call him Master. She couldn’t. She refused. “I’m sure you look quite nice as well.”
Nero laughed at her half-joke and led her over to the rest. He guided her to a lounge and sat, and she heard him pat the spot next to him. She sat. She wished she could see the faces of the people around her. What did they possibly think of her?
Silence.
“Oh, you’re all stupid. Sitting there, staring like a bunch of idiots.” A woman’s voice piped up. “Hi there, I’m Rose. It’s lovely to meet you!”
13
“She can’t see you waving, Rose,” Nero said dryly, pretending to be superior. As if he didn’t mess up doing the same thing constantly. Hope kept back a laugh. “She’s blind.”
“Oh! Oh. I’m sorry.”
Hope smiled warmly. “It’s quite all right. I’m used to it. It’s nice to meet you, Lady Cardinal. I’ve heard wonderful things about you.”
“Nero tells no nice stories about anyone except himself,” a man inserted into the conversation. A voice that sounded like steel given flesh. The East Wind, she assumed. “Least of all to a slave he owns.”
“The stories weren’t from Nero,” she retorted. “And it is presumptive to think he is the only person to which I have exposure. I do not live in a gilded cage. I grew up in this city as a priestess at the Temple of Hera. I have only recently come here, and I am not a prisoner. From what I have heard, you have no issues with prisoners—although perhaps your issue with me is simply that I am a lowly slave.” It was a harsh jab, she knew. But with men like the East Wind, one had to declare their territory quickly and vehemently.
Nero snickered loudly from beside her. He tapped her hand, and when she upturned her palm, he handed her a glass. It was a metal goblet. Wine, by the smell of it. The gods knew she’d need it. “Well said, my dear. Well said.”
The man who had spoken was silent for a long time. “I am Viktor Lang, Cardinal of the East Wind Dominion.”
“I assumed. I have heard stories of you as well.”
More silence reigned, and she smiled and sipped her wine.
Someone coughed. “Well. This is off to a great start. Hello, then, Ms…?”
“Just Hope. I have no family name.” She kept her smile unflinching as she turned her face toward whoever was speaking. She had learned that people deemed it rude if she was not facing in their direction when she spoke. “And you must be the West Wind?”
“I am indeed. Hugo Finch, miss, at your service.”
“The older brother. It’s lovely to meet you.” She took a piece of food that Nero handed her. Cheese on a piece of toasted bread, she assumed. He did like to hand her things to eat. He didn’t do it with anything else other than food. She wondered if he just liked watching her react to the different flavors of things. He had never served her the same thing twice. If he did it all the time, she’d find it annoying. But once she realized he was just showing off, it stopped being offensive and was honestly a little endearing.
Hugo cleared his throat. “And you. I was concerned when Nero told me he had, ah…acquired a new…friend by such sordid means, but it seems you can hold your own.” Hugo moved from wherever he was standing to sit down closer to where she, Nero, and Rose were seated around a table.
He said “friend.” They know what he intends. Good. At least I don’t need to sit here and pretend to be his so-called religious advisor.
“Thank you. I do like to think I can. Your brother is a handful. He keeps me on my toes, and his actions can be unpredictable at best.”
“I’m right here,” Nero complained.
Hope smiled gently. “But he means well. And he has treated me kindly.” Why did she feel the need to defend the South Wind? And yet, here she was, bristling at the idea of these men coming into his home and insulting him.
“How did you meet?” Rose asked. She sounded like such a happy, friendly woman. A far cry from her husband. She wondered how in Hades those two ever fell in love. Strange pairings make for the strongest links. How many couples have prayed in front of Hera who you believed would not last a week, but still burn strong? How many seemingly perfect pairings have fallen apart in the matter of a few