Four days into their collective held breath, Isa was about ready to go crazy. Over half of their time of pretending things were okay was over, and nothing had improved. Sure, nothing was going especially badly. Each day they got up, ate and talked together, acted like nothing was wrong and avoided talking about the party, and then later they’d open and work would keep them distracted. The next day, they’d do it all over again.
Isa was sick and tired of it. It wasn’t that she resented playing nice and keeping things from reaching a panic. No, when Razia asked for her help, it was obviously the right choice to make. After watching Mr. Q get beaten to death, things needed to be as normal as possible. If one of them freaked out, they’d all freak out, and then people would start leaving and then it would all fall apart. It’d prove Isa right, but she was done caring about that.
Sooner or later, she knew they would need to make plans. Real plans, on either how to keep going forward or how to best run and stay out of trouble. If it came to that, Isa had enough savings to live off of for a while, if she didn’t finish her transition. Maybe she’d take Lucy with her, get out of Orchrisus and see the world a little. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts and returning to the matter at hand: whipping this man’s ass raw.
“Please mistress, not again,” the client whimpered, looking over his shoulder at her from the bed. She resisted rolling her eyes. Lee was a bad actor, but he had consistent tastes and was easy enough to satisfy that she could do this with her heart and mind miles away.
“Let me think about it,” Isa said, tapping the handle of the whip against her lips. “No, again.” With a flick of her wrist the leather strap cracked against his bare flesh, earning her another cry of joyous anguish. And then another, and another. If there was anything good about Isa’s job, it was being able to let out some aggression and frustration and get paid for it.
The client cried out again and again, back arching before he fell against the bed panting. Isa took pity on them and threw the whip onto her vanity. She walked over to him, heels clicking against the floor. She was dressed in tight leather, accentuating her body while still keeping her covered. It was something clients like Lee here adored to see her wear when she beat them. She slapped her hand down on his ass, squeezing the flesh. “Still with me, Lee?”
Lee let out a moan and nodded. He rolled over and Isa saw he left a mess for her to clean up. Some people were truly touched by the Pierced Heart, and enjoyed pleasure and pain in equal measure. Lee was one of them, and while she wasn’t thrilled about having to clean the sheets this early into the night, it meant getting him off without having to touch him much.
“Good boy,” she said, sitting on the bed next to him. She took a deep breath and let her mind wander again. She rapped gloved fingers against her bare knees absentmindedly.
Lee sat up, grimacing as his poor abused backside touched her silk sheets. It could’ve been way, way worse. He leaned up against her, and Isa tolerated it for the moment, even going so far as to wrap her arm around him and allow his head on her shoulder. Maybe she was going soft. “As always, exquisite work Isa.”
“Mm.”
They sat like that for a couple of minutes before Lee pulled away and started collecting his clothes. “Same time next week?” he asked as he pulled on his pants.
“If you like,” said Isa, standing up. With the heels, she was a few inches taller than Lee. They tended to like that. “Any chance you’ll want something different by then?”
Lee flashed her a grin. “Do I ever? If I didn’t need some time to heal up I’d be here two or three times a week for your sweet touch.”
“My purse mourns the weakness of your flesh.”
He laughed and finished getting dressed. “This is for you,” he said, fishing out another couple of castura and setting them on the bedside table. “For an especially good session this time.”
Isa offered up her hand, and he kissed the leather before carefully walking out of the room, whistling a happy tune. Now would be the time to just replace the sheets, but that was more effort than she felt like putting in. Now that the session was over, her thoughts had nowhere to go but the tense, avoidant silence of the past few days.
She went over to the door and stood there, leaning against the frame. Lynne and Jenna were with clients in their rooms, while Cullen and Kelli entertained some guests on the couches. Before too long they’d be busy too. Lucy was probably hanging with Jonas. The gladiator was as thick headed as he was beautiful and didn’t notice how hard she was crushing on him. Maybe that would get his attention away from Isa. The one person she did not see there was Razia.
Oh, she made her appearances a few times a day and checked in to see how people were doing, but her attention was firmly stuck to a corpse. It was a good thing the Garden more or less ran itself at this point. The girls didn’t need to be told how to be whores, and the gladiators did a fair job of making sure uppity clients knew their place…when they weren’t cashing in their pay for a round after they officially closed. So long as there wasn’t another invasion, they’d be fine, but the islander’s absence bothered Isa.
“Hey Isa!” Samantha saw her and waved wildly for her attention. “We were about to deal a new hand, you want in?”
Did she? Isa pursed her lips. Her eyes slid over to the oversized chair Quentin sat in when things were normal. “Not right now,” Isa called back. “I think I’m done for the night.” She closed the door and went for the garden, heels clicking the entire way.
The courtyard between the houses wasn’t as busy in the evenings now. The other residents kept their kids inside after dark, as if the scary whores and their horny customers would get and corrupt them. Still, there were always a few guards and it was worth not changing just to see the expressions on their faces as Isa went from one house to the other. She blew a kiss at a guard who straightened up and gaped at her.
