Stars Reversed

Chapter Two

Cait

“You are excused, uncle.” Lord Blackwood states coldly, his dismissal final and brooking no argument- even from the Royal Spymaster himself. With a bow of decorum, he walks towards the partially open doors of the study, towards where Mia and I stand. Mia fidgets by my side, as if unsure what to do.

Probably not eavesdropping.

She clears her throat, loudly, then steps into the streaming light, lowering her head in deference. “Lord Blackwood, I have brought Lady Caitlyn as instructed.”

At the urging of Mia’s gaze, I step into the light, the Royal Spymaster regarding me with a sinister smirk as he brushes past me. I level my eyes squarely on my new opponent- Lord Blackwood- my face set in angry discontent, not hiding a single solitary emotion as his calculating gaze rakes over me.

Slowly, as if I am a rabid dog, he stands from behind his massive walnut desk, walking until he’s only a couple of feet away. His hand tugs my chin up for inspection. His eyes narrow in on my face, his eyes glossing over the soft curve of my jaw, my pouty lips, my soft cheeks, landing on my hazel eyes that burn with all the venom I can muster. As the tension and hatred crackles in the line connecting both of our gazes, a small smirk tugging the corner of his lips in amusement.

“You have spirit, that much is clear. It will do you no good here. You’ll need to learn your place if you’ll survive the marriage market.” Lord Blackwood states firmly, waving his hand to dismiss Mia as he holds my gaze unblinkingly, his frame towering over me.

Venomous words gather on the tip of my tongue as my lips wrinkle, trying to keep them captive as the dance and flicker within the confines of my teeth.

“You’ll address me as Lord Blackwood, and show proper deference to your betters. I won’t tolerate disrespect in my household. Now, kneel before me and swear your loyalty or face the consequences of your disobedience.”

I hold his gaze, the demand laughable. My eyebrows arch, and a scoff escapes my lips.

“You dare to mock me?” He states, his voice glacial and calculating as he circles me like a predator, his eyes raking over my every curve. “I am Lord Godrick Blackwood, and you are but a lowly slave regardless of where you came from. Your place is at my feet.”

He completes a full rotation, staring me dead in my eyes, every bit the calculating, cold slave bride trainer as he grabs my arm and jerks me down, forcing me to my knees.

“Swear your fealty and perhaps I’ll spare you a beating and let a little of the fire in you stay to amuse your future husband. Fail to do so and I’ll have you punished until obedience is the only thing you know.” He threatens, his words like frostbite… or they would be if I hadn’t heard the explicit commands from the Royal Spymaster.

And what do I do?

I laugh. Right there, on my knees… I laugh until tears sting my eyes and roll down my cheeks.

Maybe I really have snapped.

Lord Blackwood’s ironclad grip on my arm tightens, as he raises me back to eye level violently. His face still and strong as marble but in the emerald depths of his eyes and the feathering of a muscle in his jawline, I can see his composure begin to fray.

“You dare to laugh at your lord? Stop this charade at once. You will show the proper deference to your superiors or you will face the consequences of your defiance. I will not allow an insolent slave to make me the laughing stock among the lords and ladies of court.” He releases my arm, practically throwing me back like my laughter might stain his crisp, white shirt.

“I’m not the one playing charades.” I state simply, intentionally walking with a meandering gait as I circle the left side of the study, ending my orbit at the bookshelves. I slowly drag my fingers over the tomes and books, closely inspecting them. Turning halfway, I level my gaze back on the irritated lord standing in the center of the office, his eyes warring somewhere between ardent irritation and what looks like absolute consternation.

“You think yourself clever, don’t you? Meandering about my office as if you own the place.” He seethes between clenched teeth, a muscle on his jawline feathering.

I grab a book, waving him off as I saunter to a chaise by the open bay window.

“By all means, please help yourself to a book. I’m sure you’ll find something that suits even your limited understanding.” His voice drips with dry sarcasm.

Ignoring his weak insult, I settle my feet onto the expensive green and white printed chaise. “Why, thank you for your hospitality.” I state in faux gratitude, opening to the first page, I begin reading. A smirk plays on my lips as Lord Blackwood rounds, towering over me like a black cloud of rage.

“That’s a rare first edition of ‘The Art of Courtly Love by Doyle Arthur’. Quite valuable, actually. I suppose you don’t realize the danger of handling priceless item so roughly.”

I look up at Lord Blackwood, my eyes set in haughty insolence as I lick my thumb, turning the page roughly as I hold his gaze- practically daring a rise out of him. Without a word, Lord Blackwood snatches the tome out of my hand, our hands grazing for a measured moment- just enough for a crackle of electricity to spark unbidden between us.

“This is your first lesson, slave. In my household, we treat items that hold value and significance with reverence. Your lack of care and respect is inexcusable.” With an elegant, feline flick of his wrist he sends the book flying across the room where it lands with a soft thud on the plush ivory rug that centers the room. “You will retrieve it, on your hands and knees, apologizing profusely to Doyle Arthur as you go. Only then will you be permitted to rise.”

“Hey! I was reading that you dolt!” I cross my eyes, glaring impertinently at Lord Blackwood.

He grabs the back of my hair, pulling me upward until his breath is hot against my face. “You will address me as Lord Godrick, slave. Since you seem to struggle with basic comprehension, let me make myself abundantly clear; you will retrieve the book I threw. On your knees, now. As you scurry along like a good girl you will apologize to the author, Doyle Arthur, for your disrespect. Do you understand?”

I open my mouth, ready to spit a retort at him when he violently jerks my head up and down by my hair, making me nod, then jerks me down again, pressing my face onto the cold, black and white checkered marble floor.

“If you want to keep that pretty mouth intact…” He seethes threateningly. “...you will comply immediately. Do I make myself clear or do you require further, progressive instruction?”

“Fine.” I state simply, moving into a crawling position on my knees and hands. Lord Godrick releases my hair with a satisfied harumph, his polished black shoes moving across the floor, as he settles on a settee, crossing his arms and legs to observe my compliance.

Fat chance.

“On second thought…” I sit back on my heels, insolently tapping my mouth in faux thought as I face the discarded book. Lord Blackwood, visible in my periphery, leans forward, poised as if ready to strike. “You threw the book… you go fetch it.”