Connie sped onto the highway, her heart pounding hard in her ears.
You still have a chance to back out. You're out of your depth. You'll fumble… you'll fail.
It's just a party. I'm only observing.
But they're nobility. Senators… businessmen…. They'll all look down on you.
That's the point. They'll underestimate me.
You're not exactly the best at dissimilation… manipulation… all the things essential to undercover ops.
I'm not even pretending to be a real secret agent. Just on the periphery of their world… I'll do anything short of really descending into darkness to set Jason free…
Who knows. He could be at the Morven's—
A chill raced through her.
What Alesya had done to Viktor made her blood run cold. If she'd done that to Jason….
There's no reason to believe he's here. I just… want this to be over.
Absently, she rubbed her stomach with her right hand, the other hand on the wheel as she raced just beneath the realm of being pulled over. She couldn't feel the baby yet, but she could imagine him cradled inside of her….
It broke her heart that Jason was a captive, immersed in horror, and didn't even know that he was a father… might never know.
No. That is not an option.
We're getting closer. If I don't find him, the agents will.
Soon the shining city of Valhad appeared, perched on the hill. Connie took the road to the left, away from the hill and through the valley. She barely registered the river or the scenery. It was a faded imprint; the image of Jason bled through, vibrant, shot through with dark streaks burdened with infinite anguish. He tugged at her heart so painfully she was surprised not to see blood soaking through her shirt.
I can't let it drown me. Because it'd drown our baby with it…
She stepped out of the car slowly, her muscles stiff, her mind spinning. She didn't have the emotional reserves to do much more than lie around waiting for his return. But she had to do this, so she forced herself forward.
The wind whipped her hair back, rustling her shirt. In the distance, the castle gleamed like a shattered jewel. The city, cradled in the curve of the massive gorge that had been carved by the river, was a striking counterpoint; roofs and windows glittered merrily in the late afternoon sunlight, heedless of anything dark.
She turned from it; everything seemed to have a bright hot edge to it if she focused on it too closely. Just focus on the essentials, do what's necessary… which hopefully I can do, hopefully won't take too much out of me…
She lifted the dress out of the trunk and almost stumbled under the weight of it.
The last time she'd worn the glittering sapphire dress was at Muldavia's Centennial—it had glittered under the lights as she danced with Jason; she'd changed it for a more comfortable one later.
The first time she'd worn it had been in the dressing room when Jason had bought it for her.
She'd worn it at the Centennial in Washington… that seemed so long ago it could've been another decade. And… the first night after the long distance… He'd carefully peeled the dress from her and marveled at her beauty…
The blue dye of the dress seemed to soak into her as she carried it into the house. The hem kept fluttering into her face, threatening to trip her …. Perhaps she should've brought the green dress, which didn't quite hold as piercing of memories. But it was too late now.
She knocked; the door swept open almost immediately.
A young boy stood there. Zenith? No, that was the little girl. This was Zen.
"Hi," said Connie, swiping away a section of gauzy skirt.
Zen looked at her with wide blue eyes then dashed away into the dim foyer.
She tentatively followed him, not sure if this was an invitation or not. Pressing the dress down over her arm, she wandered into the hallway and looked at the portraits. In the distance she could hear muffled laughter, and she looked out onto the garden where vague figures skipped around the pool.
Footsteps clicked downstairs and Trysta appeared, one side of her honey-blond hair twisted into curls. "Hey!" she said. "Glad you could make it. It's always better to go with someone to these things; Cindy's running late and will meet us at the Morvens'. Come upstairs with me and you can get changed."
"Thanks," said Connie, feeling rather out of step with herself. She almost tripped on nothing as she followed Trysta up the winding marble staircase.
"That is one gorgeous dress," said Trysta. "I bet it looks amazing on you."
"Thank you."
Trysta led her into a grand bedroom at the top of the stairs that looked out onto the valley on the other side of the hill. Either side spread out into a broad plateau; the center plunged into a narrow gorge and revealed a vast plain in the shadow of the mountains. Where the Zephyrs' yard widened into what Connie assumed was still part of their grounds, stood several large outbuildings and a pasture that disappeared into a pine woods.
