Manny was laying in bed when her eyes suddenly snapped open, awoken by a pulse of giddy excitement from Vincent that roused her as surely as being shaken awake would have. It was still pitch black outside, if the windows of her room were any indication, and taking a moment to listen revealed that the manor was completely silent.

I guess elves really do get by just fine with less sleep.

She rose from the bed with a smile on her face. She was eager to find out what had him so happy, and walked towards the door that separated their rooms. She knocked on it, fully expecting him to invite her in. But for the first time since she’d woken up here a week ago, he didn’t answer.

Gods, had it been that long already? A week spent learning to read, eating the fine food they made together, and generally enjoying each other’s company. There’d been a few more instances where he’d made his disapproval clear, but they’d never clashed like they had with Zorah again. All told, she had to admit she was quite enjoying her time here.

She knocked again, and called out, “Master?”

When there was no answer again, she opened the door. She found that she was relieved to see he wasn’t there. At least that meant he wasn’t just ignoring her, even if it meant she was now obliged to find the man.

She was relatively confident he must still be in the manor, though. She started to go door to door, checking every room, until all that was left were the servant’s quarters. She didn’t even have to knock on them before Sean opened the door, with a drowsy half smile on his face. “Lord Borohon is on the roof for astronomical observations, madam,” he told her. “Do you require something?”

Manny blinked in surprise. “How… How did you know I…”

He grinned at her. “A subtle enchantment,” he said. “Step inside, and I’ll show you.”

Manny cocked her head, but did as he said, stepping into the room lined with three bunk beds. Two of the bunks were empty, the rest filled with gently-snoring staff. Sean stepped out, then walked down the hallway. The floorboards creaked loudly as he walked along them, and were muted entirely when Manny poked her head out past the room’s threshold.

“Huh,” she said. “That’s… neat.”

“So it is,” he agreed. “But, you were looking for Lord Borohon, yes?” When Manny nodded, he continued with, “then if you don’t need anything else, madam, I’ll go back to sleep.”

Manny awkwardly nodded at him, and made a mental note to avoid that patch of floor while Vincent’s staff was asleep. Then she took the narrow stairs leading up to where Vincent would be waiting for her.

The Manor’s roof was a pleasant enough place. It was pointed in most places, covered in slate shingles everywhere except the two single-story towers that rose from the building, connected by a half-open corridor. One of them was the upper floor of his library, Manny knew, while the other was a comfortable, open structure, with pillars holding up a roof, but very few walls to speak of.

Astoria spread out in the distance, while the stars and moon shone above, casting just enough light on the roof to let Manny see Vincent, leaning on the waist-height walls of his little tower. Manny crossed her arms in the gentle breeze, faintly regretting not putting on the robe Vincent had given her, but eager to find out what had him so excited. As she approached him, a patch of the sky seemed to warp and bend bizarrely, the stars distorting and racing across it. She blinked at the view several times, as if that might make it go away.

“Master?” She softly asked him.

The greeting startled the man, much to Manny’s surprise. She didn’t think she’d ever known Vincent to be caught off-guard by anything, let alone when it came to her. He seemed to expect everything that ever happened, yet had been too distracted to notice this.

“Manny!” He excitedly exclaimed. “Come here, I want to show you something.”

Manny obediently came close, and saw Vincent was staring into that warp that hung in the sky. As she got closer and closer, the crescent of the moon was eclipsed by it, and Manny flinched as it made it bigger and brighter, like a magnifying glass. “What are you doing?” She asked him.

“Discovery,” he proudly said, as he stepped to the side, and indicated that she should stand exactly where he’d been standing. She promptly did so, which caused that warp in the sky to get even bigger. From here, the moon seemed as big as a dinner plate, rather than a pea at arm’s length, with dark spots and streaks of white clearly visible upon it. “Look at the edge of the dark side, closest to Drakehome.”

Manny turned to look at Vincent, instead. “Drakehome?” She asked.

Vincent smiled, and rolled his eyes, amused enough by the question that it put a smile on Manny’s face. “The brightest object in the sky, other than Artemia.”

“I don’t know what Artemia means, either,” Manny quietly admitted.

“That’s just the moon, love,” Vincent told her, then turned Manny back towards the warp, and put his chin on her shoulder. “It’s actually due to totally eclipse the Sun rather soon, too. It’s been centuries since Astoria has seen one of those.”

Love? Did he say he loved her? The thought made her shiver more than the breeze had.

He pointed close to the edge of the warp, at what Manny thought looked like the brightest star in the sky, but could now clearly see was round and faintly green, unlike the pinprick stars around it. “That’s Drakehome, Manny. It’s a planet, like Eitheris itself.”

Manny could feel his excitement—his passion for this topic—and it was all but impossible not to get swept up in it. She smiled as she looked at the little disk, perfect in the night sky. “I had no idea,” she whispered.

