Marquis

  Year 20

  Phaedra’s lips are soft against my very own, fingers gracing down my back to draw me into her even further. Her leg curves around my hip as she kisses me with intention. She has decided this night belongs to her… and so it shall.

  As my lips drift down and linger on her neck, the slow arch of her back is nothing short of indulgent to me. Her hand drifts down to grasp my erection and she pulls back enough to watch me, eyes bursting with mischief.

  “Do you think Alexios knows he has been invited to join us?” she questions.

  My arousal answers her touch, pulsing greedily at her suggestive words. Phaedra’s smile widens at the confirmation she has been waiting for.

  “There you are, my darling.”

  “Phaedra, that is not…”

  “Hush now,” she intrudes. “I know you far too well not to recognize who else you desire.”

  Before I can attempt my protest, she silences my overthinking with extra embraces, fully aware she has already won this battle. Her palms flatten against my chest as I rest my forehead against hers.

  It is a simple moment. No discipline. No guarding. No…

  Keeping.

  The warmth between Phaedra’s legs calls to me and I am desperate to answer. Though, it seems as if now will not be the time. The uneasy presence of a mortal approaching the home is enough to break the tension between a maker and his cherished fledgling.

  Phaedra deepens the next kiss, daring the unlucky soul waiting outside to wait until she has been thoroughly satisfied. She catches my wrist when two knocks strike our home’s entrance.

  “Let Alexios answer,” she whispers.

  I am already reaching for the edge of the bed when a far louder knock rings through the home. She tempts me back in for a final kiss before releasing me with a sigh.

  “That drow of yours is not exactly… helpful,” Phaedra adds.

  “It seems we both adore him anyway,” I retort, wrapping my discarded robe around my body as I rise.

  I open the entrance door to find a guard standing with a lantern raised while the other hand hovers closely to the weapon resting on his hip.

  “My apologies for disturbing you at night,” he says. “We’re making inquiries around town.”

  “Inquiries?” I ask gently. “Inquiries on what exactly?”

  The guard’s eyes drop to the ground, then back up to search my eyes.

  “There’s been a string of murders over the last few months. Victims found with their throats slit in their own homes.”

  My head tips to the side to feign curiosity.

  “I see,” I reply as carefully as I can. “Is it believed this… killer… is somewhere nearby?”

  “We’re not sure, to be honest. We’re asking everyone we can just to be safe.”

  I watch as his eyes move to my pale hands and the stillness of my body. My smile remains regardless.

  “I am afraid I know nothing of what you seek. If something unusual crosses my path, I will be sure to inform your watch.”

  My answer is apparently dissatisfying to this guard, but he finally nods.

  “Thank you for your time, sir.”

  My head lowers in a polite bow before I close the door, listening as the guard’s footsteps retreat through the garden. When I return to Phaedra, she remains in bed, full breasts kept bare as if awaiting my presence once more. To my disappointment, this must wait.

  “Alexios?” she questions, evidently aware of the conversation between me and the guard.

  “I cannot be sure. It is not what he has been taught. Though…”

  The words fail due to my own uncertainty.

  “Do be gentle,” she adds.

  As I drift quietly down to Alexios’s room, I am reminded of the other presence with him. I knock gently, even as the irritation stirs. After a pause, the door opens and I am welcomed with the sight of Alexios standing in the doorway, hair slightly mussed.

  When my eyes peer further into the room, I spot a man sitting in a chair with his boots still on and a cloak folded neatly in his lap.

  “We were just talking,” Alexios tells me.

  “That may be,” I reply. “However, I require a private word. With you, Alexios.”

  “Of course, you do.”

  He shakes his head as I turn fully towards the guest.

  “I fear I must ask you to leave.”

  Alexios is just about to answer when the man rises, seemingly unoffended.

  “It’s alright, Alexios. I should be going anyway.”

  The man passes beside me as his eyes search the hallway.

  “Your house is beautiful,” he adds.

  “That is very kind of you to say,” I answer him. Even in my frustrated state, I do not care to abandon courtesy.

  When the door closes, Alexios turns away.

  “A guard visited moments ago,” I admit to him.

  “A guard?” he asks, attention pulled back to me. “Here? Really?”

  “Apparently, a series of murders has Port Nyanzaru’s watch concerned.”

  “I…”

  My hand raises. To my gratitude, it quiets him just as I had hoped.

  “I will go with you to your next contract,” I explain.

