"Observant," he said dryly. "I have not needed a wife, had no desire to burden myself with such things."
"And as a result, should you die, your throne will pass to a lich. A Lich King, in fact. I have a feeling those don't turn out too well." She said it as though it were only a passing thought, but she knew the history of the creatures. Very few people tended to survive when they were ruled by a lich.
Looking at the sauce, she found that it had left her tongue tingling. She glanced up at the king, amused at his irritation. She did not often get to talk with someone like him so openly.
"Perhaps I should consider getting one," he said with a sigh, scratching his jaw before he picked up another of the snacks. He chewed the whole thing at once.
"That would be advisable, unless you don't mind all of your work being destroyed," she said, examining the sauce after dabbing a little more on her finger. It was pink and there was very little of it, just enough to hold the chicken on the lettuce.
"What is it my brother has you doing? It is not often he takes this much effort to ensnare someone."
Looking up at him, she was sure he had sounded a little sulky for a moment. "He has yet to tell me. However, so far it would appear that I am simply his pet assassin," she said, smearing the sauce on her fingers and squinting at a little speck of red, trying to think of what spice would leave her tongue tingling that was red. Chilli peppers? Those were supposed to be spicy.
"You killed the merchant?" he said sharply, his eyes seeming to glow fully from within.
"Yes," she said simply, popping the last of the snack into her mouth and looking up at him, alert to his growing anger. She was very aware that she may need to escape, and that could be a little tricky given his size.
"Why?" he demanded, face turning a little red under the strain of his fury.
"I am not privy to the reasons, Your Majesty, I am only told who." She spoke carefully, trying to soothe the beast, and he took a moment to calm himself before he gave a bark of laughter.
"He's not even here, and the man enrages me," he said.
She noticed the mask he pulled over himself. He was good at playing nice, but she was aware that he was dangerous, exceptionally so.
Pushing herself to her feet, she moved away from the couches to a small bowl of water where she could rinse her fingers of the oily sauce. Once finished washing, she dried her hands on the small towel beside it. She could feel his eyes on her, watching her every move.
"You do not look like the fae," he said, his tone accusatory.
"And you do not look like the son of a God," she countered, turning back to him.
He stood slowly, approaching her calmly. "Why is it you do not look like them?" he asked, stopping a few feet away from her to study her face.
"I look the way I wish to look, as do many of us when we are in this world," she said cautiously, unable to help but feel that he had cornered her.
"How do you do that?" He paused, squinting slightly. "Isn't that what they call a 'glamour'?" he asked. She was amused to find him trying to see through it.
"Only a handful of species can see through a glamour, usually only those of fae heritage. I have never heard of a titan being able to."
He looked disappointed by that and for a moment she thought that she had been worried for nothing.
"Take it off."
It was an order and the silence that stretched between them was tense.
"No," she said finally, as politely as she could manage.
"I am your king!" he boomed, and she took an unconscious step back from him, her back bumping into the counter as his face turned red.
"You are not my King, Your Majesty," she said gently, trying her best to soothe the situation once more. "You are a king, but I have no king." She was tense, ready to move in an instant.
He was fuming, his golden eyes glowing. A flash of lightning whipped across them, brightening the room for an instant.
He reached for her and she took a quick step to the side, then pivoted on the ball of her foot. She spun towards the door, but he was faster than she had ever imagined he could be given his size. It should not have been possible.
His fingers clenched around her forearm and his hands were so big they enclosed her arm and then went half again around. Jerking to a stop, she turned back. Her fingers clenched around his, trying to pry them off without hurting him.
"Let go!" she cried, hating the heat of his skin on hers.
He refused, gripping harder and, with a sharp jerk, he very nearly yanked her off her feet.
"Obey me, woman." He was no longer shouting, but instead, he spoke in a low and lethal tone, giving her a little shake that pulled her even closer to him.
She was only a foot from him. She hated the heat that radiated off him, it was like standing too close to a hearth.
