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Silver, Ash, and Bone

Chapter 21: Nothing to Lose but You

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Jian has no idea how long she drifts through unconsciousness. At times, it feels like she could wake up if she wanted, as easily as getting up in the morning. Other times, she seems to sink through endless black tunnels, a laugh both sinister and beautiful echoing endlessly through her mind. Come to me. The moments stack on top of each other in a strange and confusing swirl that might take hours or years.

And then, all at once, she is awake. Lying in a bed in a small, white room. A hospital bed. Relief and fear fill her. Someone has rescued her, carried her away from the storeroom where she fought the hollow, broken shell of what used to be Verynia and healed her wounds. But who?

With a great effort, she looks around, moves a bit, then stops, fear gripping her. Both wrists are encircled by shackles, attached by chains to the rails of her bed. There is enough slack for her to move around, perhaps even to stand up at the bedside if she had the strength for it, but leaving will be impossible.

Which means that whoever has her here is not an ally of the Ashen Rose.

For several hours, she simply lies there, too weak and in too much pain to do more than stare at the ceiling and try to keep herself from imagining who might have her or what they might be planning to do with her. Wondering what happened to Valthiel and Illyria.

Eventually, however, she hears someone outside. She feels slightly better than before, but there’s still no use in trying to run or fight, so she waits to see who the visitor is.

To Jian’s surprise and relief, it’s Lynx who steps through the door, dressed in her lhamaean robes and with a somber expression on her face.

“Lynx!” Jian cries, realizing her mistake as soon as she does. Talking too loudly sends sharp pains across her stomach.

Lynx’s face brightens a bit as she hurries to the side of the bed. “Jian! I’m so glad to see you. I knew you were recovering, of course, but that’s not the same as seeing it for myself.”

“What happened?” She can’t remember anything after Verynia’s thanks. Her last words, most likely. Another pang shoots through her, in her heart this time.

Lynx pauses, and Jian knows her well enough to know that she’s considering her words very carefully. “You’re on Lady Malys’ flagship, in the medical center of her private wing. I am not sure how you got here from Lord Ordai’s palace – Lady Malys has not chosen to share that information with me. But I do know that you were well more than half-dead when you arrived and Valthiel convinced the lady to help you. You’ve been under for almost two weeks.”

Nodding, Jian does her best to parse this information. “And Illyria?”

Another hesitation, this one shorter. “She is alive as well. Her wounds were less severe, but undoing some of the alterations her father made has taken several days as well. I believe they just finished this morning.”

It’s blatantly obvious that there’s something Lynx isn’t telling her, and Jian isn’t in the mood to wait and see what it is. “If we’re on Lady Malys’ vessel, then why am I chained to the bed? And where is Valthiel?”

Lynx sighs and pushes a loose strand of green hair away from her face. “You know the terms of the deal. The harlequins were only there to let you in and out, no more. When Valthiel called for them to pick him up, he broke the terms of the agreement and canceled it.”

She suspected as much at the time, but Jian’s fear returns nonetheless. With even the worthless word of an archon now voided, anything could happen.

“Lady Malys offered new terms, based on what she felt the help she had wound up providing was worth,” Lynx continues. “Valthiel didn’t want to accept, but with the Bloodied Fists howling for revenge, he didn’t have much choice.”

“And what were those terms?” Jian almost doesn’t want to know. It’s clear that Lynx is trying to be diplomatic, a rarity for her. And while that might simply be an attempt to avoid speaking badly of Lady Malys, Jian wonders if it’s because Lynx thinks she’s not strong enough to hear the news right now.

Lynx pauses again, the longest uncomfortable silence yet. “In exchange for extracting the team from the Bloodied Fists’ pocket dimension, and her continued protection from Lord Ordai, Lady Malys demanded that the Kabal of the Ashen Rose join themselves to her. The kabal still exists and as far as the rest of Commorragh is concerned, nothing has changed, but she has the power to override any of Valthiel’s decisions in regard to the kabal if she sees fit.”

Jian can only sink back into her pillows, appalled. He’s sold us back into slavery. She remembers the darkness in the woman’s eyes and her cold fingers on the back of Jian’s neck and shivers.

Sighing, Lynx places a reassuring hand on Jian’s shoulder. “I know that it probably doesn’t help much. But Lady Malys isn’t that bad. I mean, she’s just as cruel and power-hungry as the next archon, but from what I’ve seen so far, she’s smart, too. If all she wanted was to torment Valthiel, she wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of making him enter her service willingly. She plans to use his talents and resources, and that should mean that he’s safe as long as he doesn’t try to fight back too hard. Him, and anyone he’s close to. And at least you might get to see me more often.”

Although Lynx is clearly trying to encourage her, Jian doesn’t feel any better. It’s too much, too unknown. Too close to the memories of long days spent in desperation and fear as she tried to meet every whim of someone who held absolute power over her life. And unlike last time, she doubts that there’s any secret affection or chance for love to bloom here.

Lynx wraps her in a hug. “I can’t promise that it will be alright, but I think it will be.”

“So what happens now?” 

“Your treatments are almost done. The medics estimated that you should be up and around tomorrow morning at the latest, and Lady Malys has asked to see you as soon as that happens.”

