Thirteen: If They Ever Learn the Truth

            Oderan was sitting on the side of his bed when the knock came at the door. He'd had a nightmare of some kind, already forgotten in the haze of morning. He ran a claw over his head, tracing it along one of his horns. The knock came again

            “Yes, Odirium preserve, who is it?" He snapped. It was still early, and despite the healthy burn of a hearth only a metre or two from him, he felt the cold nipping.

 “Uh, m-my lord, I have a message for you! I was to personally ensure only you received it, uh…my lord." He spoke Tevarian. Oderan's interest piqued and he stood. He was only in underclothes, but some messenger would hardly mind. He opened his bedroom door to see a young fox standing there, paws anxiously fiddling before himself.  

“Yes?" Oderan asked with a sigh. The messenger scrounged in a bag, before procuring a small envelope and handing it over. Oderan took it delicately, examining the back.

'Love' it read, and in Tevarian script. He felt warmth swell in his chest. Not cold forever perhaps.

“Thank you." He said after a fashion. “Very appreciated. I…apologise about my earlier rudeness. I had only just woken you see and…Good day." The fox tipped his head forward quickly.

“Thank you, good day my lord!" And with that he scurried off. Oderan turned away from the door and peeled the letter open, revealing Albion's familiar handwriting.

Oderan. This is simply to remind you how wonderful you are, I thought you'd need it over there. I miss you every day, but Allgod above I'll kill you if you don't care for that spearhead! Oderan chuckled; he could just picture the slender panther saying it. The shop is flooded with work, but I'm making preparations to attend your next fight! Hopefully we can have a moment alone. It took me searching night and day to find a messenger I could trust to deliver it to your hands only. I realise the risk presented here, but I had to get something to you. I love you. Please take care.

Oderan smiled, sighing. He wondered if he should have made the messenger wait instead, and written something back.

There'll be time plenty for that in days to come. He thought. His daydreaming was interrupted by yet another knock at the door, this set much quicker and harsher than the messenger.

“Yes?" He called.

“Ah, so you are awake. Excellent." Aileen's voice, slightly muffled. “Can I come in Odie?" He hated that nickname, and thought it died. When did she bring it back?

“Just ah…just a moment." He replied, laying the letter on his desk and quickly pulling on some nearby clothes. Some random messenger was one thing, but his sister was quite another. He opened the door after some time to see Aileen waiting impatiently, arms crossed and face crosser.

“It's nearly eight." She said, entering the room. Oderan smiled, closing the door behind her. She turned, and he quickly scooped up Albion's letter.

“Perfect time for waking, I'd say." He replied, making his way over to the hearth, turning his back to it and warming himself. It felt good. “Is it colder than usual?" He asked. Aileen rolled her eyes; she hated that kind of small talk.

“A messenger was here for you. Made a big fuss about delivering to yourself only, the poor guards were so mad when they searched him, but alas, no weapons. I think Captain Redaux wanted any excuse to reject him." She said. Oderan nodded.

“Yes, he was here only moments earlier. Hoping to read my private correspondence are you?" There was no point being delicate with Aileen. She always saw right through him. His sister shrugged nonchalantly.

“I was just interested…since it was a mutt that delivered it, I assume it came from the other half? Got something secret going on, Odie?" She teased. Oderan held up the letter, glancing over the sweet words another second, before turning and crumpling it, dropping the trash into the fire. It was gone in a flash.

“Nothing of import." He said. Aileen cocked her head.

She doesn't believe me. He thought.

“Some furred dalliance going on with you then huh? Just keep her quiet please, and do what you must." He breathed a sigh of relief, but said nothing. Aileen examined her claws. “Well. I don't want to be keeping our new family waiting; Lord Khasteer doesn't suffer tardiness you know. Time to dress." Oderan looked down at himself, frowning.

“I am dressed." He said. Aileen just laughed, closing the door as she left.

