prefer to be touched."

Jian follows her inside. It's a strange request, but she'd rather that than simply walk away. She settles on the couch and allows Lynx to sit beside her, guiding her to a proper position that doesn't feel too intimate, perhaps is even nice. For a long time they remain there, enjoying the silence.

"Thank you," says Lynx. "I don't have many friends. I'm glad I didn't fuck up making one too badly."

Jian nods and smiles her acceptance. "It's alright. The archon took me on a tour of the kabal today," she adds, eager to change from the awkward subject.

"Oh really?" Lynx straightens up and looks at her. "What did you think of it?"

"I forget how large this space is. We saw the fields and barns, as well as the barracks." She pauses. "And the school."

"Ah, yes, the school. It's an impressive place, is it not?"

"They're so young…" Jian's mind is filled with the image of classrooms of little girls learning the arts of sex and death. Lynx must have been one of them at one point, she realizes. A bit of understanding falls into place. It's probably been a long time since she was allowed to express affection and trust in any other way.

"Young minds learn better. And most are vatborn who have already seen their fair share of it in the slums." Lynx shrugs, but can't quite mask a twinge of… is it pain in her expression? Regret? "Those girls are the lucky ones, really. Beautiful and clever enough to catch the sisters' attention. The slower or plainer ones and the boys are still out there working the streets or praying not to get caught stealing from their betters."

"I just… They're children."

"There aren't any children in Commorragh. Not really. But this is the way it's been done for thousands of years, and the way it probably will be done until the end." She stands, obviously eager to change the subject. "Would you like a glass of wine? I thought perhaps we could try another game of chess."

"Something without alcohol, please, but I would love a drink and a game." Jian allows her to drop the line of discussion. She's right, there's nothing to be done about it. Certainly not by her, anyway. But the sight will haunt her, she's certain.

The rest of the evening goes by quickly. Tension lingers between them, Jian can tell, but Lynx seems happy to let it go, and by the time the game is over, they're speaking relatively easily. They finish the evening back on the couch, curled up, enjoying the lack of need to carry on a conversation. Eventually, Jian realizes that Lynx has fallen asleep.

She looks down at her. A few strands of green hair have come loose from her braid and hang in her face. It looks lovely with her near-white skin and when she's asleep, the sharp angles of her features seem a bit softened. She really is quite beautiful, and she could see herself being attracted to her in another life. But not in this one. There are too many things standing in the way. And she can't abandon Reena even more than she already has.

Reena… Not for the first time, Jian longs for a way to speak to her, to send her even a short message telling her that she is alright. She's not sure if she truly is, but this is certainly better than what Reena is doubtless imagining.

How long she stays like that, thinking of all the things she should have said, she isn't sure. Eventually, however, she stands, careful to avoid waking Lynx, and gets ready to leave. The archon will likely return from his meeting soon, and she has promised to attend to him this evening. She writes a note to Lynx explaining her absence and sets off for the spire.

So filled is her mind with what has happened today and what will happen when she arrives that she doesn't make the realization until she is nearly to her destination. This is the first time she has been outside unaccompanied since her arrival.

As if in response to her thought, a male voice speaks behind her. "I have nothing against the desire for empowerment in freshly arrived slaves per se. But someone as poorly armed as you are, yet equipped with your assets, should not be walking by herself." He sounds amused, but Jian detects the danger in his words.

"I am merely going to my lord the archon, sir," she replies, putting all the deference she possesses into her voice. There are benefits, she supposes, to being the property of someone powerful.

A man appears suddenly, almost as if he materialized from the shadows. He wears dark clothing, blacks and greys and deep greens, and his shoulder length black hair is combed back from his face. "But your lord archon isn't here now, is he?"

"Not at the moment, no…" Jian forces herself to remain in place. She might be able to outrun him if it comes to it, but he likely carries weapons that will incapacitate her before she gets the chance.

He takes a couple of steps closer, eyeing her up and down. "In fact, I don't see anyone nearby at all, do you? I wonder if anyone would hear you scream if the worst was about to happen."

"I doubt they would." There's no point in lying. Her heart pounds.

"Indeed, I doubt they would." He pulls a knife from somewhere behind his back. "Which is why it's lucky I'm here." In an instant, his whole demeanor changes, even if it still retains the condescending aspect. "Derfahn, head of security and threat management, at your service, my lady." He gives an elaborate bow that seems more designed to show off his own panache than to convey respect.