“She wants to see me? Why?” Jian can’t help remembering that terrible night at the party Valthiel brought her to. Her first meeting with Lady Malys. How much to borrow her?

Lynx straightens from the embrace and moves to the chair where she set her bag. “She didn’t say. All I know is why she sent me here.”

Jian’s heart sinks further. “You mean she sent you purposefully?”

“Yes… it’s the only reason I was allowed to see you at all.” Her back turns as she rummages through the bag. “Jian, Lady Malys has ordered that the tattoo on your back be expanded.”

“No,” Jian breathes.

“I’m sorry. If I thought arguing would do any good, I would have tried, but it would have just meant I’d lose the chance to see you. It’s going to hurt, but I’ll try not to make it worse than it needs to be.”

“Alright.” She sinks back into the bed, eyes closed. Lynx is right; arguing will only make it worse. Part of her wants to ask what Lady Malys wants on her skin so badly, but there’s no point, is there?

“Are you ready to start now? Or do you want a few more minutes?”

“No.” Jian feels a tear slide out of her eye and curses herself for her weakness. It’s only some lines, some colors. “There’s no reason to wait.”

It takes several minutes to get her in position. First, Lynx helps her to flip onto her stomach. As she settles, Jian sends a silent thanks to the lhamaean sisters under Miarya’s tutelage. Despite all the pain she endured after her lessons with Lord Vrash, she now realizes how many painkillers they must have given her to ease her recovery.

When that is done, Lynx adjusts the chains until Jian has almost no slack to move. “I’m sorry,” Lynx says. “But I need to keep you from moving around or it’s going to ruin it.”

Before Jian can respond, something white-hot touches her back and she sucks her breath in through her teeth. Rather than stopping, the sensation continues, never ending, never increasing or lessening. Slowly, painfully slowly, it starts to drift along her back, from the approximate center up towards her shoulder blades.

“Do you need something to bite down on?”

Jian can only nod and accept the folded piece of cloth between her teeth. On and on it continues, ranging all over her back and creeping around the edges of her ribcage. As Lynx works, she talks, telling Jian about the laboratories in the Kabal of the Poisoned Tongue, the alchemical creations she’s made, and the strange and deadly tasks that she’s carried out for Lady Malys. Even through the pain, Jian can’t help but think that she actually sounds . . . not happy, but content, at least. It’s something good to hold on to in this mess.

At some point, the endless ice-cold heat blurs into nothing. Maybe she’s getting used to it, or maybe her nerves are just so overwhelmed that she can’t pay attention to what they tell her anymore. She drifts into something that feels almost like sleep, or at least unawareness.

Finally, after many hours, she hears Lynx shifting behind her. A moment later, the cuffs open. She sags further into the bed, what little strength she had left in her sapped away. She doesn’t even have the energy to cry.

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Lynx says.

“Yes, please.”

Jian feels Lynx’s hand wrap around hers as sleep or unconsciousness takes her.

When she wakes, she feels somewhat better. The burning, stinging discomfort across her back eclipses the rest of what is wrong with her, and some of the weakness is gone. She could stand, she thinks, even if walking more than a short distance would exhaust her.

Lynx sits in a chair next to the bed, her head bowed in sleep and her fingers still entwined with Jian’s. She watches her for a few minutes, happy for the silent company of a friend and not wanting to leave this bed and enter into the unknown that is her meeting with Lady Malys.

Her chance for peace is short-lived, however. The door opens, startling Lynx awake. Jian shifts her position to see who the new visitor is, but before she can manage it, the woman speaks.

“Good morning, Jian. I see that your new adornment is in place, and I must say, it looks wonderful on you.”

Lady Malys.

She continues. “Lynx, you’ve done a very good job, I’m quite impressed. You may return to your other duties now.”

Standing, Lynx gives Jian’s hand one last squeeze. “I’ll see you soon, Jian.”

Lynx leaves, shutting the door behind her.

“Come, Jian, sit up and look me in the eye.”

She obeys and looks around, trying to ignore the burning of her gut muscles as she does. The archon is dressed in a beautiful gown of green and black silk, wrapped to show off flashes of her white legs and to draw attention to how narrow her waist is. Jian blinks the last tears from her eyes. “Lynx said you wanted to see me this morning?”

“Yes, yes. I heard her telling you while she was working on your back.” She holds out a dress of brilliant blue. “Now get dressed and follow me.”

Getting out of bed takes Jian some time, but she feels better when she stands. Even if her hands do shake while she puts the dress on. Under other circumstances, she might have thought it was quite beautiful. Right now, she’s just grateful that its backless design doesn’t put pressure on her sensitive skin.

Lady Malys gestures imperiously for Jian to follow her and leaves the room without another word. The floors are cold under Jian’s bare feet and she finds herself annoyed and disoriented by her vision. She can see out of both eyes - they must have cloned her a replacement for the one Verinya destroyed - but something about it is wrong. Maybe she can see a bit better or a bit worse through it, or perhaps it doesn’t rest quite as perfectly in her eye socket.

Regardless of the reasoning, it distracts her long enough for them to reach their destination. Lady Malys enters a room and Jian follows her in. The trip was shorter than she expected.