“But that’s not the good part! Look at the sky between it and the moon, Manny,” he commanded. She obeyed, despite not seeing anything. His excitement would have been infectious even without the magic that bridged their minds, and with it, that bare patch of sky became as captivating as a play performed by the priests of Kukaro.

She watched it with Vincent’s chest to her back, his hands on her shoulders, and his breath on her neck. The breeze picked up, and she shivered for a moment, only for him to wrap his arms around her.

A faint blue glow appeared. Fuzzy streaks rising from behind the moon, like clouds above a mountain, and Vincent’s excitement surged. They grew longer and longer as the magnified moon moved across the sky, becoming sharper as they drew closer and closer together until the point where they met came into view, like a spearhead made of melting ice..

“What is that?” Manny softly asked.

“A comet, Manny,” Vincent easily replied. “That one’s called Verella’s Finger, and if you were to ask her priests, they’d tell you it points towards one’s destiny.”

“Tell me more,” Manny whispered. She could feel he utterly adored talking about this, and it was as addictive as anything else that brought him joy. It made her want to learn about this, if only so he’d have an excuse to teach it to someone.

“It comes every forty years, and…” Vincent trailed off, and his excitement about the topic faded, replaced by that dark mass of grief. Manny turned around in his embrace, looking into his suddenly-pained eyes.

“What is it?” She asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I never got to show this one to Florian,” he whispered.

“Oh,” sighed Manny. “I’m… I’m sorry I…” She decided she should probably just shut up. What did she know about this kind of pain that gave her the right to say anything? But… she didn’t want him to be stuck feeling like this, either. So she leaned forward, and kissed him to soothe the pain.

It worked… but not well enough. His attention was split, now—half of his mind on her predecessor, the other on her. She wanted all of it, didn’t want a single shred of him to linger on that pain, and she thought she knew how she might achieve that.

As they kissed, she deliberately cut her tongue on his sharp fangs, and like the last time she’d given him a taste of her blood, it immediately awoke his predatory instincts. Unlike then, however, he seemed to welcome it this time. He was grateful for her efforts, excited, hungry, and turned on. The sheer bliss of it made her giggle and weak in the knees, and he gripped her tightly enough that she knew she wouldn’t fall, even if his nails might draw blood.

As before, she made a point of looking into his eyes once their kiss broke. She wanted to make whatever he wanted to do as easy as possible for him. “You really do want to make me happy, don’t you, Little Elf?” He asked.

“More than anything,” Manny said as she nodded, feverishly. Tasting blood sent so many feelings rushing through this man, and she felt every one of them. Not that she needed to, to be able to tell how he felt. She felt the bulge in his pants against her hip, and could see him work his jaw as he licked his teeth in anticipation. They lit a fire in her, an urge to please beyond measure or compare. “I…” She said with a sigh. “Would you like to take another bath?”

“And let this moment go to waste while we wait?” He asked, then shook his head. “No.” Manny shivered, both from the chill of the breeze and the icy certainty in his voice, then let out a yelp as he suddenly pulled her into motion, off the roof, and back into the manor. She followed him eagerly, her own anticipation mixing with his to make her excitement incarnate.

He practically shoved her into his bedroom once they got there, and in the heat of the moment, she had her nightgown off before he could even close the doors behind them. He took off his shirt in a few practiced motions, a grin on his face when he saw she was already naked.

“Let’s…” Manny began, but trailed off when Vincent shook his head.

“You do not get a say,” Vincent growled as he came close, hooked a hand behind Manny’s neck, and pulled her in close. She gasped as she slammed into his chest, looking into his fierce eyes. “You do not want a say,” he continued. “You want to please. You want to serve. You want to bend to my will, and obey.”

Manny swallowed, and nodded. “Y—yes, Master,” she whispered. The surge of approval at her answer worked quickly to banish any doubt about whether she’d meant it.

He pushed her back, onto the bed. She collapsed onto the springy mattress and looked up at him—at his muscular build, at his angular face—and took it in. This was the man that had chosen her to be his thrall, that was so patiently teaching her to read, and had already given her a life she imagined the rich might enjoy.

She watched as he took off his trousers, anticipation billowing off of him, and she reveled in it. It mixed with her own excitement, coming together into a single feeling that sent her heart racing, and told her body to get ready for anything.

He crawled onto the bed slowly and deliberately, red eyes piercing her, movements as predatory as everything else he did or thought. She… Ishara above, she liked how he looked at her.

For a few moments she thought he might pin her down and… and sate his needs forcefully, but that didn’t seem to be what he wanted. He settled down on the bed, head propped up on a pillow, half rolled onto his side, eyeing her. She crawled towards him, her own eyes wide as she scrutinized his feelings for a hint about what she should do. He’d just told her she should want to obey, but… But he wasn’t telling her what to do.

