Noble Blood (Closed for Apollo Wilde)

[Apollo Wilde]

Despite being in the midst of the lion’s den, Adesso didn’t falter. The Baron was a dangerous man, she knew that much, but his arrogance would be his downfall. And his response -deflecting to get the attention off of him to me, to discredit me - was something she’d dealt with before, even if it wasn’t in the air of such splendor.

“Deflection, Sir Baron?” Her tone dripped with cool, detached contempt, as if she couldn’t believe that she would have to address such a lowly creature, “With all of your theatrics, I would have expected better.” Knowing what she knew gave her added confidence, calmed the churning in her stomach. Lent her feet courage as she continued to move forward.

Worse thing that they can do is kill me. And then the Baron gets away, and it’ll be proven too late that I was right.

“It’d be easy enough if your influence reached to the Royal Guard. Easily done enough - if you were able to find one Noblewoman willing to listen to you, who’s to say that you haven’t spoken to any of the others present?” Again, calm, cool, collected - a far cry from the pompous display of the Baron. Techniques she knew would work in her favor. Those who had nothing to hide rarely, if ever, acted panicked or afraid when questioned. Insistent, yes, but not panicked. She didn’t notice the collective cringe of the guard - careful to keep her eyes only on the Baron. It would be difficult to tell at moments who was the commoner and who was the noble.

“That’s the thing about this plague,” she hummed, quietly, thoughtfully. “It does indeed affect Nobles. Nothing so simple as a cold. And if there’s nothing to fear,” she looked past the display of the Baron feasting, “Then you can take a mouthful from one of the ones so affected with the plague. Though I also find it strange that you mention it - as if there’s no harm posed to the commoners who are affected with it. Flushed faces, excessive sweating - if you cared a whit about commoners, then you would know that these things can eventually lead to death. But I think my talk is cheap.”

For the first time, she would turn her attention away from the Baron, and directed it towards the Queen explicitly. She did not falter - and looked directly into the elfin childish face with the air of someone who had the absolute truth on her side. “If the Baron has nothing to fear, your Majesty, I would suggest, strongly, for him to take but a mere mouthful from one of the commoners that were selected for you and your compatriots.”

Surely if the Queen directs him, he can’t refuse. Me, no problem. I hope that she has enough sense to not be swayed by all of his posturing. If she banished him out to Plainside, surely she knows more than I about the depths of his ire.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

The Baron was good at this: deception, intrigue, politics. Despite his eccentricities, he was sharp, and cool under pressure. But, he was in a room full of supernatural predators with senses finely tuned enough to detect the slightest variation in his heart rate, the pores of his skin, his breath. When Adesso said that the virus affected nobles, he tried to gasp along with everyone else, but he wasn’t truly surprised. He’d known all along. If he’d been sitting among the crowd, it probably would’ve gone unnoticed, but he was the center of attention. Everyone could tell, especially Her Majesty the Queen.

Then, when Adesso suggested he taste the blood of one of the infected, another slip of the mask. Fear. An instant racing of the heart, an opening of his pores: it was all any noble in the room needed to know his guilt.

“I’ve...already taken my meal. I d...don’t need another…” He was spinning his wheels, and he was starting to realize it. The temperature in the room had dropped. Support among the court had been mixed, but they were all swinging against him now. Smiles dropped as they realized the danger he’d put them in for this grab at power. Even the nobles who would’ve supported him if he’d pulled off this assassination attempt knew now that by not telling them what this virus did he had risked their lives, and they weren’t happy. Even the sweet, cherubic face of Countess Donia was twisted into a scowl that flirted with ugly.

Duchess Andrada stood again. She took a slow, powerful step toward Baron Danut. “I think that’s a good suggestion, don’t you, Danut? It’s just one mouthful…” She took a couple more steps. “What could it hurt?” Her voice was slow, steady, and ice cold.

The Baron’s eyes flashed around the room, darting from doorway to doorway. He was no wolf among sheep here. He was a wolf among wolves, and in seconds Adesso had made enemies for him out of all of them. One last gasp for help toward the crowd: “Is this how any of you would like to be treated with the barest of suspicions!?”

Silence. They were all content to let the crown enact its own justice, and the Baron would not be tied up in courts for this. Absolute Monarchy was not a system of government known for its slow, methodical approach to justice.

Andrada took one step forward, and Danut tried to turn, to run away. He didn’t make it. His feet didn’t move in front of him to take his next step. His balance lost, he tilted forward, and fell flat on his face, limp. Instantly, the Duchess was next to him, tossing him onto his back, her hand raised above her head, ready to tear him apart.

She didn’t need to. There was a hole in his bright orange overcoat, revealing a hole in his shimmering gold vest, which revealed a hole in his pale blue shirt, which in turn revealed a hole in his chest, ringed by powdered ribs and gore. The hole was empty, a cavity ripped into his chest in the blink of an eye.

It was only then that anyone in the room noticed what was in the Queen’s hand. She sat on her throne, looking as bored as ever, dozens of feet from the condemned Baron, while no one had been able to see her move, her hand clutching his heart. Antonia’s dainty little face held a look of detached disgust as she let the organ fall to the ground before it had even begun to turn to dust. She pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her hands as the curse of death did its work, leaving the Baron’s body to be swept up by the maids at their convenience.

“Constantin!” Antonia’s voice, high, clear, and terrible, rang out through the throne room.

The man in question stepped from the shadows, nodding toward the Queen. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

She addressed him with a warm smile that felt completely out of place. “Work with Christiana and Dr. Iutor. Have someone fetch whatever equipment they need, and determine a way to tell without doubt if someone is infected…”

Christiana stepped out from behind Adesso and walked straight toward one of the obviously infected commoners, all three of whom now wore expressions of pure terror. On the way she deftly lifted a sitting noblewoman’s glass of wine and downed it in one gulp. “There’s no need for that! I swear, you nobles stop thinking the second you stop aging.”

She pulled a pin out of her hair, letting it fall down past her shoulders, and pricked the terrified woman’s arm. A few drops of blood were collected in the glass, and Christiana was already moving away with it, toward Sir Stefan. She held up the glass, not speaking until he failed to do what she wanted.

“Prick your finger, and drop some blood in the glass,” she ordered impatiently. Then, she sat the glass on the ground in front of him and stepped back.

Stefan just gaped at her, eyes flashing in confusion. If anyone had been looking at Antonia or Donia, they would have seen how amused both of them were by this brilliant woman who was definitely the only commoner in Lavachia who could get away with speaking like this.

“Ugh! Fucking Idiot! Use your fang!”

Chagrined, Stefan pricked his finger on one of his fangs, and willed a single drop of blood to fall into the glass. A few seconds of stillness and silence passed. The commoners held their breath. In no time at all, the mixed blood began to foam and fizz, turning pink and frothy. It expanded quickly enough to crack the glass despite its open rim. The bubbling pink mass spread across the floor, pints emerging from just those three drops, Stefan quickly stepping out of the way.

Christiana smiled with crossed arms. “There’s your test.”

Constantin smiled as well. “We’ll have a checkpoint set up on the Ramp immediately, Your Majesty, and begin sending teams to canvas Conacton.”

Antonia nodded, as did Andrada. The red-headed duchess had more to add to the plan. “We’ll need to mark the infected. Perhaps it’s time to bring back the old silver bands, without the clasp.” The older nobles nodded gravely while the younger ones whispered questions to their neighbors.

Constantin nodded to the Duchess, jerking his head toward the royal guardsman that had looked so nervous earlier. Andrada nodded back, her fiery curls bouncing as she turned to make sure the guardsman didn’t slip away. Constantin left through the front door to give his orders. With the sun beating down outside, none of the nobles were leaving the palace until nightfall.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Got him.

Not that she had time to gloat, or to even be pleased by watching him falter. One moment he was backpedalling, physically trying to put distance between himself and the other Nobles - and the next, he was dead. Adesso hadn’t even so much as felt a change in the air; that’s how fast the Queen moved. That alone had been enough to glue Adesso to her spot, animal instinct of not wanting to attract the attention of a bigger, stronger predator in the area.

A rabbit among wolves, she thought as she swallowed hard. Then, a flash of that gallows humor - how far could I have gotten if they decided to rip me apart? I don’t even think I could’ve managed a step.

But then, the reality of the situation floated back to the surface in her mind, and she let out a small squeak of annoyance. With the Baron dead, we won’t find out who all he was associated with! Or how the plague came to be, or if he was behind it -

“Damnation,” she grumbled. “So much for justice.” In a way, it had been served - but to all those he had wronged, those he’d given false promises to, the Nobles that died in agony? “You got off too easy,” she snarled, looking down at the pile of ash.

No time to contemplate: the court was buzzing around her: orders given, a test performed. Christiana’s confidence in establishing the truth: not that there had been any doubt in Adesso’s mind. Not with all that she had seen. But there were still more questions that needed to be answered, and the last thing that she wanted was for the commoners to be forgotten, now that the Nobility was addressed. Who could she address her concerns to? Sir Constantin had already gone.

“…If I may be so bold as to speak,” the faint dustings off of formality, though she didn’t feel it. “Your Majesty, I do not recommend bringing back the silver band,” and with her good arm, she fumbled at the fabric around her throat, showing her own. “This is a choice. One long forgotten, but one that should absolutely not be used to mark people that have been infected as pariahs.” She clumsily re-adjusted her collar of her coveralls as best as she could. Took a deep breath, then plunged ahead. “The Baron Danut was the leader of this, but he couldn’t have done it on his own. For him to be able to bring commoners that have been infected into the palace, he has to have eyes and helpers everywhere, including here. But beyond that, my concern,” her voice took on the sharp clarity of crystal - as it only did when she was speaking about things she truly cared about. “is with the commoners. I have no idea how they were infected, how it spreads, and what the long term affects are. I don’t know if this plague is something natural that has simply incubated in time in commoners, as creatures change to suit their environment, or if they were tested on for the sole purpose of killing Nobility. Outside of what I have seen here, there was no plan given to eliminate particular Nobles: the Nobles that have fallen to the plague outside of the palace seem to have been chosen at random.”

