The morning-after pill that Mara got for Leandra was a little white thing that could be mistaken for aspirin and Leandra was half convinced that was all it was. Still, Mara gave her a thorough explanation of what it could do to her body. Nausea, sickness, possibly one of the worst periods of her life. It was certainly more preferable to pregnancy but the pill stayed tucked in its package in her bag unused for the moment in spite of the little voice in her head silently screaming that that was a mistake.
Malcolm had finally convinced her last night to wear that pink sexy party dress he found in her closet to go to that Darktown Rave. And if the dress had the effect on Malcolm she wanted she didn't want her plans to be ruined by an early period of sickness.
Leandra told herself she could take it as soon as she got home from the rave tomorrow. Technically it would fit in the window of efficacy. There was a nagging feeling in the back of her head telling her that she should take it anyways rather than deal with the consequences of an unplanned pregnancy. But there was another stronger feeling originating somewhere lower, a hunger to feel Malcolm again.
Leandra had such a vivid dream last night that left her aching. Malcolm visited her again, just like he did every night, with visions of flower forests and the ghost of his touch setting her aflame. When would she get another chance to feel him again? She wasn't sure she had the patience to wait for another opportunity.
Trying to put that out of her mind only added to Leandra's nervousness about going to a Lowtown bar. She knew what to say and do at a noble party. She didn't know the protocol of Lowtown's manners and she was scared she would make a fool of herself.
She clung closely to Mara as they exited her SUV in the Hanged Man squeezing into the only spot that would fit. Mara's SUV was not fancy but sure was a lot shinier than the cars parked next to her. In fact, one car had a mirror duct-taped on and a grocery bag sealed the broken window.
Leandra couldn't help but worry about the trinkets that were to serve as Mara's salary. Was this a safe enough neighborhood to leave such valuables in the trunk?
But it seemed like a worse idea to lug it all inside for this secret interview that her parents would definitely disapprove of. She knew she could trust Carver if Malcolm did. He'd been nothing but a blessing.
Leandra thought she would be used to crowds having lived in one since birth, but in this one, she felt like she stood out. Everyone seemed to be staring at her like she was lost. Mara, always a dear friend, pulled her in closer, wrapping an arm around her, allowing Leandra to lean in as they made their way out the lot and into the Lowtown market crowd. There were so many more people down here, and the rank smell of sewage and trash that she could blithely ignore in Hightown seemed to cake the air with a film. Without Malcolm to distract her she found herself overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds she was unused to.
It wasn't that she didn't ever go to Lowtown. Mara had shown her a few restaurants that might not look like much on the outside but were real hidden gems. Like this little elven place that served the most delightful adobo. She even tried to hire out the family as personal chefs at one point but they turned her down even with the higher pay because that shop was their home. Leandra wished they were going there for lunch instead of at the Hanged Man since Mara had warned her that she might want to get drunk before she ate, which didn't give her much hope for a decent meal.
Leandra looked at the burly swarthy men with suspicion, clinging to her purse as she passed by. She didn't mean to flinch when they looked at her. Her parents had warned her about a woman of her status going out of the High Town territory. Pickpockets, muggers, and all sorts of gangs would find her easy prey and though she had the basics of self-defense down, she was not exactly a fighter. Her instructors were always telling her she was too afraid to hurt someone, too afraid to commit to the hit. She wondered if her fears would be validated and if Mara and she were attacked would her training kick in, or would she falter like she usually did?
Mara rubbed her arm soothingly, always able to sense her distress. "I've been to the Hanged Man countless times."
Leandra bit her lip. "Didn't you say that place is always breaking out in bar fights?"
Mara chuckled, winking at her, her short hair spiky pigtails bobbing. "It's part of the fun."
Leandra frowned, unsure how that could be fun, but the way Mara laughed at her expression, she was sure she was exaggerating just to get a reaction. But then again with the stories her parents brought her up with she wasn't sure.
