Tempered by the Will

8 - Decadent

 It made no sense.

Felix was walking next to Vica and leading her up the stone path from the canal while Constantine and Bren brought up the rear. Despite the assurances of his good intentions, she knew better than to believe he was telling her the whole truth. He'd sent a terrifying assassin after her, for one. That already made him untrustworthy. It didn't matter that he was Philio's grandson or that he had been 'entrusted' with her care.

Because Philio had hated her, too. She'd never forget as long as she lived that among his final words to her, he had hinted that she ought to kill herself.

Things that she didn't like to think about, and yet they rose to the forefront of her mind with increasing insistence. Felix, of House Aventine. He looked like a good man, which meant she needed to be on guard all the more. When he struck, she refused to be caught unawares.

And he claimed to be a part of the Resistance. The heads of one of its 'factions.' If that were truly the case, why had Yezia intercepted Constantine and tried to prevent him from bringing her here, to the city? Why would Felix work against his own comrade, and vice versa?

Someone was lying. At the very least, someone was playing games, and as Vica approached the massive, sprawling villa built of white stones and bricks, she had to wonder how someone who so obviously prospered from the Capital's corrupt system could possibly be part of the Resistance as well.

It didn't look good. She glanced sideways at the man beside her, measuring what she could of his honesty by his appearance. But even now, he looked as innocent and good-natured as ever.

"So where am I staying? The dungeons?"

Felix had the audacity to turn his head and stare at her in surprise. "There - are no dungeons here, madam. My home is your home. You'll have the best -"

"Oh, because I figured you'd go with the same tactics that you've been using so far. You say you want to help me, but you've done nothing aside from having me dragged here against my will."

"...Constantine said -"

"- said I came willingly in the end, yes, you mentioned that." She glanced over her shoulder at the man in question, who looked down and held her gaze until she turned to face forward again. "Funny that you say it like it makes up for anything. I was dragged out of a house into the night. He threatened to kill everyone else in it if I resisted, and then led me like cattle over hundreds of miles." She turned to look at Constantine again. "You remember all that, right?"

He didn't say anything. She clicked her tongue and let him be. It felt strange, being the one on the offensive and provoking him when it was usually the other way around, but she'd had enough of trying to soothe him and make nice. Everything that came to mind, everything that she wanted to say - she would. She was tired of losing every argument when he was the one who'd been forgiven of so many things.

Why had she done that? Why had she given so much of herself to him in the end when he had taken so much from her already?

No. Not anymore. She wouldn't deny that she cared about him more than she should, but she wasn't a doormat. From now on, she'd make sure he knew that, and if there was any part of him that truly cared about her, she would wait for the proof. Not these games, these manipulations.

"It's awful," she continued, speaking to Felix once more although she wasn't looking at him. "It's like I'm choking, but all the time. Bren told me a while back that most mages can't feel the anti-magic unless they're channeling or something. Is that right?"

"...Yes."

"Not for me. Not even close. You had him put me in a cage, and I couldn't breathe for weeks. If someone broke your legs so that you couldn't walk, dragged you around on a chain. Took something away from you that's been part of you all your life and made you helpless. Do you know what that's like? I thought I couldn't breathe for days. And you..." She grimaced, a flash of that night that haunted her still cut through her like needles. To think that she'd forgiven him so easily for it. "You had him do that. As far as I'm concerned, you're just as accountable as he is."

They were almost at the end of the path now, and they reached a magnificent set of black metal gates, the bars curled into floral and arabesque designs. There were two men there in what looked like plain servant's clothes, brown tunics and beige pants. With heads bowed, they grabbed hold of the gates and opened them up to allow them through, but no one moved.

"Vica," Felix began to say in a low voice, but she didn't like his tone already. Like he was trying to soothe an unreasonable beast.

"That sounds like the beginning of an excuse," she interrupted. "Think hard about what you're going to say to me, because if you really want my help or whatever it is you're claiming, you're going to have to make a lot of things right with me first. And believe me, I'm not so stupid that I miss the most obvious signs. Everything you've told me so far - you're either holding back or you're lying. And I've had enough of games."

"I understand that."

"Then take a little time to figure out what you're going to tell me. In the meantime, I'm done listening, I need a bath and a rest. If you really want to earn my trust, get rid of the collar and leash."

He blinked at her as if he didn't understand. Playing dumb, was he? She held his stare.

"Collar and leash," he repeated. "What do you mean by that?"

"What do you think? How long are you intending to keep Constantine glued to me? Until I agree to whatever you wish?"

He stared at her, but the confused light that entered his eyes made her abruptly uneasy - especially when he swiveled his head around to look back at the assassin, who had yet to say anything.

"I - there seems to be some kind of misunderstanding here," he said, his every word slow and cautious.

"What?"

"Constantine isn't here at my request. I admit that providing initial protection was part of the original agreement in case you weren't - well, stable. But once I saw that you were of sound mind, I..."