"Do you have horses?" said Connie.
"We don't ride them as much as we should. We also have some sheep. We sell the wool at the market… part of our heritage."
"Your family owned sheep?"
"Dad's mom. Sheep were a lucrative crop back then." She gestured to the room. "You can change in here. I'll be just down the hallway to the right. Some of us might be pitter-pattering around here… most of us are outside, drenched in disappointment they couldn't come with." She laughed. "Uma's trying to distract them. Dad's in his office with orders to not disturb him under any circumstances. Zar… he's around here somewhere. It starts at seven, so you have some time."
"Thank you, Trysta."
"Don't mention it." She strode out the door.
Connie shut the door and locked it, then meandered around the room. It was high-ceilinged with a window almost covering the entire north wall; a sun-soaked bed lay in the center. There was a chair opposite the bed, old mahogany bookshelves topped with knick-knacks, a venerable grandfather clock. She slid her finger over the dark wood; it came away with a layer of dust.
Knowing no one could see her from the window, she slid out of her T-shirt and jeans and contemplated the dress waterfalling over the bed. The deep blue seemed to draw her in, like a doorway to elsewhere.
She touched the rather rough outer fabric, drew her finger across the skirt, then lifted it. The world disappeared for a moment, then the dress draped snugly around her torso and plunged down over her hips. She tried as best she could to zip it; last time Jason had done it. Not wanting to put on her heels until she absolutely had to, she stepped barefoot into the hall. Trysta's door was slightly ajar. She knocked, and Trysta invited her in. She wore a vibrant red dress, the rest of her hair curled, gold shimmering over her eyelids.
"I need someone to zip me up."
Trysta strode over, the skirt of her dress rustling richly. Its top looked vaguely like flower petals.
She zipped up the back then stepped away. "Ooh, that's stunning."
"Thanks. Yours is gorgeous."
A smile brightened Trysta's eyes, which were always at least partially sunny. "Thank you." She checked the clock on the wall. "We still have some time… want to come in here with me, finish up?"
"I'm not sure what else I need to do… except put on these shoes." She lifted them, feeling phantom pain from the last time.
"The sacrifices we make for beauty! Do you have some makeup to put on?"
"I… forgot to bring any." She did have some makeup on… perhaps not the right kind or amount…
"I can lend you some." She led Connie to the bathroom, which had a large mirror over the marble sink lined with gold. The bathtub looked like a miniature pool. It was purple marble flecked with gold. Aqua towels hung from the rack next to it; opposite was a translucent blue statue of a dolphin.
Many palettes of makeup lined the edge of the sink and Trysta picked the ones that she felt complemented Connie's dress and complexion. After she was done applying hers, including a flush of golden shimmer on her cheekbones, she helped give Connie finishing touches, gliding copper over her cheeks, dusting it over her eyelids. "Beautiful! We're going to have such a fun time!"
Connie wasn't sure if she'd be able to get rid of this tight feeling in her chest enough to enjoy herself.
They stepped out into the hallway. A thump of footsteps on the carpet approached.
"Hey!" Zar strode toward them, his hair shiny but ruffled, his white shirt open at the collar beneath a purple-tinged suit jacket that matched his pants. "I'm coming with!"
"You've got to be kidding," said Trysta, planting herself in front of him, one hand on her hip.
Zar glanced at Connie, flashed a smile. Then he held out his hand to Trysta, his expression pleading. "I'm going crazy cooped up in here. You want me to go crazy?"
"I thought you were over those kinds of threats."
"It's not a threat. I'm turning over a new leaf… but this is cruel and unusual punishment. I still need a bit of fun to let off steam."
"A bit of fun takes bites out of all of us. You barely survived last time."
"I promise I'll be good. I just… need to get out into my natural element."
"Which should be business, not partying."
"Everyone needs fun sometimes."