Once he was suited more formally, Oderan made his way downstairs to the family manor. When Lorric appeared, his attire didn't match Aileen or Oderan's in the slightest. He looked like he was due for a business meeting, not a nobleblood's lunch date.

“Uncle…" Oderan began, but Lorric cut him off.

“I'm afraid I won't be joining you and your sister today Oderan. I've been called to the Godking's council. Something about bandit raids to the West, apparently he wants my input. I doubt our Immortal Szaresh will actually be present, but still, it's not a summons I can decline I'm afraid. You understand." Lorric explained, Aileen entering the room from the kitchens.

“Ah, that's such a shame Uncle. I will be absolutely sure to pass on your condolences to Urie and his father." Lorric nodded.

“Of course, thank you Aileen." He looked between them. “I'll see you each tonight for dinner. Good day." Oderan and his sister bid the man good day, before leaving for their carriage. It wasn't terribly luxurious, but it was far nicer than most of the ones they passed. The Khasteer manor was on the other side of the city, and it was quite a ride there. Oderan spent the time studying his sister, watching the perfect way she held herself, glancing out the window.

“Aileen…" He began suddenly, speaking before he could stop himself. “Do you…like Urie?" He waited as she slowly turned her head. He expected her to reply, but when she didn't, he continued. “It's just…every time I've met him, he seems like kind of a…brutish idiot. Prone to rage, terribly proud, and terrified of his father." He paused, wondering if he'd said far too much. Real opinions were something the Akkedisian society didn't typically appreciate, although he'd hoped Aileen would be more forgiving.

“I suppose." She said eventually, examining her claws intently. She drew the word out slowly, sounding tired. “Urie is not exactly the picture perfect fiancé I had imagined as a little girl, that's true. However, few husbands are in the end. I'm not afraid of him, at least. I refuse to end up like that Oksana…the woman is barely a husk.

“But Oderan, life is about more than childish romantic ideals. I'd like to do something with our name, I've told you this again and again. The Khasteers are a powerful family, and Urie is…well nice enough. I don't hate him. Do I love him? Perhaps one day, we'll see." Oderan felt a shiver of cold run through him, far worse than the cold of this morning.

“You don't have to marry him." He said quietly. She laughed.

“I do. It's what I want, don't worry about that. You shouldn't be so naïve Odie, honestly."

“But…" He began. “If you're not with someone you care for…what's the point?" He asked. This was stupid, and he knew it. He shouldn't talk to Aileen like this, but his mouth just kept working.

Shut up. Idiot. He thought.

“Oh, worried I'll get bored?" Aileen laughed. “Like you, I have little playthings on the side. Little, desperate men to help keep me busy. I can't imagine Urie is terribly good in bed, he seems quite dull in that department honestly…sorry." She giggled, and Oderan felt such revulsion for his sister, he wished he could have choked her. And yet he still loved her, for here he was, worrying for her wellbeing.

Maybe that's what family is. He told himself, biting his lip. He'd certainly never held much pride in his relatives. Don't say it. He willed himself. Do not.

“What about love?" He asked. The carriage pulled to a stop, the Khasteer manor looming outside. He heard the carriage driver hop down from his perch outside, giving a few words of encouragement to the pully-horses.

“We're here my lords!" He exclaimed loudly, pulling open Aileen's door. She glanced to Oderan, face impassive and unreadable.

“What of it?" She asked, stepping out.

Oderan waited a moment before following. They were greeted by the High Servant of the house, an autumn coloured Akkedisian lady who introduced herself as Morika, bowing deeply.

“Through here my Lord, my Lady. Lord Khasteer is waiting for you in the sitting room." She explained, eyes always downcast. Just through the door, a tall grey and black wolf took their coats. Oderan was somewhat slightly taken about by the sight and stumbled. It was unusual for Akkedisians to have Tevarian servants.

