‘Johnson?’ Silver’s voice drifted lazily through from the bedroom. ‘Who is it?’
Johnson took a breath and composed his face. He now radiated only mild dislike, as opposed to severe aversion. ‘It’s her, my lord.’
‘Oh! Well, do bring the mouse in here. I have a few comments on her performance.’
Without letting go of her shoulder, as if afraid she’d make a run for it, Johnson marched Irene through into the bedroom. It was a splendid room, even more so than the parlour. The walls were polished white plaster that shone like marble, and the floor was a mosaic of tiny pale wooden tiles. The far wall was all window, opening out onto a balcony that overlooked the canal beneath and the building on the other side. Curtains of thin lace were tied back, and the sun shone in. The fog had gone, and the sky was a clear, beautiful blue. The room itself was dominated by the double bed, which jutted out from the wall into the centre of the room, as if feeling the need to emphasize its presence. Silver sprawled on it amid a tangle of pale-blue counterpane and white silk sheets, draped in a midnight-blue silk dressing gown, which left him barely decent. Given the way he lay there with the gown falling open to his waist, Irene was tempted to downgrade that to not decent at all.
He shook his head, mock-sadly. ‘Dear Miss Winters, I thought that I had lost you.’
‘Rubbish, my lord,’ she said crisply. ‘I’m sure you were very glad to get me off your hands.’
‘The one does not preclude the other.’ He toyed with a plate that held sugared twists of dough, crispy little things. Cinnamon was involved. Irene could smell them across the room, and she tried to stop her stomach rumbling. ‘So - I take it there have been no daring rescues yet?’
Irene hesitated. ‘That was a joke, I hope?’
‘Sadly, yes.’ He raised one of the edibles to his lips and nibbled at it. ‘Hmm, very good … I do enjoy coming here. Such a safe, reliable place.’
Those were not words that Irene would have used to describe this alternate at all. She raised an eyebrow and folded her arms under her breasts.
‘Oh, no, that won’t do at all.’ His voice dripped with honey, as rich as an opera singer about to drop an octave in a single sweep of sound. ‘My lady. Do forgive me for referring to you as a mouse. We’re past such things. I feel that we’re failing to establish any sort of proper communication here. I don’t feel truly needed, let alone desired. This won’t do.’
Irene stood her ground. ‘Lord Silver.’ She tried not to grit her teeth, because if he sensed her impatience, she might never get answers. ‘If I rescue Kai, it will be of service to both of us, given your feud with the Guantes. I apologize if my manner doesn’t please you, but I have some urgent questions.’
He licked the remains of the sugar off his fingers. ‘I know you do, my little mouse. I know they’re very urgent. I think I want to see just how urgent they are. On your knees, mouse. Over here, please.’ He gestured to beside the bed.
For a moment all Irene could think of to say was, ‘What?’ He’d flirted with her before, trailed his glamour at her like a peacock showing off his tail. But he’d behaved as he would have done towards any human being, rather than because he’d actually been interested in her. So it had felt comparatively safe.
‘Now.’ Silver gestured loosely at the floor. ‘Oh, don’t worry. I won’t do anything to you, mouse. You’re hungry, aren’t you? Hiding all night, scurrying down the corridors …’ He managed to make the words sound both beautiful and depraved at the same time, suggesting unspeakable things about the night and the corridors. ‘Let me feed you. Let me answer your questions.’ His eyes glittered: vicious, avid, hungry. ‘Let me see just how urgent your questions are, little mouse. Kneel. Or get out of here.’
She was out of options, out of allies, and Silver was making it personal - clearly very deliberately making it personal. Maybe the novelty of humiliating a Librarian fed power to one such as him.
She set her teeth and did as she was told. The hem of her dress rustled on the floor as she spread it out in a dark billow, sitting back on her heels beside the bed. Johnson had moved across to stand by the door. Standing guard? Or just not wanting to watch? It was easier to try to analyse his motivations than to think about her own feelings.
‘There. Much better.’ Silver rolled onto one side, bringing the tray of edibles with him, and lounged on one elbow, looking down at her. ‘It’s good to know that you’re sincere, my mouse.’
Irene looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. It was a matter of some pride that her fingers weren’t clasped white-knuckled around each other, but instead lay perfectly still and calm, as though she were all serenity and self-control. The morning light through the windows was sharp and clear enough that she could see the small scars, thin white traceries, that curled up from her palms onto her wrists. Memories of another confrontation with a monster far worse than Silver could ever be.
Yes. This was simply petty. Having her kneel, playing his little games. And why exactly would Silver be wasting his time trying to exert a petty domination over her? People who were actually in control didn’t need to do that.
‘Now where were we? Oh yes. You had some questions. Why don’t you ask one of them.’
‘Where is Kai being held?’ Irene asked.
‘In the Prisons,’ Silver said readily. ‘Or, rather, the Carceri, as they’re called here. They are one of the main features of this bijou little sphere, after all. I should have realized that was why the auction was being held here, besides just its location. Perhaps a better question would have been a more general one, hmm?’