"I'm almost immune to your begging… but I'll ask Dad. If you misbehave this time, I'll be immune to your puppy dog eyes next time. Got it?"
"Thank you."
She strode over to a broad mahogany door across the hallway and knocked.
"What is it!" replied a stern voice.
"Could I…"
"All right, come in!" the voice rumbled.
Trysta disappeared.
"You look great," said Zar. "Maybe we can dance together."
Connie nodded. "Sure." As bad as he apparently was, he didn't creep her out like some men.
Zar ran his hand through his hair. "You're the same one I met last time, right?"
"When I was over for dinner?"
"I was… a bit out of it. Sorry about that."
"I know you need a lot of medication for appendicitis."
"It's good stuff." He smiled wryly. "I'd show you my scar, but that would probably be inappropriate."
"Probably. How are you doing now?"
"It still hurts a little, especially since I can't take morphine anymore. I feel like, to heal totally, I have to get out of the house, breathe fresh air…."
A muffled yell resounded from beyond the door. A moment later, Trysta reappeared, looking flustered. She smoothed back her hair.
She faced Zar pointedly. "Good thing he favors me. You wouldn't have survived."
"So…"
"So you've got permission. Don't mess it up."
"Thank you thank you thank you!" He wrapped Trysta in an embrace.
She frowned, then smiled and drew him closer. "You're my brother. I'll always be here for you." She kissed his cheek and stepped back. "Being fashionably late is only good at certain functions. On the road in fifteen minutes."
Zar saluted and pivoted, then marched back to his room.
They lounged downstairs in the living room and her heartbeat slowed to a steady thump. Trysta had refreshments brought in. The two youngest girls flashed past and raced out the front door, jamming a puff of wind through the house.
Trysta stood. "Alright. If Zar's not ready, oh, well." She led Connie through the porch and down the winding stone pathway past a cluster of pines to reveal the large outbuildings on the edge of the slope. The nearest one was a large white metal shed with a red roof.
Trysta opened the door. Many rows of cars glistened under the lights.
"Cars are a Muldavian pastime, if you haven't noticed. To me, they're just something to get from one place to another." She strode over to a yellow convertible, slid her fingers lightly over its glossy surface. "I am a bit partial to this one." She slid into the drivers' seat. Connie lowered herself into the passenger seat, careful not to snag her dress on the door.
Trysta backed up slowly and steered the car out the garage door then up the driveway. As the car turned the corner toward the house, a shimmering figure dashed toward them.
"Wait!" called Zar.
Trysta stopped the car.
Zar hopped into the back and Trysta zoomed off onto the highway.
She maneuvered the car into the valley, careening faster than Connie thought possible around the curves. She slowed once they entered the city limits, climbing up the winding streets. Past the residential and commercial areas, the streets grew steeper, almost vertical. Trysta opened the convertible roof, letting in fresh air that smelled like cedars and damp stone along with a rich sharp spice. The large, elegant houses gave way to massive mansions set back from the road as the city plateaued. Then one more sharp incline and the houses seemed to grow even more extravagant, some of them hidden almost completely, barred by elaborate gates.
At the very top of the city, Trysta steered toward one of the gates; the guard on duty glanced at her ID and let her through. The driveway, lined by sculpted shrubs, wove back and forth almost comically. Further ahead, large oak trees draped over the driveway; beyond them, a mansion appeared, set on the highest point of the land. Fruit trees were scattered over the lawn ahead of a circular driveway below tiered steps leading to the house. A few other cars pulled up near the stairs and people stepped out and handed the keys to a driver.
Connie climbed out, feeling rather shaky. The wind swept through her hair, gliding it in front of her eyes.
Zar climbed out behind her and stretched, then looked around eagerly. A large white tent was set up on the lawn to the left; white tables were scattered across the grass, clusters of people gathered around them. White lights laced upwards to a central pole, twinkling in the dusk. To the west, the sun glowed red as it descended through the clouds, just beyond a craggy peak half-clothed with pines and cedars.