The room they enter is massive, probably twice the size of Valthiel’s suite in Commorragh. Tapestries hang from the walls, plush carpets cover the floors, and furniture is arranged into clusters to permit groups of various sizes to converse. Art is displayed prominently throughout the space, a wide variety of styles and forms that Jian realizes all come from different species. Likely things that Lady Malys has taken as souvenirs of her conquests. If she wasn’t so distracted by her own situation, she might have been interested in examining some of them more closely.

The lady leads her to a long, narrow couch with a high back and gestures for her to sit before taking her own spot on the other end. A slave hurries forward, carrying a tray with two goblets and a crystal decanter engraved with runes. Lady Malys pours an amber liquid into each goblet, then hands one to Jian. “For the pain,” she says.

Jian hesitates, but quickly decides that if Lady Malys wanted to kill her, she would have had any number of less-convoluted opportunities to do so. Still, she feels the woman’s eyes intent on her as she sips at the liquid. It smells wonderful, with a spicy sharpness mixed with sweet, fruity scents, and the taste is even better.

After a moment, she lowers the glass and waits politely for her captor to speak. Whatever she wants, Jian doubts she will wait long to get started.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Lady Malys’ voice is softer now, less mocking than her usual tone.

“I do not.” She’s certain she’s about to be told, though.

Lady Malys studies her for a moment before placing a hand on Jian’s shoulder. “What do you think would have happened if Valthiel had allowed me to have you for the night after the party where we first met?”

“I can’t pretend to know what was in your mind. But whatever you desired, you would have done.” She has kept herself from imagining the horrors she would have endured, and isn’t about to start now. Yet here I am, at your mercy anyway.

Lady Malys chuckles, her laughter once again echoing despite the lack of any other sounds in the room doing so. “Yes, I would have. And I would have for the same reason I’ve brought you here now: because I have power.”

“I don’t understand.”

She pulls herself closer to Jian. “Good and evil, right and wrong, diplomacy and war. . . they’re all just words without meaning or purpose without power. The kind of power we possess and the amount you have relative to others is what shapes our lives from the moment we are born. Which is what you need to answer now, Jian. At the end of all things, would you like to be the one holding the whip? Or the one under the lash?”

“You are one of the former, I take it.” She’s starting to feel the effects of the drink, now. It doesn’t take the pain away; she still feels everything just as sharply as she did before. But the sensation clouds her mind less and she is able to block it out to focus on what is going on around her.

Lady Malys nods. “That was not always the case, though. I had to choose to be the mistress of my own fate instead of merely being abused and controlled by the fancies of those around me.”

Her hand slides down Jian’s arm in a manner that can’t help but make Jian shiver. Looking deep into Jian’s eyes, Lady Malys continues, so softly that even in the quiet room, Jian has to strain to hear her. “And before long, I believe you will find yourself at the same crossroads. You may be nothing more than prey now, but I believe that there’s a predator inside you, just waiting to surface and take control.”

“I. . . see.” She’s not entirely wrong. Jian can feel a desperate need within her to never have to kneel again, no matter how illogical or unlikely such a wish is. And the need was there before Lady Malys brought it to the forefront of her awareness, even if she is only now identifying it as such.

Gesturing to the slave standing in the background, Lady Malys waits until he has retrieved an object from a nearby side table to continue. “This is a gift, for you to use when you are ready to control the direction of your life for the first time.”

Jian takes it. A box made of what feels like bone, elaborately carved with abstract, angular designs, as long as her forearm and perhaps twice as wide. An unfamiliar locking mechanism holds it shut. After a brief inspection, she sets it in her lap unopened. This is something to process on her own. “Thank you.”

Several minutes pass with no further conversation from Lady Malys, until eventually Jian realizes that she’s waiting for her to say something on her own. Swallowing, she asks the question that’s been on her mind almost since she woke. “You say I belong to you now. What does that entail?”

“For now?” Lady Malys shifts her position to stare at a twisted, curving abstract sculpture nearby. “I have arranged for Valthiel to return to his life as a corsair and rejoin his old companions there. His most trusted and capable forces from the Kabal of the Ashen Rose will join him in quietly serving my interests in realspace, while Lady Miarya will take over the majority of power in the kabal as his right hand and regent. And I plan to allow you and the farseer to join him.”

“I would like that.” She would like it less if Illyria came along, though. “Where is he?”

Lady Malys laughs again. “Don’t worry, Jian, he’s just fine. Resting and recovering on his own ship, while the farseer entertains a troupe of my harlequins and you are here, entertaining me.”

“I see,” Jian replies for lack of something else to say. It feels like the lady is going to pounce on her at any moment, not helped by her hand with its long, manicured nails resting a bit too casually on Jian’s thigh. It’s obvious where this is leading.

Lady Malys’ next words catch her off guard. “What if I offered you a way out of your predicament?”

Without waiting for Jian’s response, she continues. “If I gave you the chance to gather your wits and march down to the chambers where the seer is being held? There, you could take her for yourself and taste her in every way you desire, proving to her and to me that you are the one on top. Then, you could bring her with you to the captain with whom you both so clearly belong and be on your way. What do you say to that?”