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  The look on Alexios’s face suggests I may have said something mildly offensive.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “It appears I must, Alexios.”

  A frustrated exhale presses through his nose.

  “Marquis… I’ve been doing this for twenty years and I’m not one of your fledglings.”

  “That is not the point,” I say sternly. “If suspicion falls on you, we must leave. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t need my kills being watched anymore,” he hisses. “Especially by you.”

  “I am not asking for your permission. I am simply telling you that I will be there with you to witness your next completed contract.”

  Frankly, I expect him to argue. To my surprise, he surrenders and turns away from me again, retreating from this to gaze out at the night sky.

  “Fine, whatever.”

  When I turn to leave Alexios to his privacy, my eyes fall on the bard’s urn sitting on the far edge of a shelf now. It is nearly tucked behind a stack of books.

  “Is everything… alright?” I ask, keeping my tone gentle as to not rouse further suspicion. He turns to the direction of my gaze.

  “Yes,” he answers far too quickly. “I just… I just didn’t want to make things awkward tonight, I guess.”

  Although I will accept his answer for now, I have known Alexios long enough to understand what he will not tell.

  --

  With Phaedra away for the night and Alexios likely curled up in his bed, I am left to paint in front of the salon’s hearth. My brush moves in slow strokes as my thoughts pull elsewhere. Perhaps it is because I am letting shadows do most of the work that the subject refuses to mold into anything recognizable.

  The knock at the door is… hesitant. Clearly not one of Port Nyanzaru’s watch. Gracefully placing my brush off to the side, I stand and open the door to a stranger. Neatly dressed and attractive, the young man’s eyes shine with expectation.

  “I’m looking for Alexios,” he says, smiling gently.

  “There must be a mistake,” I reply as I step forward to fully block his view of my home. “I suggest you go home for the night.”

  Confusion passes across his features and as his mouth opens to answer back, I can hear footsteps headed this way. Then, Alexios is reaching past me to wrap his hand around the man’s sleeve.

  “I was wondering when you’d arrive,” Alexios greets warmly.

  The confusion that was present just moments ago is replaced with relief as he laughs, allowing Alexios to draw him inside. With my irritation now sharpened, I step back.

  Alexios turns to meet my own eyes.

  “You don’t mind, do you?”

  A deep exhale leaves me as I glance at the young man.

  “I suppose not,” I tell him.

  The young man’s eyes roam around the room, taking in the paintings placed delicately on the wall.

  “It’s incredible,” he breathes out in awe. “How long have you owned this house?”

  “Long enough.”

  My response is kept short on purpose. He steps closer to study one of the paintings near the entrance.

  “Did you paint this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Incredible,” he says without any hesitation. “Your work is almost… melancholic.”

  Alexios stands behind him, watching with a pleasant smile.

  “Come with me,” he whispers as he wraps a hand around one of the man’s wrists.

  As the man follows Alexios, he glances back one last time. Their footsteps fall in line with one another before a door opens, then closes promptly.

  I drift back towards my canvas to find that some of the surrounding candles have shifted. With new shadows falling along the edges, I move closer to the light pouring from the hearth.

  To no one’s surprise, the young man’s thoughts are far too open and loud.

  Alexios is even more beautiful up close, he says to himself.

  Through his thoughts, it is clear he is already imagining Alexios’s hands and mouth. It will be a memory he will wish to live through repetitively. Though, when I lean in to listen to Alexios’s thoughts, there is… distortion.

  Interference.

  I can only catch impressions of hunger rather than his words. I frown and adjust the grip on my paintbrush.

  --

  Eventually, I retreat to my study and open a book I have read at least ten times. The words scarcely matter, especially when the man’s thoughts tumble over one another through his pleased haze.

  Gods, his mouth. I need him to slow down or I’m going to…

  I remove myself from his thoughts before I overhear far more than I wish to tonight. When I turn a page, my focus turns back to Alexios. Just as before, his mind remains unreachable to me even as I strain to push through. There is a faint pressure that pushes back, telling me clearly that I am not welcome.

  Even though I have pulled away from the man’s thoughts, I still feel bliss flowing through his mind. Then…

  That very bliss turns into confusion. I push myself back into the man’s mind.

  Wait, what is he doing?

  What… what in the hells is happening?

  That fucking hurts!

  The warm haze I felt just moments ago has turned frantic, his thoughts scattering faster than I can keep up with.

  Can’t breathe… Alexios…

  Please.