Trysta led them up the first tier of stairs, then onto the upper part of the lawn closer to the house. A fountain burst upwards, shimmering with orange sunlight.
The house was an elegant blend of stone and wood; vines climbed its moss-dotted surface. The front was a succession of archways, built so light they seemed wafer-thin, etched with delicate designs. Castle-like turrets jutted across the roof.
"The base of the house is quite old," said Trysta. "They've added a lot over the years. Somehow it works."
"How old is it?" said Connie.
"I'd have to ask Alesya. I'd guess the seventeen hundreds."
"Have they been here that long?"
"Before Unity, Muldavia was a scattering of fiefdoms. Earls and counts were a dime a dozen back then." She laughed. "Now they've sifted down to a few blue-blooded families. We're considered mongrels by their standards; they look down on anyone who can't trace their ancestry back hundreds of years."
Zar was already striding across the lawn; he joined a group of his friends, who greeted him warmly. Trysta meandered close to the house; she didn't seem in any particular hurry. It gave Connie a chance to catch her breath.
Trysta stopped at one of the nearest tables; it was laden with tall-stemmed glasses filled with pinkish liquid. Trysta took one and offered another.
Connie shook her head.
"Oh, I forgot!"
"I never really drank much anyway, so it's not like I'm missing anything."
"I don't know… the upper scale wines are—" She pinched thumb and forefinger together. "There are some non-alcoholic options somewhere around here…" She walked to the next table and handed Connie a glass that was filled with dark purple.
She sipped it; it tasted like blueberries and cherries, sparking bubbles over her tongue. "I like this."
Trysta took a sip of one. "It is good." She poured some wine into it. "Even better this way."
They moved to the hors d'oeuvres tables; Connie took the ones that didn't look like they included escargot or caviar.
The little pumpkin tarts were her favorite. The apple crepes were amazing too. A lot of the food seemed to have a harvest theme.
A hint of queasiness hit her; eating too much probably wasn't a good idea. Her head spun.
Trysta seemed to sense her distress, and they sat down inside the tent. Rows of white chairs faced a stage with a microphone.
Connie leaned over, resting her head in her arms; the vertigo gradually dissipated. She sat back up, a little lightheaded but better.
"The auction will be in about an hour," said Trysta.
"Auction?"
"Didn't I tell you?"
Connie shook her head.
"That's the main event. I suppose I'm so used to these things…"
"What kind of auction?" Alarm flipped her stomach over.
"Really high-end things… auctioned off for insane prices. All the money goes to charity. Orphanages and things like that."
"That's cool." Of course it wouldn't be a human trafficking auction. It just reminded her of last time she'd been at one… rescuing Natasha and Viktor…
"Even though it's showing off, it's for a good cause, so… I can't really fault it."
"Are you getting anything?"
"Dad would kill me if I brought back anything useless… or spent too much without his permission. If I see something he or the kids might like, I'll text him."
A girl with bobbed white-blond hair wove through the chairs toward them.
"Trys!" She flung out her arms.
"Cindy!" Trysta launched herself at her friend and they embraced and kissed each other's cheeks.
Connie stood shakily, holding the back of a chair, and Trysta introduced them.
Cindy shook her hand. She was short, slim, and tanned, and wore a slinky black dress. Her neck glittered with what were probably real diamonds. She had a cheery face with blue eyes and long, probably fake eyelashes. "I'm so glad you could make it," she said.
"It's a beautiful place."
"You should see my place." She laughed. "It is a bit cozier… I do like these auctions though."
"Have your eye on something?" said Trysta.
"There's a Tiffany lamp. And a mystery chest."
"Really?"
"Hasn't been opened since the nineteenth century. That's the big-ticket item. Supposed to have a lot of priceless stuff in it. Or perhaps it's wasted away to dust by now. That's part of the suspense." The edge of her mouth quirked up, dimpling her cheeks.
They moseyed through the grounds chatting and met with a young woman who was tall with black hair and straight bangs; she wore a form-fitting plum-colored dress.