A pause as she swallowed, unused to speaking this much and in such formal tones, “Beyond that, your Majesty,” said with the expected reverence, though she didn’t feel it - surreal, to say the least, “The Baron Danut did not have to do much to bend the commoners to his will. I don’t know what he promised them, and with him dead, there’s no way of finding out. Things have been…bad for us, outside of the city.” Her choice of words were deliberate, a reminder that she, too, was a commoner. Lucky only by dint of kismet, it would seem, but it could have been a turn on the Wheel of Fate that would have had her born in the Warrens, eking out a scarce living, “Plainside has long been considered a hotbed of ‘rebel activity’, but no further concern, and true concern, has been given to them or their living situations. Or those in the Warrens. While I acknowledge my own luck in life, I could have easily have been any of them. And,” she drew up taller, “While I have no particular love for the Nobility myself, I can also acknowledge that regardless of the balance of power, there will always be the haves and the have-nots, the ones disenchanted, the disenfranchised. Those who would continually grasp for power without any regard of whom they trample over to obtain it. Even with all of this, you have, as the Queen, the duty to be as fair and as equal as possible. To recognize that there are others in the world, to recognize how it is that you, any of the Nobles, are able to live in such relative comfort. I do not think it is wise to ostracize those Infected, because, given the current climate, it would only come off as further oppression - concern given only because it directly affects the Nobility.”

A pause, because now she had to figure out a solution. “The infected need to be cured; not set aside and left to their own devices.” Bold words, but no bolder than anything else she’d said. The real problem now was isolating and understanding it. “And not just for the soothing of jangled Noble nerves, but for their own health.”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Queen Antonia narrowed her eyes with a scowl and slowly stood from her throne. Her gown of scarlet and cream moved with her as she stepped down off the dais onto the marble floor below. The nobility that hadn’t already cleared the room watched, rapt. It was different for Adesso to speak combatively with the Baron, who was already under suspicion, but even then what mattered most was her being proven right in the end. Making false accusations against him would’ve been quite dangerous for her. But now, speaking like this to the Queen herself? In a way that could be construed as a rebuke, respectful as it was? No one knew quite what to expect.

“Clear the room,” Antonia whispered. The common folk could only hear her because the room was so deathly quiet, but the nobility would’ve heard either way, and they didn’t need to hear it twice. Their curiosity would not keep them there. They filed out quickly, and only a whispered “Duchess” kept Andrada from leaving with them. Duke Alin commandeered the royal guard to make sure the infected commoners were accounted for.

Drago and Christiana both hesitated, reluctant to leave Adesso alone with the two women. Setefan wasn’t sure whether to pull them with him or not, but when Antonia looked at Christiana and asked her to join them, Stefan tugged on Drago’s arm. The young man looked at Adesso with concern, but another whisper, this time from Sir Stefan, convinced him to leave.

“Trust her. She’s gotten us this far.”

As the last of the uninvited closed the heavy doors behind them, the Queen and the Duchess seemed to relax. Tension that they’d held in their necks thawed, just a bit. They went from tigers on the prowl to tigers at rest: far from domesticated, but capable of an acute bout of friendliness.

Still, the Queen and the Duchess approached to stand in front of Adesso. The contrast between the two women was stark. Antonia was petite, smaller even than Viscountess Tashia despite her more ample curves, with very dark skin and a blemishless face that looked like a portrait of innocence until one felt the power that radiated from her. Andrada was tall and severe, pale with a wild mane of bright red, thin, wispy even. As they shared a brief glance and a smile, taking a moment to enjoy their escape from near death, it was clear that they were close. They looked at the dust, all that remained of Baron Danut, with relief more than anything else.

“He’s Hades’ problem now,” Andrada remarked.

The queen’s reply was just a wry smile.

It didn’t last long, though, before they both turned back to Adesso with stern looks.

“You’ve done your country, and us personally, a great service tonight,” the Queen said gravely. “But don’t think that permits you to question my judgement or my authority in open court.” She took a deep breath, but her voice stayed ice cold. “You’ll forgive me for not welcoming open criticism, after the first coup attempt in a millenium,” she added with a hint of sarcasm. “Should you have any more input, you will request an audience. Understood?”

After Adesso’s answer, the Queen took another deep breath and gestured to the broken wine glass on the floor. “Christiana’s test. This would have happened to us? If we’d Kissed the infected? You’ve seen this happen?”

The news settled heavy on the two noblewomen. They had believed Adesso about the virus’s effect on their kind, but knowing it was bad was different than hearing it described, and seeing a small demonstration.

Andrada was the one who spoke next, to Christiana. “Is a cure possible?”

The inventor shrugged. “That asshole doctor would know better than me, but I’m sure it’s too early to know.”

Antonia looked to Adesso. “Even if we can cure them, the immediate goal is still containment.” She pointed a finger at Adesso’s silver band. “But perhaps we can find a different symbol. I’ll admit I owe you that much, if it’s important to you.”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

She should have been scared by the Queen standing, by her darkening expression. For some reason, Adesso wasn’t. If anything, she stood her ground all the firmer, her full lips pressing into a thin line.

After all, the worst thing she could do is kill me. And that still wouldn’t resolve the problem.

Not that she had any illusions of starting some mass uprising by being a martyr: she didn’t have enough pull. Nor did she expect anyone to avenge her death, should it have come to that. And when the room had thinned to just herself, Christiana, the Queen, and the Duchess, there was still no faltering in her attitude, the strong set of her shoulders. It was as if all of Adesso’s characteristic sloppiness had melted away, despite her rumpled coveralls.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Not ‘questioning’, your Majesty - merely addressing concerns that haven’t reached your ears.” It was polite enough of a defense to avoid the distinction of being directly combative, but it was clear that Adesso neither believed the Queen about an audience, nor was this a topic that she was going to shy away from. Even the differences in their heights played into their unspoken clash of wills. For once, Adesso was taller than a Noble - not overwhelmingly so, but enough to give the impression of an elder sister.

The tang of fear that had doused Adesso previously was replaced by the coolness of her conviction - foolhardy to anyone else, but to her, worth it all. If history had taught her anything, it was that royalty could be toppled. Eventually. And as gruesome as the recent events had been, they’d proven that even the supposedly untouchable Nobility could be brought down.

If anyone has reason to be careful, it certainly isn’t me at this point.

To the Queen’s question, Adesso silently nodded. “It doesn’t take much.” A barely repressed shudder at the vivid memory of the farmer ripped in half, the demise of Sir Iosef. “…All it took was a drop to eradicate one Noble. Splashed on him as he ripped an infected farmer in half. I don’t even think he thought about either action. The results were…instantaneous.” A pause as she collected herself. Probed her screaming memory. “The Nobleman’s body…began to swell. Like bubbles under the skin. His body was covered with these swellings until it could hold no more.” She wouldn’t finish her sentence. She trusted that they were smart enough to gather the rest of the picture. “And that was just a drop. I don’t know how, or if there is any difference, when a Noble fully kisses an infected commoner, though I suspect it would be even quicker and all the more violent.”

A flicker of realization in her eyes. I could mention now that Boala has seen this up close and personal; have someone from the Queen search her out. But as soon as she thought of it, she tamped the idea down. No way. She’s frightened enough, possibly had no idea what was going on. I still don’t know her involvement, and as of yet, her case is still open. As far as I’m concerned, that means she’s still under whatever protection that I can manage. And if I find her, chances are I can potentially get the rest of my questions answered - such as who leads this, is there a cure, does this eventually kill the infected? If the Queen is so eager to solve everything on her own, I can leave her to address the Noble side of it all.

A pang of her conscious. Just because you’ve been dressed down by her doesn’t mean that you should give up.

But it’s not giving up; I’ve laid all the evidence at her feet.

Yes, but if she had the ‘good sense’ to kill the one person who could have answered most, if not all, of the questions about this. You think she has enough intelligent people around her, let alone herself, to actually pursue this to the end? There's no telling how many in her council were influenced by the Baron. You know she doesn’t care a whit about the commoners save for what they can do for her.

Yes, but maybe this will be a wake up call for her.

Yes, but, my own curiosities. I want to know where this came from. If it can be reproduced. If even the Baron’s demise was part of a plan from someone else, perhaps a commoner, knowing that once the immediate threat was addressed, there would be no further immediate action into the commoners…

You can stand here thinking in circles all day, Adesso. You need to find Boala.

I don’t honestly know the first place to find her. No - you do. Somewhat. Drago mentioned that Sorin Rosu had come to the aunt’s home, and that this man rarely had dealings with them. I’m willing to bet at this point that he may have been the other man that I heard in the shed. If he’s not part of the crowd - which could be possible - he’s probably gone into hiding out in the countryside. Or he could still be out there, awaiting further orders.

“….If there is no further need for me, I ask to take my leave, your Majesty.” Clipped, but not enough so that she could be accused of further rudeness. Not that she cared at this point, truly - the knowledge that she had to act swiftly was spurring her again. She had to see this through.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Adesso’s tone, and the flippant way she mentioned angering the Queen, made the two men step back in alarm. She sounded so...professional, so in command, despite her injuries and exhaustion. It was an attractive feature for both men, especially Drago. The walk through hallways and corridors was punctuated by arguments from Adesso’s companions.

“Stay, and eat something,” Drago pleaded.

“Adesso, listen to reason,” Sir Stefan admonished.

“You’re wounded!” Drago reminded.

“I can’t follow you if you leave today. Wait!” Stefan reasoned.

“You need rest!” Drago begged.

“I can make you a much better sling by nightfall…” Christiana offered.

“You won’t find a carriage at this hour…” Stefan warned.

“Please!” Drago cried out, his voice fraying.

When Adesso turned and told both men to stay put, they nearly shouted in their vehement disagreement.

“NO!” Drago said, his voice echoing off the walls, his lips set in cold determination.

“That’s stupid,” added Christiana, perhaps unhelpfully.

Stefan had stayed around the corner, hesitant to even step into the hallway so close to sunrise, but his objection was more reasoned out.

“Wait until evening, Adesso. I can carry you much faster than you can move on your own. You’ll hardly lose any time, and then I’ll be there to help you!”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“Guys…guys…GUYS.” Finally she raised her voice loud enough to counter the concern from all three of them - and was directly countered by Drago lifting his voice. She blinked in surprise, visibly taken aback. Actually stopping in her in tracks to gawp at him - her expression shifting from surprise to annoyance, before dissolving into a short, bitten off laugh.

“Drago!” She clapped him on his shoulder, using her good hand. Perhaps a little harder than necessary, but who was counting? “Congratulations.” She looked as if she was going to say something more, something considerably salacious if the look on her face was anything to go by - but taking another look at their present company, decided against it.