  No… no no no no…

  The feelings are so sudden and overwhelming that it forces me to my feet. And then his thoughts go abruptly still. Slowly, I lower the book and place it on the side table. The absence of the man’s presence is… worrisome. I move through the hallway at once.

  When I reach Alexios’s door, I find it locked tightly. With one hand raised, I call on my preternatural abilities and the mechanism slides open. My eyes are pulled to the fresh blood that stains Alexios’s mouth. The dagger resting in his hand is slick with it as well.

  On the bed rests the man, eyes open and throat slashed so deeply that it is a miracle the head is still attached.

  “What have you done?” I snap, turning my attention back to Alexios to break through my own restraint.

  The tears that stream down Alexios’s face now smear through the blood dripping down his lips.

  “This man knew your name,” I continue on. “He likely would have told others where he was going. You have now left a trail that even a small child could follow. When Port Nyanzaru’s watch comes for you, I will not be able to correct this, do you understand?”

  His shoulders curl inward as he shakes his head.

  “She told me to,” he whispers almost inaudibly. “She said… she said that if I did it like this, she would take away some of the pain.”

  I cannot look away from the scene that lay before me. The blood. The body on the bed. Alexios’s glassy eyes.

  “The Mother told you… to kill him here?” I ask him carefully before my anger takes over. “In our home?”

  Alexios nods.

  “She told me that my grief wouldn’t hurt me as much.”

  This merely does not make sense. It is not what I have spent the last twenty years teaching him. As far as I understand, this is not what she was supposed to want either.

  “Why would she ask this of you?” I ask, more to myself than Alexios.

  There is no doubt that the Mother is cruel in her own way, though she has never been careless. Every lesson I have given to Alexios has been centered around not drawing attention and leaving clear patterns that can be followed.

  It is as if she wishes to undo this with a single contract. Why would the queen I keep under my vigilance move against the very lessons I am trying to instill in Alexios?

  Is this her way of fully laying claim to him so that I may never touch him?

  The idea is kept brief, just enough so to keep the contradiction I have begun to notice out of the Mother’s view.

  “Enough,” I state firmly as I step forward, gently easing the dagger from his grasp. “You are in no state to do anything else tonight, hmm?”

  Alexios cannot even maintain eye contact with me now. He is bracing for punishment.

  “Listen to me closely,” I command. “You are going to wash. Your hands. Your mouth. All of it, yes? Then you will get into my bed.”

  His crimson eyes, swollen with tears, cut to me.

  “Your…”

  “Yes,” I cut in. I do not have time for further arguments. “You will sleep there until this room has been made immaculate again.”

  Alexios bows his head slowly in surprising obedience before quietly leaving the room. Only when the door closes behind him do I turn back to the body and the blood that now stains the floor of our home.

  “I will take care of this,” I tell myself in the empty space that surrounds me now.

  It would be wise of me to let Alexios carry this and pay the price of what he has done alone. I find that I cannot.

  --

  Even after years of not being used, the incinerator has done its work thoroughly tonight. The ashes of Alexios’s victim will be scattered before dawn and the man who tasted Alexios’s name on his lips will be a fragmented memory shared between us.

  When I descend onto the stairs and make my way to bed, Alexios is already there sitting against the headboard. His hair is still damp from the bath and he has taken it upon himself to dress in one of my silk robes. When his crimson eyes find me, I discover that his eyes are clear in a way I had not expected.

  “Thank you,” he says softly.

  When I slowly move to the edge of the bed, I stay vigilant of the signs of grief that torment him at night only to find that his breathing is even. If I did not know better, I would think Alexios is… almost relieved.

  “How are you feeling?” I ask.

  There is an expected pause.

  “Tired,” Alexios finally admits. “But I don’t feel as heavy tonight now.”

  Whatever blanket she has drawn across his grief has worked for the meantime. The violent tears that I have come to know too well have been quieted and turned into something almost manageable.

  I sit on the edge of the bed as Alexios continues watching me closely.

  “Is that… a bad thing?”

  Would it be wise to tell him the truth?

  “Let us put it aside, at least for tonight. You must rest now.”

  Careful not to crowd him, I lie down beside him and draw the covers up around us. His head finds my shoulder as he moves closer without a hint of reluctancy as one of his hands tightens against my sleeve. My eyes watch the swaying candles as Alexios slips into his trance. It dawns on me that another contract has been fulfilled… but at what cost?