There was a group of men parked in front of the Hanged Man that looked rowdy, with bruises healing on their knuckles and nicks on their faces. Their vests were matching black leather and their sleeves torn off to show thick muscles. They each balanced a beer bottle on their lips as they talked loudly amongst each other, just barely covering the hum that came from inside.
As the ladies approached, the men quieted, their eyes fell unabashedly on their curves. Low whistles sounded appreciatively.
Immediately Leandra felt hot and tense, her steps slowing as she reluctantly approached the entrance. Lowtown men weren't known for their respect or their manners. She realized they'd need to get past the wall of men in order to even enter and though she hoped to pass without incident, an incident seemed to be what the men intended. Leandra immediately drew her eyes down in instinct, clinging closely to Mara but that only seemed to encourage the men.
"Well, what are you pretty little dolls doing outside of Hightown? Looking for an adventure?" A bald man with a large scratchy scar on his face smirked at her.
Another skinnier man with a greasy rat-tail and a lopsided grin gestured at Leandra. "Or trouble?"
Leandra shuddered, hugging herself.
Mara stepped in front of Leandra not meeting any of the men's eyes. "Don't feed the dogs. You'll only encourage them."
The rat-tailed man laughed. "Ah, Mara, always a charmer. Maybe your friend might be more inclined."
Leandra felt her insides freezing at the way the men were leering at her. She was used to being treated like a respected noblewoman, not a piece of meat. If her father had heard any of this, these men would be in jail for at least the night, but she definitely couldn't call upon him at this moment.
So instead she ducked her head, her whole body turning towards Mara as she made herself small.
Mara scowled as she held Leandra. "If you don't want my knee between your legs again you'll lay off, Wheezer."
The other men laughed and pushed the jowly man as he snarled, spilling his swig of beer.
Mara squeezed Leandra's arm and pulled her past the men and into the safety of the bar as quickly as she could. Leandra tried to breathe in a sigh of relief, but she was suddenly hit by the smell of rank alcohol and sweaty bodies packed in a humid room. There was some soft rock playing on the speakers above drowning out the noise of the conversations from the patrons. The room was poorly lit, half the light bulbs blinking in and out. Suspicious stains decorated the wall rather than art or flowers. Leandra found herself swelling in anxiety from the cacophony of noise but when she looked at Mara, she could see a radiant smile glowing on her face.
Suddenly Leandra saw what made that smile. She followed Mara's gaze to see Maurevar Carver waving them over with a grin so wide it was cheesy. Leandra noticed he was not in uniform, but in a black dress shirt and slacks, much nicer than the other patrons were dressed in. She noticed he had even trimmed his beard into neat edges. He looked much smaller out of uniform, less imposing, and intimidating.
Mara hurried them over, dragging a reluctant Leandra behind as Carver stood up to greet them. "Well, Officer, don't you clean up nice?" Mara winked flirtatiously, causing the man to stutter.
Carver stood up with a bow, allowing the ladies to seat themselves across from him. Leandra couldn't help but notice the way Mara had those same bedroom eyes that she usually reserved for Gamlen as she inspected every detail of Carver's appearance. Suddenly Leandra felt a wave of discomfort run through her as she realized that the two of them had electricity between them that she couldn't ignore. She placed her purse at the side of the booth decidedly sitting in between them hoping to break the spell. "Shall we get a drink?"
"Of course," Carver nodded, lowering his eyes to the table as if he was having trouble concentrating. "Let me go to the bar real quick and pick some up for us." The man then bowed again and retreated from the table without so much as taking their drink order.
Mara's eyes followed him a little too closely for Leandra's comfort. Mara didn't even realize Leandra was staring until she looked away from Carver. Mara avoided Leandra's questioning gaze as she quickly checked on her makeup with her compact mirror.
Leandra leaned in to whisper, though it was pointless since no one could hear her over the noise. "Is there something going on between you two?"