“I would say that I don’t want to do that.” The idea is disgusting, horrifying.

The lady withdraws her hand from Jian’s thigh and she leans back to study her, interest flaring even brighter in her eyes. “Oh? Please, do explain.”

“I don’t want Illyria for myself. Nor do I wish to repeat things I would rather forget from a different perspective.”

Lady Malys picks up her glass and takes a sip. The hunger returns to her expression, giving Jian the sense of being a small creature caught between a gyrinx’s paws. “Understandable. But how about a chance to instantly establish dominance and to make sure that the new dynamic added to your relationship with your strapping young man does not threaten what you already have?”

“I trust Valthiel,” Jian replies, but inside, hints of that old fear flare in her. She can only hope that Lady Malys doesn’t see them. “And even if I didn’t, he’s always been capable of adding another woman or man to our relationship if he wanted to. It’s something I have had ample opportunity to make peace with.”

“But it is still a concern you harbor, yes? And. . . while you might find my suggestion repulsive, there is something in it that excites you. The idea of having power and control.” She pauses, clearly to increase the impact of her next question. “You’re not used to being in charge, are you?”

“I have little experience with that, you are correct.” There’s no point in denying it. It’s written clearly over her history and demeanor, in the tattoos on her back and in every situation in which she and Lady Malys have met.

“Mmmm. . .” The lady leans closer again, this time to play with a lock of Jian’s hair. “And what about my other statements?”

She considers. “I could like having power, I think.” The exhilarating, adrenaline-fueled rush of killing on the battlefield, the joy of climbing on top of Lynx to take control in the bedroom, even the small moments where she has been able to use her position as nothing more than a slave to manipulate others into thinking that she has no will or mind of her own. Those are all forms of power, yes?

Their knees touch, now, and the lady runs her fingers along Jian’s cheekbone. She fights the urge to pull away as the lady speaks. “And the idea does excite you on some level. Even though your current fear and revulsion eclipse it.”

Jian’s heart pounds. To her own shame, she’s not sure if it’s from the fear of what Lady Malys will do to her, or from the ideas that the words plant in her head.

The confusion must show on her face, because Lady Malys breaks into a triumphant smile. “It’s alright, dear. No one is going to force you to do anything you don’t choose to do. Come with me.”

Shakily, Jian obeys. She’s not sure if it’s her discomfort or the weakness that still lingers that steals the strength from her legs, but either way, she’s almost grateful for Lady Malys’ hand resting on her back to guide her forward. They walk along the center of the room, past conversation circles, a fireplace, a small fountain, doors that lead to other rooms, and more artwork and luxury than Jian can process. Finally, Lady Malys stops her at the far end of the space, in front of a window that takes up the entirety of the back wall. The colors of the webway, eternally shifting in patterns that Jian can’t comprehend, fill the view.

The lady’s hand slides down Jian’s back, brushing the tender, sensitive skin and sending sharp, burning prickles up her spine. “So,” she says. “Why do you think you are here, then?”

“Well, whatever your reasoning is, you don’t want Valthiel to be here.” Jian’s mind races, looking for more ways to stall while she gets her wits about her. Talking to Lady Malys is like trying to balance on constantly shifting sand. Every time she thinks she knows how to conduct herself and how the lady is trying to manipulate her, it changes.

Lady Malys laughs. “While that might be true, I can assure you that what Valthiel thinks of me is fairly far down on my list of concerns at this point. But since you aren’t pleased with the first option, you have two choices left. Hopefully one of those will be more to your taste.” The last words are said with a smile that sends chills through Jian.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to force me to do anything I didn’t want to do.”

“No, I said that anything that happened would be your choice. You of all people should know that happy endings are rarely possible.” 

Jian nods acknowledgement as any hope she might have had evaporates. Foolish, to think of this as anything more than a play in whatever sick game Lady Malys is playing with her.

“I’m willing to bet that you would like to have your human pet accompanying you on your travels. So I am giving you the option of going to your chambers back in Commorragh and properly claiming her as your own. Alternatively, you can simply reunite with her on Valthiel’s ship, if instead you stay here and spend the night with me.”

“And by claim, you mean?” Isha’s tits, why can’t she have more time?

“Either use pain and suffering to extract her soul so you can feed on it, or sleep with her as you well and truly dominate every fiber of her being.” The words are flippant, almost bored.

“No!” Jian cries instantly. Only after the word has left her lips does she realize what she’s said no to – and by extension, what she has accepted.

Lady Malys doesn’t respond right away, simply resting her hand on Jian’s shoulder as she turns to look out at the warp. It’s clear she’s waiting for Jian to elaborate.

She takes a deep breath and tries to think. She doesn’t want to sleep with Lady Malys. No, she has been afraid of being consumed by that void ever since she first laid eyes on the woman. But can she go through with the alternative? If I were to go through with this, the void really would consume me, wouldn’t it? Could she return from that? Would she be able to live with herself?

“No,” she whispers again, barely audible this time.

“No?” Lady Malys looks back from the infinity outside to watch Jian again. “Why? And what do you choose, then?”