He shook her again, roughly, to make her shoulder ache while his free hand lifted to curl his fingers in the hair at the back of her head, gripping tightly and pulling her closer, higher until she was barely able to stand on the tips of her toes. Her head was forced back to meet his glowing golden eyes.
She did not respond, instead, she bared her teeth at him.
The slap came out of nowhere. One second her arm was in his grip and the next her head was ringing. She tasted blood.
Using his grip on her hair, he threw her to the floor. She gasped, lying on her side, her face on fire. She refused to cry out at the pain.
He stepped over her, picking up the decanter of wine and drinking from it, watching her as she pushed herself up onto her hands and knees and then sat back on her heels.
Touching her lip, her fingers came back crimson and wet. Her lower lip had split and the inside of her cheek had cut against her teeth.
Lifting her gaze to him, they were both silent for a long time before he finally spoke. His voice was that same deadly calm though it was barely more than a whisper.
"You belong to my brother. You live in my city; you kill my citizens. I am your king, and you will obey."
The silence stretched between them again and she felt the blood trickle down her chin, dripping onto the carpet.
"Take it off," he said.
She did not move, and he closed the distance between them in a flash. This time his hand closed around her throat and he lifted her off the ground, his free hand rising.
Her attempts to block the second blow did nothing, and she crashed through a table, lying in the splintered remains. She could feel her eye would soon be blackened. Her ears rang, but she heard his approach.
Rolling, she locked her knee under her and, using the momentum, lifted herself off the ground and onto her feet. The action took him off guard, but he adjusted for it. He did not attempt to grab her a third time, since she was prepared for that.
Lifting her hand, she used the back of her sleeve to wipe her mouth, her eyes never leaving him.
"I will ask you one more time, woman. If you do not comply, I will kill you," he said simply. Epharis would know when she returned to life; it may be worth letting Alaric kill her and so she could return to kill him after. But no, that was too risky.
"Yes, Your Majesty," she said stiffly.
It was not worth it; the Lich would know of her immortality and possibly even what she really was.
Standing before the man, she considered her options. She decided to see how far she could push the issue. She did not let the glamour drop, instead, she changed it. The creature standing before him was not what she was. She looked more like her youngest sister Avadari, with white hair that hung to her thighs, alabaster skin, and pale blue eyes.
She still wore the dress, but it had been glamoured to appear more fanciful than it was. The bruise on her cheek bloomed, yellowed, and faded in the time it took him to study her. The cut sealed, and the scar disappeared.
When he reached for her, there was no aggression, but she still had to resist the urge to bite his fingers off. She allowed him to cup her face and run his thumb over her full lips. He drank her in, studied every inch of her face. He touched her ears, tracing the shape of them.
Leaning down, she thought for one horrible second that he intended to kiss her. But instead, he inhaled the scent of her hair.
Wondering what was going on, she allowed him to be so close for only a few seconds more before she drew back and out of his grasp, angry at him for his actions.
It had worked, the man looked almost drunk as he took in the form she had decided to show him. She was gleeful that he did not know that it was a trick.
"Forgive me. I should never have struck you," he said finally, still unable to take his eyes off her.
She made no response, instead, she gathered the energy to change the glamour once more.
He did not attempt to stop her as the change shimmered onto her features like a mirage. He seemed to be entirely lost for words now and he sat down.
Remaining where she stood, she glowered at him and dusted off the back of her dress. Wood stuck to her clothing and her hair, and a tear marred the back of her bodice.
"Are you satisfied? May I be excused?" she said finally, now unable to look at the man. He had struck her twice, forcing her to do his will. This place was not a place where she wanted to be, where men could be so cruel and have no repercussions.
She had wanted to kill him; she could have possibly killed him. But then what? Epharis would be in control and her punishment would be worse than a simple slap to the face.
"Yes, go," the king replied as he stared down at his hands, clenching, and unclenching his fingers.