She pressed her lips to his, cautiously. She could sense he approved of that, but it wasn’t what he actually wanted. He wanted sex, not just kissing. When they broke their gentle kiss, urged on by the taste of blood that still lingered in her mouth, he directed her towards what he wanted with a simple glance.

She followed his eyes, cast down towards his manhood, and wondered what he wanted her to do there. Ebra had straddled him in the bathtub, and he’d really liked that, but that seemed like an awfully intimidating way to start.

Manny knew men liked it when women used their mouths for this, and the gods knew she’d walked in on Zorah doing so to someone she’d met at The Rock entirely too many times. So, she supposed she might try that. She adjusted herself on the bed to put her face close to his shaft, and the surge of approval he gave off told her this was exactly what he wanted her to do.

She’d asked Zorah what she should expect if she ever found a guy to do this with, and she’d told her to prepare for it to taste and smell bad. But… it really didn’t. It just smelled how he smelled, and when she started with a single lick, there wasn’t much taste to it either, other than the barest hints of bitterness and salt.

Hesitantly, she began to carefully explore him, licking along his length, praying to Ishara that she was doing it right. But she could feel from their bond that she wasn’t. He wanted more. He wanted intimacy and intensity, and these chaste licks were not at all enough.

“Maybe that’s a little ambitious for our first night together,” Vincent softly said as he placed a gentle hand under her chin, and nudged her to sit upright on the bed, kneeling by his side. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Manny shook her head slightly. She found herself wishing she had, if only so she’d know what she should expect. Though… perhaps nothing could have prepared her for Vincent, anyways. That fondness in his eyes, that mix of predatory desire and affection she could sense from him, and her whole being screaming at her that she should give him whatever he wanted from her? Surely that was unique to him.

With a swell in her chest, she leaned in and kissed him again. The venom of his fangs made her mouth numb as their tongues danced around each other, and she shuddered when he buried one hand in her curly hair, gripping it to hold her in place.

Her head swam in delight, unsure if it was from the venom, the pleasure of the kiss or the sheer weight of his hungry approval. She didn’t care—she just wanted more. A small whine escaped her lips as Vincent broke the kiss that swiftly turned to a low moan, and his fangs trailed along her throat. The two points traced electrifying trails of sensation as he made his way further up her neck and to the side. She felt his hot breath at her ear as he growled out to her in a husky whisper, “I have so many things to teach you, Little Elf.”

The sensation of his fangs scraping her skin, the naked need to be obeyed, and the sheer power he radiated all made Manny short of breath. She smiled and nodded, eagerly agreeing to what he said. She wanted to make him happy, wanted to feel that happiness. And she felt that predatory thrill even now. So as he pulled her to lie prone and rolled her onto her back, she could only think of one way to demonstrate the subservience that was his right.

She rolled her head to the side, exposing her neck, shivering as she felt his breath. “I want you to bite me,” she whispered. She sighed in contentment when she felt his approval at that.

“I’m sure you do,” he said, knowingly. “And… I’d very much like to, truly. But you have a very busy day ahead of you, and I doubt you’d even be able to walk if I had my fill.”

Part of Manny wanted to insist, even beg. She swallowed those words, however, as the treasonous and stubborn parts were in rare agreement. Half of her was revolted at herself for being so eager to please him, the other thought it would be defiant to insist after he’d refused her.

She didn’t get to dwell on it for too long, however, as a few moments later, she felt his cock press against her entrance, and she suddenly found herself being very, very effectively distracted.

Manny slept, truly content. For the first time since she’d met Vincent, her dreams weren’t filled with horrible visions of blood gushing from open wounds. She wasn’t frightened, didn’t panic. She simply slept a dreamless sleep, cuddling with her Master after they’d had a truly unforgettable night together.

Or… she had been. As she lay there, blissfully oblivious to the world, something slowly began to nag at her. That instinctive sense of being watched prodded her, urging her to wake up, and make sure they were safe. So, with eyes that were heavy and dry from exhaustion, Manny peeked about the room. At first, she didn’t see much, just the colorful light let through the manor’s tinted windows, and the fine furniture of—

A silhouette. The unmistakable shape of a person, looming next to the bed. Fear gripped Manny’s heart, banishing the drowsiness of sleep in an instant, replacing it with panic. Before she could do anything, the figure leaned in, and on instinct, Manny yelped as she tried to punch the shape.

The shape caught her balled fist with ease, and very quickly moved in closer, beginning to wrestle with Manny. “V—Vincent!” She cried, trying to rouse his attention, certain he’d protect her.

“Now, now, Sunset,” the figure chided as she crawled onto the bed, and easily pinned Manny’s wrists down. “I thought we’d talked about this, that you’re supposed to call him Master.”