“No, I’m not – I’m not like you. I don’t enjoy causing pain to others. I choose to stay here.” And please, do it quickly. I’m not certain I have the strength to hold to this course much longer.

“Hmmm. . . No, I do not think that is the reason at all. I think you refuse because you hate feeling responsible for horrible things that happen to people who, in your mind, do not deserve it. You would rather have those dear to you suffer greater harm, as long as they can’t blame it on you personally.”

Anger flashes in Jian. How dare she? “As opposed to what? Being the one to directly hurt them because it might be less awful later on?”

“Well, let us look at this objectively.” Lady Malys returns her gaze to the warp. “Illyria is going to be a spectacle for my harlequins one way or another. Unless you harbor some truly disturbing desires behind that sweet little face of yours, I’m sure what you do to her will be far less upsetting than what anyone who decides to take advantage of the situation will do. Don’t you agree?”

She draws Jian to her as she continues speaking, until they are in an intimate embrace. “Your human next. She could have a pleasurable night with you, her will broken but her body and emotions soothed. It will be somewhat traumatic for her, of course, but I’m certain you could lead her through it. Or. . . She could have several of my men burst into her room to apprehend her, dragging her in chains through the city and up to your ship, where she will sit in a holding cell, waiting with no explanations until you come to collect her. So it sounds like in both cases, you have chosen a route that would cause considerably more pain. But at least they will not blame you for it, right?”

Jian pulls back, trying to extricate herself from Lady Malys’ embrace, but finds herself effortlessly held fast. Gods, the woman is strong. “Would it not cause them pain to see me every day after that? To always be reminded of what I did to them?”

“I think that whatever you choose, scars will be left on all of you. That is often the nature of change. But the difference is that my way sees those scars inflicted by you, an external source for their suffering and shame. Meanwhile, the choice you have made for them gives no meaning to their pain, and thus, they will be forced to turn inward, to self-hatred and fear as their illusion of safety has been lost.”

This, at least, is easy to counter and Jian has to stop herself from snorting. “More likely, they would just be aimed at you.”

“Perhaps. I know that yours will, at least, and I am prepared to live with that. Do you know why?” Lady Malys drains the rest of her glass and tosses it aside, letting it shatter on the floor. “Because if you want to enact change, you have to be willing to embrace the blame. Anyone with the ability to make choices, to lead and push for their vision of the future to come true will always be the villain in someone’s narrative. That’s simply the way it is. And until you are ready to embrace that, you will not be able to attain any level of power, no matter how noble your purpose.”

“You seem happy to cause as much hurt as you can along the way, though.”

Instead of laughing, Lady Malys grows quiet, moving her hand back up to stroke Jian’s face again. “My dear,” she says softly. “We are the Eladrith Ynneas. Pain and suffering is how we survive.”

“Why are you so bent on trying to convince me of this?” Even now, she is no one against the broad scale of Commorragh. Why should the archon of such a powerful kabal as the Poisoned Tongue give a single thought to what she thinks?

To Jian’s surprise, Lady Malys doesn’t have a glib answer ready. She looks away, seeming almost uncomfortable. But the moment is gone almost as quickly as it came and when she turns back, the feline smile is back on her face. “Let us just say that I once found myself in a similar position as yours, and I cannot help but sympathize. I want to help you reach your full potential, especially since it’s unlikely I’ll ever have children of my own.”

“You want a surrogate daughter?” Not only is this completely unexpected, it doesn’t even sound plausible.

Lady Malys shakes her head. “I prefer to think of it as a relationship between a mentor and an apprentice. If you will let me.”

Jian looks down, considering. The fear that’s grown in her heart is mixed with confusion. What the lady is saying makes sense, too much sense. But in her heart of hearts, it still feels wrong. It is wrong, even if she can’t talk her way out of the labyrinth of clever words and false choices presented to her. “Alright. Fine. Take me if you want, I still don’t want to ‘claim’ Illyria. Or Jaeden.”

Immediately, Lady Malys lets her go, stepping back as though Jian is hot enough to burn her. Her voice is completely flat as she speaks. “Very well, then. Make me want you.”

Jian isn’t sure if she’s going to laugh, cry, or vomit. She has to make the lady want her? Mechanically, she pulls the dress from her shoulders, moving it slowly down her body. The silken fabric brushes across her skin softly, lower, lower, exposing her to the waiting, critical eyes of Lady Malys.

But as the dress hits her waist, something changes in her mind. This is her choice. She’s not a hapless victim, not the scared, shivering child who entered the Kabal of the Ashen Rose for the first time two and a half years ago. She is a warrior, trained in the arts of sword and poison by some of the finest teachers the kabal has to offer. She is the lover of an archon, survivor of battles and of hardships, and she is doing this so that others may be spared.

This is an act of power.

Although her eyes remain open, it is not Lady Malys and the luxury suite that she sees before her, but Lynx, standing in her cabin, arms crossed as she watches Jian critically. Move slowly, draw out each moment. Allowing your target to imagine what’s coming is almost as important as giving it to them.

The dress finds its way to the floor and Jian stands naked in front of her opponent. The lady approaches and Jian steps forward to meet her.