“But,” and she turned to face Christiana, Drago, and Sir Stefan, “Time isn’t really on my side on this one. If what Drago told me is correct, and I’ve no reason to disbelieve him, and especially given the events of this past evening…the time table that the Baron set up has been pushed forward substantially. So his plan here more or less has fallen apart - I hardly think that’s the end of it, though. The Queen and her ilk can weed out the rest of the Nobles here, perhaps, but there’s got to be a corresponding end on the Commoner side - and we have the benefit of being able to move around in the daylight. If they have contacts here in the Palace, which I’m sure they did, then it stands to reason that word’s gotten out to them. They’re probably trying to regroup and fall back to a secondary plan, if they have one, and there’s still the idea that by killing the Baron that the whole insurrection is over with. I don’t agree with that at all. I’ve got no idea where Boala is, and if I act now, I can potentially slip in with the rest of the Commoners that are either trying to flee the city or are still mulling about out there.”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Drago balked initially when Adesso called out his name, but as it became clear she had no intention of taking their advice, he felt emboldened once again. He stepped out the large doors onto the cobblestone street, gently warming with the orange light of dawn.

“Then I’m going with you,” he declared, daring her to contradict him.

Stefan was not satisfied by that. He wanted her to agree to stay, no matter what danger it put Boala in. He was sure she was a sweet girl, but Adesso was important to him. “Drago, that is NOT what the concession we want fr--AAGH!” In his haste, he had gestured with his arms and accidentally extended his hand past the shadows cast by the edge of the hallway. That gentle illumination of the sun creeping over the buildings of The Plateau had caressed the back of his hand with its deadly rays. He jerked his hand back to his body and took a few steps further into the Palace’s corridors to protect himself. His hand had reddened, despite his light brown complexion, and it throbbed faintly in pain. He hissed and grimaced, but he knew he’d be right as rain after an evening meal.

“That, um, with all due respect that’s not good enough. I don’t doubt Drago’s capabilities but neither of you should be venturing out into that madness without a noble escort!”

Christiana flashed Adesso a stern look. “Fuck. Look. For the record, I agree with them for once, but do what you want. I’ll make sure Dumb and Pretty doesn’t immolate himself while you’re gone.”

Drago’s expression was resolute. “I don’t care who might’ve seen me asking around in Fermavest. I’m not letting you go alone.”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Her amusement at Drago’s self assertion was quickly beginning to sour, a change in thought that didn’t escape the expression on her face.

“No,” she said, a bit more firmly - if not on the verge of being short. She was not to be argued with. She drew herself taller to further press home her point - and then instantly staggered. Her good hand flew to her forehead as she lowered her head, squeezing her eyes shut. The sudden wave of lightheadedness had also brought a nasty wave of nausea with it: the combination of the two were near enough to knock her off of her feet.

Okay, so maybe I’m a bit more worse off than I thought. But as long as I’m on my feet, I can keep going -

She was brought out of her thoughts by Sir Stefan’s short cry of pain. Despite her fuzzy vision, her brows knit in concern, and she was taking steps towards him, gaining a bit more stability with each one. Without a sound, she held out her good wrist to him, asking him to eat and heal himself. She was unable to look into his eyes, shy, perhaps, from the slight flush on her cheeks. Asking forgiveness for his being physically wounded. She could deny his (and her own) feelings without feeling too entirely guilty, but something about seeing him physically hurt yet again because of her was too much. She shook her left wrist at him, an unspoken go on then in the gesture.

If he feeds from me, enough to heal himself, I’ll definitely be in no position to go anywhere. But it’s twice now that he’s gotten hurt, and I have to do something. I’m sorry, Boala. You’ll have to wait just a bit longer…Maybe it’ll give me enough time to actually figure out where you are.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Sir Stefan was appalled that Adesso would offer up her blood again, so soon and when she obviously so desperately needed it. He drew back, pulling his fangs away from her delicious wrist.

“No, Adesso! You’re wounded, and there’s no call for that this time!”

Drago was already moving behind her. He knew her better than anyone, except maybe Christiana or Sheryl. He knew how quick she was to blame herself for anything that happened to people around her, or that she felt were on any way in her charge, and he knew how hard it would be to talk her out of it.

He walked up behind Adesso and put a hand on her good shoulder, looking Sir Stefan pointedly in the eye. “I think you should take her up on it, Sir Stefan.” When he was reasonably sure Adesso wouldn’t notice, he tried to wink and put his hand under his cheek to mime falling asleep. “That burn doesn’t look good.”

“What!?” Christiana started to object, but when she saw Drago’s intention she held her tongue, a sly smile lighting up her face.

Stefan’s eyebrows rose momentarily before he reached down to hold Adesso’s arm. He could sense her embarrassment, and he would attribute it to arousal whether it was or not. His hand glided from her elbow to her wrist, feeling her pulse through her tattered sleeve. Her skin was warm, but he could feel her shaking ever so slightly.

Adesso had been through so much in the last few days so much danger and fear, taken risks and saved lives. Stefan was touched by her selflessness and deeply impressed with her bravery. He wanted to protect her, to hold her, to be with her for the rest of his life.

“I meant what I said earlier.” His voice was low and steady, a thrum of restrained passion. The hunger in his eyes was obvious, but so was the confidence and ease in his smile. He knew what he wanted, and it was her, as she was. “I love you, Adesso.”

And then his fangs cut into her wrist, tiny marks with bright red blood pooling on the surface of her skin, the magic of the Kiss sending pleasure coursing through her veins with every heartbeat.

“Well, I believe I shall take my leave,” Christiana whispered before jaunting away down the hall.






Stefan pressed his lips to her warm, brown skin, but he didn’t suck the blood from her this time, simply swallowing what naturally pooled inside his mouth. It wasn’t the rush of Adesso’s previous Kisses, the meteoric, soaring, explosion of bliss that yanked her straight to a knee-shaking, eyes-fluttering, heart-stopping peak. This was slower, a steady, inexorable swell toward climax, a rising ocean’s tide of tingling, burning, hungry joy. She was climbing closer and closer to orgasm by the second, and Stefan’s eyes, looking up at her from her wrist with desire, were just another stimulus pushing her toward release.

Until it stopped.

With her eyes rolling back in her head and her knees beginning to go weak, Stefan pulled his lips away and ran his tongue over the tiny punctures, closing them as if they’d never been there. He crouched, letting her slackened arm fall over his shoulder instead of to her side. With a quick look to his hand, already beginning to heal, Stefan lifted Adesso into his arms.

“Let’s continue this somewhere you can lie down, Adesso. And thank you.”

As he carried her through the hallways, Drago was at his heels, whispering in his ear.

“So...how much did you take from her, Sir? I...she looks passed out!”

Stefan was amused by the man’s sudden willingness to speak his mind. Adesso had been a good influence lately.

“Just a few drops, Drago. That’s not why she reacted in that fashion.”

Brows knitted, Drago paused before taking in a breath. “Oh. She...that was...she nearly…”

“Came, Drago. She nearly came. You can say it. I know how the two of you have spent some time lately.” He would’ve tapped his nose to let Drago know how he knew, but his arms were full. Still, Drago didn’t ask. His cheeks were cherry red, though.

“I...we…”

Stefan let him sputter adorably for a short walk before Drago finally got out a coherent sentence.

“You aren’t...upset...about that? I know you...have feelings for her.”

Stefan bit his lip. “You make her happy, clearly. I would never stand in the way of that. Not that I could.”

Drago wasn’t sure what to say to that. He couldn’t wrap his mind around Adesso choosing him over Sir Stefan, much less the nobleman being so...accepting of it.

“Oh.”

Acceptance was not the same thing as resignation.

“That said, I believe she may be capable of feeling something for both of us, Drago, and I hope you could accept that, if she does. I know it’s not seen as often among the common folk, but the Countess taught me to be quite comfortable sharing.”

Drago was silent for a few minutes. It wasn’t unheard of for a relationship to include more than two people, but Sir Stefan was correct that it was much more common among nobility. He never thought he would consider it, but he couldn't deny how much Adesso seemed to be aroused, at a minimum, by Sir Stefan. He didn’t want to take anything away from her.

Stefan just walked with him, Adesso in his arms, letting him work it out in his mind. Finally, after they’d found a servant to direct them toward an available guest suite, Drago opened his mouth.

“Maybe, we could try it? At least, tonight?”

Stefan smiled, equal parts devious and wholesome. “We’ll have to be gentle with her…”

Drago blushed again. He had just meant spending time together, the three of them, maybe with a little light affection. Certainly not that. “Oh! That’s not what...I wasn’t...At the same time?!”

Stefan was really enjoying this conversation. “Why not? I have a feeling she would enjoy it.”

Drago was surprised to find he didn’t hate the idea, and if it made Adesso happy he would agree in a heartbeat. He still felt a bit awkward about it, though. “Oh. I, um...if she wants to…”

“Good man.” Stefan stepped up to the ridiculously extravagant bed, whitewashed wood frame with gold filigree, Darjinian silk sheets in a deep red, and gently laid Adesso on her back.

He had just lifted her wrist to his lips when he saw her eyes flutter open,and Drago asked him to pause. The nobleman’s lips were on her wrist, a chaste, unending kiss.

“Adesso, I’m going to get you some food, but first, I think I should check your bandages.” His fingers were on her coat, just short of undoing the buttons. “May I...er...undress you?”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“I'm wounded, but so are you.” The same tone that told Sir Stefan that no, this wasn’t up for debate, and that he needed to take what she was offering. “And…” A press of the tongue against the roof of her mouth, “That’s twice that you’ve been hurt because of me. This is the least I can do.”

Though it had been difficult to start, the rest of the words flowed from her with an ease that not only surprised her, but lifted an invisible weight from her chest.

I should apologize for dragging him into this mess.

Or at least recognize that he’s charged in full bore ahead, as long as I was involved…That has to stand for something, right? It’s not protective like Sir Constantin; protective, yes, but different, desperate…

She glanced back at Drago as he approached her; put his hand on her good shoulder.

Drago gets it; he always does.

Oh.

It became clear to her that she was sandwiched between, literally, the two men in her life that had turned her heart upside down. Knocked her off balance in a way that she couldn’t deal with, like fighting against a tidal wave. It was going to happen - it was larger and stronger than her, and swinging her fists at the oncoming torrent would be fruitless. Yet she kept doing it, instead of just bracing herself and getting swept away. And here was yet another wave, one she could see building strength in the distance, quickly cresting higher and higher. It was there in Sir Stefan’s eyes, in how both Drago and Christiana’s voices were from a million miles away, there in how she focused on the light scrape of his fangs against her wrist, the jump of her heart in anticipation.

This time, just out of curiosity - she would let the wave take her.

A breathy cry, soft, pitiful, as his lips latched onto her wrist, her racing heart increasing her blood to him. The typical suction was gone - odd - but the pleasure was still there. Pleasure that was slowly creeping in on her ability to assess what was happening. He was doing something different, she could tell, something that was slower, more agonizing, sweeter for that crawl, something that was making her mind fuzzy -

That shit -

Was her last coherent thought before the mere promise of an earth-shattering orgasm - creeping up the mountain towards it - overloaded her severely taxed body. The world grew dim, before falling away entirely into a warm chasm of black.