Gradually they drifted into vague conversation about 'what must be done' – it took Connie longer than it probably should have for her to realize what they meant. Of course they couldn't be too open about it here. But it was good to make more contacts with people who felt the way she did about stopping human trafficking.
Connie tried to veer into that sort of vague language… it felt awkward but if she were going to be a pseudo-agent, it would be a good skill to have. She began to explain the gist of the operation without giving away too much, when some friends of friends latched onto them and with a sharp, clear look Trysta let her know that it wasn't safe to speak of this to them.
Trysta led them on a tour of the drink tables and the group became more raucous. Then she guided them into a sort of vague conversation again… this time about 'acquisitions'… other auctions they'd been to… Connie tried to keep up.
"Perks! That's what being nobility is for!" said one of the young women, sloshing her drink.
"I say it's for being an example," said Trysta, "helping the less fortunate, but you do you."
"I see some less fortunate right over there!" Aria gestured to a group near another table. "Pathetic how they think they're blending in."
To Connie they looked just as decked out as the others. But she realized they must be the other "charity cases". She wondered if the others in this group knew she wasn't one of them and were too 'polite' to let on. Connie felt like she stuck out… but the elite seemed to focus on externals. Perhaps her dress and sapphire necklace were rich enough to blend in. Trysta had deftly given her the right makeup and hairstyle…
"Maybe you should go talk to them," said Trysta. "It is a charity ball, after all."
"Maybe I will."
Trysta peeled away from the rest of the group along with Cindy and the black-haired girl, Nadya. "I don't think they have much to offer, anyway," said Trysta. "Let's head to the center."
Trysta took a spiral pathway behind the house; it was lit by soft strings of lights along cedars shaped like zebras, elephants, tigers, and other animals. They passed a massive fountain, a small maze of cedars, then a little stream along a stone patio surrounded by a high hedge. Stepping beyond the hedge revealed a vast garden behind the house. It continued into the distance, cedars screening a woods splashed with vibrant red and orange, lights glinting in the valley below.
At the edge of the garden several people surrounded a young woman with dark hair. Small clusters of people were scattered through the garden; others strolled through it.
Trysta stepped up to the dark-haired young woman, who continued speaking to her group about a recent trip to Dubai. They hung onto her every word. Gradually she seemed to realize another presence and turned, one eyebrow arched.
"Oh, it's you, Trys. With your usual posse, I see."
"Hello, Alesya."
"And you've added a new one." She turned to Connie, looking her up and down. Alesya's shoulder-length hair framed an arrogant, heart-shaped face with full, well-defined lips. Her eyes were a hazel that seemed to shift from green to brown to nearly blue every few moments.
Alesya frowned as if she couldn't quite figure out something. Then she held out her hand and Connie took it. A swift pressure and the hand withdrew; Alesya's eyes flickered dismissively away from her and focused on Trysta.
"So," said Alesya. "What brings you back here?"
"We were wondering how old the house is. I couldn't remember."
Alesya smirked. She broke away from her previous group and gestured toward her house. The other group spread out into the garden. "The original house was built in sixteen-ninety-six. The Earl of Morven had charge of this entire city-state. It was a flourishing nation, taking advantage of the river to trade with others."
"Like the Ellmonts across the gorge."
She narrowed her eyes. "Yes."
"They were even older and more prosperous. The castle was built in the early sixteen hundreds I think."
"They didn't last as long either. It's just a crumbling ruin now."
"Not exactly a ruin—has about a million visitors a year."
"Oh, I suppose you'd know that, as its caretaker." The last word was spoken with scorn.
Trysta flashed a smile. "I suppose you could say we own the castle now."
"Then perhaps you should get the north wing fixed."
"That's part of its history. Or do you pay attention to history that's not part of your family's?"
"Where was your family during World War Two again?"
"Fighting to survive, like everyone else. We built ourselves up from the ashes—became great. And we're still growing."
"We don't need to prove our worth. We are Muldavia."
"Real Muldavia is leaving you in the past."
