Rabid For Her Revenge
EIGHT

My focus for the days leading up to the banquet was my physical health. I fell into a routine of eating, exercising and sleeping. I kept to myself, not seeing Sarakiel except for when he checked in with me and Kiro had vanished into thin air.

I did not mind the solitude, especially when my body would ache especially bad because of the mercury and no one was around to see my struggle.

By the week of the banquet, I was relieved to replace I had gained fifteen pounds and although my muscles were a far cry from being defined, it was progress.

I still did not seek out Sarakiel as the days grew closer to my debut as the One’s new consort. I figured if Sarakiel had a problem or thought I needed to know something, he would tell me. I contented myself with my newfound schedule, not dwelling on or dreading the upcoming events.

As the day finally arrived, I was not nervous. Sarakiel had told me that today was about establishing boundaries. We were both bound to toe the line, perhaps even cross it, but tonight was the night to make mistakes.

I did not fear being inadequate in the eyes of society. They had long since found me unacceptable.

My every breath offended them, but their approval did not matter to me. I did not seek it, I did not need it, I did not want it.

A knock on my door, had me flopping my head to it. I was on my back on the lush carpet, my feet up on the wall as I meditated. I called it meditating because it was the closest word I could replace to describe it. I was not soul searching, and I was not trying to reach a greater sense of fulfillment or self realization.

I did it to replace peace.

I did it to bask in the emptiness.

I could close my eyes and enter a blank space with no sounds, no thoughts and no feelings. I could escape the pain of the mercury rolling through my veins this way. I could block out the voices in my head, the blue and red light that argued and tried to convince me to their side.

It was just emptiness.

And emptiness was better than feeling.

Because I was tired of feeling pain and anger.

Vengeance and retribution were another story. Like the feeling of empowerment, they delighted me, satisfied a craving, made me feel good. I longed for those feelings, but they were short lived and far and few between.

Pulling my feet down from the wall, I tucked them in close before rolling onto my side and climbing on to my feet. I padded over to the door, opening it to emit a maid with a large white box in her hand. On top of the main box, she balanced three other boxes. I opened the door to let her through.

She immediately went for the bed but with a few sharp words from me she redirected herself to set them on the chair in the back corner of the room. She did not question me, knowing full well she was not supposed to bother me on Sarakiel’s orders, but I did catch her casting the bed a glance on her way out.

Waiting until she was long gone, I removed the smaller boxes from the biggest one. Pulling at the purple ribbon on the box I let it drop to the ground as I removed the lid.

I smiled as I beheld what lay inside the box. On top of white tissue paper was a card written in the sharp slanted letters of Sarakiel’s handwriting.

Daylin,

As promised, a dress tailored to fit your request. I appreciate you letting the seamstress take your measurements and I hope it did not make you too uncomfortable. Along with this dress are three other boxes. I would like you to wear everything in these boxes as well. I shall be by shortly to collect you. Do not put any of this on, and please change into comfortable traveling clothes if you are not in them already. However, please inspect the contents of this box to make sure they are to your liking.

Sarakiel

I set the card aside and lifted the tissue paper away. Lying on a puddle of dark plum colored silk, an intricate web of white gold greeted me. I was glad it was not the usual yellow gold as I found that color too brazen and gaudy. White gold though, that would do nicely.

Lifting the white gold shoulder jewelry, the purple silk followed it as I drew it up from its box. I could clearly see how the thick collar made out of the white gold would encase the entirety of my neck from just below my chin down to where it branched out across my shoulders so that when I looked down on them, my shoulders would be covered in a folded diamond of precious metal. The points of the shoulder plates that touched my collar bone held strands of white gold that was looped to halfway between where the thick collar continued down into a tapered triangle. The strands of white gold looped again to the other side of the collar, the point of the collar directly in the center of the second loop before the chain again looped up to the point of the shoulder plate making perfect symmetry.

I set it back down in the box carefully, replacing the lid.

The dress was to my satisfaction.

I had merely asked Sarakiel for a dress that would cover my scarred shoulders and body. No one deserved to see my battle wounds, deserved to hear a story, so I wanted the elements of my story covered. I had left everything else up to him. I had not known what style he would want me to wear. If he wanted me to be flashy or demure, if he wanted me in bright colors or dark. I trusted him to know what he wanted and since I did not care in the slightest, I figured this was for the best.