“You did something to me,” were the first words she croaked out. Her eyes were partially open, a toddler defiantly fighting the natural urge to sleep. There was too much to do, too much to follow up on, things she had to do personally because if she didn’t, they wouldn’t get done, and -

“What? My bandages are fine!” Feisty kitten whose claws had no true sting. “You two…are up to something,” she grumbled as she tried to move in the bed. To no avail - between Drago’s gentle grasp on her coverall and her good wrist in Sir Stefan’s hand, her range of moment was quartered. “I’ve got to get out - there’s so much more that needs to be done, time isn’t on my side - Boala, your brother,” she glanced pointedly (or as pointedly as she could with those heavy lids) at Sir Stefan. Maybe she was foolish: she was ignoring obvious evidence, but maybe there was still a sliver of hope that Sir Geofri was still alive, somewhere, hadn’t been exposed fully -

Drago’s hands, despite his words, were persistent. Fingers had undone the top part of her coverall, exposing her collarbones, the swell of her bare breasts. The meager undergarments she’d had on previously had been removed by the Palace doctor, no doubt clucking in disgust at how simple they were. It wouldn’t do for her to have her normal “finery” on when she was trying to present herself as a simple farmer. Now it would seem that the only thing she had left were the basic white shorts beneath the coverall, the undershirt having been discarded to make way for the bandages.

Her skin flushed with a heat that she wasn’t entirely sure was just embarrassment. “What are you two…?”

I can’t believe that it never occurred to me that these two shits would talk to each other. Would even want to, let alone be plotting against me like this. Her face turned sour, but in the face of the two men and their persistent, tender attention, she couldn’t hold it. Like her body was moving faster than her mind, and was eagerly welcoming the attention of the two that she held most dear -

I can’t feel this way about Sir Stefan and Drago, it’s not fair; now’s not the time, I’ve got to get up -

“Please…” Though what she was asking for was unclear - her mouth and her body sending two wildly different signals, her body pleading for more affection, more attention from Sir Stefan, the kindness of Drago’s fumbling but well-meaning touches. The overwhelming desire to want comfort after facing such horrors, combined with the anger at her own perceived weakness, that she needed to suck it up and keep moving forward, she couldn’t fall apart, not when people still needed her and there was work to be done and after she’d told the Countess that after this case was solved, she wanted nothing more to do with the Nobles, and how she’d wanted to get out of the city after all of this -

“I need…” She was unable to finish.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

“I’ve done no such thing, Adesso,” Stefan admonished as he stroked her cheek. “I just let you feel good for a moment, relax. You’ve been over the edge of exhaustion for hours, now, and once you stopped pushing yourself every damn second your body decided it was time to let you know. That’s why you’ve damn-near collapsed. Now keep relaxing…”

Her words were music to his ears, as stilted as they came out of her lips, but they weren’t quite enough for Drago.

Drago paused after exposing Adesso’s upper chest. He hesitated, already unsure if he should keep revealing more of those magnificent breasts to the open air. “That...I...that wasn’t a yes…”

Beside them both, Stefan resisted letting his face fall into his palm. “She said please, Drago. I think you can take that as a yes.”

Drago blushed, but he tentatively lowered her coverall, undoing more of the buttons until he could gently skip the sleeves and legs off her weary body. His breath caught as he took her in, for two distinct reasons. She was so beautiful, her strong, resilient core sheathed in comforting softness, her body a mirror image of her personality in some ways. He wanted to bury himself inside her until he could bring that inner softness out to the surface and show it to the world.

Stefan took the opportunity to begin his Kiss again, holding Adesso’s wrist to his lips. He kept up contact even as he raised his upper lip occasionally to provide Drago with guidance. Even if Adesso ultimately decided not to be with him, he wanted her to have a lover with talent to match his dedication.

“Slow down, Drago. Look at her. Look at how flush her face is, feel the warmth of her heat beginning to race.”

Drago nodded, taking it in. He knew Stefan was right, that Adesso wanted to be touched. At least, it really seemed like she did. He just wished he felt like he could know what she wanted instead of just guessing. Maybe Sir Stefan could help.

“Look her in the eyes, Drago. Let her know how much you want her, what we would be doing to her body if we didn’t have to be careful of her injuries, how rough we wish we could be.

“I don’t know if--”

“Just...look at her the way you want to look at her: hungry, full of desire. It’s okay if that doesn’t mean rough to you.”

He did, and he saw Adesso looking back, needy, desperate. It made him want to be everything for her, do everything.

Stefan stopped drinking for a moment and whispered in Adesso’s ear.

“It’s okay to say ‘yes’ out loud, you know. To ask for what you want, to demand it.” She would be able to feel his cocky smirk against her ear. “But I’ll help him, too, in case you have any trouble speaking.” His breath was cool in her ear, his unnaturally cold body a lie hiding the heat he felt for her. “Look at him, Adesso. He’ll never leave you. See how much he wants you? He loves you. He would do anything for you. He’d die for you.” He kissed her cheek tenderly. “So would I…”

Drago took a deep breath before slipping his fingertips under the waistband of her short pants, the last stitch of clothing she had on.

“Wait.”

Drago looked up at Stefan, who was lifting his head back toward Adesso’s wrist.

“First, kiss her nipples, Drago.”

He did, his pink lips pinching the dark brown nubs. He moaned into each tit. He’d missed her, and that included her body. She was like food and water for him, and he’d been starving.

“Good. Use your hands and squeeze her tits.”

Drago cupped the massive globes, caressing their soft curves, guiding the nipples into his mouth as he moved his head back and forth from tit to tit.

“No need to be gentle there, Drago. Her tits aren’t hurt, thank Aphrodite.” Stefan smiled into Adesso’s wrist as he swallowed the glacial trickle of blood that seeped from the tiny wound.

Drago let himself be more aggressive, his fingers digging deeply as her soft, yielding flesh molded around them.

Stefan smiled again. “Good. See how she breathes in like that when you squeeze, or when you pinch her nipples? Or how her back just barely starts to arch?” He paused to let Drago look at her. “She likes that. Don’t you, Adesso?” He sucked out just a little bit, no more than an extra drop, as Drago resumed his efforts on her tits.

“There,” Stefan pointed out. “See how her hips are moving? It’s time to take a break from her tits, Drago. She wants you lower.”

Drago blinked and took in a breath. This whole scenario was making him feel like he was being tutored once again, bringing out his silent, respectful side, despite how intimate he was being with Adesso’s body. He slipped his fingertips back under Adesso’s waistband and pulled down, sliding the white shorts off her legs and leaving her naked but for her bandages.

“She wants it, Drago. I can smell how badly she wants your face between her legs.”

The young man crouched between her legs and lowered his face to her warm, glistening slit. His breath was warm on her lower lips, ruffling the dark hair that garnished her mound.

“Wait, Drago.” Drago paused. He wanted so badly to taste her, to bury his tongue inside her. He could feel the warmth coming from her dripping cunt, driving him crazy, but something about Sir Stefan’s voice tickled that good pupil part of his brain and made him freeze.

“I want her to beg. I know it seems unkind, but I promise you, young man, she’ll love it.” Plus, she’ll come so hard it’ll put her out for the night, he didn’t say.

Drago looked up at Stefan from between Adesso’s legs.

“Check her bandages and then bathe her with a warm cloth. Make sure to pay a little extra attention to the tasty bits, but not too much.”

Drago bit his lip. He was torn, because that sounded really hot, but also a bit cruel. He decided to trust Sir Stefan, and hope it was worth it for Adesso.

While Drago worked, Stefan used his Kiss to control Adesso’s arousal, bringing her closer and closer to orgasm, but always backing off when she got too close. He could sense her growing desperation as Drago’s gentle hands explored her body, but he was too old to lose his patience.

Once Adesso’s bandages had been changed and her body wiped down with warm water, Stefan nodded to Drago.

“Alright, Drago, now you may lick her pussy.” Drago smiled. As much as Adesso’s arousal had grown, so had his. He was practically vibrating with anticipation.

“But stay away from her clit. We want her to beg, remember?”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

What was it that she had wanted to say? Her bravado had left her - wasn’t that “please” supposed to turn into a rebuke, a command for them to please leave her be? That she was fine, that she didn’t need to be babied, something, anything, to fight off Sir Stefan; he was her main point of concern. He seemed to be the puppet master behind it all, that shit, she was going to murder him, shove him out into the bright daylight and roast marshmallows over his smoldering corpse -

“Ah..!” A sharp inhale as Sir Stefan’s fangs pierced the tender flesh of her wrist again. Through lust-hazed eyes, she narrowed them at him, anger clear, but being beaten back by the fatigue of her body, the ever growing pool of physical pleasure that he was pulling her into. So deep that by the time Drago’s lips finally closed round one nipple, then the other, she was nearly incoherent, her mouth dry, her brows pained from being tightly knit for so long. She was left to do little more but writhe beneath him, no, them, her range of motion limited, not just because of the two men near her, but from her own injuries. Sir Stefan’s kiss was narcotic and balm, lulling her deeper under, pulling her further away from the pain in her body but edging her closer to the cliff of orgasm.

“Don’t…” Don’t corrupt him, don’t turn him like you, bad enough he's around me; I've already ruined him, don't make it worse... As useful as trying to fell a tree with a nail file. Though Drago was consumed with his mouth on her breasts, and Adesso was trying to regain her speech, her body was betraying her. Sir Stefan would be nearly overwhelmed with the scent of it all - the desire, the faint flickers of pain, her body warring against her mind, and that mind, still fighting, still trying to see clearly. Her legs trembled with the strain of being edged closer and closer, only to be pulled back from that fall.

