Voe and Zitra are gone now, and Thendra and I have barely moved. I… I think the other women of the group are here now. I catch little whispers of their language, hushed conversations.

I eventually try to carefully pull my arms up under my chest, hoping and praying Thendra won’t care. Won’t take this as an signal to–

She sucks in a deep angry breath.

“Lyra.” She growls. The room goes quiet and very very still.

I don’t respond, just squeeze my eyes shut and huddle in on myself against her chest.

“Sit up.” She demands.

I obey, hug myself and look down at my hands. I’m still sitting in her lap, straddling her legs.

“I’m sorry, I–”

“Look at me.” She snarls.

I flinch, take a deep breath, and meet her gaze.

Jade eyes gore into my soul. She’s so angry. More angry than I’ve ever seen her. Is this where I die?

The words from before freeze my blood. The threat of how she was going to drag Undreka back here and–

“Tell me.”

“What?”

“Tell me why I am angry.”

Oh.

“It’s… because I… I tried to sing.” I begin to look away. “Tried to–”

“No.” A hand snakes around my head, grips my hair and pulls. I whimper at the sudden pain and the cold jolt of fear that muddles my thoughts. “Why. Am. I. So. Angry!?!”

“I…” My voice trembles, “I… I almost killed myself? Almost robbed you of–”

Another hand snaps up, grips my jaw. I grapple at her wrists, try to relieve some of the weight as she lifts me up and shoves her face into mine.

“No, Lyra.” She snaps. “I’m not angry at your Fae songs, I’m not angry because you court death and pain and misery in your very soul. I expect those things, I bargained for those things!”

Then she is shouting. Roaring into my face with barely any control. “I am angry, because you did not ASK ME FIRST!”

Everything goes very still as she shudders with… Oh. That’s what fear looks like on her.

“Was I not clear!?! I’ll let you carve your soul into a song. Even encourage it. But it will be mine.” She shouts. “If you are to sing, it will be at my command!”

“I’m sorry.” I blubber, “You– You told me not to speak. And I–”

“Lyra.” She snaps, but then releases my face. I can still see the urge to grab and shake me silly roll through her fingers. “I will always prefer you to speak out of turn and beg for release, than to crack and suffer that curse's sting.”

“Oh.” I sag.

An angry sigh from her rocks us both. “This was why I wanted your magic bound. I need to protect you from yourself.” She takes a deep steadying breath, looks around the room. “You are so young and very stupid.”

That gets a few purring chuckles, I notice some nods and annoyed looks.

I look down, and atop the fear and shame I feel myself blush with embarrassment. So I try to focus on stilling my racing heart.

“But… Your stupidity was well timed. The Matron’s opinions of us have shifted. We’ve gone from a wounded animal to a threatening rival.”

I glance up, see a predatory grin cross her face. “We’ve also won access to her library. So long as she doesn’t choose war over her ambitious venture.”

Bow woman speaks, lilting and beautiful words I can’t–

“We’ll need to speak in this tongue around Lyra, At least until I can see if her mind can fit another language into it.”

The bow woman sighs, but relents. “The Matron won’t choose war. Although she will spread word of a little Fae woman in this city she would love to possess… alive or otherwise.”

Thendra nods.

“She… her songs and curses may be strong. But they are bound to you. She is as my bow is, Useless without the correct arrows, and her mistress.”

“What role will she play in our part during the Matron’s venture?” Another asks.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“That.” Thendra nods to her, “Is something we’ll still need to discover. At worst… she is baggage on my shoulder. Good for foes we may wish to threaten instead of kill.”

“How much time do you take out of our preparations for her?”

Thendra shrugs. “However much I can. There is a chance Lyra here might make our part trivial. We’ll adjust as we learn more about her current limits.”

“Her Amwella is still very small, barely a flicker.” Bow woman adds, “Can it be grown?”

“I’ve heard of Fae with Amwella stores double my size,” Thendra muses, “If we can learn how they did this… then it will become a priority.”

There is… a weird low hum that runs through the group. I can’t help but curl in on myself as I sense more eyes drink me in. I feel so exposed in these clothes, with my legs spread as I’m stuck straddling a woman so much bigger than myself.

“Understand. Lyra is…” Thendra murmurs, then forces my gaze to meet hers with a couple fingers around my chin. “You are not one of the thirteen. You belong to us. Your body and songs are payment for what you stole. And your Amwella, if we can grow it.”

I shudder, but don’t look away, don’t shy from my bargain.

“And I still need you broken, little Fae.” She growls, “I was foolish to think you’d be molded so early on. So easily.”

She releases my chin, and turns to the rest. “I will break her will, teach her to obey my words as if they are her own thoughts. No more outbursts, no more mistakes.”

A patient silence stretches for a few moments.

Thendra breaks it by shifting us both to stand. She grips one wrist until my wobbly legs settle into–

A growl rumbles through the large room. I freeze, and then look down in realization that it came from me. From the empty void that is my aching stomach.

I can’t help but blush as Thendra lets out a purring laugh, then mumbles something in her own tongue. Genuine relief seems to settle over her, and a wash of calm follows out to the entire room. The other women begin to rise and disperse.

“Come, little Fae. Let us tend to your hungers.” She murmurs.

She leads me off into a side room that… well. I’m instantly struck by how big and filled with food it is! A huge table stretches through its middle, with shelves and cupboards lining the walls, and all of it is–

Thendra releases my wrist, nudges me to take a few hesitant steps toward what is an absolutely decadent amount of food. But then I look closer and catch a whiff of things… and barely stifle a choking gag.

Most of it is… cooked flesh. At least all the biggest platters and sets.