“W—what?!” Manny demanded, her mind reeling as she tried to make sense of what the silhouette had said. “Alara?”

“Attagirl, top marks!” Teased Alara, continuing to pin Manny down, but moving into the light just enough to let the elf get a good look at her. Manny’s panic quickly began to ebb, replaced by a sense of outrage that this woman had just let herself into their bedroom, and—

Or had she?

As the panic died down more and more, she could feel a surge of amusement from Vincent. And when she looked, she saw him in bed next to her with his head propped up on one arm, grinning at the sight of his thrall so subdued. Experimentally, Manny tried to pull free of Alara’s grip, but the priestess only put more weight on her wrists, and thanks to the covers restricting her legs, she couldn’t kick, either.

“I always knew I’d get to climb on top of you in bed, eventually,” Alara continued, leaning in close enough that Manny could smell her perfume, and felt her breath on her face.

Manny… didn’t like this. She didn’t like this woman at the best of times, outright hated her at worst. But she could sense how Vincent felt. He loved seeing Manny helpless, and that let her tolerate it, too. Her eyes flitted back and forth, taking in Alara’s smug smile, and Vincent’s amusement at the situation. The ever-growing part of Manny’s mind that urged her to give in to Vincent’s every whim began to prod at her, urging her to make him happy, even during this bizarre encounter.

He was amused, slightly aroused at the sight of Manny pinned down by the priestess, and that gave her an idea. When Alara next leaned in, no doubt to say something demeaning again, Manny silenced her by lifting her head, and kissing the human woman. She may not have liked women, and indeed, the kiss itself did nothing for her. But the surge of approval she felt from Vincent more than made up for that. It drove her to be bold and act eager, and when that kiss broke, she found herself looking up at an appreciative smile on Alara’s face.

“I thought you said you didn’t like women, Sunset,” Alara mused.

“He does,” responded Manny with a tilt of her head at Vincent. That got her another trickle of approval, a little tuft of amusement that made her feel good about her answer.

“So he does,” Alara agreed with a nod, then she looked down at Manny’s chest, one of her breasts showing from underneath the sheets. “And so do I.” A moment later, she let Manny’s wrists go, and moved to a far less imposing spot, sitting on the bed’s edge.

On instinct, Manny reached down to pull the sheets up to cover herself, but she was stopped by Vincent firmly saying, “leave it.”

Manny looked at him in surprise. “You… want her to see me naked?”

“She’s already seen you naked, as you’ll recall,” he reminded her, then turned his attention to Alara. “Why don’t you tell my Little Elf why you’re here?”

Alara nodded at Vincent, then grinned as she let her eyes linger on Manny’s chest. “We’re going shopping,” she said.

“What?” Manny asked.

“Shopping,” Alara repeated. She shifted a little as she sat, a motion which pulled the sheets down farther and exposed more of Manny’s chest. She could feel Vincent’s amusement at that, and judging by the expression on the priestess’ face, it had been entirely intentional.

Manny had to resist the urge to cover herself up once more, and she felt a soft sense of satisfaction from Vincent when she managed it. “To see a tailor, mostly,” he explained. “The clothes I had on hand fit you well enough, but… if I want you to wear clothes, I want them to be as flattering as possible.”

“If you want me to wear clothes?” Manny repeated.

He smiled at that. “Did you think I was going to let you wear my robe over your gowns forever?” He asked, then reached up and put a hand on Manny’s chin, holding her gaze as he continued. “You’re going to see a tailor, so you can dress exactly as I see fit. I promise you’ll love it, soon enough.”

Manny nodded. She was quickly coming to realize that Vincent’s promise—that she would love what he loved—had been a keenly accurate one. And it frightened the stubborn part of her as much as it thrilled the compliant part.

“And after you’ve seen the tailor,” he continued, then paused. “Well, I suppose it’ll depend on whether there’s still time in the day.”

“What?” Asked Manny. “What depends on—”

She was cut off by Vincent suddenly pulling the sheets off of both of them completely, stunning her enough to lose her train of thought. This time, she wasn’t able to suppress the instinct to cover herself up, and she quickly scampered back against the bed’s headboard, holding a pillow in front of herself to block Alara’s increasingly hungry gaze.

“Honestly, Little Elf,” Vincent chided, more amused than displeased that she’d disobeyed him. “The sooner you realize that that… sense of modesty of yours is misplaced, the sooner you’ll be happy.”

Manny blinked. Something in those words, in the intonation he’d used, made her realize that she wasn’t actually unhappy, either—not in this moment, nor in general. So, after the briefest moment of hesitation, she put the pillow down, again exposing herself to Alara’s staring, and earning her a surge of approval from Vincent that put a big smile on her face.

“Give me your foot,” he ordered, tapping his own bare lap as he moved to sit upright on the bed.