And then, what Sir Stefan had said, seemingly decades ago, fully impacted her dulled senses. All was lost; she simply could do no more than to let go, to give something, anything, a rest - to be carried away on the gentle waves of pleasure Sir Stefan and Drago cast for her. She meekly, as meekly as she could, submitted to Drago’s warm towel bath, couldn’t even be ashamed or indignant that Sir Stefan was reading her desire so clearly. As much as she could, her body turned into the dreamy feeling of that cloth, a sigh of soft contentment. It was no long soak, as her usual preference, but it was better than nothing. And with each slow, kind stroke, more and more of the horrors of the last few nights were being eased away. Not removed, but eased to the point that they could become manageable -

“I can’t….she needs me…” Soft, barely whispered, as she clutched at Drago’s wrist with her good hand. Her eyes seemed to be welling with tears, unnaturally bright from the water that stood in them. A slow, brief suckle from Sir Stefan at her wrist had her back arching from the bed, a slow, sensuous rise as she twisted closer to him, squeezing her legs shut in the dim likelihood that by closing them, she could stop what had already started. Her shorts, white, the crotch completely sodden by her, were about her knees, worked further down by her movements. Instead of feeling too cold, too bare, she was overwhelmingly warm, dreams and waking life blending together in a sweet delirium. Sir Stefan would be able to smell it, that one more touch, one more stroke, even something as simple as a kiss, a lick to the side of her neck, would be enough to send her over. That pleading that she was still yet to proud to voice, using the name of Boala as a pin jammed into her leg to keep her awake, to keep her focused, no matter how hard she wanted to just fall -

Lying, trying to distract me, “No one loves me like you say….” a soft whisper, dangling on the edge of bitterness, of convincing herself that this was all too good to be true, Drago, forever having to be lead by the neck, Sir Stefan, toying with her, both had been conspiring against her while she was out, twisting words against her to keep her there. Tears, fat and wobbling, spilled down her cheeks. “Don’t have to lie…I’ll stay here…” But don’t tease me like this anymore. Just let me be, for the love of all that is blessed.

Drago's tongue tentatively brushed against a damp fold of her labia minora, caressing the thin silken skin. She yelped, then, more tears pooling at the corners of her eyes, dampening her pillow. It's too much, why are they doing this..? He'd tested her flesh there before, running wider, then smaller circles around her entrance, she could feel the pads of his fingers growing wetter and wetter, and still, he wouldn't so much as slip a single digit into her, could feel how Sir Stefan hummed in approval against her skin, his eyes devouring her as his mouth did - somehow, this was even hotter, the small, careful strokes of Drago's tongue across her sex, everywhere but her pulsing clit, the off-center feeling of her body keeping her from moving as she'd like, even the fingers on her bad arm opened and clenched, a hiss of pain from the movement, but like all else, she was entirely unable to stop it.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Adesso’s weak, quarter-hearted objection was, to Drago’s ears, muffled by the softness of her tits squeezed against the side of his head. Still, he wanted to be careful not to go too far, to cross any lines. He popped up, letting his fingers temporarily replace his lips.

“Adesso? Did you say ‘Don’t’?”

Stefan sucked in a little more blood, enough to make it hard for Adesso to contradict him, and enough to draw some corroborating moans from her naturally pouty lips.

“She said ‘Don’t stop’, Drago.”

It was all so easy for Sir Stefan. He’d been instructed well in the art of lovemaking for longer than either of the two commoners had been alive. Countless hours spent toying with his lovers’ arousal, and why not? They always ended up thanking him for it. He knew, despite Adesso’s glare, she’d be happy to receive all this pleasure once they were done, even if she never admitted it.

Stefan let her appeal to Boala’s fate go. They’d been over that and over that. He was confident they’d find her faster together, in the evening, anyway. But, he couldn’t just ignore Adesso’s next words. Not even with her arousal so thick in the air he could almost lick it, with her body one thrumming string away from falling over the cliff into blissful collapse. Her heart was more important to him than her cunt, after all. And that was saying something. Her cunt was very important to him.

“It’s not a lie, Adesso.” He stopped sucking her blood momentarily to brush her cheek with his lips in a tender, chaste kiss. “If you don’t believe I love you, at least believe that Drago does.”

Stefan knew it wouldn’t be easy for Adesso to see that he loved her, so he decided to focus on the other man in the room. The one who wasn’t nobility, was so obviously lovestruck, and was shit at lying anyway. Stefan waved his hand toward the young man in question, his bathing work done and his face settled between Adesso’s inviting thighs. There was a smile on Drago’s face, and he was so captivated by Adesso’s glistening slit that he had completely missed the conversation the other two’d begun.

“Look at him, Adesso. Do you honestly believe there is anywhere that man would rather be than with his lips wrapped around your clitoris? Or lying next to you, with his arms wrapped around you? He was in love with you before I ever walked in your door, even if neither of you knew it. You’ve been a blessing in his life, and you clearly have his heart. If you can’t see that, then you’re not worth shit as an investigator.”

He hoped her joke would ease away her tears, but it didn’t. As much as they filled him with sympathy, they also made him angry. Still, he was composed as he kissed a particularly large and salty drop off her cheek. He was propped up on one elbow, looking down at her, and he could see the anguish mixed in with the arousal.

“You’re torturing yourself like this, Adesso, contorting your mind to ignore the obvious: that you are loved. But don’t worry, I won’t let anyone torture the woman I love.”

In truth, he didn’t know how to help her with this senseless self-doubt, but Sir Stefan had been taught that when all else fails, try an earth-shattering orgasm.
“That’s right, Drago. See how her hips are moving? Like she’s trying to grind herself against your face? That means you’re doing it right, Drago.” Stefan’s lips curled up. “Pull back, just a bit.”

Drago did as instructed, but he was beginning to have doubts. He wanted to make Adesso feel good, and how could delaying her orgasm make her feel good? He gathered his courage and resolved to speak his mind. Placing his hands on Aedsso’s warm thighs, he lifted himself from his knees and stood to look Sir Stefan in the eye.

“I don’t know that I like this…withholding, Sir Stefan. It certainly seems like she would gain more pleasure if we would let her have her release. Why deny her, if we truly care for her?”

Stefan sighed, but he couldn’t really object. He approved of Drago’s desire to do what would feel the best for Adesso, as well as the courage it must’ve taken to voice his disagreement with the nobleman.

“I understand, Drago.” He waved his hand toward Adesso’s crotch. “Do keep her on the edge while we have our discussion, though, would you?” Drago swiftly lowered his right hand to toy with her swollen cunt.

Stefan moved one of his own hands to Adesso’s nearest tit, to squeeze and knead the plump globe and tweak the vigilant nipple. When he spoke to Drago, it was the voice of a patient tutor, happy that his pupil had shown an intelligent interest in the subject at hand.

“Drago, I give you my word: once our love here finally begs us for release, the pleasure she’ll feel will be ten- or even a hundredfold what we could give her now.”

“Then why has she not asked us to tease her so?”

He looked so innocent and earnest, Stefan almost wanted to give in. Go ahead, let her spray your tongue with joy. Swallow heartily, young man, he wanted to say. But they were here for Adesso, not Drago.

“Look at her, Drago.” His fingers traced the line of her chin. “Her shallow breathing, the sweat beading on her skin, the warmth you can feel right now, gripping and caressing your fingers. It’s clear she wants this.” He leaned toward her twitching form to once again gently kiss her cheek. She was so precious to him, and he would give her this gift of freeing her sexual self from the weight of self-doubt and repression. He would grip those shackles in his hands and rip them from her. Whether she ended up his or not, she would be a free woman.

“But you’ve known her a lot longer than I have. You know she is proud, and prone to self-denial. She is asking us to do this, the only way she knows how: with her body.”

He licked another miniscule drop of blood from Adesso’s wrist, doing his best to keep her vibrating at the edge of the cliff.

“She is a sexual creature, Drago, and all we’re doing is showing her that we don’t just accept that part of her. We demand it.”

Drago couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so he put his tongue back to work on Adesso’s wet, dripping cunt.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

There wasn’t a time, before she met Sir Stefan, that Adesso was familiar with “begging.” Not even with a knife to her throat or being caught in the grasp of a rogue Nobleman had she pleaded for her life. And a life was more important than an orgasm, surely. As much as her frayed brain tried to pull together the ever unraveling threads that she’d been set up, that Drago and Sir Stefan were working against her, either to distract her or something, even the faintest flicker of hurt, not rage, at her core at being coaxed to open up like this, was being blown out. Still, there was that scratching sensation, the claws of her will, refusing to give in without a suitable excuse for letting go. Something, anything, as flimsy as it might be, that would give her an easy out.

It’s two against one -

Odds that I can usually beat -

Two against one, and one of them is your assistant, who wouldn’t talk back so much to a fly -

Sir Stefan keeps saying that he loves you -

Do Nobility love anyone, outside of how you love a pet -

Look at Sheryl -

Sheryl’s different, better -

You’re nothing -

A good detective, at least -

Maybe not even that, then -

The tears continued, faster now, as the dam inside her began to crumble. All of her excuses, all of how she held herself, it was tumbling down in front of her. The painful realization that her walls were up to defend herself, not to defend others. To keep herself safe, to further convince her that all that happened outside of them would not, could not, ever truly concern her. Not that she was above others, no, but more that she was so far beneath them that she could not possibly warrant any attention. Not after the bitterness of Sir Yudah, a wound that she’d kept picking open instead of letting it heal. She’d wanted to remind herself of the punishment that came from daring to dream. For wanting to think that she could matter to someone. After all these years, even though she was able to face him and his Lady without hesitation, she was still chasing after his shadow. After the figure she’d made of him in her mind, pulling and mixing in with the heroic traits of the characters from the books she so loved.

But reality’s not a book. Love isn’t like how it is in books.

Somehow, through the tears, she sucked in a gasping breath, teased out of her by Drago’s attentions, the murmur of Sir Stefan against her cheek, her ear.

The last defense, half-heartedly thrown - “There’s better…” Unspoken stop before you get too involved with me. Another shuddering inhale, pressed so close, Drago’s attentions just around her clit, but never directly there - “You’ve got to take all of me…”

A burst of energy as she turned, wincing, but ignoring the pain. The movement slipped her wrist from Sir Stefan’s light grasp, and she pressed down against the mattress with it, though her arm was trembling, blood lazily beading from pinpricks. “Both of you,” she looked down at Drago - and perhaps could have laughed at how awkward the situation was, her trying to face Sir Stefan with Drago still somewhat tangled between her legs. “You’ve got to take it all.”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

“There’s better” would only earn a quick shake of the head from Sir Stefan. Drago shook his head, too, but it would be difficult to parse that out of the side-to-side movements he was making to tease her lower lips.

But, when Adesso told them they would have to take all of her, both men reacted. Drago practically shoved his face into her cunt, his tongue slipping inside her clenching depths. The message was simple: I have to take all of Adesso? Everything she is? All at once? I can’t wait.

Meanwhile, Stefan similarly devoured Adesso’s upper pair of lips, turning toward her and beaming just before his mouth crashed into hers. Stefan’s heart soared. This woman, this captivating, infuriating, impressive woman had been nearly all he could think about for a week, ever since he’d walked into her little Eastside shop. A real, exclusive relationship between the three of them was new for him, much different than the temporary dalliances with other nobles or even the deep and lasting sexual friendship between him and the Countess.

