Chapter 17

The next morning I began to wake as a huge weight dropped from above and wrapped me in its arms.

“Mmm,” I mumbled. I cracked my eyes open to see the beaming face of Lady Michele wrapping me in her embrace.

“You did it!”

“What?”

“Passion Mill made it through the night. The web is far stronger now than at first bell.”

Lord Morgan rubbed his eyes, grumbled and said, “Greetings, Lady Michele.”

“You two met?”

“Oh, yes!” she said. “It was wonderful. I might even tell you some day if you tell me all about your time together.”

“Morning people!” I said, sighing deeply. I reached out and pulled Michele into a hug. Sharing this joy with Michele, Morgan, and Lucinda was almost perfect. I wished Matthew could be there.

Despite having slept poorly, I was fully awake. “Michele, dear,” I said, “would you let me up? I need to make water.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“Your bulk,” I said, poking at her. “I have embraced slut as fully as I can since this emergency started. Now, I have the room to step back from that. I’d like to wonder to a bathroom, make waste, and take a long, warm shower. I’d like to not be taken hostage or have a report of some new disaster while I’m about my business.”

She hugged me and stood. After a quick hug of Morgan and pat to Lucinda, I got up and returned to the community house.

I was feeling more relaxed than I had since talking to Elk Unstoppable over the phone. Even so, my gun at my side was a welcome reassurance. Reluctantly, I hung it next to the shower as I entered. I wondered how I would feel when I had to surrender it to the armory on my return to Oak Leaf Seat.

The shower was nice. As warm water rolled down my body, I relaxed into my sense of the web. Lady Michele had accurately described our success. Strength and determination radiated throughout the community. We were connected enough that grief and sadness were more pronounced, but so were the care and compassion that would see Passion Mill through this hard time.

Two issues weighed on my mind. The first was how to get Lucinda out of the shed. Short of burning down the shed, I wasn’t sure how to guarantee that the boundary would be removed. I wondered if Lucinda could survive fire.

The second was the trial. I was worried for myself, but I absolutely needed to protect Lord Morgan. Last night’s dream was all-too-realistic: Oak Leaf might well see him as an acceptable sacrifice. I wondered how he stood in Brenhaven’s regard. Flowing mane had regarded his scholar’s work highly, and Brenhaven gave all signs of supporting scholarship. However, I didn’t know how scholarly regard translated to regard in the language of Brenhaven internal politics. At least so long as there was a way to avoid damage to Oak Leaf as a whole, I could probably convince Lord Oak Leaf to be reasonably supportive of Lord Morgan. That increased the chances that I alone, or Lord Morgan and I, would be sacrificed to avoid damages to our houses. I thought I could accept that.

Hopefully, though, the nobles would see the value in what we had done. Hopefully the scales would balance with a change to law and no one need be marched the customary 100 meters.

As I stepped out of the shower, Elk called to me. He stood, penis in hand, making water. He finished and went to wash his hands. He said, “thank you, my lady. I have confidence that I have not felt in over a week.”

“I am glad for Passion Mill. I only regret the cost.”

“That is truth.”

“I saw you at dinner last night. You enjoyed your time with Passion Blossom?”

He smiled. “I did. We talked, then I took her and accepted her strength. You know, her full story will come out eventually. Someone will put it together.”

I said, “One has already. Did Softness of Hair talk to you? He had a very frank conversation with Passion Blossom about his father’s death.”

“Oh, my! No, he did not. My lady, this is very awkward, but I think it best for me to seem ungracious and state Passion Mill’s needs clearly.”

“Oak leaf listens.”

“Passion Blossom needs to leave before her story is well known.”

“We are agreed on that point. I will talk to Lord Morgan shortly.”

“Also—and this part is difficult— I realize that you have saved our community. Even so, especially after all is known, it will be difficult for many here to see you without remembering our losses and the unusual steps you took. I think if there is another emergency, we might eagerly welcome a lady as dedicated as you. However, another contact within Oak Leaf would be better received outside that necessity.”

I took a step back. After all I had done, they would choose to reject me? “Oak Leaf shall consider your request.” It hurt more than it seemed it had any right to. I doubted I would have much to do with Passion Mill outside of defense even if they had not requested another contact: managing defense for those beholden to the house took significant time.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, my lady. I know you spent much of yourself here.”

I nodded and departed in search of Lord Morgan or Lord Oliver.

I found Lord Morgan first. I asked him to accompany me to the defense office.

“What are we going to do about Lucinda,” I asked as soon as the door was shut.

He frowned. “If the community is very careful about maintaining the boundary around the shed, and no one goes in, she will eventually die. I think she must touch someone to mate them, and I am quite sure she must join as lovers to consume someone, so the community will be safe.”