Assuming he meant the one that had the golden shackle still locked onto it, Manny obeyed, laying her left foot in his lap. Alara only grinned at the sight, making no effort to avert her eyes from Manny’s inadvertently spread legs. “Honestly, what kind of priestess are you?!” She demanded.

“The kind that adores seeing people bend to the will of their betters,” Alara said.

At the same time, Vincent whispered, “fuasgailte.” Manny didn’t understand the spell, of course. But when the loop of gold split along a previously unseen seam and hinged open, she could certainly guess at what it might have been.

“You’re taking it off?” Manny asked, as Vincent casually put the shackle on his nightstand, then made a waving gesture to indicate she should move her foot.

“I am,” he said. “It wouldn’t do to have you pass out before you got off of the estate, would it?”

“So… you’re really not coming?” Manny asked, briefly shooting a distrusting glare at Alara. “I’d rather—”

He cut her off with a chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure you’d rather many things, Manny. Regardless of what you may want, you will go with Alara today, and you will do exactly as she tells you.”

“What?” Asked Manny, sparking a little burst of frustration in him that made her feel bad.

“You will accompany Alara, Little Elf, and you will obey her when she gives you an order.”

“But, I—”

“None of that,” Vincent growled, radiating that dominant thrill. “Whether you adore her or want her dead doesn’t matter. When I tell you to go with someone and do as they say, you do it. You do not get to haggle, you do not get to object. You. Simply. Obey. Do you understand?”

Manny didn’t dare do anything but nod.

“Good,” he said, that dominant thrill softening slightly as he gestured at the door leading to her room. “Go get dressed. I want you on your way in ten minutes.”

In the afternoon of the same day, Manny and Alara left the tailor’s store. It had been an uncomfortable, slightly invasive ordeal, with the clothesmaker taking far, far more measurements than Manny thought could possibly be necessary.

However, they had gotten that done, and now they walked along a busy street together, heading north, with the impressive red-roofed Royal Palace looming almost directly ahead. It was disorienting, being apart from Vincent. She could still feel him in her mind, which right now meant she was aware he was peckish but otherwise entertained.

When she couldn’t actually interact with him, though, that was a strange sensation. She could only imagine what it might be like if he became upset, or even euphoric. How in the hells would she be supposed to function, then?

You’re not, part of her prompted. You don’t deserve to function without him.

She shook her head. That… Surely she couldn’t actually think that. She was developing feelings—very complicated feelings—for him and this new direction her life had taken, true. But she didn’t want—or gods forbid think she deserved—to be so dependent on him, did she?

She decided to put the matter out of her mind, for now. “Where are you leading me?” She asked Alara.

“Have you ever been to the Royal Palace?” Alara asked, instead of giving her a straight answer.

Manny scoffed. “Of course not,” she said. “I doubt they’d even have let me in to scrub the floors. There’s no way that’s where we’re going.”

“It’s not,” Alara agreed. “But we’re going somewhere particularly close to it.”

Manny sighed. “And I guess you’re not planning on telling me more until we get there?” She asked, rhetorically.

Alara smirked. “And who said thralls couldn’t be clever, at times?”

They walked on in silence a while longer, weaving past town criers and dandy noblemen, guards and military recruiters, and clergy and courtiers as they got into the nicer parts of the city. Manny was used to being scowled at by people like that, recognized for the poor peasant she was at a glance.

However, that wasn’t the case now. Dressed in nice—if yet untailored—clothes and under the escort of a woman who at least appeared to be a priestess of Ishara, she blended in more. Of course, she still stood out like a sore thumb, with her wild shock of bright orange hair, and a height advantage on most humans and even some elves. But… that was greatly lessened by how much more common elves were, in this part of the city.

In fact, just up ahead, she even saw a series of buildings behind a fence, guarded by elves and marked by Aldressan signage. “The…” She started, but then trailed off as the word escaped her. She’d heard of this place—it was where elves tended to live when they were here to talk to King Ashlom.

“Aldressan embassy, Sunset,” Alara offered. “As a matter of fact, that’s where we’re going.”

Manny frowned. “What? Why?” She asked. As a child, the abbess and her priests had warned her again and again that she shouldn’t go there, that she might be taken away, forced into the life of an assassin. Throughout her life, Manny had gone back and forth on whether she believed that. Now, though, she could only think about how silly it was to fear the elven nation, when it was a lone human vampire who had forced her into his service, instead.

“They have a library,” Alara simply said, as if that alone were a complete answer.

“And?” Prompted Manny.

“And obviously your master wants something from it,” the infuriating human said, next. Manny considered pressing, and indeed had to stop herself from trying. It wouldn’t get her anything, she was sure. Instead, she followed Alara in silence, trailing ever so slightly behind her as they went.

