9- Devi
My hands shake when I leave the water pitcher at the bar. I just have to regroup and remain professional. So what if I witnessed two fascinating, private displays of power…? Remaining useful is the best way to ensure it doesn’t cost me anything in return.
Tucking my hands behind my back, I plaster on my best service grin and return to the quiet group. This time, I step much closer to the one Emer called Selk, giving the large male a chance to reacclimate. Unfortunately, that means Emer’s now on my damaged side. “Sirs, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Devi, and I’ll be your attendant tonight. Can I start anyone off with a mixed drink?”
I’m forced to outright ask instead of using my expertise because, looking between the two males, I’m unsure whether to offer karkut or leisan, the former preferred by the Darkmires and the latter by the Lightflecks. Emer seems like a Darkmire, but… I cast a cursory sweep across the darkened back sofa, holding the tightest smile known to human kind. Is it just me, or does the area seem darker than it should be? There are natural shadows in a dim room, and then there’s… the nearly impenetrable wall radiating behind two sets of legs.
I swallow and wince, realizing no one has answered. “Perhaps some karkut… or…” I look at Selkin. His glittering silver eyes take in my struggle with amusement, most likely at my expense, but that’s not what has me stunned and frozen. Silver eyes are only found among the Lightfleck. And now that I can see his hair more clearly: white with thick streaks of black and not dusty at all, I realize he doesn’t fit the description of any Darkmire I’ve ever seen.
His features are far more refined than Emer’s. His nose slopes sharply down to a nice cupid’s bow and pointed chin. High cheekbones and naturally almond eyes. Pearlescent rounded ears with iron bars pierced through the tips. He’s staring at me, but it still feels like I’m seeing nothing. I got more from behind Emer’s eyes in ten seconds than I suspect I would get from Selk in an hour.
He smiles a little as if my focus is a treat. “Leisan, if you’ll be so kind,” he says, his voice intimately vibrating the air between us. It’s borderline indecent. I look for any outward signs of a voice mod like Emer’s eye, but there’s none. Maybe his enhancement is purely cosmetic. A pair of delicately pointed teeth peek out behind his upper lip. Was that two or three imbedded emeralds along them? It takes everything in me not to glance at Emer, because that is considered intimate jewelry, and the only Thur with Emerald affinity in the room…
“O-of course, sir.” I say. I need to mind my damn business. If they’re bonded or not isn’t my business. If they’re somehow a bond composed of Darkmires and Lightflecks, that would be a first, but who’s to say Thur even tell us about their inner politics? Maybe it’s growing more common. Maybe it was never taboo at all. After all, any gossip humans hear while serving in bond houses, isn’t proven truth. And again, it has nothing to do with me, even if it makes sweat prickle at my waist. A waist Selk stares at with a pinched brow. He’s studying the scratches.
Discreetly looking at Emer, I wonder if he’s just an unusual Lightfleck? His eyes aren’t classically Darkmire either, so it’s possible. But then how would he manipulate gemstones or—
“Karkut is fine,” he says with zero inflection. Flat like his eyes. Like the set of his shoulders despite their bulk. I nod too quickly and for too long, but I don’t know what else to do.
The Darkmires and Lightflecks hate each other. That’s as well known as our language. As common as our customs. They would never share a room under any circumstances outside the council. Right? They would never have friendly banter… or share a drink… unless high… I consider the females I saw at the door.
“Can I interest you gentlemales in any droppers of Lithe this evening?”
“Yes,” the cold voice rumbles from the dark, but before I can fixate on the shadow where the voice resides, Emer cuts in. I tilt my head quickly, trying to catch his words with my good ear.
“...you worked here, little moon?” He asks, hunching forward until his forearms rest against his knees. I glance down at the moon on my costume bralette and immediately understand.
“Years. Probably since… sixteen.” I watch his expression, but he gives nothing away. I don’t understand this angle. No one ever wants to talk about me. I’m no different than wallpaper with a set of breasts. My voice only serves to amplify their perfection or impressive ability. Or better yet, remain silenced.
“Sex work at sixteen?” Selkin hisses, his playful demeanor gone. My attention jerks back to him, warmth rising to my cheeks. Something is endearing about his moral high ground.
“Ahm no, I didn’t… I don’t offer that. I can uh call someone here for that if it’s what you would prefer. But no, at sixteen, I just stocked the bars.” Selkin nods and sips from his water, satisfied. “Even now, I only do this,” I say, motioning to the room, “and dancing.”
The word dancing appears to pique his interest, though he only nods. Emer interjects something quietly and I have to turn. “What was that?”
His brow pinches. “My drink?” Right, drinks.
“Which accompaniments would you males like for your drinks? And can I get anything started for you two…?” I ask the dark abyss.
“How long will it take for the Lithe to arrive?” Selk asks instead, interrupting me. Even all my training can’t stop my brow from pinching in irritation. What is it with all the back and fucking forth?
“Only a moment, I just press—”
“So…do you…here,” Emer asks, pinging my attention back to him though I struggle to put the pieces together. Why does it feel like I’m being cornered? Once again, his eyes aren’t leering, but they are heavy. I’m not accustomed to so much talking. “Do little moons just stand back and look pretty?
“I… um… sorry?” Is he mocking me? It’s not unusual for Thur to be a bit cruel, but he didn’t seem like the type.
“Is the Lithe made in house? We’ve had others promise quality and fail to deliver,” the cold voice interrupts.
“Um, in house? I-I’m not sure. No one has ever asked that before. Do you want me to ask Jack—?”
“Hmm…There must…your day,” Emer cuts in.
I’m panicking. Full blown panic because I don’t know what he’s saying. He’s on the wrong side and I can’t move toward him without slighting Selk. This is the most unusual night of my life at the Mid. Thur never talk this much, at least not to me. I’ve never had to balance my hearing or my attention this way. My mind is struggling to figure out the angle of this line of questioning, and my anxiety is convinced I’m being played somehow by the male I can’t see.
I try not to look as helpless as I feel.
“Your day, Devi?” Emer’s persistent when I flounder. I didn’t think he remembered my name. Why would he want to know about my day?
“My day and my job are two very different things,” I assert, hoping that’s enough of a nonanswer for him to drop it. Why does he want to know so much about me anyway? His jaw grinds. “The accompaniments? Any additional drink orders?”
“The Lithe, attendant,” the cold voice says, startling me again. Was I supposed to be getting it now? I swore he asked… I can’t even remember. Where it’s made? Did he say he had it elsewhere? I thought Jack had a pinch on the market. Maybe I should ask—
“Delilah. The attendant’s name is Delfina or Delia, something like that,” Selk corrects the cold voice casually, studying me like a bug. But that’s not my name. And Emer just said it, so once again, I’m feeling mocked. I hate that it’s getting to me more than usual.
Did I expect Settled Thur to act so different from the Unsettled? After all, where did the Unsettled learn their behavior from?
“Devi, sir,” I repeat, haphazardly bowing in my heels and trying to keep up with all the topic shifts. I stumble when my ankle rolls and Selk happily slips me into his lap. His legs spread until I’m clustered tightly against his chest.
“Delicious you didn’t have to pretend to fall just to sit in my lap,” he snickers, the mod making him sound rough. Once again, he’s substituting another name for the one he knows. I open my mouth to lose every bit of the sense I’ve cultivated over the years when he beats me to it. “I’m more than happy to let you rest right here if you tell me where a club girl got enough money for a new eye.”