Carnival of Secrets (24 page)

B
Y THE TIME
K
ALEB
got back to The City, he had a plan. It wasn’t the wisest of ideas, but he wasn’t about to give up on Mallory, and now that the witch knew he was interested in her, Kaleb was certain that getting anywhere near her would be impossible.

Unless I have undeniable authority to see her.

With no small amount of trepidation, Kaleb went directly to the palace and requested an audience with Marchosias.

“Tell him that it’s urgent,” he added.

So less than two hours after he had arrived at Mallory’s door facing the witch she called a father, Kaleb stood facing her biological father. Marchosias hadn’t looked surprised when Kaleb walked into the enormous room.

He sat at a beautiful carved desk with towering stacks of papers. He lowered his pen and leaned back in his chair.

“Well, what is this urgent matter?”

“I’d like to offer a bride-price for your daughter,” Kaleb said.

Marchosias motioned for him to continue.

“She’s old enough to breed or to wed, but the witch who calls her his daughter won’t let me near her.” Kaleb hesitated at the thought of admitting how thoroughly and seemingly easily Adam had brought him to his knees. “If I were to marry her, he couldn’t stop me—short of killing me, which would kill or injure Mallory.”

Casually, Marchosias pushed his chair back and stood. “The witch’s marriage spell won’t bind you if she has no affection for you.”

“I know,” Kaleb said.

“If you
have
had indication of affection, that means you knew where she was and didn’t see fit to tell me,” Marchosias said mildly. “Am I understanding this correctly?”

“You are.” Kaleb held Marchosias’ gaze. “I was hired to kill her, but I’ve reconsidered that contract.”

“And how is my brother going to feel about the broken contract?” Marchosias asked, correctly identifying the contract holder but seemingly undisturbed by Haage’s treasonous actions. “I’m assuming you’re clever enough not to have told him yet.”

“I am. If I’m part of the ruling class, I’ll be a difficult contract—and most of the black-masks good enough to try for me know that I’d be a better ally than enemy.” Kaleb didn’t ask how Marchosias knew—or how long he’d known—about Haage’s contract on Mallory. Instead, he tried to appear calm. He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m ranked high in the contest, and I’m about to marry your daughter and father the heir to The City. Unless you kill me, I should be pretty safe.”

With a laugh, Marchosias called for his aides, and in hardly more time than it took to cross the room, three daimons had appeared in front of Marchosias. “Fetch my witch too,” he told one of them. “And one of the girls in my quarters.”

The other two daimons waited, but Marchosias ignored them. He draped an arm over Kaleb’s shoulders companionably and directed him to a window that overlooked the carnival.

“You’ll bring her home,” Marchosias remarked.

“I will if she is mine to bring here,” Kaleb promised.

“What coin do you have to pay for my daughter?”

There was the problem: Kaleb had very few actual coins, certainly not enough to pay for Mallory. He could, however, earn them. He thought about the woman offering her markers after the fight and the number of daimons who would offer for Aya as well. He could secure ample funds in time. “I’ll pay whatever you ask.”

“You live in a cave, and you expect me to believe you have sufficient coin to buy her?” Marchosias shook his head.

“I can earn it,” Kaleb clarified. “I haven’t been taking a lot of jobs because of the competition, but I have been wearing a black mask for several years, and there are other ways I can raise coin if need be.”

“In one year, she’ll be eighteen. I will award her to you for that year, but at the end of that, she will be here and pregnant, or the marriage will be dissolved and you’ll be dead.” Marchosias flashed his teeth in a smile of sorts. “That’s the price: your life if you fail.”

“Fine.” Kaleb nodded. “Let me know when the contract is ready to sign.”

Marchosias walked over to his desk and opened a drawer. “I knew you’d found her before you came to me. You can’t think I don’t have Haage—or his lackeys—under watch.” Marchosias withdrew a contract and motioned for Kaleb to approach. “Come.”

Kaleb looked at the contract. Everything he had wanted was about to be his. All he had to do was sign. He lifted the pen and stared down at the words. The terms didn’t actually matter. As a cur, he had no room to negotiate.