I quickly scanned the other three boxes, seeing a pair of black flats that would be easy for me to walk in and spend the better of the evening in. I was glad he had thought of my comfort. I knew that many females did not get the same consideration from their consorts. In the other box was a set of black diamond studded earrings, and lastly a crest made of white gold that was fitted on a hair clip.

I knew it was Sarakiel’s emblem for his territory.

I moved all of the items into the same box for easier handling, sealing the lid just as a quite but firm knock sounded.

Instead of walking across the room like last time I simply called out, “Enter.”

Sarakiel slipped inside, and I rose from my crouched position, the box held soundly in my hands.

The One looked calm but I could feel his anxious aura. He was frazzled, perhaps even nervous. What about, I didn’t know nor ask. “I apologize for the abruptness of all this,” he said, “but we’re on a schedule. Are you ready to go?”

He was not short with me, whatever had him off balance he did not take it out on me. With a nod I stepped up beside him. He looked down at the box in my hold, but I turned it away from him, showing him rather than saying that I wished to hold on to it.

We quickly made our way through the mansion and into the car parked just outside the main doors on the gravel. From there we were driven to the train station where I was quickly ushered aboard and into the private coach Sarakiel had booked.

Upon entering the car, I found four others already present. Three males and a female looked up at my entrance, Sarakiel coming in right behind me.

My eyes quickly found Kiro. He met my eyes for only a second before dropping my gaze.

I let my eyes run over the male across from him, quickly looking him over. He had brown eyes and hair the color of wheat. Unlike Sarakiel’s sharp jaw, his was rather square.

There was an L shaped couch that stretched across one side of the cabin, three single seated couches across from it. To the front of the coach was a bar and at the back was a closed door.

I took up a seat in one of the chairs. Sarakiel went straight for the bar, pouring himself a small glass. We all waited in silence for the One to speak.

Sarakiel took his time, leisurely making his drink before coming to sit next to me.

“We have about four hours,” Sarakiel said after a moment, lowering his drink from his lips, the glass held lazily between his thumb and middle finger. “Tonight, should be fairly laid back.”

The male next to Kiro murmured, “Perhaps, if bringing her,” he said lifting his chin in my direction, “doesn’t cause an uproar.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Sarakiel replied, tapping the glass with his forefinger. “But since I do not plan to make a scene, there really shouldn’t be much they can complain about.”

A wry smile painted my face. The words were directed at me. He wanted me to play nice tonight. Today was all about getting a feel for high end wight society. I was supposed to behave unless provoked. “Then shall I let you defend my honor tonight?” I drawled. “Or do I get to fend for myself?”

Sarakiel shrugged and nestled back in the chair. “Whatever you decide. Tonight, is about boundaries, moderation. You show me what you can be satisfied with and I’ll tell you if you need to settle for less.”

“Hmmm,” I clicked my claws together. Strong enough to stay in my pure state for a few hours at a time, tonight was a night I deemed necessary to show off. They would be expecting a feral. I was going to show them the most well-mannered feral in existence. Nothing would please me more than seeing the looks of disgust on their faces as I acted just like them, from the pure state down to the veiled threats and words. They would not get the beast tonight unless they provoked it.

“There will be talk,” the male with brown eyes and wheat colored hair who I had yet to learn his name spoke.

“I’m sorry,” I commented, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

Sarakiel lifted his glass to his lips, speaking over the rim. “Oh yes, Daylin, this is Phineas Aquila. He is my Two who takes care of most of my northern matters. He knows the most about the top tiers of the Northern Provinces. And next to him is Kiro Ursa who I am certain you’ve already met. He is my Two for western matters.”

My eyes drifted over to the male and female who had yet to speak a word or even lift their eyes. Sarakiel did not introduce them so I was left to wonder what their role was.

“Tonight, if you run into any problems, replace them or me,” he smirked, “though something tells me you’ll more than likely handle the matter yourself.”

I neither denied nor confirmed his claim.

