Demon Empress

Chapter 19 - Secrets

Iara found this stablehand quite funny.

He was indeed quite chiseled, and sported a very coarse, masculine body. It was the perfect visual description of a married noble demoness’ guilty pleasure.

He was sleeping with his mistress, but she had also seen the look he had given the charming redhead maid. Other than themselves, it was only her left in the yard.

Iara smiled at her. “I suppose even a humble position like a head stablehand is grand when hailing from a First Ring noble’s townhouse. You have the privilege of having your lover with you while you carry out your duties.”

She watched the slight panic flit through Eirnon’s eyes before he waved her observations away. “Madam is joking. That is Miss Dionie, our mistress’ senior maid. She is here on her orders.”

Dionie couldn’t remain a bystander any further. Stepping up, she dipped in a shallow curtsy. “Greetings to Madam.”

Iara glanced at Qaen with arched brows.

Qaen shrugged and pointed at the battered, blonde servant at the post. “That girl’s name is Anet. I saw her last night in Riese’s chambers — so until this morning, she was Riese’s head attendant. I can’t say the same now.”

Iara frowned in mock confusion. “That’s odd; why would a lady treat her closest maid this way? Such a pretty one, too.” She stepped closer to take a proper look at Anet’s face, but Eirnon hastily stepped in her path. “Madam, she belongs to Lady l’Rasel.” Don’t covet what’s not yours.

Iara smiled strangely. “No, she belongs to the Empress, just like Lady l’Rasel does.”

Irritation crossed Eirnon’s face. Changing the topic, he politely forced out: “How has Madam come?”

Iara shrugged casually. “Qaen and I wanted to go for a ride, so we came by to pick up some horses. Ithur never mentioned his stable yard being so lively.” Sighing lightly, she shook her head. “Never mind. I have been searching for a lady’s maid anyway. If Lady l’Rasel doesn’t want her, I will take her.”

Qaen snorted. “What does a peasant like you need a lady’s maid for?”

Iara drew herself up and crossed her arms over her chest haughtily, scolding: “How dare you speak to your master this way!”

Qaen was not at all fazed. “Yes, yes. Begging Master for forgiveness and all that.”

Iara humphed and turned her nose up in the air. Ignoring his impolite words, she picked up her earlier words. “As a peasant, a maid that was once employed by a First Ring noble lady is far better than any other servant I will have a chance to meet.”

Eirnon’s smile twitched. “I beg Madam to reconsider. This just isn’t something I can decide on.”

Iara smiled back at him. “Which is why I have decided for you. Qaen, go bring her. We will carry her back to our rooms.”

Eirnon blanched. “Madam, this, this… this isn’t something you can do.”

Iara rolled her eyes. “Go report to your master, then. See if Ithur will dare take something I covet.” A dangerous snicker tickled her lips. “Or perhaps you don’t consider Ithur your master. Reporting to this lady of yours is fine, too. Is she really so arrogant as to throw her weight around before her lord husband’s guest in his house?”

Eirnon’s throat worked, but after a moment of struggling, he gave up and let out a long sigh. Iara smirked. After all, there was nothing he could do as a servant.

Qaen was already back by Iara’s side, Anet cradled gingerly in his arms. Iara peered at her face. “What a fair girl.” She nodded in approval. “Let’s go. We shouldn’t let her stay like this for too long.”

Completely ignoring Eirnon and that maid, Dionie, Iara turned and left haughtily, Qaen at her heels.

Back in her room, she blinked curiously at Anet, who lay on her bed just like Qaen had the night prior. “She is so pretty and fragile. Only twenty lashes from an uneducated brute, and she is harmed to this degree.”

Qaen rolled his eyes. “She’s just a maid. Being easy on the eyes and obedient is good enough.”

Iara glared. “For a slave, you can be quite mean.”

Qaen stared back at her. “Because I’m a slave, I’m sensitive to the wants of a master. Are you going to heal her or not?”

Iara glared at him for a moment longer, but soon sighed in surrender, stepping up to the bed. Anet hadn’t been punished as badly as Qaen, but her injuries were much worse. Her wings were still out on display, spread over Iara’s bed and hanging onto the floor like tattered rags. Iara rubbed her temples. “This is going to be annoying.”

Holding out her palms flat over Anet, she called upon an overflowing, golden well of power from within her. This power coursed through her veins and warmed her hands, slowly and mutely shining gloriously into life like a budding flower. Under her light touches, Anet’s wounds began to heal themselves, until below the blood, her skin and wings were once again unscarred.

Iara withdrew her hands and flexed her fingers, then rubbed her wrists. “With how annoying her fragility is, I’m not sure if she is worth keeping.”

Qaen had been watching the entire process intently. Seeing her rub her wrists, his eyes zeroed in on the movement as he replied. “Are you really thinking of keeping her?”

Iara shrugged. “While I stay here, yes. About what I will do with her after, we’ll see how she behaves. Speaking of…” She gestured at the still-unconscious Anet. “Give her a bath, get the blood and dirt off her. Find her a new set of clothes and put her to bed.”

Qaen frowned. “Where will you sleep?”

She turned, heading for the dress room. “I have somewhere to be.”

He stared after her, disbelief taking over his features. “Without me?”

Iara rolled her eyes to herself as she dug through the dress room, then proceeded to struggle with her grand gown. “Yes, without you. But first, slave, come help me undress.”

Qaen grumbled but obeyed, entering the room and stepping up behind her. He deftly undid the laces at the back and began to work at removing her inner garments layer by layer. “I thought peasant women were modest and virtuous. You’re not shy at all.”

Iara glanced at her own beautiful reflection in the mirror. The reflection gazed back at her solemnly. “Peasant women are no better than slaves. They are a commodity to be traded around by powerful nobles. What modesty should I have left?”

Qaen remained silent. Through the mirror, she could see his slightly hunched figure coaxing her corset loose, his gaze fixed immovably onto the laces in his fingers.

She snickered. “Are you feeling sorry for me?”

Qaen’s head lowered further. “You are my owner. Why should I feel sorry for you?”

Iara nodded. “Very correct.” And with her observation, her corset fell from her body. She stretched. “Ah, relief.”

Casually stepping out from the pile of clothes around her feet, she grabbed the light, linen dress and cloak she had set aside. “Shoo, now. Go bathe the girl and get the kitchen to make some food for her. I’ll be back before dark.”