She prayed Mara would laugh and call her crazy like usual, but instead, Mara blushed a deep crimson. "What are you talking about?"
Leandra bit her lip, nervous about what this would mean for her brother, but she couldn't bring herself to prod any further. She bit her cheek and muttered, "never mind." She willed herself to believe Mara would never cheat on Gamlen. That she wasn't that kind of person, but when it came down to it, Leandra was afraid to even ask.
A few moments later, Carver came back with a tray of cold beers and set both of them down before the ladies before taking his seat, which was quite distant from them. He immediately cleared a stutter from his throat and chugged a few gulps of his beer, causing the ladies to follow his lead.
Leandra found herself choking down her beer. It was the most horrid thing she had ever willfully put in her mouth after caviar, and immediately set it down after one drink. Mara downed almost her whole glass before she made a sighing gasp, licking the frothy beer from her lips, which Carver's eyes darted to.
"So," Leandra cleared her throat, trying to get the awful stale taste out of her mouth. "Exactly what information did you need from me, Ser Carver."
Carver finally tore his eyes away from Maria's mouth only to clear his throat again. He seemed more nervous than usual. "Well, to be frank, my Commander wants to tranquilize a mage who I'm sure isn't involved to make sure your family's curse isn't to blame for the Haunting. While I'm sure the curse is just a rumor, I can only prevent more harm if I know what happened between you and Malcolm."
"You think Malcolm is responsible?" Leandra raised her eyebrows, fearing Carver was seeking to blame him.
"It seems unlikely he was directly involved in summoning demons, but if I know Malcolm, he is somehow at the center of it."
Leandra bit her lip, unsure if she should say anything. She thought she trusted Carver, but if the Knight-Commander was looking for an elf scapegoat she didn't want it to be Malcolm.
"Well everything was normal for the most part. We were just dancing on the balcony when those demons attacked. To be honest I don't really know what happened." She made sure not to mention that when she found Malcolm he was leaning off the balcony speaking to the air. She couldn't imagine Carver would think anything good of it.
"Shouldn't you tell Carver about those dreams?" Mara prodded her with an elbow.
Leandra flushed as Carver raised his eyebrows in interest. "What dreams?" he asked.
She knew she agreed to come but how could she say anything to get Malcolm in trouble. Her dreams were precious, private, and she was mad at Mara for even mentioning them because she had sworn Mara to secrecy. "It's really not anything serious, just dreams."
"If they are just dreams then there shouldn't be any problem with me knowing." Carver took another conservative sip of his beer.
Leandra glared at Mara, unsure about this whole ordeal. Leandra knew her parents would be furious if they knew where she was, knew who she was talking to. She felt like this was a trap waiting to spring.
Mara squeezed her hand. "I think he needs to know."
Leandra took another foul sip of beer, almost gagging on it, but she needed the courage. She set it down, her fingers twitching as she fiddled with the rosary on her neck. "So I dream of Malcolm every night. In fact, I had a dream of him several nights before we actually met at my betrothal ball." She could feel her cheeks flushing as she admitted this. It sounded crazy to her, wishful thinking at best, or demonic if one were to take that view. She feared what Carver would think.
She expected Carver to scoff and brush off what she was saying but he leaned in as if this was important news, his face as serious as a stone. "What happens in these dreams?"
Leandra's voice grew quiet. "I'm usually stalked… by a shadowy creature with large swirling goat eyes. At first, it attacked me, tried to drown me but ever since Malcolm rescued me, it just watches me like it's waiting." She shivered, wondering if the creature was watching now. "Sometimes I feel like I can see it in the corner of my eye."
Carver squinted in suspicion. "Did this demon attack the party?"
Leandra shook her head unsure. "I didn't see it but…" she met Carver's gaze, full of fear. "But I felt it."
"Shit," Carver hissed, brushing back his hair with a palmed fist. "And what about that demon that you stopped me from attacking at the party? How does that fit in?"