Quentin’s house was the same dark tomb it always was this time of night. Isa took a lamp with her, turning it up. She headed right for his bedroom, hesitating a second before going ahead and knocking. Razia’s muffled voice told her to go inside, so she did.
Razia looked terrible. Four days had passed, and if she’d gotten as many hours of sleep in that time, Isa would be surprised. Still, she offered up a tired smile. “Looking good, Isa. Busy night?”
“So busy I decided to call it quits after one client,” said Isa. “You look like shit.”
Razia laughed. “You’re always such a charmer. What did we do to deserve you?”
“When’s the last time you’ve eaten? Slept? Taken a bath? I can smell you from over here and it’s nearly as bad as you look.” Isa smiled pleasantly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed next to her. Quentin lay in the middle of it, unmoving. Somehow, he didn’t stink and his chest did rise in tiny little bumps every so often.
“I’m okay,” said Razia. “It’s fine, I’m -- “
“Just pining away after a guy who’s mostly dead,” Isa spat. “Hiding away in here while the rest of us face reality.” It was always worth it to go after Razia. While the islander could get under just about anyone’s skin, Isa had the incredible ability to get under hers. No one could drain Razia’s patience and good cheer away like Isa with a well pointed comment.
“Is there a point to any of this?”
Isa nodded. “Of course there is. Go get something to eat and drink. Take a bath. Take a nap, anything other than just sitting in here and going crazier by the minute. Do you have any idea how weird it’s been that you’ve been cleaning up a corpse and reading to it?”
Razia looked away from her. “I know how it looks. I can’t explain it, I just…I don’t think he’s gone. Not yet. Not like that.”
Here, Isa felt for her. No one thought Quentin could lose, not even against someone as big and dangerous as Christophe. Hell, Isa saw the man skewered with a sword and he kept on going. That was crazy too, but not as crazy as keeping on like this. But then, if Isa was in love with someone and watched them die, she imagined she’d go a little crazy too.
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“Maybe, maybe not,” Isa allowed. “Could be you’re just not accepting it. But look at it this way. Either he wakes up, or he doesn’t. If he does, I doubt it will be in the next hour, so why not go take care of yourself and I’ll watch him?” Isa made a face. “If you wish, I’ll even read to him for a few minutes. At least until it gets too weird for me to go on.”
She mulled it over, then nodded with a sigh. “Okay. I’ll get something to eat at least. Thank you, Isa.”
Isa waved her off. “The sooner you have your strength back the sooner we can have an uncomfortable conversation about what we do when our week runs out.”
Razia made a face but nodded again. She grabbed her own lantern off the floor and left Isa in the room with Quentin.
And silence. After only just a minute or so of silence, Isa understood why Razia read to Quentin. Just sitting there with a body felt disturbingly like sitting there with a body. Sighing, she turned to Quentin. Maybe cleaning him up wasn’t the worst idea. The bruises and swelling were there and his face still looked like raw meat, but at least it wasn’t bloody. Isa could acknowledge that he looked a lot better there than at the party.
“Everyone misses you,” she said, just so she wasn’t completely alone in there. “Even me. How fucked is that, Butcher? You show up, kill my cousin, throw my life into complete chaos, and then you go and die on us all, and I find myself missing you a bit. No one else is nearly as fun to poke at. I can’t bring myself to hurt Samantha, Lucy just bites back now, and people tell me to calm down if I mess with that bitch Kelli. With you at least, you’d sigh and get that look on your face like, ‘oh, how long is this going to last?’”
Quentin didn’t reply. Isa didn’t expect him to, but it still felt rude of him to just lay there.
“I told you so,” she said, sniffing. “That you’d get yourself or us in trouble. And that’s where we are now. I’m pretty sure your woman has completely cracked and will get the rest of us killed if she’s not careful. Bare minimum, she might actually trade herself over when time runs out. Would you be able to live with yourself if you let that happen?”
The silence she got in return was sullen.
“I didn’t think so. So really, as much as I would absolutely hate to see Razia proven right and you actually not being dead, you should probably consider getting up now. If you do it before she comes back, you’ll be proving me wrong. How can you resist?”
Somehow, Quentin resisted.
Isa found herself angry. “If you were going to die, couldn’t you at least have the good fucking grace to die all the way? Do you have any idea how frustrating it is, this halfway shit?” Isa put her hand on his chest and felt the heartbeat beneath. Thump. Pause. Thump. Slow but there. “Seriously. If you’re not coming back, just fucking die already. The longer you keep on like this, the worse it gets.”
She had no idea why this bothered her so much. Isa could go right now, pack all of her things, and be out of the city by sunrise and there was no one who could stop her. Nobody but her. Much like before, she couldn’t bring herself to leave, no matter how much smarter or safer it would’ve been. It would be so easy to tell herself it was because of Lucy and Samantha, but…She didn’t want to go. And she blamed Quentin.
“When you wake up I’m going to give you no end of shit,” Isa promised. “You’ll wish you had died.”
