In the Air Chapter 10
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Tarlyn's death clung to Halsin. Mistress had taken him home and let him change out of the bloody clothes and wash himself. She hadn't offered much in the way of conversation, busy with her own thoughts, and Halsin hadn't quite dared to bother her. He was relieved when she didn't ask anything of him at the end of the day beyond holding her. For him, reverie stayed out of his reach for much of the night. He kept seeing Tarlyn, barely alive and still so angry, and he kept reliving the moment between him and the woman - Tarlyn's mother, maybe?
Killing Tarlyn had not felt like Halsin thought it might. There was no satisfaction for him, no revenge. He was relieved Tarlyn was dead, without question, but he had exchanged the constant dread for a fitful anxiety. It would grow less with time, he hoped. For now, it was running in circles in his mind, not allowing him any rest.
Sleep had come for him at some point in the small hours of the night, but not enough to calm his thoughts or prepare him for the day. Mistress had him keep her company for breakfast and Halsin had to focus so as not to miss any of her conversation and keep up his part in it. He made himself eat, trying his best to hide his agitation.
Mistress acted as if nothing had happened. She ate well, had her usual two cups of the delicate rose tea she liked in the morning and questioned Halsin on his travels, a subject that seemed to fascinate her. Eventually, she left him alone, returning only for the evening meal. Halsin had spent the day trying to distract himself with books and catching up on rest, both with very little success.
"You look tired." Mistress made the observation after she had eaten and Halsin had picked at the meal, moving pieces of grilled lizard around on his plate. "Did it unsettle you this much to see Tarlyn sacrificed? I thought it would please you."
"It was a hard death." Halsin didn't know what to say, not just because he feared angering her. He didn't know what to think, or feel, about it. "I am sorry, Mistress. I—have never seen anyone die like this."
"It was an honour for him, and he went to it willingly, once he understood the situation." Daintily dripping some honey into her tea off a spoon, Mistress watched her cup and gave Halsin time to pull himself together. "It was better than many things that could have happened to him. After what he had done to you - he told me about it, eventually - I thought it important for you to be there when he dies. And that you have a part in it."
Halsin wondered what Tarlyn had told her. Mistress had never asked him, and he had been thankful for that. But whatever it had been, it had clearly not done anything to soften her towards Tarlyn. And somehow Halsin did not think Tarlyn had lied. Backed into a corner, he would have relished telling her all about the ways in which he had disobeyed her. Halsin could not help but unwillingly respect him for that, and for the way he had gone to his death.
"I am glad that he is dead." That was the truth and the one thing he was sure about. While Tarlyn was still alive, Halsin would have happily taken up a knife and stabbed him to death, and he would have made it slow. At least that was what he would have said when asked, and had imagined more times than he could count. It seemed he didn't have the stomach for it after all. Halsin was glad that Mistress hadn't made him find out. He had almost failed her as it was.
"He used to be different." Mistress sounded wistful, studying the tea swirling in her cup. "Perhaps I was too lenient with him for too long."
Halsin didn't dare comment on that.
His life had changed so much to the better over the last months. No more chains, most of the time, he had the use of the library, Mistress had taken to seeking out conversation with him and no longer treated him as a pet. He didn't want to think too much about what would happen if she decided one day she had been too lenient and too generous with him.
"Was Tarlyn's family at the ritual?" He had to know.
"Yes, of course they were." Mistress seemed a little taken aback he would even ask about this. "He chose it for them. It would have been cruel of them not to witness it."
She sipped her tea, watching Halsin with a tiny smile curling her lips. He simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. There was no way for him to ask, not with Mistress obviously unwilling to even hint at it, but he was sure he had made enemies that day. As much as someone as insignificant as him could even do that. But having a slave cut Tarlyn's throat right in front of his family had sent a message, one he hadn't understood at the time, too stunned to think about his role in all of it.
He couldn't tell whether she truly had thought she would be doing him a favour by taking him to see Tarlyn die and being the one to kill him. If she had, and why would she bother to lie about it, he had also been a pawn in the game she played with the other houses.
There was nothing he could do about it. He had to trust that she would protect him, as part of her house. Surely she would not allow any harm to come to him.
Not as long as he pleased her.
That worry remained on his mind as first days and then weeks passed, growing and expanding until it had not only buried his anxiety over his role in Tarlyn's death but took up much of his waking thought. Mistress spent time with him, more than she had before Tarlyn's death, but it dawned on him that she was losing interest in him in bed. She did still want him but not as often. One morning he stepped out of the shower and was struck by the realisation that he didn't have any bruises, and hadn't had for a while now.
Halsin was well aware that Mistress had not picked him out of the slave cages for his personality. And even though she seemed interested in talking to him now, he very much doubted it would last. It would definitely not outlast Mistress getting another consort, as she was sure to do. Someone who wasn't her equal but much more so than Halsin ever could be.