His mind threatened to spiral out into the future, imagining how they could spend the rest of her days in endless leisure and indulgence. If she wanted to, of course. He would never stand in the way of Adesso working cases, although he hoped she would take fewer risks in her cases to come, after--

Sir Stefan took a deep breath against Adesso’s lips, inhaling her essence and exhaling in satisfaction. “All of you, Adesso. I’ll take it all, everything, and I’ll still want more.”

He kissed her again, deeply, a starving man at a feast, her lips the only thing he was aware of anymore despite his heightened senses. His amber eyes shone in the warm firelight, as did hers. As heartfelt and sincere as the moment was, Sir Stefan couldn’t resist egging Adesso on a bit. Plus, it was time for her to sleep, and heal!

“Now, be a good girl…” His fingers stroked her chin again, drawing her toward him. “...and say ‘Please, may I cum?’ so your two lovers can take care of you…”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

A brief, shy smile as her lips parted from Sir Stefan’s. A sense of newness in her eyes, though there was still trepidation. Hesitation if she was making the right choice. With her good arm, she ran her hand down the side of Sir Stefan’s face, her eyes locked on his bright amber ones. Another small smile, then a chuckle -

This infuriating creature -

“Even if you grow tired of me, you’ve got to take it all in,” fumbling, but gaining confidence. Well, they’d said they would take her all in, and not that she planned to make their lives miserable trying to get them to prove it, but just…she knew herself. The distant, aloof manner that characterized her, that made her cruel when it wasn’t her intention. Her awkwardness, when it came to admitting how she felt, if she admitted to it at all. The way she wanted to do things on her own time, in her own comfort level. And now, this, this nudging open of a door that she’d long thought closed to herself. A firm exhale back to Sir Stefan, noses brushing against one another: out of contentment, of strain as Drago kept his tongue buried in her sex, but never getting so close to give her relief.

She managed a mocking glare at him as he traced the line of chin, tightening her mouth in a fair depiction of her imagined ire. “I won’t beg,” she sniffed, before another lash of Drago’s tongue caused her to arch her back. “But I will ask nicely,” contrite. “Please…may I cum…?” Hesitation again - was that the right thing to say? That’s what Sir Stefan had asked. It felt so strange to say it, and she turned her face away from his, wanting to bury it in the pillow for how hot her cheeks were. “I hate you,” though the expression on her face was the farthest thing from, a petulant child denied an after dinner sweet. “You’re cruel and beastly, and I rue the day you came into my office.”

Good arm looped round his head, his skin cool under her touch. Pressed his face closer, nose to nose, breath to breath, then, lip to lip. A light biting of his lower lip as she let go, ending the kiss, but keeping him close, “You’ve upended my life, Sir Stefan, and you’re a horrible influence on Drago. I’m adding this to your tab.” Fingers grazed his earlobe, caressing the line of his jaw.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Drago wanted to shout that he would never tire of her, but his mouth was full. Stefan had a different response. “You’ll have to carry on when you tire of us as well, you know.” He said it with a smile, overjoyed to see the look on her face, and even more overjoyed to have that face affectionately nuzzle against his own.

Stefan pouted in mock disappointment when she refused to beg, but the effort dissolved into a wide smile right away. He opened his mouth to grant her polite request, and kept opening it in exaggerated shock when she professed her hate. But he couldn’t hide the exuberant joy in his golden eyes.

His fingertips pulled her lips into his. Gods and Goddesses he could kiss her forever, and he intended to. “And you shall rue many more, Adesso. I plan to build up quite the tab, and pay it gladly.” He pressed his forehead back to hers, his vestigial instinct to breathe mingling the air from their lungs. “But let’s finish corrupting Drago another time, together. First, it’s time for you to get your well-deserved orgasm, and some much needed rest.”

He raised his head and looked to the foot of the bed, where Drago continued his rewarding work. “You heard the lady, Drago. No more holding back. Wring every drop of bliss you can from that sweet cunt!”

The happy young man didn’t break to answer verbally. He just dove deeper between Adesso’s legs, prying her thighs apart with his arms and shoving his face into her depths. His tongue was deep in her wet hole, his nose rubbing against her clit. It was clear he’d been holding back.

Sir Stefan watched Adesso as Drago indulged, moving his lips back to her wrist to watch with hungry eyes. He waited until Drago, his tongue practically reaching her womb, had Adesso at the edge of climax, and then he sucked on the pinprick wound on her arm, taking a small mouthful of blood for the first time since he’d fed in Conacton that afternoon. It was enough. Adesso came hard.

Once Adesso had crashed, both back to earth and into unconsciousness, Drago lovingly cleaned the sweat and cum from her body with another warm cloth while Sir Stefan stepped outside the room to quote: “Make some arrangements.”

Once they were both done, the two men had a slightly awkward moment stripping in front of each other, Drago to his smallclothes and Stefan to nothing at all, but the awkwardness was washed away when they crawled into bed with Adesso between them. They both pulled themselves tightly into her sides, shortly falling asleep themselves with their arms and legs intimately tangled with Adesso’s.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Wakefulness came slow to Adesso. The bed was massive, room enough and then some for the three bodies that currently occupied it. Not that the size of the bed made that much of a difference; all three were collected in the center. Sir Stefan’s supernaturally cold body seemed to absorb heat from the flickering fire -kept tended by invisible palace servants, who, used to seeing all sorts of debaucherous events, paid them absolutely no mind-, from Adesso, from the blankets she’d gathered herself under at some point (probably Drago, awaking in the middle of the day). All in all, it was warm, cozy, soft, and just what her fatigued body needed.

Still, past the heavy pleasure of the early morning wasn’t enough to knock her out for too long. One eye, then the other, opened. No jerking awake, heart racing - but the reluctant movement of someone that was compelled by an unspoken urge to rise. Shuffling higher in the bed, for a moment she forgot her broken arm - and went to put it down to help prop herself up. Her cry of pain was louder than she intended it to be -

“What happened?!” Christiana burst through the doors, a bundle wrapped in oil-stained cloth beneath her arm.

“Just…moved weird on my bad arm,” sighed Adesso, still blinking sleep from her eyes. With her good hand, she scrubbed sleep from her eyes.

“Bet you forgot it was broken,” Christiana sat on the edge of the bed, completely non-phased by the nude Sir Stefan and half-dressed Drago. After her familiarity with the Countess, something as mild as what was in front of her now was barely enough to bat an eyelash at. Well, there was the tempting urge to tease the daylights out of Adesso about it, but there was time for that later. She had a new invention to show! “And no wonder, with that crap sling! Look at what I’ve brought you!”

“…Were you sitting outside of my room this entire time?” Words muffled by Adesso’s good hand as she rubbed it hard across her face. A long exhale. Then, a laugh to follow it. “You were worried, weren’t you?”

Christiana raised a brow over her right eye. Beneath her eyepatch, the left brow struggled to keep up, a ghost of muscle. “Well, no shit I was worried. You were talking about heading back out there after falling from a roof, having an audience - I mean, you either were going to pass out somewhere on the road where no one could have gotten to you or found you, or you were gonna pass out here.” A cloud across the woman’s face. “Look, Adesso, I don’t have many friends. No family. You’re friend and sister to me. I know you get into your cases, but this…this was, is, something different.” She looked away, fingers tightening in the bundle she held. “And I know it’s not over. Just…take it easy, okay? I need you to come back. We need to drink and laugh about all of this when it’s all over.”

Adesso smiled, her chin tucking into her neck a bit as she looked at the bundle. “Well….considering that after this case, I was thinking about retiring and opening a dog rescue out in the country. Was going to swear off all Nobility as well. Just get away as far as possible,” a sweeping gesture with her good arm. “So we’ll see how that’ll all play out.”

Christiana listened, her nose wrinkling at the bridge in mock disgust. “Here’s Sir Hot Cock can keep you here. Anyway, enough with emotional shit. I only have a minute before I need to start getting back to work on this whole virus thing - ”

“I thought that wasn’t your area of expertise-”

“It isn’t, but this has got Nobles all the way up the chain absolutely shitting ash bricks or whatever sort of shit that Nobles would have. I don’t know what was going on here during the day - I went back to my lab with what I have - , but I’m quite sure it wasn’t a restful day. Sure as soon as they know you’re up and about, someone’s gonna want to talk to you - ”

“They can wait,” a grunt as Adesso straightened up, leaning hard on her good side. “I’ve got to find Boala.”

“Fair enough,” Christiana said, not bothering to argue. She’d be better off shouting at a brick wall. “This is only a prototype, mind you, and the best I could do on such short notice - I pray to the gods above that I will never have to make another one of these for you - , but I figured you’d need a sling for that arm that’s going to work with you, not against you.”

She unfurled the bundle from under her arm. Within it was a shining contraption of steel and cloth. quite similar to a suit of armor. “The way this thing works,” Christiana explained as she leaned over, taking Adesso’s arm out of the sling, “Is that it’s meant to be a lightweight sling. The metal’ll keep the important parts stationery, the cloth makes it easier for you to move it. I may or may not also have build a small projectile into the palm. If you’re in trouble, touch the button on the thumb. It’s a knife - not my personal preference, but something that should buy you some time should you need it.” Her touch was lighter and easier than the doctor’s - as soon as she was done explaining, she inched backwards, showing that she had indeed re-wrapped Adesso’s arm just that quickly.

“All righty, my love: you’re all set. As soon as you find this girl, you come back to me and check in, okay?” That halo of curls brushed close to Adesso, as the scientist gently pecked Adesso’s cheek. “Take care of yourself. Sir Stefan,” a reach around to grab the Nobleman’s ass, “Drago,” another reach around to grab Drago’s ass, “Take care of her!”

As suddenly as she’d blown in, she was gone, the smell of ozone, oil, and whiskey following her.

Adesso was left with nothing more to do than to blink, then laugh. “I’m surrounded by meddlers.”

But I love every single one of you.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Somehow, both men had slept through Adesso’s shout and Christiana’s entrance, but her hand on their bodies woke them both up. Stefan rolled over and gave her already retreating form a bemused smile, but Drago jerked himself into a sitting position with his hands trying to cover the visible outline of his morning erection. When he saw that it was Christiana, he gasped before it turned into a yawn.

Stefan crawled over to Adesso and pulled her to him in a deep kiss, unconcerned with any evening breath she might’ve had and incapable of it himself. Stefan woke with a weight lifted off his shoulders, the weight of uncertainty, the heaviness of his heart. Adesso was no longer pushing him away, denying her feelings and ignoring his, and more than that: he had come to understand a bit about how his own behavior was driving her to spurn him. His chest swelled in equal parts pride and affection.

