The Ritual by H. Anthe Davis, Erica Dakin Page B

away.
    “Sorry,” I muttered, “but this stuff really is godly. Where’s Zashter? He should try this.”
    “Gone to find one of the drinks servants, and he can’t try it unless you feed it to him.”
    I stared at her, then looked around me again, paying more attention to the interactions between all the people present. This time I noticed that some of the half-elves were body slaves, trailing after their elven lady owners. As I watched, one of those ladies stopped, picked up a vol-au-vent from the tray presented to her and held it out to her slave, who obediently opened his mouth and allowed himself to be fed.
    “She’s making him lick her fingers,” I said hoarsely. “There’s no way I can do that with him.”
    “Can’t you? I’d have thought you’d love him to lick your fingers.”
    “Shh!” I hissed. “He might hear! Besides, I’m not sure I could feed him at all. It’s just too degrading.”
    “Right, that’s it,” Shani snapped. “Come with me, now!” She hooked her elbow around mine as if we were the best of friends and going for a stroll, but she nearly dragged me with her towards one of the doors, just as Zashter returned with two glasses of wine. “Hold on to those, and follow,” Shani barked at him, and I saw his mouth curve before he bent his head in acquiescence.
    She pulled me into the corridor, then stopped by one of the liveried servants. “You! Where are the facilities?” she said imperiously, and the man bowed and pointed to a door a little further down. Without another look at him she yanked me along, went inside and slammed the door shut behind us.
    The bathroom was palatial, with a sunken bathtub, an elegant porcelain privy and two washbasins with a small basket full of little soaps in between. Shani gave a cursory glance around the room to ensure it was empty, then turned to me with blazing eyes. “Will you stop being such a Godsfucking idiot? What are we here for?”
    I stared at her. “We’re… well, to scope out the place. Shani, I don’t understand, what’s the–”
    “Exactly, to scope out the place,” she snapped. “We’ve infiltrated an elven bulwark of the high aristocracy, and in less than a quarter measure you’ve managed to stuff your face like a commoner, call me by the wrong name and whinge about how degrading it is to feed your slave.”
    “But it is degrading!” I protested.
    “And do you think he didn’t know it would be before he got here? He’s not stupid, Rin, and he suggested posing as our slave. Now ask yourself this: what would he be more pissed off about, you acting like an unprofessional amateur, or you treating him like every other fucking elf treats her body servant?”
    I lowered my eyes, feeling thoroughly chastised. She was right , of course, and I nodded in defeat. “Right, point taken.”
    “Good. Now get out there and act like an elf. Oh, and one last thing…” She waited until I was looking at her, then gave me a sly smile. “If you don’t feed him, I will. And believe me, I will make him lick my fingers.”
    Jealousy flared up, hot and painful, and I knew she could see it in my eyes. “You don’t fight fair, Shani,” I muttered.
    “Of course not,” she replied with a warm smile. “I fight to win. Zash would tell you to do the same.”
    He would too, and I was all too aware that I wanted him to be proud of me, that I wanted to prove to him that I could be relied upon. He had brought us tonight, not his brother, so the least I could do was try and live up to his expectations. I straightened up, tried to adjust my tassels, then gave up and strode back outside.
    The corridor was deserted but he was still waiting, a glass in each hand, with perfect poise and lowered eyes, as was proper. He looked beautiful, but the slave-choker marred his appearance like a pebble in a diamond necklace, and I knew that while I had to be professional and treat him like a possession, I couldn’t do so without letting him know that I would