He couldn't really compete with a drow consort in matters of sex either - everything she wanted to do to her consort, she could. The only difference was that a consort would offer her these things as a matter of course, in the unquestioned knowledge that it was his role in life to serve.
Halsin, she had had to train. And she had enjoyed it. Maybe it had been a mistake to go along with her wishes too willingly. He had learned to hide it well if whatever she commanded scared or disgusted him, or if he simply did not want it. Too well, it seemed.
There was no pretending that he didn't enjoy many of the things they did. And he couldn't refuse or hesitate too much - he had to wake her desire, not her anger. So he picked something he still didn't know whether he truly enjoyed it to start with. Something she had taught him.
After two days spent mostly alone in the troubling company of his own thoughts, Halsin was glad to have Mistress not only invite him into her bed but come to straddle him, demanding he please her. Something clearly had annoyed her and Halsin was her distraction, one way or the other.
Soon she was riding him, losing herself in the pleasure he gave her but there was still an edge to her voice, her movements jerky and impatient. Halsin did not have to playact the thrill of fear when he reached out for her hand and placed it at his neck.
Mistress stilled, her hand resting lightly on his throat and her gaze fixed on him. He kept just as still, not even daring to breathe for fear of having misjudged the situation. Ever so slowly, Mistress tightened her grip, squeezing just enough that he could feel it, his pulse beating hard against her fingers.
She reached for her cast off robes, lying in a heap to the side. Cool silk touched him, slithering across his bare chest and settling across his throat. Mistress wound the soft belt around his neck and her hand until he felt the pressure.
"Go on." Her voice was low, her pupils blown so wide they were swallowing the iris, leaving only blackness. Taking his hand, she moved it from her hip to between her legs. "You get to breathe again when you have satisfied me."
She let her weight settle on him, pinning down his hips in a clear signal that he wasn't to move. Drawing a breath while he still could, swallowing under the pressure of the silk, Halsin found her clit with his thumb. He rubbed small circles on it, swiping up some of her wetness. It won him a soft moan from her, her eyes fluttering half closed for a moment before she focused on him once more.
For a time, she kept only a loose hold on him. Rocking her hips back and forth, she set a languid pace, the flush of arousal darkening her skin purple, beads of sweat glistening on it in the light of the candle. Halsin thought that he might bring her to her peak soon, following the roll of her hips with his own and never stopping to tease her clit.
A cruel pinch to his nipple made him cry out in pain. Mistress wound the belt tight, cutting off his attempt to suck down a startled breath. Panic rushed at him, no matter how prepared he thought he had been. Grey nothingness swam into his vision, receding the moment she let the belt slip out of her grasp.
He knew better than to stop pleasuring her. It was the one thing he focused on, clinging to it to keep himself afloat when the soft silk turned into a steel band around his neck again and again. Gasping down air when he could, Halsin was desperate for it to be over. But Mistress drew it out, sometimes pulling his hand away when she was too close to her peak.
Despite his fear, he was achingly hard and on the edge of spending every time she choked him. His self control was writhing in his grasp, and between pleasing her, fighting to breathe, to stay conscious and Mistress keeping the silk twisted tight for longer and longer, he had no hope of holding on to everything. He would have begged her but he couldn't find his voice, let alone enough air.
His pulse was a drum so loud, he couldn't hear his own gasps. His heart threw itself against his ribs with every beat, racing along at breakneck speed. Every time he blinked, the grey fog clouding his vision was slower to recede, lingering and growing darker with each breath he didn't take.
Mistress cry of pleasure came from very far away. The only thing he knew was that he could finally let go. The grey swallowed him up, growing thick in front of his eyes, filling his ears with its hiss. His body only a fading presence, Halsin slipped away.
The darkness seemed unwilling to let him go, and it was so soft and warm that Halsin found it hard to untangle himself. He came back to a shivering body, an aching throat and Mistress caressing him, nestled into his side. It took him a moment to remember what had happened, his mind slow and cobwebbed. Trying to take a deep breath sent him into a painful cough and he curled up on his side with no thought for Mistress, the panic rising like a flood. It receded when he found he could breathe, as long as he kept it shallow so as not to trigger another bout of that rattling cough.
"It will pass." Mistress pressed herself against his back, petting his chest and arm while he calmed down. "Go, clean yourself up and have a drink of water, it will help soothe your throat."
"Yes, Mistress." Halsin's voice was rough, scratching at his throat. He wasn't sure he could trust his legs but he got up nonetheless. A quick look at Mistress calmed him a little—she was smiling and there was none of the annoyance from earlier. None that he could see.
She invited him into the bed when he came back, letting him pull the blankets over them both and rolling into his embrace. His plan clearly had worked. For today at least.
Halsin lay awake with Mistress in his arms and thought about what else he could offer her.
Chapter 11
Chapter 1