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Speaker.

The man moved towards me in robes liquid black, gloved hands intertwined and a dark smile on his lips. I watched him carefully, eyes narrowing as he moved past me. He pulled something from his robes, a coy scent rising. Wine. I pursed my lips as he poured, something sinister and familiar niggling in the back of my brain.

"My apologies for the wait, Miss Dust." He gave a small smile, cultured and cool. I shuddered, and the barest sign of a smirk tugged his lip as he offered me a silver goblet. "Might I offer you a drink?"

"My hands are tied, you fetcher," I snarled, my head throbbing from our earlier encounter. "Unless you want to bottlefeed me, I don't think I'll be having a drink." I grimaced. "And you've poisoned it, no doubt."

"Suit yourself." He gave a lazy shrug, sipping from his own and holding my gaze as I glowered. Cold and cruel and refined. His smile remained polite, but his eyes were ice. Even as I hated myself for it, I couldn't quite stop a shiver from clambering up my spine.

"Who are you?"

"Ah, of course. I am Lucien Lachance." He bowed his head as he spoke, a mockery of courtesy. "Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood, and Master of this Sanctuary." He - Lucien raised a brow as I watched the wine, shrinking as though it might bite."I assure you, its not poisoned. I have no wish to kill you." A dark laugh. "For the moment. And I do apologize for the binding."

"So what are you keeping me for, then, if you're not going to kill me?" I hissed with surprising venom, able to taste the acidity of my own words. "I don't think - " I was cut short by the snick of his blade, my throat tightening. I held perfectly still as he swept around me, poising his blade at the arch of my back.

He said he wouldn't - oh, gods, I'm going to die.

"Hold still."

My bindings fell loose. Puzzled I rubbed my wrists, burned and raw from rope. I spoke hesitantly, hardly daring to break the sudden silence. "...Are you freeing me?"

"Freeing you? No." That smirk again, setting my blood aflame as his words set in with finality. "Not yet. I simply see no point in keeping you bound for the remainder of your stay. And I have no intention of, ah, bottle-feeding you." I flushed at my own words as he offered me the goblet again. "High Rock's finest. Your home, was it not?"

"Years ago. Not anymore." Some part of me, the part that drove me to alchemy, drove me to magick, perked in curiosity as I examined the wine. He drank it. I ran my finger around its rim, raising my finger to the light to catch the faintest glimmer of potion. Of course. He laced the cup. " What's the serum on it, then? Something to loosen my tongue?" I laughed bitterly. "Wine alone could do that."

"I suppose it could. You're quite the alchemist, pet." I grimaced as his former name for me, setting the wine aside. "A shame we met in such poor circumstances. Your services could do much for the Dark Brotherhood. Perhaps, if your stepfather is indeed one of our own - "

Stepfather. Services.

"I want to hire you." The words tumbled from my lips, curt and cold. He paused, frowning. I smiled inwardly at having caught him off-guard.

"Hire me?" Lucien spoke slowly, as though tasting his words. A slow smile curved his lip. "I'm afraid you are in no position to do so, but you've piqued my interest." He leaned back, smirking. "Whatever could you need me for, my dear?"

"My stepfather. I want him dead." Dead, like Papa. Like Falrung and Sirius and anyone else he's ever killed. There was no thought behind my words, only a cold, bitter thirst for justice. "I'll pay well. Whatever you ask."

A sharp laugh, wry and twisted. "But your stepfather is the reason we cannot kill you, Miss Dust. The dagger you held on the night we met, you claim it belongs to him. That makes him one of us, one of the family. " The final word rolled smoothly off his tongue like velvet, with the same resonance Antoinetta had. "An ancient law, only recently come to light with your arrival, forbids the murder of the children of a Dark Brother or Sister - without permission. To break such laws is heresy and will invoke the wrath of our Dread Father." He stood, beginning to pace around me. "So, we cannot safely kill you until we are certain he somehow came into possession of the blade without us." A dark grin. "Or until we know he will not mind."

"You don't understand what he's done." I shut my eyes, whispering to myself as a coldness crept over me. "He murdered my father. I want him dead. Whatever you ask, I'll pay it."

"No amount of gold could force my hand to break the tenets." His voice hardened, eyes gleaming as the politeness was replaced with a cruel, sharp edge. "Murder isn't so uncommon, Miss Dust. Every night, in shadows across Tamriel man, mer and beast beg the Night Mother to kill. She speaks, and we obey." He laughed in his throat. "You weren't even a proper contract, or else your death would have been sanctified by our dark matron. The snuffing out of your life would have been as simple as a breath, a favor for a friend."

"And if he isn't one of yours, what then?" I snapped, my breath short and harsh. "You would be able to kill him, wouldn't you?"

"In that case, I would simply kill you and be done with this mess." He raised a brow. "Why are the pretty ones always daft?"

The backhanded compliment hit me with a slap, sending a rush of heat to my cheeks. Two can play at that game. I gave a wicked smirk. "For the same reason handsome Imperials are always lacking where it counts."

Lucien snickered. My breath hitched as his gloved hand moved to my throat, tilting my chin and forcing me to meet his hardened gaze. "And shall I cut that wicked tongue out of your pretty little mouth? It shouldn't be much longer, in any case. I already have one of my spies at the Toltette Mansion, watching. We shall know the truth soon enough."

The mansion - I froze. Maman is there. If they hurt her -

"Speaker!"

Vicente strode down the hall, catching Lucien's attention. The vampire spoke, presenting an envelope with something not quite like a smile. "Toltette has written us, it seems. I wonder if you will find all this as amusing as I do."

"Amusing? We shall see. Perhaps this will be quicker than I thought." Lucien smirked as he briskly slit the paper open. "Shall I read your death notice to you, pet?"

Why would he write? Would he kill me? He killed papa, after all. My thoughts cut short as Lucien pulled the letter out, a cool, sweet and familiar smell lingering. My blood turned to ice as a sprig of mint fell at my feet.

Lucien,

If you so much as touch my daughter, I will hang you by your unkempt toes and flay you alive. If you have any respect for the woman who trained you and any love for the dread father, you will guard my daughter as if she were one of your own. Tell Dusty I am coming to get her.

May Sithis be with you.

Abelle Maria Dust Toltette.

Silence. Lucien seemed to regret reading the letter aloud, turning to me with a furrowed brow. "So the old witch is your mother. Wonders never cease." In an instant he turned cool again, turning to Vicente. "I trust you recognized the letter, then?"

"Naturally. There is only one Abelle Maria."

...One Abelle. No, there were many. My maman, my mother, and a murderer.