"You mean the common people?" She glanced at Connie. "We're showering them with blessings." She gave a small smile. "This event will be the most extravagant yet—draw the highest donations in history."
"I hear you have some pretty high-end items."
"That's an understatement. One of the reasons I was in Dubai—gathering more things for the auction."
"So you had to pad out the offerings?"
"We were adding new to the old. That's what we do. Blend them seamlessly rather than patch things on haphazardly."
"Did you travel anywhere else?" asked Nadya, sweeping back her bangs.
"Of course. If you'd like, I could give you a tour of the house and show you some of what we've acquired."
"We'd love that!" said Cindy.
Alesya led them through a back door and showed them around the house. One room was filled with old clocks—the oldest from the 1600s. Another room was devoted to weapons of all kinds, from ancient spears and arrowheads to modern machine guns. "This," said Alesya, indicating a machine gun, "is from Russia's war in Afghanistan. And this—" She lifted a gold-plated pistol— "is from Sheikh al-Din from Dubai. He gave it to me personally."
The next room she seemed even more proud of, but made Connie feel sick again. It was filled with animal heads of all kinds. Trophies Alesya and her father had shot in Africa.
Connie had never understood why someone wanted dead animals on their wall. But then, Alesya had done much worse—things she couldn't display to the public, but apparently felt entitled to.
Remembering what had been done to Viktor here made her blood run cold.
It was hard to recover from being so close to what he'd gone through; she had to in order to make a difference. She felt drained and worn out, almost numb, unable to react quickly. Just drift through this torturous mansion, try to keep up… try to focus on Alesya's words… She didn't even have the energy to figure out something to say.
The house opened up into a bright room mostly made of windows, filled with plants. A girl about seventeen was lounging on a chair. She looked up; she had the same dark hair as Alesya but deep, rich brown eyes. She had a book in her hands and returned to it without saying a word.
"That's Clara. She doesn't care for parties. Or much for her duties."
"I know how that is," said Trysta.
"Oh, right, your disaster—I mean, brother. Hopefully he won't make his way inside—I don't want you to have to pay for something he breaks."
They stopped in the grand foyer lined with portraits and old rifles. "My grandparents live in the east wing. All they care about anymore is immersing in the past, wandering around, losing their minds…" She spread out an arm with an exasperated sigh, then led them out into the murmuring twilight and melded seamlessly with another group.
"Well, that was… interesting," said Trysta. "Not sure if we got anything out of it."
"We'll keep looking," said Nadya.
"I'll try to weave back into her orbit," said Cindy. "She likes me. Well—tolerates me." She smiled.
It hit Connie that the parts of the house Alesya hadn't shown could hold more than just her grandparents… perhaps she had another slave hidden there… if only Connie could get in on some pretext… or sneak in…
They watched the dancers for a while; Connie didn't feel like dancing. Fireworks kicked off the rest of the evening; singers, performers, floated by in a blur.
I have to do something…. But what can I do… I don't even know what I'm looking for…
Well, at least I met Trysta's friends. That might be all I'm up to tonight.
Maybe I am sick or something….
At about ten o'clock the auction began, and it felt good to be sitting down without any other expectations. Just rest, even though she hadn't accomplished much…
The bidding was fast and fierce. Eventually it slowed as the items climbed into the multiple millions. A foreign investor toward the front with a Russian accent bid for some of the most expensive antiques. She went into a bidding war with Trysta for one of the gold-plated guns from World War I. Trysta won because her father had instructed her not to be outbid; the investor swore in Russian and stormed out.
There was more drama when a dark-haired young woman Connie hadn't noticed before bid with Trysta for an antique gun from the anti-Nazi resistance.
"Part of our family heritage," whispered Trysta.
In the end, Trysta won and inspected both guns with satisfaction. "Dad'll be happy."
"He collects guns?"
"Not like the Morvens. We have small closet devoted to them rather than a whole room."