Turning to go, she crossed the room only to pause at his shout. "Do not forget, you may belong to Epharis, but he belongs to me. And thus, you by extension," he said slowly.
Turning to look over her shoulder, she considered him for a moment.
"I owe you no allegiance, king. I will obey, but I am not yours."
With that, she left the room and returned to her own.
***
Sasha lamented the dress and expressed her concern, but Etani did not deem it worth telling her the events of the day.
She sent Sasha out to order her several pairs of pants and blouses. To enjoy the rest of the evening, Etani changed into her most basic dress, and headed to the cold room where she heard the clay had been sent.
Upon reaching the room, the servants were ordered out and one was given orders that were to be sent to Epharis. She would be changing her appearance, he had no say in the matter, and she would kill them both if he again destroyed her form.
The response he gave was apparently so vulgar the servant would not repeat it, claiming it was improper to speak in such a manner before a lady, but that Epharis would come to her in the morning.
Thanking the servant, she dismissed him and set to work.
She had ordered enough clay to make two hosts, and she planned to use all of it.
It was morning by the time she finished one of them. A small, slender woman with a mass of crimson and gold hair who was very similar to the form she had worn when first she arrived in the city. The second would have to wait for a time as she had a meeting to attend.
Leaning down, she pressed her lips to that of the host and felt herself being drawn in. Gasping, her lungs expanded, and she looked up at the ceiling. Everything was green for a few seconds, the paint was sinking in and permeating her iris.
Only once the green had faded and she wriggled her way into comfort inside the host did she sit up. Flexing her fingers, she tested to ensure they were working properly. Everything seemed to be in order, and she hopped down from the table, picked up a dress she had set out for herself and pulled it on. It was too long for her, but it would do.
Hitching it up so as not to trip over it, she bustled her way through the castle to her room. Her appearance garnered her some very odd looks, but no one deemed it worth interfering with someone potentially important.
Back in her rooms, she bathed to remove the residual clay dust from her skin and stood before the mirror, inspecting every inch of the form.
She stood at five feet, five inches with proportionate hips and breasts. Her arms were slender, her belly flat, and her legs lightly toned. Her hair fell in ringlets to the middle of her back, glittering gently. While she was a very pretty human, there was no doubt that she was, in fact, a human.
It was a while before Sasha awoke, but Etani did not remain dormant while the girl slept. Instead, she worked on her sewing skills by mending the dress. Sitting naked on the couch, she splayed the violet garment across her lap and set to work. It would be a day or so before she had her ordered trousers, and she needed something to wear.
Sasha nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of the redheaded naked woman sitting on the couch with a pair of scissors in her hand. But the laugh that burst out of her did not change, and she beckoned the girl to join her. Sasha was happy with the sewing work, watching as Etani continued along the seam and then tried the outfit on.
Nudity around her had been commonplace, as her sense of modesty did not extend to fellow women. Women had all the same parts she had, mostly. And thus, their seeing her naked did not bother her in the slightest. It had bothered Sasha at first, but she grew used to the eccentricities of the woman she cared for.
The dress fit well enough and Sasha made the final adjustments, snipping off the remaining threads and nodding her satisfaction.
"You look perfect!" she said happily, packing away her sewing kit. She had just returned the kit to her room when the door to the suite burst open and in swept the lich. He took one look at Etani and scowled as though her appearance had personally offended him. "You look better as your natural self," he said coldly, giving her a once-over.
"Glamours require energy to keep up. This form does not," she replied, her voice somewhat muted by the difference in vocal cords.
The lich crossed the room and grasped her jaw, turning her head left and right to better examine her.
"Worthless. A human is worthless to me," he said, his fingers cool against her warmed skin.
"Well isn't that too bad? I'm wearing what I want to wear, and be damned your desires." She swatted away his hand and turned from him.
But his fingers on her upper arm stopped her.