Jian has no idea how long it lasts. Lady Malys takes the lead rapidly, pinning Jian to the floor, the bed, the couch as she wrings every bit of pleasure from her body. At first, Jian tries to counter her and turn the assault into a mutual dance, but soon her resolve falters and she can only lie there, eyes closed and begging silently for it to end.

After what must be hours, it does. Jian lies in the bed where they ended up, fighting back tears, until she feels like she can move again. With everything that has happened, I am right back where I started.

She doesn’t get as much time as she likes, though. Lady Malys sits up in the bed, examining the color of her fingernails as she tosses Jian a small key with her free hand. “Go on. Your work here is done, and I’m sure the farseer is too. Why don’t you two go find your lover and relieve some of his anxiety?”

Jian climbs out of bed, fighting to still the trembling in her limbs. Her dress is still lying on the floor where she left it, wrinkled but undamaged. She puts it on and makes her way out of the suite.

She wanders aimlessly down the hall, too tired and overwhelmed to think about Illyria or Valthiel or Jaeden yet. Eventually, she finds an unoccupied lounge and enters.

As soon as the door closes behind her, she sinks to the floor and sits, curled up on the rug with her head between her knees. Everything aches, but not with a physical pain. Lady Malys was far gentler than she is used to; she doubts she will even have many bruises when tomorrow comes. Yet not since her earliest days in Commorragh has she felt so thoroughly helpless, so completely caught in the power of another aeldari.

A single sob rips from her, but no tears come and she clamps down on the emotion before it can go further. There will be time to grieve for whatever it is that she’s lost later on. Instead, she waits, focusing on her breathing and trying to find the calm center that she looks for in combat.

And she finds it, hidden away somewhere. This was a mission, a task. A successful one, at that. She has diverted Lady Malys’ interest from corrupting her and, with a bit of luck, will be able to avoid seeing her again for a while.

Jaeden’s face floats before her, her maid’s expression changing from excitement to curiosity and back to happiness so quickly, as the mon’keigh do. If Jian had not made her choice, she would have spoiled their relationship and taken the light from Jaeden’s eyes. A night of discomfort was well worth it. And as for Ilyria, she can’t imagine finding it within herself to hurt her like that. She has made the right choice and, knowing that, she can endure until this is only a mildly unpleasant memory.

When she’s certain that she’s ready, she stands up, still tired from the long night’s effect on her weakened body. Slowly and deliberately, she washes her face, straightens her dress, and runs her fingers through her hair. The results aren’t quite enough to make her look put-together and tidy like she would prefer, but at least she feels better.

Jian turns to leave, but before she can, she catches sight of her back in the mirror. The white rose tattooed on her back has become so familiar by now that it barely registers, but the new expansions draw her eye. It’s the first time she’s had a chance to look at the work Lynx has done.

The rose remains, but now, a green snake wraps around its stem, almost life-like in its detail. Jian can see how it moves and ripples with her muscles and the way its eye seems to follow the viewer. Surrounding it is a field of clear, cold blue and silver-grey, twisting in a pattern that almost resembles the warp, until it fades out just above her buttocks and near her shoulders. At first, she thinks that it’s merely background decoration, but as she moves, she catches a fleeting glimpse of something hidden in the design. Twisting and bending for a few minutes reveals the face of Cegorrach, laughing as always, hidden in the colors.

Jian sighs. It could have been worse, it could have been far worse, but still the sight depresses her. It reminds her of when the rose was originally set, of how much despair and violation she felt, the indignity of having her form permanently altered for another’s whim. Even now, she realizes, the design has little to do with her. If that was the case, Lady Malys would have chosen to mark Jian with something far easier to see, and likely it would cause pain or at least inconvenience long after something like this tattoo will have healed.

No, she realizes, that piece of theater was aimed at Valthiel. A reminder, every time he sees her naked, that Lady Malys owns them both now. Whether in wild sexual conquests or a relaxing bath, she will be there in their most intimate moments.

Anger flares in her, a hot wrath that presses in her chest.  How could she have even thought about listening to this woman, someone who would use others like this. Use her like this.

It also raises more fears, pushed aside in her focus on her own immediate troubles. She has been in Lady Malys’ medical bay for days. What has she been doing to Valthiel in the meantime?

She quickens her pace, eager to collect Illyria and go to him. One of Lady Malys’ guards gives her directions without difficulty and she soon finds herself entering another lounge area. This one seems to be styled more like a bar than a sitting room. Seating is clustered around tables and a long counter with racks of spirits behind take up most of the room, while a stage fills the far end.

Despite her initial worries, the lounge is empty apart from Illyria. The harlequins must have already finished with her and left. Now, she sits alone on the stage, curled into a ball much as Jian was recently.

“Illyria?” Jian calls as she cautiously makes her way toward her.

“Go away,” Illyria replies without looking up. She’s still nude, her hair disheveled. Most of the injuries seem to be gone from her body, but it’s clear that she’s still upset. Jian doesn’t blame her.

“Illyria, it’s me, Jian.” She reaches her and sits beside her on the edge of the stage. “Are you ready to go?”