“Oh, that's Claude." An airy voice said suddenly. Oderan twisted, recognising the Lady Oksana Khasteer, wife to Zakhar, and mother to Urie.

Barely a husk. He thought.

“M'Lady." 'Claude' said, bowing at the waist to Oksana.

“How do you do Lord Oderan? It is so lovely to welcome you today." She extended a claw daintily, and Oderan took it gently, pressing his lips to the back of her fingers.

“I'm very well Lady Oksana. You are most gracious to welcome my sister and I to your home." He replied stiffly, straightening.

“Your sister and…But where is your Uncle? I was told he would be joining us today, is he alright?" She sounded a little panicked, and Oderan's first instinct was to tell her to calm down.

“Ah, no I'm afraid our Gracious Odirium has requested his presence. He was remorse to miss today's affair, and sends his deepest regrets." He replied.

“Well." The Lady said. “Mustn't deny our Lord, that is high praise…very well."

“High praise indeed." Commented Aileen, coming up next to them.

“I…apologise about my earlier startlement my Lady." Oderan began. “I just…wasn't prepared to see such a wolf here today. On this side of the city…it took me quite by surprise." Oksana smiled thinly.

“Yes. Zakhar mocks me sometimes for my…eclectic taste. But…Claude, stand straight and give us a look at you, there's a good boy." She turned to him. “The fur, makes for a nice change of pace, don't you think? I get sick sometimes of seeing scales." Oderan swallowed. Claude was a very handsome wolf, and his eyes…so intense. He wasn't sure if he liked it or not, it made him uneasy.

“Of course." He replied dryly.

“We have two others on the staff as well. Morika!" She cried the servant's name, and a second later the autumn Akkedisian appeared.

“Ma'am?" She asked.

“The other two wolves…"

“One is on the garden staff, the other is in the kitchens today I'm afraid." She replied, bowing her head. Oksana nodded, clicking her tongue.

“Well. Unless you want to see them all worked up and sweaty, we'll have to make do with Claude here. Still…such lovely fur." She reached out a claw, running it through Claude's neck like a comb.

I'm not sure I'd mind. Oderan thought, a little dazed. Still, his arousal was ruined as he watched Oksana petting the servant. This woman has lost her mind. He concluded, turning away.

“Where might I find Urie and his father?" He asked Morika, who turned to lead him.

“Right through here my Lord."

They went through all the greetings again, sitting down for a lunch. After a prayer to the Godking, food was delivered to the table. Huge swaths of meat and salad, expensive foods that Oderan guessed had cost a fortune. The wine was excellent, and he was treated to five different kinds over the meal. Urie sat next to him, and he couldn't help noticing the idiot's lustful glances towards his sister. The boy had no subtlety, and the way he spoke to the servants was far too aggressive in Oderan's mind.

But…if that's what she wants…Oderan thought miserably. He wanted nothing more than to be out of there. Away from the stupid formality, and away from the cruel Akkedisians. He wanted to be in Albion's arms, kissing his lips, feeling his whiskers tickle his face.

“Oderan!" Zakhar said at one point, his voice deep and scratching. “I had the pleasure recently of seeing your most recent Greatspear, tell me, what is the story behind that magnificent metalwork?" Oderan felt his spine tingle, like he was put on the spot.

“I…have a guy; on the Tevarian side of the city, a foreigner, but an excellent weaponsmith. He makes all my duelling blades." He said.

“It's a marvel, truly. Shame it has to be wasted on pretend fighting. Still, I suppose wars are good for no one." Oderan nodded quickly. The man was overbearing, intimidating even if he didn't want to be.

“Yes, of course." Oderan replied.

“I see on the duelling lists, you're quickly approaching the top. Feeling ready to face Ferei? He's quite the swordsman I hear." This was easier to talk about, and Oderan relaxed.