Sarakiel had Phineas brief me on the Ones Twos and Threes I was sure to meet. “Aquila, tell her the habits of these males.” The TV above the bar flared to life, images of males projected on the screen. Phineas, or Aquila I guess he was addressed as, set his phone on the table and began to brief me, telling me their habits, the way they talked, their views, who they allied with. He scrolled through the males, Sarakiel and Kiro adding their input.

After two hours had passed and I was more than certain that I had properly filed away all information pertaining to the faces I asked, “And their consorts?”

There was silence, Aquila looking at Sarakiel in confusion. “What about them?”

“Well, they will be there as well, will they not?”

“Of course, they will,” Phineas confirmed slowly, not seeing where I was going with this. “You don’t need to worry about them. They keep their heads down and mouths shut.”

I smiled coldly and shook my head, disappointed in his ignorance and judging by the look on Kiro’s face he was as clueless as the other Two. “They keep their heads down and mouths shut in front of other males, but when it becomes two females,” I laughed dryly, “let’s just say I’m more concerned on how to deal with them and their habits than I am with their males.”

Aquila looked up at Sarakiel, lost for words.

The One clicked his tongue before standing, “Daylin, why don’t you get dressed.”

Getting to my own feet I lifted the box I had set on the floor.

“There’s a room in the back that you can…”

I had already kicked my shoes off, dropped my shorts and flung off my top, reaching for the dress. The female who had been silent up until then scurried over to my side and helped me to slip the dress on over my head. After carefully adjusting the shoulder plates so it laid right, she fiddled in the back to close the metal collar around my neck. I tried to hide my cringe as her fingers brushed my skin, I hated the feeling her contact left behind. It was like a burn, or an insatiable itch I couldn’t scratch.

Once my dress was situated, she quietly asked me to take a seat before retrieving a massive box from her spot. I looked around at the stunned faces, rolling my eyes. “I thought females were supposed to be the shy ones,” I grumbled.

The small female was before me, opening her box to reveal make up kits and brushes. Finally understanding her purpose, I let her work following her whispered directions as to not make her job harder.

When she was finished, she whipped out a mirror. I barely glanced at my mirror image before flinching and turning away from my reflection.

The female’s hands shook. “Do you not like it?” she asked with worry.

“No,” I replied, “it’s fine. You did a good job.” I pretended I hadn’t seen the concerned glance Sarakiel gave me. The girl looked as though she was about to cry so I grabbed her hand. Like I had found out before with Kiro, any contact I initiated did not leave the same disgusting feeling as it did when I was touched. “It’s beautiful,” I told her honestly. I did like the dark smokey eyes she had given me, black and deep purple to match my dress. The dark purple off set my vibrant silver ones.

“You did a fine job Clair, that will be all,” Sarakiel took control of the situation, defusing it in an attempt to alleviate my stress and the makeup artist’s. “Eugene,” Sarakiel called and the male perked up. Gathering his own kit, he came around the chair behind me.

“Up or down, sir?” the male asked Sarakiel.

“Hair up,” he answered, “and put this,” he added, rummaging through my box for the hair clip, “in a very visible place.”

Eugene grabbed the pin and set to work on my hair, taking out the tie I had used to knot my hair at the nape of my neck. As my head was turned this way and that I watched as the three males undressed, removing their shirts to dress appropriately for tonight’s event.

Kiro and Phineas were dressed in simple three-piece suits as was customary for Twos and Threes. Black shoes, black slacks, black dress shirts, black vests, black blazers and black ties. The only thing on them that was not black, were their cufflinks that matched the emblem of my hair clip and a matching metal pin centered just below the knot of their ties.

Sarakiel however, as a One, dressed in the traditional blazer known as a Rassah. The Rassah was a sharp, fitted, blazer. There were many different styles of the Rassah, but they all had stiff, upstanding collars and were usually decorated with gold or silver leaf. The Rassah was form fitting with tight sleeves and instead of visible buttons, it was secured by pulling one side under the other and clasping it shut from underneath. This particular Rassah was mainly black and the same purple shade as my dress.

I smiled inwardly to know he had purposely matched us.

The collar was lined with gold leaf, as were the tops of the shoulders. However, black shoulder marks were situated on the shoulders, silver threads matching the same pattern as the white gold cufflinks with his territory emblem sewn on to the ends.