“Ahhh! The bride proxy is here.” Marchosias smiled at a girl who was brought into the room, half asleep and entirely unclothed. “Come over here.” He held out a hand to the girl, and then paused and glanced at Kaleb. “Unless you have another proxy in mind?”

“No,” Kaleb said.

“Sign then.” Marchosias nodded at the contract. “I’m sure you’ll be wanting to get on with the nuptials.”

As the girl, the daimons, and the witch watched, Kaleb signed the contract.

“Go on then. Finish the wedding.” Marchosias motioned at the girl.

“Where?”

Marchosias opened his arms expansively. “Aside from my desk, the entire room is open. Pick a spot.”

“It’s okay, Kaleb,” the girl told him. “I volunteered.”

Kaleb knew that his proxy wedding wasn’t personal, but as he looked from the proxy bride to his ruler, he felt worse than he usually did after he’d whored himself. It was a clear reminder of who had the true power, or perhaps it was merely business. If Mallory had been present for the marriage, perhaps they’d have had privacy, but she wasn’t, and Kaleb still had to finish the wedding in order for it to be binding. He consummated the ceremony in front of the requisite witnesses and witch. All the while, Marchosias continued his paperwork.

When the act was done, Marchosias watched as the witnesses affixed their signatures to the contract, and then handed it to the witch, who did whatever trickery was necessary to make the proxy service binding. The proxy remained on the floor, making the already tawdry process even less appealing. It was far more than Kaleb had the right to hope for as a cur: he’d just been wed to the daughter of The City’s ruler. He was a part of the ruling class now.
At least for the next year.
But the silent, naked daimon who stayed supine on the floor made Kaleb feel worse than he could explain—and he hoped never to have to tell Mallory about the proxy wedding. She was raised by a witch; she’d expect a different sort of ceremony one day.

Marchosias glanced at the proxy. “She’s paying off a debt,” he said. “I’d give her to you as a wedding gift, but now that you’re wed, you aren’t to touch any other daimon until my daughter is breeding. It’s in the contract you signed.”

Mutely, Kaleb nodded.

“Later, if you want—”

“No,” Kaleb interrupted. “I have what I want.”

“After the last of the fights, you may go to that world for as much of the next year as necessary to get the job done—or you can bring her here and live in the palace,” Marchosias said.

“
After
the fights?”

“Once a daimon enters the competition, he needs to be eliminated in a match or forfeit.” Marchosias flashed his teeth at Kaleb. “I can’t imagine that a cur who thinks to wed
my
daughter would forfeit. You’ll fight. You’ll win, or you’ll die.”

“Oh,” Kaleb said. Sole right to Mallory was his, but he was suddenly even more of a target.

“If you die in the fights, my daughter won’t be injured. It’s a rare bit of magic, but I’ve added it to your bond,” Marchosias said.

Kaleb didn’t know what to say. He was grateful for the protection for Mallory, but he hadn’t expected to continue to fight. “I see.”

“You didn’t think you could circumnavigate the rules, did you?” Marchosias chided. “You came here asking for the prize without winning the game. You have her; now, prove you can keep her.”

Kaleb nodded silently again. He wasn’t sure of the protocol just then. He wanted to leave, but he hadn’t been dismissed.
Do daimons still get dismissed if they are ruling class?

“Go on, then.” Marchosias held his copy of the contract out to him. “You have a competition to survive and a wife to breed.”

Z
EVI WASN’T SURPRISED TO
find Aya outside the mouth of the cave. He also wasn’t sure if he wanted to invite her inside. Kaleb didn’t entirely trust her, and this was his home. On the other hand, Aya had saved Kaleb’s life. That earned her a lot of leeway as far as Zevi was concerned.

“He’s not here,” Zevi told her.

Kaleb hadn’t coped too well with what happened in the fight, and he’d vanished not long after Zevi had led him away from the carnival. It wasn’t like there were wounds to tend, so Zevi couldn’t insist on Kaleb staying home.