Vica's mouth opened in a soundless objection. That made no sense. Constantine had said himself that once the job was done, he would leave her to her devices and let her die whatever gruesome death awaited her in the Capital. Why would he stay -?

She turned around to look at him herself, eyes narrowed, but it was Felix who went on to explain:

"He's not here because of me," he repeated. "His terms were that I allow him to stay."

* * * * *

Porcelain tubs, and hot water piped in from within the walls, apparently. There were candles and charmed lights to set the mood in this ridiculously fancy washroom that was larger than any inn rooms she had stayed at during her journey here. How ironic that at the end of it, when she had assumed she would need to fight her way out of imprisonment, she was relaxing in greater luxury than she had ever imagined existed.

There were rose petals in the water around her. Real rose petals, pink and red and white. The attendant that Felix had begged her to accept had prepared a bath for her while she checked on Bren, who seemed even more withdrawn than he had earlier. She had tried to ask him what he thought of things so far, but his attention had drifted from the conversation so many times that she decided to leave him be. He was more fragile than she was by far, and he was so exhausted that he looked even more pale and drawn than usual.

It made her uneasy that their rooms were so far apart. They were on opposite ends of the hallway that extended across the second floor of the villa - if anything happened to him, she might not hear it.

But he had to rest, and it wasn't as if she was going to watch him until he fell asleep. So with great reluctance, she had returned to her room to find that the attendant was ready for her with soft towels by the bathroom and a gracious offer of a massage.

Vica had dismissed her immediately. There was no way she was going to fall for such decadence so easily. Felix could keep his massages and attendants, and she was going to take her bath alone.

Half an hour later, she was still soaking in the water that had yet to cool at all with her head leaned back against the smooth wall and her arms wrapped around her folded knees. She wasn't dozing, though. Not when she could feel Constantine lurking nearby. She waited in grim silence as his presence tingled at the edges of her mind, growing ever closer as he no doubt climbed the stairs outside her room. And of course, it wasn't long before she could feel her magic being pressed down as well.

Well, the freedom had been nice even if it hadn't lasted long. She wondered how much stronger she had grown that she could access her magic for a little longer than before -

"Close the door," she said. "It's cold."

She didn't look over at him and continued to stare directly in front of her instead. She was too relaxed to be angry still, but she didn't know if she wanted to see his face. She didn't trust herself to remain level and composed the way she needed to be when she was naked and vulnerable in a tub full of rosewater.

And she still didn't know what to say to him after what Felix had told her. It had been an hour since then, when she had then refused to listen to anything else and demanded some time alone to recuperate after her long journey.

Except it wasn't the journey she needed to recover from, but rather the endless frustration that came with Constantine's games. Her lips twitched open, but the words were a struggle to summon. He spoke first.

"Don't trust him."

Vica snorted. That was what he was going to say? The first civil thing he had said to her in private, and it was a warning as if he really cared. But of course he did, or at least he thought he did. But she wondered if someone like him really understood what that meant. Maybe a cold-blooded killer just wasn't capable.

"I don't," she said. "I don't trust anyone."

"Good."

"That's what you were talking about in the tavern? You telling him that you were staying instead of just taking the money and leaving?"

"What does it matter?"

She did look over at him this time, and she looked him up and down for a long, lingering moment. His cloak was gone, and he was wearing new clothes, a loose white tunic and dark green pants. The damp, dark hair that framed his head was messy and tousled too, and he looked positively domestic. She wondered if his attendant had given him a rosewater bath as well.

"It depends," she answered after a moment. "I haven't decided whether I hate you yet. You keep making me change my mind."

"And what difference does my staying make?"

She shrugged. "Like I said, it depends. On the reason."

"The moment I leave, you die. I don't care how strong you think you are."

"So you're protecting me, is that it?"

"Call it what you like."

She snorted again. All he had had to do was say yes, even if it was a lie. She hated how she wanted to hear these things from him just once more no matter how many times she told herself to get over it. Was she really this weak?

"Tell me why Yezia and the others tried to take me away," she said after a moment. He hadn't left, so she would take full advantage of his presence. "Felix says he's a head of the Resistance, but he wanted me here. They didn't. So what's going on?"

She gestured for him to come closer, then tapped the outer edge of the porcelain tub with her fingers, indicating for him to sit against it. She didn't know if the casual brazenness of her actions would amuse him, but she was so tired that she couldn't care that she was naked in the bath. It was nothing he hadn't seen before, anyway, and enjoyed more than once.

Nonetheless, she drew her knees up closer to her chest when he did approach, and she glanced at him again when he turned around to sit on the floor with his back to the wall of the tub directly by her shoulder.

She resisted the urge to lay her head on him. He smelled good, and she was so exhausted. She wished he wasn't such an ass.

"Hurry up," she said instead, and drummed her fingers on the porcelain for good measure. "Tell me what I need to know."