“How are you feeling? Christiana get you sorted?”

There was only time for a quick answer from her before the door opened again, and the Duchess Andrada entered, draped in a much simpler dress than she’d worn in court, in a light powder blue. Her face is blank as she looks around the room, her eyes settling on Sir Stefan as she speaks.

“Adesso, I’d like to have a word with you in private.”

Both men stand, no thought of objecting to the fearsome woman, and Drago starts to reach for his pants. Sir Stefan rushes over to place a gentle hand on his wrist with a shake of his head. Drago’s eyes widen and drift to Stefan’s exposed cock, but the nobleman just jerks his head toward the door.

As they leave, Andrada attempts to soothe any objection Adesso may have. “I’ve been informed that you’re in a rush, so I won’t be long.” As soon as Stefan and Drago are behind her, she allows Adesso to see a hint of a smirk on her bright red lips. She speaks to the men without turning her head: “The kitchen staff will gladly prepare breakfast for the two of you, as well as Adesso, if you’ll direct yourselves that way.”

It’s clear she wants them out of earshot, but she’s also amused by their predicament and Drago’s embarrassment. There’s no hint of malice or scheme, but being alone in a room with the Duchess is always something to be nervous about, regardless of her intentions.

She saunters in a loose spiral, drifting closer to Adesso, her voice low. “I’ll be blunt, Adesso. As far as anyone else is concerned, I’m here to thank you for your intervention yesterday, and nothing more. Understood?”

She sees Adesso’s hat on a small side table, and runs a fingertip around the edge before picking it up. “Unofficially, I’m...also here to thank you, but in a more…specific way.”

She places the hat on her head, tilting it to the side and modelling it in a mirror mounted against a nearby dresser.

She eventually frowns and puts the hat back down.

“Her Majesty would like to honor you, but it wouldn’t be prudent for her to have an offer, intended as a gift and a privilege, rejected.” Her head was tilted as she studied the nude detective. “Under normal circumstances, we would already be assured that you wanted to be Nighted, likely more than anything in the world. Being a noblewoman is an incredible privilege, after all.”

Andrada’s arms raised to gesture at the room, as if it represented the entire nation and all that had happened in a few short nights. “However, these are not ordinary circumstances, and given your…outburst yesternight…I felt it prudent to be explicit.” Her eyes bored into Adesso’s now, a peaceful spring green in color but blazing in intensity. “If Her Majesty should offer you a Nighthood, will you accept…?”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Adesso felt she’d barely gotten used to the new (and, admittedly, vastly improved) sling before Sir Stefan was in her face. Her response to the kiss was fumbling - caught between an innate reaction to want to push him away, and the desire to lose herself in it. To his credit, he’d held on for at least a few long seconds before she was gently (and as kindly as she could), pushing him off of her.

“I still have a broken arm and a gut,” she pulled away with a grunt, “So just about the same as always, with a bit more to complain about.” A tentative flexing of her fingers in the sling. With this, she had a bit more range of motion than the old one. Less limitations. She looked down at her wiggling fingers. “Better than nothing…” Figures that it would be my predominant hand. A glance at her left hand. She mimicked the motions of her right with her left, testing the range of motion. She’d be slower to react, she knew that much, and tasks that required dexterity were out of the question. “My career as a lock pick may be put on hold for a while,” she added, with a bit of that old dry, self-deprecating humor.

As the door opened, out of some sense of modesty, Adesso pulled the blankets up to her shoulders. Not that it would have made a difference: still cradling her right arm close to her, the gesture was clumsy and half-hearted, and as soon as she’d seemed to get the blankets arranged just so, Sir Stefan and Drago’s sudden rise to their feet quickly undid all of the work.

Okay, so maybe this is all old hat to her, she thought with a grimace, but I’d like to keep some things to myself. With her mouth set in a determined line, she slid to the edge of the bed, taking the blanket with her. Forcing herself to slow down - Duchess or not, she’s just as vulnerable as the rest of us now - she wrapped herself carefully in the blanket, a formless, baggy counterpart to the richness of the Duchess’s dress, but a covering all the same.

The exhaustive events of the night before, the sheer fatigue that had yet to be wiped away, all but quelled that deep, instinctive fear of the higher rankings of the Nobility. Coupling that with the fact that she’d spoken back to the Queen, well, there wasn’t much change in Adesso’s breathing or heart rate - nothing to indicate that she was nervous. Overwhelmingly tired, weak, yes. Annoyed at being waylaid, a bit of that, too. Still, she listened to the Duchess with a polite amount of deference, seeming to feel not one way or the other at the woman thanking her. Not even so much as a “I was just doing my job.” As far as Adesso was concerned, her job hadn’t been completed, and this whole virus thing was an elaborate side-quest to what she was really after.

Hard evidence that Sir Geofri is dead, no matter how much I wish him to be alive for Sir Stefan’s sake, and to find Boala.

The flicker of her earlier desire: the sooner this is all done, the sooner I can go on vacation. Clear my head.

The Duchess’s next words were enough to completely eradicate all semblance of composure that Adesso had. Stumbling, she took a few steps back, and sat heavily down on the edge of the bed.

A Nighthood!

Never in her life had she thought she’d be nominated. Unlike many others, Adesso’s life, her service, was never for the goal of attaining that prize. She knew others that had wanted it - Drago, in fact - but to her, there was no appeal in it.

If I accept, I become the thing I despise.

But if you accept, you’re still Adesso. You could use whatever position you have to become a liaison between the Nobility and the Commoners. Affect some real change - and not just temporarily.

If I accept, I will outlive Drago and all I love.

But there will be Sir Stefan.

I don’t want to give up one for the other.

But maybe I can will it to Drago in my stead. It was something that he wanted - and he's a handsome boy. It would absolve me from keeping him chained to me for the rest of his life....

“…I don’t know.” The words were soft. Thoughtful. A heavy sigh as she ran her left hand through her hair, raking it back from her face, back into the sloppy braid, made all the messier from the day before. “I never thought I’d be offered it,” a bit of explanation added. Not to justify, but perhaps to further work things out herself. “I do the things that I do for the pursuit of knowledge. That’s reward enough. I’ll need time to think on it. If Her Majesty has a time limit on this offer, then…” a slight shrug. She had no intention to be rushed to any sort of agreement, one way or the other.

Worse case, she takes it back, and I remain a Commoner, and my life goes on as normal. With the added benefit of actually leaving for a while. A bit of a cheerful thought to cut through the heaviness of shock.

Gods, if I were a Noble…where would I even begin? On the outskirts, I’m sure: I come from no long, storied line, I’m not magnificently beautiful. I’m not young, and I’m scarred.

She regained her feet with a determination that was carried more on sheer will than physical ability. And I could potentially lose what it means to be beneath it all. If I were to come in with money, with a title, perhaps I could have the possibility to make more changes than I could as is.

I don’t have enough information to make this decision.

“I’ll need time,” she repeated, more for herself than the Duchess.

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

The Duchess was practiced at maintaining a neutral expression, but the sharp exhale through her nose would be a clue that she was offended by Adesso’s hesitance, though not to the point of anger. Still, her tone remained pleasant.

“Very well…” She took a step toward Adesso, no longer taller than the detective since Adesso had stood from the bed. “...but I should also let you know that the Queen has authorized me to offer yet another benevolence…” Andrada’s lips twitched in a benign smirk, her eyes flashing to the clothes left behind by Adesso’s men. “A sponsorship. For you.” She looked more pointedly into Adesso’s eyes, but her tone lightened and her hands gestured in the air, as if she were trying to convince one or both of them of both the gravity and meaninglessness of what she was offering.

“It’s never been done before, you know. Offering a sponsorship to someone not yet Nighted, but seeing as you may be reluctant to leave certain aspects of your previous life behind…”

Andrada started to turn to leave, speaking behind her to Adesso. “I’ll send for you soon, on some pretence or other. Please have an answer for me then. And do be conscientious about who you approach for counsel. I won’t insist you tell no one, but we can’t have it getting out that these offers are something that can be refused…”

Just before she left, she turned and delivered a warning, the threat of it quite heavily implied. “You’re free to refuse, of course, that was the point of this little clandestine meeting, but...if you accept it would be unwise to change your mind. Doing so would draw the ire of both Her Majesty...and myself…”

“And once again, I do want to thank you. I, personally, might’ve died without your intervention, and that’s not something I’d considered in quite some time.”

With that, she left silently and immediately. The Duchess’s tonal shifts might’ve made her seem insincere, if Adesso had not been paying attention, but upon consideration it would be clear she meant it all: the gratitude, the indignation, the threat; she meant all of it. That was something Adesso would most likely eventually be dragged into if she accepted, although it might take centuries: the politics of the small city-state. Sir Stefan seemed to have avoided most of it so far, but judging by the presence of all the upper nobility at court the day before, no one avoided it forever, if they survived.

It wasn’t long after that that Sir Stefan and Drago reentered the room. Stefan was still carelessly nude, but Drago had found some kind of bath towel to wrap around his waist. He carried two trays piled high with a hearty breakfast of eggs, ham, and buttered toast. Handing one to Adesso, he set his on an end table and started getting dressed.

Sir Stefan sat next to Adesso and leaned his shoulder into hers. “I’m a man of my word, Adesso,” he began with a sigh. “As soon as you’re ready I’ll take you to Plainside.”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

The twitch of a brow. The inhale of breath. Tension in shoulders. All minor, insignificant things taken apart, but added together, it added to quite a bit. Sensing, on some primal level, that her answer wasn’t the best one, Adesso felt a small twinge of fear. Swallowed it down with the resolve of rationality.

I can’t make a decision this weighty on the flip of a copper. I don’t care who she is.

At the mention of the additional “benevolence,” Adesso felt the ground drop from beneath her. Her mind goggled, then blanked. The reality of the situation seemed to filter back to her, piece by piece, grains of sand falling back to her. To her, this was still a case - one that hadn’t been solved. A bonus of gold wouldn’t have shocked her so. But this? This was a completely different way of life - and a true indication of what the Queen thought of her actions.

Adesso was dimly aware that her mouth was working, but nothing was coming out.

A sponsorship on top of a Nighting! My gods…

I could sponsor Drago.

And take him away from his family?

He’d worn the Red Band for years; it’s something that he wanted.

But what do you want?

A vacation.

Nobles are able to go on vacation.

I can’t think about this right now.