The Aldressan embassy—as Alara had identified it—was guarded by two elven men in gleaming armor that was stylized to look like leaves, polished to a shine. They stood there as stoic as statues, not so much as glancing at Manny and Alara, even as the two of them approached.

“Saluton, gardisto. Ĉu ni rajtas eniri?” Alara spoke to one of them in fluent, flowing Aldressan Elvish. Manny’s jaw dropped slightly to hear it. Did everyone except for her speak this gods-forsaken language?

“Estu bonvena, pastrino,” one of the guards said with a nod, before both of them moved to the side with a flourish. Manny was sure this was all symbolic, as the fence—with its lattice design—looked downright trivial to climb. Whatever formality this was, anyone who cared to do so could simply skip it and sneak in.

“Come along, apprentice,” Alara said with a glance back at Manny. She had to swallow the urge to cause a scene by objecting to that. Sunset was bad enough as a nickname. Apprentice went even farther, and implied she owed this woman her respect.

You do owe her your respect, as long as your Master says you do. Could be a day, could be a lot longer, came yet another intrusive thought. Manny shook her head as if to clear it. She… didn’t want to dwell on that. All of the complicated feelings for Vincent in the world couldn’t make her happy about being here with Alara, and the thought of this arrangement being a long-term one made her feel dirty. Like she was being whored out.

The Aldressan embassy was… nice, Manny supposed. It felt surprisingly alien to her, its small handful of buildings all decorated with carefully pruned trees and ivy, giving the appearance that the buildings themselves were somehow alive, too. Signs in Remeran and Aldressan elvish hung above the doors, hard to read thanks to the curly handwriting.

“C—cul… cultoo—”

“Cultural exchange,” Alara said, simply reading the entire sign to her.

Manny frowned. “How in the hells am I supposed to practice if—”

“Oh, hush,” the woman ordered with a dismissive wave, then gestured at another building. The sign above its door read library. Manny followed her as she went there, walking through the open door and into the cool, calm, shaded interior. It was a surprising relief to be out of the sun—something she’d picked up from Vincent far too quickly for her liking.

The library was perhaps fifteen meters wide and fifty deep, outright dwarfing Vincent’s private collection. Rows upon rows of free-standing bookshelves lined the space, split into four columns. Oddly, the walls did not have any bookshelves, but were instead furnished with racks of scrolls. And towards the rear of the library, a screened-off section was monitored by a particularly bored-looking guard in the same armor as those at the front gate.

“What we’re looking for will surely be back there,” Alara whispered into Manny’s ear. “Distract the guard so I can take it.”

“What?!” Manny whisper-yelled. “There’s no—”

“Have you forgotten your master’s orders, Sunset?” Alara reminded her with a frustrated hiss. “Distract. Him.”

Manny sighed. She could say no to this woman, of course. She wouldn’t immediately be crippled by Vincent’s scathing disapproval, could just leave right now. But… then what? Vincent would eventually find out, and then—gods above, she really didn’t stand a chance, did she? “Fine,” she growled at the priestess. “How do you propose I do that?”

Alara tapped her chin for a moment, considering it as she glanced about the library. There were seats in between the rows of bookshelves, and a long table that ran down the center of most of the hall’s length. From where they were, Manny couldn’t see anyone except the guard and themselves. “Seduce him,” Alara decided.

“What?!” Scoffed Manny. “You’re out of your damned mind if you think I can—”

“Seduce. Him,” Alara icily repeated. “I’m not joking. Put on that helpless orphan act, or perhaps say you’re an acolyte of Ishara and you’d be ever so honored if he’d put a baby in you. Just distract him.”

Again, the temptation to be defiant—to disobey or simply walk away—rose to the forefront of Many’s mind. And again, she eventually decided it was a terrible idea. She couldn’t quite give into this so easily, though. “Why don’t you seduce him? Should be easy, seeing as you’re such a fucking terrific priestess. Then I’ll grab what we’re looking for.”

Alara put one hand on her hip, and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Very well. The book you’re looking for is the five volumes of Elfa Kulturo, kaj Aldressa Elfi. You’re also grabbing some pyromantic scrolls, if you can find any.”

Manny blinked. She… How in the heavens was she supposed to do that? She could hardly read Remeran! Trying to decipher that would… She sighed. “Fine,” she growled, then pointed at the borderline lewd sigil of the goddess Ishara hanging from Alara’s neck. “At least let me borrow your amulet.”

Alara’s eyes widened. “Priests aren’t allowed to just lend these out, Sunset. Ishara would—”

“Oh, cut the horseshit,” Manny growled. “I don’t know what fucking god you worship, but it’s not her. I’m not that fucking stupid. Give it to me, before the guard hears us and you blame it on me when we get back to the manor empty-handed.”