“I will do my best. Hopefully Odirium will see fit to bless my skills. Ferei is a good fighter, but besting him…well, it needs to be done." They all laughed at that, good. “I'm also terribly impatient, and the thought of waiting another three years for the next High Rank Match…it simply won't do I'm afraid." Zakhar bellowed with laughter at that one, although Oderan wasn't trying to be funny.

“Have you seen him fight recently, my Lord?" Aileen asked, leaning in.

“I'm afraid not, I'm quite remiss. I saw you messing through some of the Low Tier bouts, but nothing of worth." Zakhar replied.

“He is exceptional father. Truly, a painter with the blade." Urie chimed in. Oderan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the stupid saying.

“They're too kind." He mumbled.

“Don't be so humble brother. Lord Khasteer, a duel is coming up in fact, two weeks from now. Perhaps you should attend yourself?" Zakhar nodded at that, hastily agreeing.

“Of course, why Miss Sarrosum, I wouldn't miss it for a new ascension!" The conversation moved over to other issues, and save a quick dance about Oderan's single-ness, it was all rather dry.

Eventually lunch ended and the servants were called in to remove the plates of food. Oderan couldn't help catching Claude's eye. He decided that he didn't like the attractive wolf, he made his scales crawl.

“Urie darling, would you care for a short walk in the park nearby? I think it would be nice to get out, and it's warming up out there." Aileen said airily, leaning in and resting her claw on Urie's own.

“Ah, hmm. Of course…dear. Father, Mother, Oderan…thank you all for a lovely lunch." The two of them climbed to their feet and exited, arm in arm.

“Well." Lady Oksana began with a polite and ladylike yawn. “I think I may retire in fact, all this food…goodness." Her eyelids fluttered as she stood, leaning down to kiss Zakhar's cheek.

“Enjoy your nap." The Lord said, before turning his heavy gaze to Oderan.

“Well." He began. “Now that the women are gone…and my fop of a son, would you care for some brandy in the sitting room?" Oderan sighed.

Desperately. He thought.

Bailey's shoulders slumped, his paws submerged beneath the filthy dishwater.

Finally. He thought. It had felt like the stream of grease slathered dishes would never end, small bits of food stuck and dried to each, harder than glue to scrub off. His back ached, and as he rolled his neck he heard it pop grotesquely. On the other side of the kitchen Morika prepared some kind of snack platter for the guests, muttering to herself as she did so. It had a lot of cheese and biscuits, all looking delicious. He pulled his paws up out of the suds, bubbles of soap slipping off. They burned, feeling somehow dry and stiff despite being soaked through.

Working in the Akkedisian house was…different to working under Turin. As a Tevarian slave, Bailey had always known the routine. Everything was very straightforward, and his waking moments were reduced to little more than a set pattern of movements.

Go here. Pick up box. Move. Put down. Eat. Sleep. That had been all there was to it. The punishments were harsh but few and far between. On the surface the Akkedisian work seemed easier. He was mostly indoors, allowed to wear clothes, and rarely beaten so badly he bled (It might make a stain on the carpet). Yet he had to constantly engage his mind. He was always paying attention, looking and straining to make sure nothing was missed. It was exhausting, to be present for the entire day. Each minute ticked by at an agonisingly slow pace, and Morika was always there, quick to swat his ears or drive the switch across his knuckles. He found her comments bit at him too. Turin had always been horrible, so nobody had ever cared if they were told they were useless or lazy, because…well it was Turin. He called all of them lazy and useless.

But Morika. She was an old hand at this. She let little moments of tenderness slip in; gave the occasional compliment, a nod of satisfaction here and there. So when she mocked them, tore them down, abused them, they knew they had screwed up. Bailey even felt bad sometimes, for what? Disappointing a slave master? Even if she was a slave herself it made no sense, what did he care, so long as he got fed and wasn't hurt too bad?

I'm so tired. He thought, turning his head as Morika left the room, the plate of food in her hands. She'd left a small serving of cheese on the bench, but he didn't dare swipe it. They would know. They always knew here. Slowly the wolf stood, rolling his shoulders and groaning. He saw Garrett every night, and yet it felt like they never talked. By the end of the day he was so exhausted he would choke his food down and promptly fall asleep.