This was stupid. All of it. Talking to him, having hope, even knowing that she was going to stay and see this through, however it played out. Stupid. She looked down onto his battered face. It was the only time she could remember seeing him without either his customary scowl or a dumb little smile on his face. She leaned in closer. If she pretended she could almost feel his breathing again, like he was sleeping.
It hurt, then. The past few days, the last month, all of it made her ache. This wretched waiting, the lost possibilities, the pretending to be okay. Her throat tightened. No, this was stupid, she wasn’t going to get worked up over nothing. This was Orchrisus. Shit happened and the good died young while the worst people imaginable got to keep hurting others. For a brief time, almost one whole season, they got to pretend otherwise.
“I blame you,” she said, sighing. “For everything. If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be trapped on a sinking ship, too stubborn to get off while I can. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t care about…” she trailed off, looking at him. It was stupid. Not something she thought about if she could help it. She was already considered a disgrace, and this would anger and disgust her family. In the end, she went for it.
Isa leaned down and planted her lips on Quentin’s forehead. It was the only part of him that wasn’t covered in bruises. He was still warm to the touch. She pulled away, sighing. Laughter made her freeze in place.
Razia was back, a bowl of food in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Isa swallowed hard. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough. I’d say I’m surprised, but…not really.” Razia reclaimed her spot on the bed, setting the bottle on the floor. She scooped a spoonful of rice into her mouth, smiling.
“It was nothing,” Isa said, keeping her eyes on the ground. “He looked so pitiful there.”
“So you just had to kiss him. Of course.”
Isa’s face burned like the midday sun. Fuck. “You were supposed to be gone longer, take a bath or something.”
“Why?” Razia asked, eating another spoonful. “If I was gone any longer were you going to try and fuck him? Even I’m not trying to wake him up that way.”
Isa stood up, hands clutching at nothing but wishing they were around Razia’s throat. “Why the hell do you sound so damned calm about it? I’d think you’d be angry at me.”
“For what?” Razia scoffed. “You and half the Garden, Isa. Only reason Samantha hasn’t jumped him is I made it clear not to. Lucy probably would, Tenchi would, why not you too?”
“It’s not like that,” Isa protested, sucking on her teeth. She wanted to just leave, but that would mean Razia won. “I don’t want to jump him, I --”
“What do you want, then?”
Isa froze in her tracks. That just gave Razia more fuel for the fire. She burst out laughing, cradling her bowl to her chest at Isa lost expression. “Oh, I see. That’s why you think I’d be upset. You don’t want to fuck him, you want something more, don’t you?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Isa snapped. “We both know that’s not something girls like us get to have. There’s no more when dealing with whores. Do you think we didn’t notice that you stopped servicing clients once you two got together for real? Girls like us don’t get happy relationships, and guys don’t want their girls sucking other men’s cocks.”
“You’re wrong,” said Razia, sobering up. “On all accounts. I’m very happy with him. I’ll be happier when he’s up, but you know. And I’m probably going to go back to seeing clients before too long. I’m actually surprised, but before the party, he and I had a talk. I think he understands the difference now.”
Isa looked up. “The difference?”
Razia smiled. “The difference between fucking someone for money and having sex with someone who you personally want. That difference. Unless…When’s the last time you’ve had sex without money changing hands?”
“Too long,” Isa muttered. In truth, it had been a couple years. Time got away from her, and between avoiding those who didn’t want her and those who wanted her too much, it just hadn’t seemed important.
“So,” Razia said, wicked grin reappearing, “I thought you hated Quentin. Was that to hide how you really felt?”
“Fuck you,” said Isa. She made to leave, but Razia caught her by the arm.
“Not going to tell you what to do,” she said, “but if you want something, pursue it. You’ve got nothing to lose, right?”
Isa considered her. “And what about you?”
Razia released her and went back to her food. “What about me? I’m not greedy. My father has four wives. I personally have no intention of ever tying myself down to one person for the rest of my life, not even Quentin. Not like I would ask any of my partners to tie themselves to me either. So I’ll repeat, Isa. If you want something, go after it.”
She took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. “This is stupid. We’re arguing about the affections of a dead man. I came over here to make sure you’re not going to kill yourself through neglect and I can consider that goal succeeded. I’m going out.”
“Dressed like that?” Razia asked, nodding at the copious amounts of tight leather. “Bold and beautiful. I like it. Hey,” she said as Isa turned around in disgust, “he’s going to wake up.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Isa arched an eyebrow.
Razia turned to his still form. “Then we’re going to pray louder and harder than anyone else in this city until the gods give him back. Either way, I’m not going to give up on him.”
Isa left her behind. She didn’t go out after all, but returned to her room and locked the door behind her. The muffled sounds of enthusiastic sex were on the edges of her hearing, but that was a familiar, welcome sound she hardly registered. She laid down in bed, avoiding the wet spot and staring up at the ceiling.
This couldn’t go on for much longer. Something had to give. Something had to change, before it all came crashing down. For a split second she understood Razia. Maybe it was better to just let it all crash rather than walk away. Isa closed her eyes. For the first time in her life, she found herself praying to the Darkstar. No words or coherent thoughts, just a silent, heartfelt plea.