"I'm not sure," Leandra admitted. She saw Mara gape in surprise at that. She never told Mara that part of the dance because even she would have panicked. "I don't think it's evil. I've also seen it in my dreams, leading Malcolm through wondrous lands that can't possibly exist. It calls Malcolm something strange… a word I've never heard before." She hesitated, unsure if she should tell Carver, but the way he was waiting expectantly, she knew he wouldn't rest until he knew.
Still, she waited for him to ask, "what do the demons call Malcolm?"
Her fingers fiddled with her rosary before she blurted out the word, "somniari." The word felt strange on her tongue. "They always call him somniari."
At that Carver's mouth dropped open as his glass fell to the table with a sloshing thud. "Somniari? Are you sure that's what you heard?"
"What does it mean?" Leandra asked. She had tried to look it up herself but there was nothing on the internet or her extensive library on the subject.
Carver suddenly looked uncomfortable. "You should ask Malcolm that." The tremble in Carver's voice told her it wasn't anything good.
She wanted to ask Malcolm but he was awfully secretive about his past and even more so about his magic. Maybe he was scared of frightening her or maybe he was scared she'd look at him with disgust. But she couldn't think of anything that would make her fall out of love with Malcolm.
Suddenly Carver got up. "Thank you for your testimony. You've been most helpful." He started to dig for his wallet, supposedly to take care of the bill when Mara placed a hand on his arm casually, looking more upset than she should.
"Wait, you call me way past midnight and now you don't even want my testimony?"
Carver blinked and quickly sat back down, hunching in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, my lady, where are my manners?" His posture was stiff, but his eyes fell to his silver watch as if he was impatient about the time. "So where were you when the demons attacked the party?"
Mara's face split into a huge grin. "Gamlen and I were fucking in the bathroom, of course."
Leandra spit her drink all over the table as Carver suddenly swayed looking green with envy.
Still Mara continued, "The poor guy needed to relax after getting reamed by Leandra's parents about us coming out about our relationship."
Carver's fist suddenly clenched tightly as he cleared his throat. "I…see," he said uneasily.
Leandra eyed her friend, knowing that this wasn't unusual behavior for her, but she seemed very keen on tormenting poor Carver.
"Did you need more details? I can give you positions? Maybe I can set the scene," she licked her top lip as she watched Carver's face carefully as he suddenly inhaled a huge gulp of alcohol finishing off his glass.
"Maybe we should stick to important details," Leandra offered, feeling very uneasy about the turn of the conversation. She didn't like the sudden tension she felt steaming between Mara and Carver and felt like she needed to leave.
"I was getting to the important details," Mara's joking face turned suddenly serious. She placed a gentle hand on Leandra's. "Maybe you should give Carver and me some privacy."
Privacy? She didn't know what Mara was planning, but all Leandra could think of was Gamlen, and if Mara was falling out of love with him, she couldn't bear to watch. But still, she felt she had to. "If this has to do with my brother, I should hear it, shouldn't I?"
Mara bit her cheek as she stared down at the table. "It's not just about your brother. It's about your parents, too, and trust me…You're not going to like it."
Leandra couldn't leave now. Not with an ominous warning such as that. Leandra squared her shoulders. "Whatever it is, I want to hear it. I should know."
Mara sighed but instead of arguing, she fished through her purse and placed an envelope folded in half with the Amell seal broken open. "I found this in your brother's pocket."
Leandra snatched it off the table before Carver could and tore it open. It had no greeting addressing her parents. The letter was stiff and business-like. She took a deep breath and read the words aloud to Carver.
"Your last shipment was insufficient to cover your last loan. We need fifty more heads or we will not be able to make this month's quota. Find the supplies, or we will lend our support to another candidate for the Viscount's seat.
-Council of Five."
The letter was short. Too short. And it was confusing. Her parents were known as one of the richest families in Kirkwall, but this letter seemed to imply that they were in debt and borrowing money from this mysterious council. Leandra stared over the letter to see Carver looking shocked. "Can I see this letter?"