To Manny’s surprise, Alara smiled at her. It was a wretched, predatory thing, but also, somehow far more sincere than any Manny had seen from her before. The woman reached up behind her neck, and took off her amulet, giving it to Manny to put on.

Abbess De La Cornon would break her vows and kill me if she saw me doing this, Manny ruefully thought, as she slipped out from behind the bookshelf, and made her way towards the guard and the section of the library he was charged with keeping. Unlike his colleagues, he watched her approach closely, with his teal eyes glued to her own. Manny met his gaze as she walked, occasionally catching a glimpse of Alara in her peripheral vision, stalking up to him from between the rows of shelves like a predator in tall grass.

“Greetings, guardsman,” Manny began, plastering on the kind of smile she only ever used when trying to fleece something from someone. “I’m… Magna—” She trailed off, racking her brain for the tiny bit of the divine language she recalled from her childhood. “—Du Lieu… And… your colleagues sent me. To… see you.”

The guard eyed her, every bit as skeptical as she’d feared he’d be. “My colleagues?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“Yes!” Manny said with an exaggerated nod. “They flagged me down, said you were too tightly wound, and appealed to my… sense of duty to… Ishara. They asked me to make sure you relaxed, and… now I’m going to do that.”

“You must take me for one of Kukaro’s fools,” the guard said, taking a downright menacing step forward, and away from the gate. “The Ambassadorial Honor Guard does not solicit services like that, certainly not in the middle of the day, on behalf of another!”

Manny swallowed, taking a backwards step to match his, nervously fidgeting with the amulet Alara had lent her. “That… may be true,” she conceded. “However, I… I’m still here, and I promise I really was asked to perform… that. For you, and you alone. I swear it to my Lady. Serment.”

The guard let out a dismayed sigh, and reached for Manny, taking a firm grip on the sleeve of her tailcoat before she could so much as think about resisting. “Come along. I’m sure the master-at-arms—”

“À genoux, pense à des pensées simples,” Alara’s voice interrupted, some kind of spell by the sound of it. The man’s grip on her coat faltered, and before Manny knew it, he’d collapsed to his knees, blankly staring at her boots.

“Really?” Alara asked, rolling her eyes as she patted the man down for a key, and unlocked the gate. “That was your best effort at seducing him?”

“No!” Manny said, as Alara slipped into the cordoned-off section, and started to browse the shelves. “I just… didn’t think I’d actually keep him distracted long enough, otherwise.”

Alara made a noise that indicated she wasn’t convinced by Manny’s explanation, but the elven woman didn’t really care. She’d gotten the job done, more or less. For a few minutes, she stood there, by the kneeling guard. She experimentally waved a hand in front of his eyes, and was deeply unsettled when he actually looked up at her as a result. Nervously, she kept an eye on him and on the library’s door, downright frightened of what would happen if they were caught right now, and keenly wishing Alara would hurry up and find what she was looking for.

Eventually, though, the human priestess—whatever sect she might belong to—did emerge, holding five massive tomes, and several loose pages of paper and parchment. She stepped up behind the stunned guard, and tapped him in the back with the toe of her boot. He looked up at her, instead, and Manny was again surprised that—when Alara held out the stack of books—he actually rose from the ground, and took them.

“Alright, then. Come along, you two. Let’s get out of here.”

Vincent sat on the sofa in his library, watching the flames dance back and forth as he waited for his elf to return to him. For most of the day, he’d made an effort to meditate, to make sure their bond wouldn’t distract her too much. That was a kindness for her sake, to help her acclimate. But as the hours had gone by, and the various clocks around his manor had chimed enough times that he was confident they would—or at the very least should—be on their way back, he’d given it up.

He wasn’t meditating anymore—wasn’t trying to suppress his thoughts and emotions to let her have a peaceful day. He wanted her home now, and he was not afraid to let her feel it. He wasn’t angry she was taking so long—gods no, the longer it took the more likely it was that they’d accomplished everything he’d demanded. He was just anxious.

She was his elf, his thrall, and he wanted her back. She served as a second pair of hands for him, yes. And she needed to be able to achieve his goals for him. But her primary place—her very purpose in this world—was at his feet, and he wanted her there.

When there was finally a knock at the front door, followed quickly by people being ushered inside by Sean, he knew she was home. Footsteps in the hallway outside came closer and closer, got louder and louder, and he could swear he heard eagerness in them. He’d deliberately left the door into the reading room ajar for her so she wouldn’t knock, and he was pleased when she didn’t.

“Did you get the book?” He asked, without looking back at her.

“Books, plural, Master,” his elf responded.

That made him happy to hear, as he hadn’t been sure the tailor would be fast enough to allow them to do everything. The little gasp he heard from Manny told him she could tell she’d pleased him, and he smiled, inwardly. “Go to your room, undress, then present them to me,” he ordered.