At that, she sits up and looks at Jian. The faint remains of tears streak her face, but the imperious expression quickly resets itself. “Ah, it’s you. By ‘go’ do you mean go to meet Valthiel and leave this gods-forsaken city once and for all? Or does Aurelia have another torment in mind for me?”

“No,” Jian says, feeling slightly annoyed. There’s no need to speak to her like she’s an idiot. “This ship is docked with Valthiel’s. We should be able to leave as soon as you and I are on board.” Illyria, she notices, still wears the collar she had around her neck when they rescued her from Lord Ordai.

“Well, then,” Illyria continues in the same commanding tone. “Take me there at once.”

“I’m not your servant.” Jian’s voice comes out sharper than she intended. “There is no need to treat me like one.”

“But you’re Valthiel’s servant, aren’t you? You still carry his mark on your back.”

“Not anymore. I am as free as you are.”

Illyria merely exhales through her nose. For a moment, the two women stare at each other, tense, wary.

Then Jian sighs. If the two of them are going to be traveling together for a while, there is no point in hostility. And Illyria has been through far worse than she has; some defensiveness is only natural. “Would you like me to remove that collar for you?” she says in a softer tone.

“Yes, I would.” She seems to have recognized the offer for the peacemaking gesture it was intended to be. “But perhaps I should do it. My father’s restraints have been keeping me from accessing the warp for years; you should stand back in case I cannot control myself once the last of them is gone.”

Nodding, Jian steps further away and watches Illyria remove the metal circle from her neck. Nothing at first seems to happen, but it’s clear that something is taking place. Illyria’s face takes on a strained expression and the air fairly crackles with strange energy that sets every nerve in Jian’s body on high alert. A breeze that wasn’t present before swirls at their hair, and then, just as suddenly as it started, disappears.

Illyria frowns. “I believe I have regained my control somewhat, but I would benefit from some additional time to solidify my hold. Would you retrieve some clothing for me while I do so?” After a pause, she adds “. . . Please?”

She’s trying, Jian tells herself. Illyria has been a prisoner for a long time; her pride was probably all she had to cling to.

“And Jian?” Illyria’s voice stops her as she turns to leave.

“What?”

“Thank you.” Illyria pauses. “For, um. For everything.”

Jian acknowledges her with a nod and hurries away to find some clothes.

In the end, this proves fairly simple as well. Jian flags down a guard, who obliges her in retrieving a long robe that should suffice to cover Illyria for the moment. The farseer accepts the garment and puts it on without comment and together, they leave the room and make their way out of Lady Malys’ ship.

Jian can only hope it’s for the last time. 

Ayslinn meets them as they board the ship. Armed and armored, she looks thinner, paler, and more worn than Jian last saw her, but her strong posture and the set of her mouth remain unchanged. Before Jian can say anything, Ayslinn wraps her in a hug.

“I’m sorry,” is all Jian can say as she hugs back.

Ayslinn nods into her shoulder. There is nothing else to say. They stand together for a moment, Jian’s happiness at seeing a friend again warring with her desire to share in the sorrow, until she is conscious of Illyria’s impatient gaze on her. After another few moments, she breaks the embrace. “I’m sorry to leave you so quickly, but Valthiel must be horribly worried about us. Would you please do me a favor while I go to him?”

“Of course,” Ayslinn replies. “What do you need?”

“My servant Jaeden was brought aboard by the Poisoned Tongue sometime last night. She should be in a holding cell somewhere. Would you find her, make sure she’s alright, and explain what has taken place since I left before taking her up to my new quarters?” Wherever they are.

“Of course. I’m glad to see you’re alright, Jian. Please, give Valthiel my regards.” Ayslinn departs with a last, sad smile.

Illyria is already moving off and Jian hurries to catch up. Although the ship itself is strange to her – she assumes that it must be his old corsair ship, pulled from storage to once again be used – she knows enough about their general layout and about Valthiel to find his quarters fairly quickly.

But she hesitates when she reaches them. She’s not sure if it’s the shame and fear of what happened to her with Lady Malys, or if it’s the fact that there was a moment when the drukhari woman’s words had almost convinced her. Either way, she feels as though something has changed in her.

Before she can fully work through her feelings, Illyria steps forward to open the door, forcing her out of her mind and into the present. Jian enters alongside her and looks around.

The room’s furnishings remind her oddly of Lady Malys’s residence, although smaller and less grand. Thick carpets cover the floor and artwork and trophies that Jian assumes come from his travels decorate the walls. The residence is a single large space with a massive, curtained bed at one end, moving to eating and living areas in the middle and ending at a desk facing a bank of windows that look out on the webway. It seems cozy. A place she could get used to visiting.

Valthiel sits cross-legged on the desk, drinking from a bottle of golden liquor as he stares out at the view. At the sound of their entrance, he turns to look for the source. All of Jian’s worries are forgotten as he vaults over the desk and races toward her and she runs to meet him, heart suddenly pounding.  

They collide and he picks her up, spinning her around before bringing her in close to rest against his chest as he buries his face in her hair. “I was so worried about you,” he says.

“I – I’m alright, I think. ” It doesn’t sound convincing, even to her. “Or at least I will be.” That, she thinks, is closer to the truth. Already, being away from Lady Malys, seeing Ayslinn, and now being safe in his arms, it helps the memories of the night before fall away.