Bailey picked up a damp cloth, trudging into the empty dining room. He began to wipe the table down, muttering indistinct curses to himself as he cleared Urie's mess.

Picking up bad habits. He thought with a wry internal laugh. He sighed, finally scraping off the last bit of dried gravy on the side of the chair. How did this even get here Urie?

“Ah, an ever vigilant wolfie, how commendable." Bailey jumped, scrambling up in surprise at the melodic voice. He turned to see Claude in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall. He smiled. “How are you?"

“W-well. I was just…" Bailey began, but stopped. Claude knew what he was doing. It was such an ingrained habit now though, to announce whatever he was doing.

“And a good job of it too." Claude said, nodding with a smile. Something about this wolf made Bailey feel…weird. Every time they spoke, which was admittedly quite rare, he felt an unusual tingling in his stomach. Behind that feeling of curiosity however, he felt revulsion for the slave. Something…wasn't quite right about him. “You don't have to be so coy. Urie and his harlot have gone walking, while our esteemed Lord and dear guest eat snacks and drink expensive liquor in the sitting room." Bailey flushed, though he wasn't sure why. He quickly returned to the table, dragging the cloth in wide circles across the surface, despite the fact it was already clean.

“I just don't want to be caught off guard." He replied. “It's better to just start doing something easy." He heard Claude come up next to him, heat radiating off his body.

What is wrong with him? Bailey wondered. Why can't you just go away? He stood up, pretending to examine the table and nodding.

“Well." He began. “I think that's it for here, I need to…" Claude cut him off by placing a paw on the small of his back.

“Slow down pup." The wolf said.

“Claude…I have to get to work." Claude chuckled, and Bailey felt his blush deepen. He was suddenly very glad for the fur on his face.

“Do you recall our conversation a few weeks ago? When we first met?" Claude asked gently. Bailey swallowed, he did.

“Uh…sort of. My first day here right? A lot happened…"

“Right. I mentioned that the Lady of the house enjoys some canine company…right?" Bailey just nodded, his stomach growing cold. His flesh crawled as Claude took the cloth from his clenched paw. “Well. I believe she has sent for your presence, lucky boy." Bailey stammered.

“But…but…I thought…the Lord…he's still…" He ran out of words. He'd been told things like that only happened when Zakhar wasn't around, lest a severe punishment ensure. Claude shrugged.

“Eh, he's busy with our guest. They'll be in there a while…plus she probably just wants a drink of something. Why don't you go oblige?"

“Can't you?" He asked meekly. Claude chuckled.

“Who do you think asked me to come fetch you? Go on now." He tapped Bailey on the shoulder, leaving the room in way of the kitchen. It felt hard to breathe, and he wished he could sit down.

Just…you don't know what she wants, could be anything. He told himself, swallowing again. He turned slowly, going to the stairs and beginning the climb. At the top he paused, feeling sick. Maybe she'll ask me to leave if I vomit? He thought, heading in the direction of the Lady's room. His paw hovered over the surface of the door for a moment, before he finally knocked.

“Come in please." The Lady said from within, and he entered, shutting the door behind him. A fire roared in the corner of the room, and Bailey instantly started feeling hot. It was so unpleasant in the mild weather, but apparently the lizards got cold.

“M'Lady." He muttered, eyes downcast. She sat in a resplendent armchair at the end of her bed, a glass of deep crimson wine in her claw.

“Come here dear, tell me your name." Oksana said, and he obeyed. “Bailey…Bailey." She tested out the name, saying it a few times as if to make sure it was working. “A conversation with the lovely Lord Sarrosum this morning reminded me we have two new pups here. I thought it high time we were introduced."

“Of course." He said, and Oksana beckoned him with a single finger.