I haven’t seen or smelled its disgusting aura since… well since before my Fae mother found me in the forest. Human’s taught me meat was good, but then… then I was taught how to listen to the songs of the animals they slaughter. And wept on and off for a few weeks over the flesh I had consumed.

I steady myself by grabbing the corner of the thick wooden table, covering my mouth and nose.

“Lyra?”

I turn and try to leave the room, Thendra catches my arm as I stumble at the doorway.

“What is it?”

“Can’t–” I gag, dry vomit shaking my chest. “Can’t… No. Won’t.”

“Won’t what?” She pulls me to face her, which faces me toward the room and the smells.

“I won’t eat flesh.” I try to hiss. But it comes out as a croak.

She doesn’t jerk back at my sudden anger, just stares down at me. Considers my words.

I try to jerk my wrist free, fail, so settle for turning away from the table of slaughter.

This isn’t a line, this is a wall. She can shout and rage and even hurt me. I’ll die before I cross this–

“The enchantments of this room offer other things. What can you consume? Little Fae?” She whispers, careful. Adjusts her grip on me.

All soft and steady, Like how my mother first spoke to me when she found me naked and feral amidst the underbrush. Except… Well her Purr makes it even better. Settles the panic and stirs… other things.

“Berries and fruits, nuts, and vegetables.” I stammer. “Nothing that had blood or could…”

“Bread?”

I nod.

“Eggs? Cooked or otherwise?”

I shake my head.

She sighs, and for a moment a spike of guilt burrows into my heart. Embarrassment at my sudden anger and–

“Wait here.” And then she releases me, which almost causes me to tumble. But I hold my balance.

Barely a minute, and she returns. A large wooden tray piled with color and glorious food. I spot a loaf of bread and a mug of some steaming liquid.

Then she takes my wrist again and leads me back up to her room. Once there she settles me at a… well it’s not really a small table to me. But it would only seat three or four of her. Getting atop the stool to sit is more of a climb, but once there I prop myself on my knees as the tray is slid before me.

A pause, then I can’t help but bury all my anxiety, terror, and everything else away as I begin to devour the meal. It’s… somehow everything is perfect. The fruits and vegetables taste and feel freshly picked, and the bread's warmth makes me wonder if it just came from the baking flame. And the liquid in the large mug is… amazing. A strange sweet and spiced cider that warms my belly and settles my mind.

As the haze of post-ravenous hunger drifts away, I can’t help but look up to see Thendra just… staring. Jade eyes seem to be trying to… work something out. Drinking me in and sampling the flavor… isn’t sure what to make of me.

I shudder, shift my legs so that my knees press against my chest, then wrap my fingers about the still warm mug. I stare down into the swirling reddish liquid.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper.

A few moments pass, I risk a glance up to try and understand her.

A single eyebrow is raised. A question. For what?

I huff out a sigh, looking back to my drink.

“Are you finished?” She purrs.

I look back to her, she motions toward the still half-full mug.

I take one last gulp, and nod.

“Then undress.”

That jerks me from the calm. “Wha….”

She just… doesn’t move. Her eyes seem to be filling with a slow intensity that–

I nearly fall off my chair to obey. A reflex at the memory of her anger, at her words. I only notice a hand hovering under my elbow after the shawl is already up and off and the underthing is half-way down my legs. I feel my blush as her eyes trail up and down my naked form. Brumbleflesh at the intensity of her attention.

“Come.” She stands and walks toward the doorway leading into the bathroom.

I stumble as I finish sliding off the last semblance of covering and follow. Clutching the sparse clothing to my chest.

Inside the bathroom she is kneeling beside the large floor bath and… well… it’s beginning to fill with water from some kind metal spout that glows with little blue symbols.

“Warm or cold?” She turns to me.

“Um… what?”

“Would you prefer the water warm or cold?”

“Oh… I–” I’d normally just… bathe in the cold river. Or sing a big tree into dumping all its leaf water down onto me at once. I totally could have dug a hole or hollowed out a trunk and filled it with water. But… that would have stirred old memories. Sweet and painful and… Well, I hadn’t had an actual bath since–

“Warm please.” I nearly squeak.

She nods and brushes fingers over the glowing symbols. Steam begins to rise from the water as it fills the very large bath. Then she turns to me, tilts a head toward the water. I lay my clothes beside the rim and slide in. And… I can't help but melt a little as I lower myself into the pool of warmth. I squeeze my eyes shut and just… let myself drift for a second. Let the heat seep into my muscles and bones. Thankfully no thoughts pierce my little paradise. Even with my Fae mother, a warm bath was a rare thing. Taking either slow coaxing of song to warm the waters, or the boiling of it in a basin that then needed to be carefully handled and poured in.

I’m startled from my thoughts as Thendra presents me with soap and some kind of scrubber thing. I accept them and begin to wash myself.

Otherwise she just… sits on the floor beside the bath. Carefully considering me. Jade eyes glowing as she watches me with such… something.

I suck in a deep breath as I move to dunk myself beneath the warm waters to begin the task of washing my hair. I hate it getting tangled, but don’t mind all the little treasures it tends to gather. My dark Fae hair is perfect, I know this, because I grew it myself after forcing my body to shed all my old gross human hair. It always shines, never tears from wear or age, and never grows unless I sing at it.

It doesn’t even need the soap. Just… the water feels amazing and will help me work out any knots or kinks.

I expect Thendra to reach for me after a few minutes, worried I am drowning myself. But she doesn’t. And I’m content to sit at the bottom of this deep tub while I run fingers through my mane of silken hair.

But… eventually the formless nothings of my mind begin to shape into old memories and nightmares. So I push myself to break the surface.

She waits, legs crossed and book in her hands. Eyes only flit up to me as I blow bubbles into the water. Caught between wanting to stay and–

“Ly–” She cuts herself off, but I can’t miss the shadow of anger.