The majority of the blazer was black with purple accents. The right side was pulled over the left, the seam was curvaceous, snaking on a diagonal from the split in the collar to the left side then zagging back to the right to end just right on the center. Deep purple painted the black on the left side, overlapping slightly onto the right, then receding back to the left as it lowered. The sleeves were black from the cuffs to the elbows where the same purple took over, surrendering back to black in line with the arm pits.

It suited the One well. I was never fond of the ones that exhibited too much gold and silver leaf, replaceing them gaudy and tacky.

Sarakiel held my eyes as he fastened on the cufflinks. I focused on those electric blue eyes, interested in seeing them so bright and not grey and stormy as they had been most times that I had seen him. I had never seen someone’s eyes change colors, but who was I to say anything with my liquid silver eyes? I distracted myself with my own musings, wondering what could have Sarakiel’s mood reflecting through the color of his eyes while I tried to ignore the feeling of Eugene’s fingers threading through my hair, pulling on it and twisting it. His hands were gentle, but I couldn’t help but loathe the touch.

Once my hair was finished, Eugene, like Clair, attempted to show me in the mirror, but I averted my eyes, mumbling a soft thanks. The male left me to inspect the other males, straightening ties and using a lint roller to make sure they were pristine.

My finger traced down the side of the metal collar out across my shoulder to the point that was protruding just past my shoulder. I then absently traced down the side of the shoulder plate to the point where the white gold chain draped loosely then up to where it met the collar again and repeated the motion down, my finger tracing further than before, then moving back up to where the collar met the other shoulder plate then down and up again. I admired the simple engravings on the metal, following the etchings with the pad of my finger.

I lowered my eyes, smoothing my hands down the fabric, inspecting the rest of the dress now that it was on. Black silk blanketed the shoulder plates of the heavy jewelry, disappearing almost instantly into the deep plum colored sleeves just a few centimeter from the shoulder. The sleeves were tight, not a single wrinkle in sight unless I bent my arms.

A large diamond of skin was visible allowing ample view of my cleavage, what little I had anyway. The black silk extended out just far enough so that it would not tuck under my armpit. The purple silk exposed a wide v of skin down to my navel. Had there not been more white gold crafted in thin downward pointing arrows holding together the two split sides of the purple silk v together, my breasts would have been on full display. Between each arrow of white gold was black gossamer, alluding to the skin beneath but not showing it. A thin band of white gold secured around my waist and left the plum colored silk to fall to the ground in a puddle at my feet.

I had never worn anything so exquisite or expensive. Money was never something I had worried about. I was never a person who cared for the finer things in life, and if I needed something, I had simply stolen it or the money to get what I wanted. Nobody missed a cheap blanket or t-shirt, but a silk dress or string of pearls would certainly be noticed.

It wasn’t long before the train reached our destination but Sarakiel held me back as the others exited. I faced the One, raising a brow in question. Sarakiel lifted my chin with a bent finger and leaned in close.

I waited for the disgust of his touch to hit me, but like before I felt nothing. Even as his cheek brushed mine so that his lips were nearly touching my ear as he whispered, “Tonight they will expect me to treat you like an animal and show you off like one. You are my triumph, my victory. I was able to do what Myrin could not. You aren’t my consort tonight, you’re my trophy.”

I wrapped my hand around the back of his neck, leaning in to skim my lips on the shell of his ear as I whispered back, “Is this your way of asking for permission to touch me tonight, Prince?”

“Prince?” he questioned my nickname.

I chuckled. “Take a look in the mirror Sarakiel, you’re straight out of a legend. A real life Prince, regal, handsome, dangerous and all.” The One snorted and I grinned. “You’ll have to wait until you claim Paramount if you want me to call you King.” I lowered back down on to the balls of my feet. “And you never answered my question. Is this you asking for permission to touch me?”

Sarakiel cocked his head. “If it is?”

With a wicked smirk I replied, “I think you’ll do as you like tonight. After all, we’re testing the waters, are we not?”

“Is that a yes, then?” Sarakiel asked cryptically.

I laughed. “You may touch me, Prince,” I allowed, “but just know that I have the right to return the gesture.”

Instead of replying, he offered me his arm, and together we exited the train, making our way to our debut as consorts.

The feral and the master.

The loser and the victor.

The proof that the current hierarchy would always reign.

And no one knowing that they had it all wrong.