Jian responds with a bow of her own. "A pleasure to meet you," she lies.

"You really should be more mindful of your own safety and surroundings," he says as he walks up to her side. "Lord Aire has enough to worry about in regards to his own safety without having to account for foolish risks on your part."

He's young, Jian realizes. Not a child, quite, but a good deal younger than herself. "My apologies. I will be more careful in the future."

"I doubt you will be, but I appreciate the sentiment. I take it you are returning to your lord's quarters?"

"I am."

"Would you like me to escort you there, to make certain nothing unsavory happens to you?" The emphasis is accompanied by an unpleasant grin.

"I would not object." Derfahn is right, she probably shouldn't be wandering around by herself, and it's not as though she could gracefully refuse.

"Good girl. Seems like there might be hope for you after all."

He gestures for her to take the lead, taking up a position behind her as she starts to walk. Jian casts a glance back over her shoulder. His arms rest lazily behind his back and he practically struts. She ignores the lingering discomfort he brings her and continues on her way.

Outside the archon's quarters, she feels his hand on her arm. "This is where I will leave you for tonight. Just remember… mind your surroundings."

"Understood. And thank you."

"You're welcome. I'll be seeing you. Not that you'll necessarily know it, in fact you most likely won't." He bows a final time, the formality of the gesture again undercut by his words. Jian doesn't reply and he flashes another grin before walking down the stairs.

As soon as he's gone, Jian turns and walks quickly to her room. If she is going to spend her night with the archon, she should dress the part. Inside, she quickly disrobes and changes into a soft, lacy chemise. A knee-length robe covers her enough to walk back to his suite and slippers protect her feet.

Despite her increased paranoia from Derfahn's intrusion, no one accosts her before she once again finds herself outside the archon's door. She knocks before she has time to lose her nerve.

"Come in, it's open." The archon's voice is muffled, but intelligible.

Jian enters, looking around to judge his state of mind. The room is much as they left it. She can even see the covers moved slightly out of place on the side of the bed they used earlier. The archon himself half sits, half lies in an armchair, lazily sipping a glass of wine. He doesn't seem out of sorts in any way. This likely will be a relatively painless experience.

"Good evening," she says. "Did your meeting go well?"

"Reasonably so. We have agreed to official terms for our deal; now just comes the part where we each try to cheat the other to maximize our profits and minimize our expenses. Preferably while damaging our so-called ally." The corner of his mouth turns up in a spiteful smile.

"I would expect nothing less," Jian replies with a wry look of her own. At his gesture, she seats herself on a couch across from his chair and begins adjusting her clothing so it's easier to remove.

"How about you?"

"I spent the evening with Lynx. We played chess and she told me about one of the poisons she has been developing." Jian is certain that he's noticed the disconnect between his bed slave and his handmaid, but he hasn't commented on it, so she refrains from referencing it directly.

"I'm glad to hear you had a nice evening." He eyes her curiously. "Are you ready to head to bed, my dear?"

"If you are."

"Then make yourself comfortable. I'll be there in a moment." He disappears into his closet.

Hesitantly, she walks over to the bed and looks at it. He isn't acting as he normally does when he wants sex. Does that mean he was being honest in only wanting a companion for the night? But why? Or is he simply in the mood for something more romantic than their normal rutting? Either is a hopeful sign.

She turns down the bedclothes, slips out of her robe, and lays herself out to wait for him.

The archon reappears a few minutes later, wearing only a pair of loose black silk pants. Jian watches his progress across the room until he climbs into the bed next to her. A moment later, he turns out the light, immersing them in darkness.

Jian hears him groan softly, feels his movements as he adjusts his position. He kisses her neck softly, just above her collar. Almost tenderly. As she begins to roll over to respond in kind, she feels him wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into an embrace.

"I'm thrilled beyond words that you're here to chase away my empty nights, Jian." A blanket settles over them, bringing her even more into a cocoon.

"You're welcome."

"Would you –" he hesitates. "Would you prefer if I caressed your hair, or your thighs to help you sleep?"