“Here." She commanded. He stepped over, and she continued gesturing until he was within arm's reach. He stood slightly to one side, leg brushing up against the side of the chair. His eyes looked away, tail dead still. His waist was level with Oksana's face. He resisted the urge to shiver as she traced her free claw across one of his paws.

“Mmm, such lovely fur. I'm often envious of it you know, so warm…" She made a…sound then. Bailey had only heard cats make it before. It was like purring, but more metallic, as if being done through a metal can. A growl.

“Uh…thank you…my Lady…" He mumbled, feeling her cold claw trace up the underside of his shirt, tracing over his stomach. He couldn't stop shaking. He let out a slight mewl as her claw went down, tracing down the outside of his pants.

You can't say no. There are consequences, serious consequences.

“Bailey." She said softly, as if to remind herself. “Do you like wine?" She asked, slightly louder.

“Um…"

“Here." She said, standing suddenly and handing him the goblet. “Drink." He quickly finished the drink, shivering at the sudden intense taste. Had wine always been like this? He couldn't remember. She took the goblet from him and put it aside, stepping around him.

“You're obedient, aren't you?" She asked, taking his paw. He nodded. “Your job is to make us feel good, you know that." She told him, pressing his paw to her breast. His stomach turned. This felt so wrong, where was Garrett?

Consequences.

Bailey closed his eyes.

“Sit. Down." Oksana said, pressing his shoulders until he sat on the bed. She pushed him back so he was lying down, hooking her claws over the waistband of his pants. Bailey stared up, everything in him screaming as loud as it could that he needed to leave. He wanted to push Oksana off him and run. But who knew what would happen?

She slid his pants down and he felt tears welling up in his eyes.

“You need waking up." She said, taking his sheath in a claw and squeezing.

Fuck the consequences.

“N-no!" He suddenly exclaimed. Oksana was taken aback, and he used the opportunity to pull his pants up, covering himself. He scrambled to the side and off the bed, backing away slowly. Tears wet his cheeks, and he wiped them away with a paw. Oksana stood, looking aghast. His heart was pounding and he couldn't breathe.

What did I just do? He thought in a panic.

“Sit. Down." She growled, eyes cold. He shook his head, backing closer to the door.

“I…I'm sorry M'Lady, I can't. Really…I, um…sorry. My Lady." He threw up a little in his mouth, instantly swallowing the burning bile. “I'm sick." He said pathetically, turning to the door and pulling it open. He walked away briskly, heading for the stairs. He could hear Oksana behind him, approaching quickly.

He had to get away. Just downstairs, Morika could help, she would. She had to. Or maybe Garrett, maybe he would know what to do…

Bailey rushed around the corner, not looking where he was going. He slammed into a tall figure, stumbling backwards and falling on his arse. He looked up to see the shining green Akkedisian guest. His horns reached straight out the back of his head, and his eyes shone. He looked surprised - but not angry - that Bailey had slammed into him.

The duellist. He thought, losing the name in a haze of panic.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!" The Akkedisian exclaimed, extending a claw. Bailey pulled away from it, expecting violence, but it was an offering of help. As Lady Oksana rounded the corner, she saw him being helped to his feet. She paused, suddenly flustered.

“Lord…Oderan…I was just…is this one bothering you?" She asked, glaring to Bailey. Oderan shook his head.

“No, not at all. I'm afraid I knocked him over is all, he was in a right hurry."

“I see." She said, pursing her lips. “I had just woken, was coming down to see the state of things. Where are you off to, mutt?" Bailey fumbled for words, letting out only a slight choke. “Speak." She hissed. Oderan looked to the wolf, his face…concerned?

“I think I really knocked the wind out of him." Oderan said with a deflecting chuckle. “I thought I heard Aileen and Urie return is all, I was looking for them. Your husband is downstairs my Lady, don't be troubled by this one, I think he just needs a minute." Oksana straightened her dress, nodding.