It would be in that dazed, floating state that Sir Stefan and Drago would find her. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into absolutely nothing. She accepted the platter of food from Drago, and set it aside as easily as he’d handed it to her, moving in a daze. Her stomach rumbled, enticed by the aromas, but it was Sir Stefan’s shoulder in hers that snapped her out of it.

“Oh…” Gently shaken from a dream. “I..uh,” she shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed at them with her left hand. “Yes, yes you’re right,” more to convince herself to wake up than to reassure anyone else in the room. “Let me eat first - thank you, Drago,” a small smile to him. For both men, it would be clear that whatever passed between Adesso and the Countess had left the former clearly unsettled. Not in a fearful way - perhaps it would be recognizable, in the faintest sense, to Drago. There was an air about it, somewhat similar to when she’d gotten a new angle on a case that she hadn’t possibly considered, and now her mind was whirling through a myriad of possibilities. Caught between excitement and trepidation.

Whatever had passed, she kept it to her self. She ate with a hearty appetite (and no small dearth of manners - after all, she hadn’t eaten much of anything in the last two nights), but was quiet. To Drago, it would be odd: from the meals they’d had together, she was always open to discuss whatever case she was working on, even if she kept quiet about all other aspects of her life. In the past, anything she seemed to let on about her personal life was more of a slip of the tongue rather than an admission. And with the girl still missing, there should have been conversation about that. She seemed to be aware of it, for as soon as she finished eating to blunt the sharpest edges of her hunger, she began to speak.

“I’d like to hope that Boala was still alive - that she was a part of this, maybe unwittingly, either through her uncle or potentially someone at the Blue Corset. I think the Baron had far reaching fingers as far as this whole thing goes, but I’m not entirely sure that he was the mastermind behind it all. For all of his flair, I don’t think he had the means to…create the virus.” Emphasized with a half-hearted wave of her hand, trying to dismiss the horrors that they had witnessed. “But as it is - I’ve still got two cases open. If I find Boala, I can figure out what happened to Sir Geofri.”

A bit softer with the other Noble name. She hated the sinking feeling that still sat in her stomach: that she would have to deliver bad news to Sir Stefan. Tentative status of “lovers” aside, she knew from their previous conversations that they had been close. Even if things had been different now, it would still be painful. And she was never good at delivering bad news.

“So,” she continued to speak as she was getting dressed now, “I think our best bet would be Plainside, obviously, but as to where, I wasn’t entirely sure. But then I thought about the information that Drago brought, and what I happened to overhear in the Greenhouse. Think of it this way,” she was tying her cravat on, lopsided, as always, “If Boala had ‘escaped’ and moved too quickly when she was under the watch of someone else, it would make sense if the Baron wanted to keep her closer by, especially if she ran the risk of ruining his plans further. So I think perhaps, starting at his estate would be best…I’m not entirely sure if he would have had her killed. That’s still a big question - and why he started with her to begin with.”

 

[Nouh_Bdee]

Stefan’s reaction to his brother’s name was muted, controlled. He could do this; he could get through tonight and confirm Geofri’s fate without breaking down. He was fairly certain of it anyway. After seeing what happened to Sir Iosef, that horrible, agonizing sight of his blood foaming and bubbling inside his body, the pressure building until his flesh popped like an overripe gourd, and after seeing his own blood react the same way, cracking a glass, a nobleman dying without a trace didn’t seem so far fetched as it had when he first knocked on Adesso’s door.

Stefan dressed in silence while Drago walked up to Adesso. His hands lifted to adjust her cravat, but just smiled and wrapped them around her instead. Just because he felt more comfortable around her now didn’t mean he was going to start trying to change a single thing about her. The woman he’d fallen in love with wore her cravat at an angle and that was that.

“I wish I was going with you,” he whispered, his pink lips pressed against her earlobe.

He stepped back and waved off her objection. “I know, I know. It makes sense. I just don’t like it.” Eyes downcast, lips in an adorable pout: was his puppy-dog look one of the reasons Adesso liked him? “Just…come back, okay? Without any more broken bones?”

Drago blushed and started to turn away. “I…I’ll wait for you and Sir Stefan at his apartment.” Drago’s blush deepened. “We…he and I…talked about it. We have a lot to talk about, the three of us. And we can…rest there.”

He seemed more embarrassed than the words he said would explain, but he didn’t elaborate. He stepped closer again, this time to press his lips against hers. His kiss was all constrained passion, communicating with his lips what he wanted to do but couldn’t. He pulled away eventually, eyes just beginning to water.

Drago was anxious. He didn’t like the idea of letting Adesso take all the risk, while he stayed behind, and he was worried about her. But, he trusted her judgement, and he trusted Sir Stefan to provide the muscle necessary to keep her safe. Still, more to keep himself occupied than out of any real obligation, Drago started tidying up the room, making the bed and straightening up the dishes.

Once Sir Stefan and Adesso were both dressed, the two of them walked out of the palace into the dark of night. Stefan held out his hands for Adesso to climb into his arms.

He expected her to argue with him about being carried again, but he also knew she would eventually agree, for the sake of expediency. The nobleman had fully recovered, physically, and in minutes Adesso was in Conacton, bouncing from rooftop to rooftop in Sir Stefan’s arms. They could see the crowd from the night before mostly dispersed. The Smokeglass Guard remained at the top of the Ramp, making sure everyone crossing into the Mountainside districts waited for a blood test to be performed. A makeshift waiting area had been constructed to the side of the Ramp, where a group of police officers watched over a cluster of detainees.

Further into the district, more members of the police force drifted down the Artery and off onto the side streets, pausing to speak with the brave souls that ventured out into the night. The streets were cluttered and dirty. Lavachia’s sanitation workers, mostly residents of Eastside and the northern edges of Eastwarren, were being prevented from doing their jobs. Other than a few of the people detained near the Ramp, no one on the streets had the stereotypical look of the malcontents from Fermavest: no coveralls, straw hats, or denim in sight.

Sir Stefan quickly brought Adesso out into the countryside, staying off the Artery as a precaution, but still moving quickly. What would take a horse-drawn carriage the better part of the morning to do was done in less than an hour, with Sir Stefan jogging to a stop outside the Baron’s estate. He gently set Adesso on her feet, gawking at the ostentatiously mismatched architecture. The grounds were empty of people, at least at first.

Stefan looked at Adesso. “Ummm, do we...just open the front door?”

Walking in, however they do, they would see a well-kept home remarkable for two reasons. One, the same level of oddity in design as the exterior. Two, the vast emptiness of the silent countryside mansion.

Sir Stefan looked again to Adesso’s expertise. “I’ve never investigated anything before. Where do we start?”

 

[Apollo Wilde]

“Mmph," a muffled grumble - a patented Adesso sound of pleasure that she masked with annoyance. Drago would know it well: any time he went out of his way to do something nice around the office, he’d be met with much of the same toothless growl. “Making it hard to get dressed,” she fussed, though she did nothing to discourage Drago’s arms around her. “I’ll do what I can about the broken bones. I don’t particularly fancy breaking another one myself.” Tilt of her head, pressing her lips briefly, warmly, to his.

She wouldn’t acknowledge going back to Sir Stefan’s apartment.




Not that she had the luxury of not thinking about Sir Stefan. She assumed that he would be too pleased by her “submission” to further question it - and without her bringing it up, the assumption followed that he wouldn’t, either. As much as she wanted to dwell on the larger picture, the offer on the table from the Queen, she turned her mind to the task at hand - with only a passing sense of wonder at how quickly Sir Stefan was able to move carrying her; how light she seemed to him.

And to think, the same power could be mine, if I agree.

But what would I do with it? Toss commoners around? I wonder, does it fade without training? Or is it a natural thing? I’d get the strength, but I’d never see a sunrise, feel the sun, again.

Now’s not the time to think of this. Though Sir Stefan was moving swiftly, she was able to pick out details of the streets below: the Smokeglass Guard, the lines of commoners. I suppose it would make sense that the city would look a little worse for wear. I wonder where all of this is going to go. How everything is going to settle down…But it looks like they’re gotten rid of the farmers. I don’t think that bodes well for anyone.

Booted feet touched the ground, her hands trailing slowly down Sir Stefan’s chest, both the good and broken one. Steadying herself, she exhaled, warm breath over her parted lips, then lifted her head to look up at the mansion. “Just as ugly tonight as it was when I first saw it.” A few steps away from him, testing her balance. The grounds were quiet: too quiet. It made her uneasy.

Tentative steps forward. She kept her right arm close to her body - not just to protect it, but to have the small blade ready. Not that she could do much in her state, but some security was better than none. As she continued to walk, her stance changed: there was the old member of the police force, preparing to go into a closed room in the Warrens. Every sense she had was heightened to the best of her ability: perhaps Sir Stefan could feel the strain she was putting on herself.

The door creaked open, revealing the garish innards of the mansion. Everything was left as she last saw it - something that made her stop short. “No one thought to investigate here…?” Curiosity, mixed with disgust. “I guess they figured that once the Baron was dead, everything would be over with.” There was the annoyance. “I can’t believe this.”

As if realizing that Sir Stefan had spoken to her, she turned back to him. “If I were hiding someone, or trying to keep them under wraps, I’d keep them tucked away somewhere that doesn’t get a lot of foot traffic. We can start with the greenhouse: that’s where I overheard them talking. The way they were talking made it sound like they weren’t expecting anyone in the gardens or in that general area. Good enough place as any to start.” A small shrug as she looked up to the expansive ceiling.


The night air was balmy, an unnatural hush over the gardens. Inside of the mansion, she’d found a lantern, and held its flickering light in front of her as she walked. “I still can’t believe this. I know I slept during the day, but I was expecting…more of a disturbance out here. Why isn’t this mansion swarming with police, the Smokeglass Guard?” She kicked idly at a stray pebble in the manicured path. “Sir Stefan, this…” she paused, letting out a long sigh. “This doesn’t sit right with me. Normally, when there’s any sort of crime committed, the scene’s swarmed with people. The fact that there’s no one out here is strange to me. There are so many questions that I still have. Where did this virus come from? How does it actually spread? Who was the Baron working with?” Under the flickering light of the lantern, the troubled expression on her face was clear. A bitter chuckle. “I guess I need to let it go - it’s above my pay grade,” her tone suggested that she was going to do absolutely nothing of the sort, “And I technically only have two cases: yours and Boala. And I don’t think she’s hiding somewhere here.”

As she spoke, the two had combed through most of the garden, turning up nothing. As they approached the house, she rubbed at her chin with her cradled right hand. “I guess we should start with the places that servants would attend to. Places that Nobles wouldn’t bother to look.” For once, it wasn’t said as a dig - just a statement of fact. “I say we start with the kitchen - then go from there.”