When Aya didn’t reply, Zevi nodded at the ground. “Is this ward like circles? Can you cross it without me knowing?”

“Yes,” Aya admitted. “No magic I’ve found in The City has been strong enough to stop me at anything.”

Zevi motioned for her to come inside, but he didn’t say the words that would allow her to do so. “What about outside The City?”

She gave him a wry smile, acknowledging his lack of welcoming words, and stepped into the cave. “In the Untamed Lands? Nothing I’ve found out there is beyond me. I looked, but . . . no.”

“And the human world? Anything stronger there?” Zevi gave her his most innocent look.

Without missing a beat, Aya said, “Yes, but not by much. There are older witches, but I’m able to best most of them too.”

“Huh.” Zevi swept his arm forward in a gesture of welcome, offering her the softest of the piles of hides that he had. If any guest they’d had merited the best comforts, she was the one. Her magic might have disturbed Kaleb, but it had also kept him alive in a fight he should’ve lost. To Zevi, that was far more important than Kaleb’s self-loathing at what he’d done. The first time doing something horrible was always the hardest. Kaleb might not be willing to admit that today, but Zevi had no illusions. He’d seen Kaleb’s dismay after Zevi sold his body to buy them food; he’d seen the terror in Kaleb’s eyes when he’d come very close to dying. Those were sickening too. The revulsion faded, and they kept on living. Time made even the worst of horrors seem milder. Kaleb simply needed time—not that Zevi would
say
that to Kaleb right now.

Zevi studied Aya as he waited for her to explain why she was there. She was different from anyone he’d spent time around. When they acknowledged him, ruling-caste women typically either looked at him as an object of revulsion or of pleasure. Aya had neither reaction. It was comforting.
Like being around Kaleb is.
He smiled at that realization. Kaleb had been right about her: she would be a good protector if he needed one.

Patience already gone, Zevi flopped down across from her and asked, “Why are you here? I told you he’s out, and you’re still here. You don’t want me, so why?”

“You’re refreshing,” she said with a small laugh.

He shrugged. “What do you want, Aya?”

“Come to the carnival with me,” she finally said. “I need to be distracted, and people need hints that Kaleb and I are not enemies. If Kaleb isn’t with me, you will be convincing proof that he and I are talking.”

“With or without a mask?”

She laughed. “Just you, Zevi. No mask.”

Zevi flashed his teeth at her in a wide grin. He’d be her stand-in trophy. Walking with her would be far more entertaining than sitting home worrying over Kaleb. If he were able to find a female daimon truly appealing, Aya would be a contender. Unlike the red-mask jobs he’d taken, he thought he might be able to lie with Aya without needing to imagine that he was touching a daimon he
did
want.

T
HE WITCH WAS QUIET
as they walked toward the carnival, but Zevi had lived with Kaleb long enough to be used to sullen moods. They stopped at the edge of the carnival, and Zevi watched a scab pick the pockets of those pausing to listen to a wire-thin woman with beautiful long fingers playing a hurdygurdy. The scab didn’t rob everyone—doing so was a foolish strategy—but he judiciously assessed each listener. A few minutes passed, and the set of songs ended. Some listeners dropped coins into the musician’s tin before they walked away. The scab joined them, dropping a percentage of his take into the tin as well. The two exchanged a brief glance, enough to check if the time for moving on was now or if the musician thought they were still good for another round.

“They have a good system,” Aya commented.

“Fair, not good,” he corrected.

Since he’d left the Untamed Lands, Zevi hadn’t ever known life without cons, theft, or other less gentle ways to earn the coins necessary to eat. He could see ways to improve their system, but he suspected that the musician had other revenue streams or a protector.

“Walk with me,” Aya said softly.

Mutely, Zevi kept pace as they wound their way through the crush of people and deeper into the carnival. A lot of people believed that the carnival wasn’t the same sort of danger as the Night Market, but the only real difference as far as Zevi could see was that the vendors who were here only during the day hid their wantonness better. He tried to stay away at night because Kaleb asked him to, but he was more comfortable with the Night Market. Illusions confused him.