Leandra handed it over without complaint, studying the graveness of Carver's face. "I don't understand. Who is the Council of Five? I've never heard of them."
"That's by design, but they're the true powers of Kirkwall. Higher than the Viscount," Mara said in a low voice as if she was scared of being overheard. "Nothing in Kirkwall is done without their say so."
"What?" This was news to Leandra. Surely if there was a secret power behind the Viscount's throne her parents would have told her about them. "And what's this about merchandise? Fifty heads? Fifty heads of what?" She couldn't imagine what that could possibly mean.
Carver's jaw clenched as his fingers wrinkled the page. He stared quizzically at Mara, who was looking down at her folded hands in what looked like shame. Finally, Carver said, "The Council of Five is…in charge of Kirkwall's slaving network."
That's when Leandra's world came crashing down. All the air seemed like it was knocked out of her as she trembled struggling to breathe. "No," she shook her head. "No, you're wrong. My parents would never- could never-" but she couldn't take her eyes off of the Amell seal, the very same seal that she saw used in her parent's offices, the same seal that they stamped onto everything with pride. That same pride that was tainted with this sin, this horrible fact. How could she even face Malcolm again knowing her parents would willingly ship him off to Tevinter if they got the chance.
But that picture didn't match the parents she always saw in her head. Her father was a gentleman- her mother a woman of the law. How could they knowingly send elves to their deaths in a country like Tevinter? There was no slavery in Kirkwall. Not that she was aware of.
Suddenly Leandra felt dizzy and she collapsed into her seat with heavy breaths as she tried and failed to digest this information. All she could see was the letter. All she could hear was her mother calling Malcolm a knife-ear with that same voice of hatred. Tears stung her eyes and fell off her chin as she stared numbly at the letter in Carver's hand. Instinctively she wanted to tear it from his hands and rip it apart, but that wouldn't change the ugly fact that her parents were slavers.
"Leandra?" Mara asked quietly, a soft hand on hers gently rubbing her thumb.
Leandra squeezed back, grateful to have her friend there. A sudden rage took her. Her shoulders started to shake as she fought back a sob. "I can't go home. I just can't."
"You can stay at my place tonight," Mara nodded, and Leandra echoed the nod, grateful for the offer.
Carver folded the letter back up carefully, smoothing out the wrinkles. "If this checks out, we might be looking at a completely different suspect pool." He looked at Mara and Leandra in concern. "Don't spread this around. The Council of Five will want to plug up this leak as soon as possible and I'd hate to see either of you in danger."
"So you're not going to tell your superior?" Mara squinted warily.
Carver's lips thinned. "My Commander will be informed when the time is right. For now, we keep up appearances."
"How can I?" Leandra cried. "How can I pretend nothing's wrong when my family's reputation was built on…built on…" She couldn't finish the sentence. It would make it real. That's what it always came down to. Reputation. That must have been why they borrowed money from the Council of Five in the first place. To upkeep their appearances. How many lives were sacrificed for her comfort?
"I'm sorry, Leandra," Carver's face looked as grim as she felt.
Leandra wiped her eyes angrily. "Fuck our reputation," she spat. "Burn it all to the ground for all I care. I'm not their daughter anymore."
Mara's face twisted in pity. "You can't say that."
"Well, I did," Leandra almost screeched, causing heads to turn in their direction before she composed herself. "I need that letter. I need to confront my parents about it."
Carver nodded gravely. "I'll make a copy and send you back the original."
"Good. If you find out my family is cursed after all, we deserve it." And with that Leandra took Mara's hand and stormed out of the bar, her face so full of fury not even the brutes who hooted at them earlier dared to mess with her.
She cleaned out every pawnshop to sell off the trinkets her parents gave her with their filthy slave money, knowing that it would be a stain that would never wash off. And in the back of her mind, she prayed Malcolm could forgive her.