The queasiness returned along with a claustrophobic feeling. She figured it was because this reminded her of the human trafficking auction. She slipped out of their row into the fresh air, picked up a nearby crepe—and felt even more sick.
"Are you okay?" said Trysta, sliding to the end of the row.
"Yeah… maybe just need the bathroom."
"Want me to go with you?"
"No—don't miss the finale." She attempted a smile and, fighting nausea, walked as quickly as she dared up the path to the house.
Finally she reached the ostentatious bathroom Alesya had indicated on their tour.
Relief flooded her. She locked the door and knelt on the large red rug, leaning her head on the marble column of the sink. The coolness felt good against her skin.
I can't afford to be sick… especially not with my baby…
My baby.
That's it!
Maybe it's morning sickness.
But it's not morning…
She recalled that morning sickness didn't always hit in the morning. This was earlier than with her first pregnancy… if that was true, what could it mean? Did it mean something was wrong with her baby?
Last time she'd lost her baby because of an accident.
Now… perhaps there was internal damage the doctor hadn't caught… or something else unrelated—
Panic flooding sickness back into her and she raced to the toilet. Leaned over it, fighting waves of heat and cold…
Eventually she lost the battle.
Feeling better but horribly weak, she sat back against the massive bathtub and thought of Jason.
His beautiful face… She longed for him to comfort her in his arms….
She loved the royal family but she wanted people around who knew her… She wanted home, she wanted her mom….
Tears spilled from her eyes, heart aching, and she hunched over, hugging her knees to her chest, burying her face in darkness.
A thump next door.
A stifled cry.
Her heart froze.
Probably nothing…
But considering Alesya's a slave owner…
She stood shakily, willing her head to stop spinning. Her stomach flipped over.
Dear God—please help me. I don't have the strength on my own.
Carefully she treaded into the carpeted hallway; the door to the gun room was slightly open.
A blond man pressed another man against the wall and was kissing him.
Connie was about to step away when the smaller man tore away and raced toward the door, his eyes wide with terror.
He was just a boy—perhaps seventeen.
The blond man—Zar—yanked the boy's wrist back and he slammed to the floor, hitting his head on the gun case along the edge of the room.
Zar knelt and pressed his chest down, pinning one wrist to the floor. "Oh, no you don't."
"I don't want—"
"But I want." He pressed his lips to the boy's. He struggled, but Zar was too strong.
Connie's muscles were locked in place, too weak to gather energy.
I can't let this happen.
"Help!" said the boy and Zar pressed his hand to his mouth.
"Shh. You're too delicious to let go just yet."
Disgust overrode everything but horror. She flung open the door. "Let him go."
Zar fell back, slamming against the gun case. He sat up, raking his hand through his hair. "It's not what it looks like! Just a bit of—rough play, that's all." He flashed a roguish grin.
Connie stepped over to the boy, blocking Zar off from him. "Are you okay?"
The boy had brown hair and eyes. He was plastered to the floor, his body looking as weak as she'd felt a moment ago.
Connie turned to Zar. "Get out."
"But—"
"Get out, or I'll tell your sister." She lifted her phone.
"Okay, okay." Zar dashed away, his golden hair the last thing to flash out the door.
She knelt beside the boy. "I won't hurt you."
He sat up shakily, leaning against the gun case. Attempted a smile. "Th-thank you."
"I'm Connie."
"Amar." He closed his eyes, leaned his head back. "I… was so stupid…"
"You're not—"
"I know his reputation, but I wanted to see the guns and—" A tear slipped from his cheek. His cheek was swollen and there was a bruise forming over it. His lip was swollen and cut.
"He didn't… I mean…" She couldn't say the word.
Amar shook his head. "Just kisses. It's nothing really… I should…." He attempted to get up but sat back down in frustration.
"He hurt you—that's not nothing. And it's not just a kiss…" She recalled how shaken Jason had been by Marisa's kiss in Paraguay—being helpless, in someone else's power, was traumatizing in itself. "Someone did something against your will—that's never okay."