I gulped. I had been thinking about how to get her out and here Lord Morgan was planning to destroy her. I realized that anyone who had not met her would be astonished that my impulse had been to save her. I wondered what Softness of Hair would think if he knew that I had thought to save the demon bride who saved his community but consumed his father.

“You would do that to someone you called friend?” As I spoke, I realized that he probably could easily do exactly that. He had done much the same with Smooth-Tumbled Stone: while Stone did not presume to call Lord Morgan friend, he trusted that Brenhaven would bring relief from what he saw as my injustice. I could get no hint whether he even felt sadness: I could sense nothing from the web. His control was excellent.

“Many would claim that the right course.”

If I had not just talked to Elk, I would have engaged him further. Facing a claim of demon fucker, no matter how justified, was more than I could take at that point from someone I cared for. “I had not considered that approach. Thank you.”

He nodded stiffly.

I felt awkward. I wasn’t sure what to do next. After a few moments, I said, “I need to speak to Lord Oliver about a request from Passion Mill.” I departed, longing for the easy comfort of last night.

I breakfasted with Lord Oliver. He was cheerful. “Oak Leaf shines brightly through your work,” he said.

“I’m not sure Passion Mill would entirely agree.”

“How so?”

I related my conversation with Elk.

“Oh, Ashley! This is the first time you’ve faced significant losses is it not?”

“Yes,” I said.

He reached out and held my hand. “Ashley, you did well. There is no doubt of that.

“Someone should have warned you that your job is not always well-received by those who benefit most.”

“Lord Oak Leaf did say something of that. Perhaps I did not fully appreciate the scope of his advice.”

“I suspect few can imagine the mixed feelings that fill a community facing grief at losses alongside joy at survival. It would be strange if there were not a request of some kind along the lines of the one Elk conveyed. If we had a written procedure covering this situation, one of the steps would be to find an ongoing administrator other than the noble who brought the community close to our house.”

“This is common?”

“Yes. Your mother was the contact for most of the villages that Lady Elizabeth contracted. That is part of how she got started in our business.”

“Who will we choose for Passion Mill?”

“The Lady of Oak Leaf might be ideal. She’s still involved in the electronics factory. Eventually perhaps Lord Matthew or one of your younger siblings.”

That made sense. I felt better knowing that lords and ladies had faced this challenge before me.

“Thank you for easing my mind.”

“On a different topic, I shall leave for Balance Hall tomorrow,” I said.

“Why?”

“Doubtless there will be a trial; a charge of Consorting with Demons would be an obvious step for anyone unhappy with our actions. I think we should file our own claim in the matter preemptively.”

“You are probably right. So go to Oak Leaf and Lady Elizabeth can file the paperwork.”

I wondered how much I could tell Lord Oliver. He had always supported me. “I’m worried about the politics and Lord Morgan especially. Lady Elizabeth or Lord Oak Leaf might well find it convenient to find a narrative in which he shoulders responsibility alone. Of course that depends on how Brenhaven would react to that approach.”

“You would argue against that course?”

“Yes. I have known him; this was my decision more than his. He brought the idea, but I chose; I put the question to Flowing Mane. I shall honor friendship.”

“You know Oak Leaf must protect itself, even if you suffer. You increase your own risk if the politics turn nasty.”

“I know. Friendship, love and fairness matter.”

“So they do. Still how will a trip to Balance Hall help?”

“I can file the claim, write our story.”

“You would represent yourself balancing scales against Consorting with Demons? I did not think you such a fool. If you have that death wish, you could always sleep in the fields at night.” He laughed weakly, probably realizing that I had tested myself against a challenge very like that at Shepherd’s Crook.

He continued, “Go to Balance Hall; let Lady Elizabeth and lord Oak Leaf know that you will be there and that you insist on helping with the claim. Explain your concerns. Lady Elizabeth will doubtless say something sharp, but she is good at her job.”

That did seem a significant improvement on my plan of writing a claim myself. I had read several claims, but I lacked Lady Elizabeth’s experience and distance from the current situation.

I took my leave from Lord Oliver.

The question of what to do about Lady Lucinda filled my mind. Lord Morgan was right: she was a demon. She had probably killed hundreds throughout her life. Of late, she seemed willing enough to face death that perhaps I would out-last her assuming the trial went in my favor. On the other hand, if she were to be believed she had taken several chances with death recently, each time coming away, her cunt dripping her lover’s soul-cum. Perhaps she stacked odds in her favor more than she let on—perhaps even more than she knew. She stood against the light of passion, preying on those who were too weak to stand strong.

Yet, she had welcomed me as friend and lover. She had worked to help me grow, preparing the way so that I could move past last spring. She had risked much—everything if we took Morgan’s approach—to help this community. In each interaction I saw last night, she offered herself fully. She was there for me when I couldn’t sleep.