Valthiel squeezes her tight and nods. He understands.

“Are you alright?” she asks, looking up at him. He looks exhausted, with dark circles under his eyes and hair more gray than silver. When was the last time he slept? Or fed?

“I am now. I know Aurelia’s medical capacity is equal to our own, but Derfahn said you were barely alive when he found you and until I could see your face again, I couldn’t be sure. . . ”

“I should probably thank him,” Jian says. “But I don’t want it to go to his head.”

He chuckles as he brushes the hair back from her face and kisses her forehead. Then, he looks up at the third person in the room. “Illyria, I – “

She smiles a bittersweet smile as she approaches him. “I should thank you. Words alone cannot describe the enormity of what you have done for me; I will remember the risks and sacrifices for the rest of my life, I am certain. And while I’m not sure yet of how I can offer my support and loyalty as part of your crew, I am confident that ours will again be a productive partnership.”

Sighing, Valthiel offers her a hand, still keeping the other one around Jian. “I know it may not be the freedom you or I intended, but I hope that it will be an improvement, at least.”

“It will have to do, for now,” Illyria says, but she is still smiling as she says it.

Jealousy flares up in Jian, the longing to have Illyria gone forever, back on her craftworld where she’ll never have to bother her again. But she tries to clamp down on it, remind herself that they’ll be traveling together for a long time and she should try to build bridges, not burn them. “Would you like to have something to eat with us?”

Illyria shakes her head. “No thank you. I cannot remember the last time I had a bath or time alone, and I would very much like to have both as soon as possible. I’m sure I will see you soon, though.”

“Of course,” Valthiel says. “I’ll have someone show you to the rooms I had set aside for you.”

As soon as Illyria leaves, he wraps himself around Jian again. His hands shake and she can only wonder if it is merely the worry and exhaustion or if he, too, had to endure a night with their new mistress. “I’m sorry, Jian. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. And while I cannot say I’m unhappy to be leaving the dark city behind, I wish that it had been under different circumstances. For us both.”

“Indeed.” There’s nothing else to be said. Fate has taken them where it will, and despite the long, painful night with Lady Malys, she feels that she has a better understanding of the woman’s mind than she did before. It quelled the edge of her nervousness, at least.

For a long time they simply stand there, together in an embrace, the only sound the soft rustle of their breathing. The peace and relative safety calms her, and her mind begins to turn to the future. Despite all the worries and unknowns, she can feel the life of a corsair calling to her. Adventure, travel, the thrill of exploring new worlds and ones long lost, fighting all manner of strange creatures and filling their ships with treasure and resources and the lost artifacts of their people. Perhaps fate is not always harsh.

She looks up. Valthiel’s eyes have regained some of their sparkle and he smiles fondly at her. “Shall we face the galaxy head on, my treasure?”

“There’s nothing I would like more.”

* * * *

The two aeldari stand together for hours, watching as their ship hurtles through the twisted tunnels of the empyrean. Despite the hardships and traumas that still burden them, the cracks in their souls that let buried pain drip through, it seems as though a weight lifts from both of their shoulders as Commorragh grows further away.

By the time the endless shifting colors of the webway are replaced with the glittering stars of an unknown system, they are smiling as they walk hand and hand to take leadership of their new life.

 

Notes:

Song: "Nothing to Lose but You" by Three Days Grace

IT'S DONE.

First off, thank you so much to Ashilaa_A03 and TheLadyNovelist, who have been beta reading this story and have been wonderful with providing hints and feedback. The story *might* still have gotten finished without you, but it wouldn't have looked the same for sure.

Also, I need to thank the readers, the support of all of you has made it much more fun posting.

Finally, I need to thank my fiancé. This story originated in a roleplay that him and I were doing together, and many of the major characters were mainly his creation. This fic was in a way a love letter to him (although our relationship looks nothing like this, lol), and thus it's very fitting that I'm here, posting the final chapter in the saga (for now, at least) the night before our wedding. It feels like closing two major chapters in my life (and opening another one) at the same time.

Speaking of new chapters, I've received several questions about if there will be a sequel. My response for now is "maybe". I certainly have ideas about where I would go from here, and how to answer most of the questions left ambiguous (how will working for Aurelia work out for them? how will Jian deal with the increasing claim of She Who Thirsts on her soul? what will become of Reena and Lynx? etc.) However, I don't want to commit to doing so until I've done a lot more prep work, make certain that said sequel actually adds to the world instead of just being self-indulgence and that I have a strong plot that I'm happy with. I've also thought about doing a spinoff involving Bealfor and Ayslinn's relationship development, but it's the same situation there - I don't want to promise that it's going to happen until I'm sure the result is worth it.

What I can promise is more fanfic of some kind. Almost certainly even more 40k fanfic at some point. Now that I've gotten back into writing, I don't think I can stop, lol

Anyway, to wrap this up, please, tell me what you thought? Do you have any thoughts, both on the chapter or overall? Do you think Aurelia is telling the truth about why she's interested in Jian, and if not, what *is* her motive?

Thanks,

CleverMird!

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