"I should've been more suspicious…. Fought harder… I didn't even expect it because I don't like guys… it's Clara I was hoping to run into." He blushed. "Did you… really mean you won't tell anyone?"
"Not if you don't want me to. But… if they don't know, they can't stop it from happening again."
"Oh. I didn't think of that. I'm just… all messed up."
"I'm sorry this happened to you." Her heart went out to him. She wanted to protect him, gather him in her arms and comfort him but didn't want to alarm him.
"I—I think I'm okay now. Wanna get out of this house…"
She offered her hand and he took it. She helped him to his feet then out the door. When they passed the solarium, he spotted Clara, paused, then kept going, his head hanging in shame.
"If she's the one for you," Connie said, "she'll hate what Zar did, not you."
Hatred for Zar burned along her veins, searing away all vestiges of sickness.
Except the general malaise of this place, and all these rich entitled places that preyed on the innocent.
All the beautiful things they accomplished couldn't wash away the darkness.
Amar walked over to his sister, who was sitting in the auction house, and whispered to her. A moment later they got into a dark sleek car and sped away.
Connie headed over to Trysta, who was sitting at one of the tables with the dark-haired young woman she'd outbid on the old rifle.
"I was wondering where you were. Are you okay?" She stood, looking concerned.
She nodded. "Zar—"
"What did he do now!"
Connie sat down, not knowing if she should speak of it with someone else here.
"I don't care if anyone else knows," said Trysta. "If he's gone back on his word… he deserves censure. This is Olivia, by the way."
Olivia inclined her head. She had long black hair and striking blue eyes.
Indigo eyes.
So much like the eyes she'd watched over and over, pleading silently…
"Um… Zar hurt someone."
"Hurt?" Alarm sparked through Trysta's eyes.
"Was assaulting… I mean—" She had to be clear with words even if she didn't like them. "He was going to… rape someone."
Trysta slapped her forehead then leaned her head in her hands. For a few moments she sat completely still. Then she looked up, looking infinitely weary. "We've gotta tie him down once and for all."
"He's… done something like this before?"
"We were always able to keep it private… but now… Who did he hurt?"
"A teen boy named Amar."
"Nobility! Not just a servant this time."
Outrage poured through her. "How is that worse."
"Well, we could keep it under wraps before. But it's harder to pay off a noble…"
"You… kept it quiet…." She couldn't believe this.
"What I mean is…. What's done is done. The damage to our family though… It's all his fault. We are all upstanding… he's the dark sheep… we're doing good in the world."
"That doesn't make up for what he did."
"No. But…. If he brings us down, just for his stupidity—after all we've built—" Rage slashed through her eyes as she stood. "Where is that idiot? Gotta get him outta here… gotta figure out the next steps…." She raced toward a distant blond speck on the dance floor.
"You… found him hurting someone?" said Olivia.
"I stopped it."
Olivia's eyes flashed. "Good. At least someone saved from…."
Connie's heart flipped over. She wasn't sure how to approach this. "Um… what's your last name?"
"Von Warberg."
"You're—Elliot's sister?"
"You know him?"
"Not really. I know Markov."
"He's like a second father to him… They worked so well together." She shook her head, eyes shot through with grief.
"I'm sorry."
"Are you—" She looked around, then leaned close and said in a low voice, "helping with the investigation?"
"Kind of. I'm not good at it." She gave a harsh laugh.
"I'm figuring out how to navigate this new realm too… it was my brother's element. I'm a lawyer. This murky world is beyond my expertise, but I have to help my brother. I thought I could find something… maybe…"
"My… husband is missing too."
"Really? Oh—Connie, I… I'm so sorry." Empathy stirred in her eyes.
"It might be the same people that… have your brother."
"Maybe we should join forces."
Trysta returned, half-dragging Zar, and stuffed him in the yellow car. Connie exchanged numbers with Olivia, then slid in beside Trysta. At the Zephyrs, she changed and got out of there as quickly as possible.
A couple hours later, relief flooded her as she saw the familiar lights of the palace gleaming like a lighthouse in the darkness.