There was a brief pause he reasoned she probably simply spent making sense of his commands, before she wordlessly moved away again. He listened to the heavy thuds of booted footfalls on hardwood floors get quieter and quieter, and less than a minute later, he heard those same feet come back, now softer and muffled—delightfully bare.

The mere sound, so indicative of subservience, was like bellows to the flames of his vampiric instincts. His elf—his pet—was taking to thralldom so very, very well, and it thrilled him. He damn near lost control of himself at the sight of her when she finally stepped in front of him, naked, only covered by a stack of books and loose pages.

He could see her looking at him, then eyeing the empty seats all around them as she tried to decide where to sit. When she instead cautiously knelt by his feet, he could not have been happier. She gasped again, clearly taking that approval to heart. And for a brief moment, he could have sworn he saw that vaunted Adoration in her eyes.

He smiled at her in turn, as he took the books from her and examined them. Five volumes of Elfa Kulturo, kaj Aldressa Elfi. The title was embossed in the leather covers of each, highlighted in gold leaf. The spines were blank, save for Cornon numerals ranging from I to V. They were elegant volumes he’d happily display here, and would be a tremendous resource in educating Manny about her people.

The loose pages, he saw, were several dozen parchment and paper scrolls that had been flattened, each of them imbued with an arcane spell that would be effortless to cast. He supposed he had mentioned wanting those to Alara, but he’d frankly not expected to get them—a pleasant surprise.

“How long did the tailor say he would need?” He simply asked.

“A week,” Manny answered.

“A week,” he repeated, as an idea dawned on him. “Then… that’s how long you’ll be staying undressed for, Little Elf. It won’t do to sully that lovely figure of yours with ill-fitting clothes again, and it’ll help you overcome that sense of modesty of yours we discussed earlier.”

He watched her closely, gauging her reaction to his decision. She didn’t speak out against him, didn’t protest. That alone was enough to please him. But she even did her best to put on a brave face, forcing a fake smile that turned more and more genuine as she felt his approval.

Vincent loved seeing that smile. He truly did. She was bending to his will so quickly, as if she’d been desperate for the kind of guidance he provided. And that smile was proof she was thriving in the process. She was his elf, working so hard to please him. And he wanted to reward that.

He knew just the thing. She was so pretty, her whole body a blank slate for him to do with as he saw fit. Even the punctures of when he’d first bitten her were gone, thanks to his spellwork. Now, he would change that, and decorate her for the very first time.

With a sigh, he leaned forward on the sofa, smiling his most mysterious smile as—with the slightest mental effort—he forced his Resignation on her. He chuckled as he watched the guile drain from her eyes, and her body slackened slightly. He wouldn’t feed on her like this—wouldn’t dare deprive his thrall of the experience, tempting though it was.

Instead, he placed a hand under her chin, guiding her closer as if into a kiss. And he did kiss her. For a few moments, he relished the taste and softness of her lips, the faint hint of her sweet elven blood from the wounds where she’d bitten the inside of her mouth to spur him on. He felt her bottom lip with his teeth, gently testing what felt right.

Then, he let the Resignation fall away from her mind, and bit through her lip with one of his fangs. Predictably, she yelped in surprise, though he knew the venom of his fangs would make the bite a relatively pleasant feeling. He felt her start to pull away from the kiss, then stop, as she realized exactly what he was doing.

He knew all she could do—all her instincts would allow her to do—was yield. Venom or no venom, she surely knew she would seriously injure herself by moving away from him. The taste of blood pouring from the little wound both thrilled him, adding to his urges, inflaming them further.

After a few moments, he let go, again carefully watching how she reacted. Blood ran from the outside of the wound he’d inflicted, marking the first of a few scars he would give her. She wiped it away with a few fingers, curiously looking at it, and then back at him as she worked her jaw.

“You… bit me,” she noted, sounding almost in disbelief.

“You’re mine to bite,” Vincent purred. Looking at Manny now, his vampiric sight showed her flushing cheeks as a slight increase to how brightly she glowed. For a few moments, she remained silent, slowly blinking as her mind no doubt did cartwheels to decide how she felt about that.

Cautiously, the elf started to rise from kneeling on the floor, her eyes glued to him for approval. He would have preferred she remain there until he told her otherwise, and she knew that, of course. But she kept rising, and so Vincent’s curiosity was piqued. Manny carefully settled into his lap, straddling him, looking down into his eyes. He could smell the blood, coppery and fresh, urging him to spoil the moment. He fought off the urge, however. He wanted to see where this would lead.

“I…” She began, then trailed off. “Today was exhausting. Alara is weird, and the tailor made me uncomfortable, and getting you those books was embarrassing.” She paused, pressing her lips to his in a single, gentle kiss. When it broke, she only wrapped her arms around him in an embrace, and laid her head down on his shoulder. “I’m glad I’m back home, Master.”