“Very well then. You need not bother with him though." She said. If looks could kill then Bailey would be a thousand times dead. “But if you insist…our house staff have very good manners, so I trust he will say nothing out of turn." Oderan laughed.

“Of course." He said. Oksana gave Bailey another dagger, turning and descending the steep staircase. Oderan took his arm, pulling him to the side.

“Here, I think there's a washroom just in here…I'm so sorry." He said loudly, dragging the wolf with him. Bailey felt reticent to go into yet another secluded room with an Akkedisian, but he didn't have the strength to fight. They stepped into a tiled room filled with large sinks and a bath, some water kept warm by a brazier to the side. Oderan hastily shut the door, dragging over a chair.

“Here, you can sit down." He said in a hushed tone. Bailey waited, and then after some prompting sat. “I won't hurt you, I…apologise for knocking you down. Are you okay? Pardon me but you look terrible." Bailey sniffed, wiping at his eyes. He was so sick of always crying.

“M'fine my Lord." He muttered. In his head he heard Morika chastising him for mumbling.  

“You look like you were sobbing."

“No!" He caught himself. “Um, no…M'Lord." Oderan frowned.

“What's your name?" Bailey just wanted to leave. He suddenly felt exhausted, as if everything had been drained from him, leaving him only with tired muscles and heavy flesh. The similarities between this interaction and the last didn't feel pleasant either, not in the slightest.

“Bailey." He answered reluctantly.

“I see." Oderan said. “Did the Lady…well," He reached a claw up and played with a horn. “I've heard rumours but…do you understand what I'm asking?" Bailey nodded, fidgeting in his seat.

You cannot say anything you hear in this house to anyone, ever. He'd been told that multiple times, by multiple people.

“I don't know." He said softly.

Fingers, sheaths, hooks, hangings.  

“You…don't know? Let me put it this way, did the Lady…try to do anything you felt was, err…morally questionable to you, inside her bedroom?"

“I don't know."

“Did she try to touch you?"

Silence.

“Did she want you to touch her?"

Silence.

Oderan sighed.

“I swear to you Bailey, I'm not going to tell. I just want to know…that you're alright. You look awful, and I know the Khasteers can be a harsh lot. You can speak freely here, please."

“I don't know." Bailey replied harshly. Too harshly, he was still speaking to a Lord, even if it was a kind one.

“Look. I'll tell you some truth here…okay? Can I trust you won't squeal on me?" Bailey nodded automatically. “Okay. If I can prevent my sister from marrying a brute the likes of Urie, then all the better. I…don't know why I bother, Aileen is...well, who she is. Okay? I hate the Khasteers, and apparently they're all horrific. I'd heard rumours about Lady Oksana but…could you perhaps confirm them? Nobody will ever know it came from you."

“I…" Bailey began, but clamped his mouth shut. He didn't know what to do. “She might have…touched me…and…and…pulled my pants down…a bit…" He said, feeling that sudden burning in his chest, the itching, the internal disgust and revulsion. He felt filthier than ever before. He half expected Oderan to start laughing.

“Did she do anything else to you?" He asked softly.

“No. I…ran away. That's why I bumped into you…sorry…"

“It's fine." Oderan replied, breath hissing between his teeth. “This is wrong. There are laws…well, some. I'm going to say something, alright?"

“No!" Bailey exclaimed suddenly, standing and throwing his paws up. “You can't say anything, I'll get…get hooks, and then they hang you and I can't…"

“Shush." Oderan commanded. “I mean, I'll say I look forward to seeing you again when we next meet. That you're a lovely staff member. That way they can't be rid of you, or hurt you too badly until next time. Oksana will understand my meaning. I promise." Bailey's throat caught.

“Thank you." He whispered.

“You poor thing." Oderan replied. “I'm sorry. This is indecent."

“Yes." Bailey replied, turning away.

Fingers, sheaths, hooks, hangings.