I had killed before: I did not often slaughter my own food, but I had done it. Then there was yesterday ... Could I just abandon her, at first wondering what was happening, only over time realizing that we had chosen to betray her and let her starve to death. I wonder whether she would even consider it a betrayal, or whether she expected such treatment. Could I really treat my friend that way?

I went to read a copy of Lord Morgan’s paper hoping it would shed light on the situation. Softness of Hair was able to find it for me. By his own account Morgan had spent significant time with “the demon bride,” as she opened to him. He did not actually say he became friends, but reading between the lines of his scholarly prose, it seemed obvious.

The only thing I gained from Lord Morgan’s paper was additional confusion, mostly surrounding the Brenhaven lord himself. Could the same man who held me to myself as I joined Stone, who flirted over the phone, who rubbed my back while my arms grasped Lucinda for comfort be cold enough to just kill his friend? Apparently so. Was that the kind of man who I would choose as Lord of the Lady Third for Oak Leaf?

I did take a quick look at the shed. I had confidence that it could be burned without endangering any other structure. It helped that the community house had very little wood near the shed. I did not go in; I was not sure how much Lucinda might sense of what I was thinking.

With a dawning sense of horror, I realized that if I were certain I wanted it, I could walk into that shed and demand that she mate me. I could tell her to sit right there for the rest of her life, or I could tell her to charge the boundary and see first-hand how a boundary crossing destroyed that which would stand against the light of passion. Everything I knew said she would do exactly as I asked, loving me with her entire heart all-the-while. Presumably she would spend what remained of her life fucking the residents of Passion Mill, sharing her remaining strength with them if I asked that of her.

Of course, if I mated her, I would have to face the consequences of my action: her suffering, her fear as she faced the end, her decay, and the persistence of her love in the face of all. Perhaps that would be the honorable thing to do if I decided to destroy her—take responsibility for my actions and accept their impact head-on. I could also offer a bond strong enough that she would feel my love even as she faced her final journey. There would be love for Lady Lucinda no matter which path I chose. I was quite certain she behaved only as her nature dictated. The care she showed me, which my heart returned, was as real as her hunger for souls and joy in the hunt.

I was nauseous from the turmoil. With an effort of will, I avoided losing breakfast. I had no hope of eating anything else until I resolved my dilemma.

The day was slow, giving my mind plenty of time to spin in circles trapped between compassion and duty.

Slowly we were allowing people to return to parts of their normal routines. Connections within the community were strong enough that Oak Leaf would be able to carry most of the night’s passion, allowing those who lived at Passion Mill on an ongoing basis to have a respite from their lovers’ work. My plan to head to Balance Hall tomorrow would not be a problem.

After lunch, which for me was an exercise in pushing uneaten food around my plate, I found space to work on my report for the seat. As the afternoon progressed, my focus drifted, progress on the paper before me slow.

I stood before the scales at Balance Hall while the court deliberated. Lady Lucinda was the Lady Balancing the Scales. I was surprised a demon would be trusted to be the head judge. “She only did what she thought right.”

Softness of Hair stood to her right, a crisp Oak Leaf adorning his suit jacket. “‘I shall honor friendship, ‘ or so she claimed,” he said.

Lady Rocky Point nodded. “The Lady Balancing the Scales is too soft; the boy is right. She did make the claim.”

With a sigh, Lady Lucinda nodded and passed judgment. I was marched to my doom. She stood, hand on her gun, Lady Rocky Point her second. She looked into my eyes. “I’m sorry. I cannot do it. I forgive.” Lady Rocky Point had no such compunction.

I woke, heart pounding, papers in disarray where my head had fallen forward. Apparently my subconscious thought I had wondered from the path of honor far enough to be convicted by a demon lady and a commoner boy.

Since the time Lord Morgan spoke of destroying Lady Lucinda, I had been trying to reconcile myself to the necessity. I had not allowed myself to fully experience my reaction to letting her live. I imagined Lucinda, running along, her face laughing as she teased a friend, keeping them slightly off balance. I felt my back relax, tension leaving my body.

Then I considered a boy, Softness’s age, coming to speak to me. I told him that his mother was dead, consumed by a demon bride I had the choice to destroy. How would I feel having to do that?

I’d be sad of course. I’d accept his rage and anger. What if Passion’s Perfect Pebble had survived? How would I feel telling her of Stone? “I killed your father. He was guilty of a capital crime.” How can you tell a child any of that?

A demon bride cannot take someone strongly connected to their community, especially not against their will. Similarly, you have to choose to start a violent coup. Both Stone and the hypothetical mother had some choice in their destiny. Others might disagree, but I didn’t think I would be more upset telling a child that their parent had been consumed than talking about any of the horrible circumstances in which I might have to kill or choose who not to save. Still, Stone and Pride haunted my dreams; “more upset” was a relative thing.

What if Lady Lucinda threatened my children or Oak Leaf Seat? One thing was certain: she would begin to face her end in that circumstance. I would defend my flock.