"I heard what happened with Alaric," he said. He did not sound like he much cared, yet the grip on her arm was gentle. "I will not allow him to lay hand on you again."
Looking back at him, she gave a light shrug. She was his property; he did not want her damaged.
"One brother is much like the other in this world," she said finally, giving her arm a tug and managing to pull away from him. He had not been trying to detain her, really.
Making a gesture to the couch, she crossed the room and fetched herself a mug of water, offering him one over her shoulder, and his grunt of affirmation was all she needed. Filling him one, she returned to him, and handed him the mug before she sat down across from him.
"You did well, the task I set you," he said after taking a long drink of the water. She mimicked him and set the mug down on the table.
"Will this be a frequent task? It would do no good to become a glutton and killing without eating is wasteful." Setting her hands in her lap, she studied the man before her. He did not change at all, his hair was the same length, his face was just as thin and his eyes had that same eerie silver-green glow that seemed to suck light from the air rather than radiate it as their colouring would suggest. He wore a matching black and grey robe every time she saw him, though it was clear they were not the same robes every day.
"What else would my little pet assassin be good for?" His voice was a sneer at that, and she recalled using those exact words.
"Were you spying on our meeting?" she asked, not entirely surprised that he would, but still irritated.
"In a sense. I can watch you due to our bond, but I must be in a trance of sorts." He had no shame in his voice, as though this were entirely normal, but she was seething.
"I would prefer it if you wear this form only when necessary," he said suddenly after a long stretch of mutinous silence.
"It is not so easy to climb in and out of these things. It causes wear, it uses a lot of energy and is demanding on the psyche. The mind can only adjust to a new shape so many times in a short period." It was not entirely untrue. It did take energy to remove it, but it was more the wear on the host itself. It took a long time to patch up the cracks that formed each time she removed it.
He looked annoyed at that, but said nothing more on the subject.
After a time, he stood and moved to the balcony. Hesitating for only a moment, she followed after him and they stood watching the city as it came to life.
"What were you before you came to this world?" he asked slowly, contemplating the city and his own thoughts.
"I was still a girl then," she replied, her eyes lifted to the sky. "We came here when we were still young."
"We?" He turned to study her face; his expression frustrated.
Blinking once, she looked at him, and a delicate flush covered her cheeks.
"My sisters and I; we came together and went our own ways some years back." They had deemed it wise, giving the scouts more targets to hunt.
"I see," was all he said.
She did not want to talk about her sisters. The thought of them out there free made her sad. She missed them both terribly, but still, she knew it was better for them not to be there; and yet they were still in danger and she could not forget that.
"What were you before coming here?" she asked. It was clear that he and his brother had not been born into royalty. Neither of their parents were royalty.
"I was a scholar. I studied immortality and the beings belonging to that category. Alaric was the adventurer. He got it into his head that a man of his heritage should be a ruler, and so we came here. He killed the king and his son. Without a ruler, Alaric took the throne. I was named heir apparent, and we have been here since."
"How long ago was that?"
"A few hundred years, I did not keep track." Epharis turned from the view and looked up towards the castle turret above them.
"Why did you turn yourself into a lich?" The words escaped her lips before she could stop them, and yet she did not try to take them back.
The lich settled cold eyes on her once more. "I was not strong, or powerful. I was mortal. I am no longer mortal, and now I am both strong and powerful," he replied simply.
She did not know why he was being so honest with her, but she pressed for more information while he still had the desire to talk.
"Why a lich, though? There are any number of immortal beings out there that you could have become."
It was a long time before the prince replied, his eyes locked on her and lips pursed.
"I wanted to be feared," he said simply. "There are few who do not fear me. One is my brother, and the other stands before me."
Etani was unable to pull her gaze from his, trapped in the silvery orbs.
"It is stupid not to fear a lich."
"Not for a soul eater," he said simply, and tore his gaze from hers. He left her then, sweeping from the balcony and out of the suite without a backward glance.