"Whichever you would prefer." Jian's head spins. It's not that this side of the archon is totally alien to her. He seems to occasionally tire of treating her as a slave and will show bursts of deference and perhaps even kindness. But this feels more vulnerable and intimate than anything that came before; their bodies entwined, the dark hiding their faces, his hand caressing her thigh in a surprisingly innocent manner. It's both the relief she longed for and exactly what she feared would happen tonight. Because as much as her spirit desperately needs the solace that he's offering, it will only drag her further into his web. And the next time she crawls under his desk to suck his cock while he reads his intelligence reports, it will be that much harder to detach from herself.

"I met one of your employees earlier," she says to distract from the line of thought.

"Mmm? Who?" With their faces so close and the room dark and quiet, he speaks very softly. It accentuates the smoothness of his voice.

"Derfahn, he said his name was."

"Ah, yes. My chief assassin," he replies casually. "He's a good kid."

"He is?" Assassin? It is the best fit for the rather vague description he gave of his role.

Jian can feel the archon nod in the darkness. "Prideful and overly eager to prove himself, but a good kid nonetheless."

She isn't sure she believes him, but once again decides it's best to let the matter drop. "Did you send him?"

"For you? No, I haven't spoken with him since this morning. Where did you find him?"

"In the garden, on my way here. He told me not to wander around by myself."

"He's right. You should have asked Lynx to escort you back."

His tone isn't scolding, but she can't help but defend herself, even as she knows he's right. "She was asleep, I didn't want to wake her…"

"It's not that I don't think you can handle yourself, in fact, I'm sure you can, but…" He swallows. "I care for you, and your wellbeing and happiness are important to me."

"Thank you." She finds herself speaking around a lump in her throat.

"What for?"

"I didn't think anyone would ever say that to me again." Even if he doesn't mean it, if it's only some kind of treat meant to reward her for good performance in a job that she still doesn't understand, it touches something deep inside her and brings a sweet ache. First the new wardrobe and now this admission – what has she done to deserve such things now?

"Well, I do care," replies the archon. "So you had better get used to hearing it."

Jian doesn't respond, turning her conflicting feelings over and over, trying to make sense of them.

"It's alright, dear," the archon says after a few minutes. "Go ahead and fall asleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

They lie there for perhaps half an hour. The archon is still awake, she can tell by his breathing. "I hate sleeping alone," she whispers. The darkness and the kindnesses and the physical closeness have built a pressure in her chest, the need to share something.

"How come?" He sounds alert, not like someone who was on the edge of slumber.

"It's too quiet. I lived in a Howling Banshee shrine and I could always hear the other women making noise in their sleep or getting up in the night. And when I wasn't there, I was at my lover's house."

"Making entirely different kinds of noises, I'm sure." The archon chuckles.

"Mmm-hmm." She falls silent, the tension relieved.

"I absolutely hate sleeping alone as well."

"May I ask why?"

For nearly a minute, he remains quiet. Jian wonders if he plans to respond at all by the time he lets out a sigh. "Because it leaves me with nowhere for my mind to go, nothing to hold onto but the screaming and horrors of the city and the past." He kisses her again, this time on the top of her head. "Having an anchoring presence, someone sweet and pure like you, it helps to block it out."

Sweet and pure… how far she is from that. "I started hating it when I was very young," she says before she can think about it.

"Any specific reason why?"

"I had nightmares. They were foolish children's dreams, I thought She Who Thirsts would come for me personally every time I enjoyed a piece of candy. But I was afraid to go to sleep because of what it would bring. My mother would let me come join her in bed. It kept most of them away, and when I did have one, there was someone there to help bring me back to myself." Something else beautiful and good that the drukahari have destroyed.

"My mistress would punish me by locking me in a closet when I fucked up. Likely because she knew how much I hated it, alone in the dark where I couldn't see or hear anything except what was in my own head, and even there I couldn't sense anything at all without someone else to connect with."

"I'm sorry." And she genuinely is, surprising even herself.

"Mmm. It's in the past, though, and you're here now, in the present where it matters." He speaks quickly. Covering up his weakness, she realizes, with words and flattery. Distraction.

When she doesn't respond, he resumes stroking her thigh, his breaths deep and warm on her shoulder. Jian closes her eyes and tries to let go of the guilt and fear.

Maybe, for a little while, she can pretend that everything is alright.

The archon and the slave sleep in each other's arms until morning comes.

When it does, the slave shakes herself from dreams of past hurts and present shame and returns to the incubi to cleanse herself in euphoric agony.

The archon, meanwhile, stares after her as the emotional scent of their night together lingers on him, a reminder of secrets breathed under the cover of darkness.