A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, your encouragement has kept this story going. I know my writing pace can be very slow sometimes, so thanks for bearing with me. I also appreciate the constructive criticism I've gotten; it helps me become a better writer. For those looking for more vampire scenes, there will most likely be another intimate scene with Daria in the next chapter. I hope you enjoy the chapter!
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True to the strange Lord's word, Milyn spent the night in a well-appointed room possessed of far more comforts than she ever could have dreamed of back at the Convent. The bed was a wonder of soft cushions and silken sheets that was as far above the old cot she was accustomed to as the angels were from mortal man. A few bookcases casually boasted half as many volumes as had been in the Convent's library. The smell of the place was a delight to the senses: the aged paper of the books mixing with a hint of smoke from the fire and a slight floral fragrance from the sheets.
Milyn felt guilty for enjoying her quarters. Presumably the angel was housed as well, but what of her sisters? Poor Daria was dead, Mother Selcrie twisted into some beast, and who knows what desecrations the others were being subjected to. She thought fearfully of the tall man's closing comment. Had he truly been making some sort of sick jest, or was he serious? Had she perhaps angered him enough with her comment that he had decided to hurt one of her Sisters who would otherwise have gone unscathed?
No, she told herself firmly at last. She was only playing right into his hands if she began doubting herself. This is what demons did, didn't they? Offered things that seemed nice, while their dupe never suspected at first the terrible price that it was bought at. And truly, although many might not really understand it, the most awful price was distance from the One God. He was the Creator of All, the source of all goodness, the promise of eternal life after death. What transient happiness could ever match the bountiful rewards he showered his true believers with, in addition to that most precious gift of all, his love?
Still, it was a very nice bed.
The next morning, Milyn woke up as the sun began to stream through the windows. She was struck once again by the incongruity of her situation. Here she was in the hands of what should be utter and depraved evil, and this peace and comfort were so far removed from what she felt she should be experiencing that it unsettled her greatly. If she had been being tortured, at least she'd know her role: suffer bravely and die secure in her faith. It was rather difficult to know what to do here. Should she have scorned the bed and slept on the floor? That seemed rather petty.
She nearly got stuck again considering the garments ready for her in the room's wardrobe. Once again, they were cut rather more indecently than she was used to, although she supposed almost any sort of regular clothing was. She longed for the security and anonymity of the shapeless, rough robes of the Order. It seemed a double waste, putting on any of this pretty clothing when there were much more attractive women about. How could any observer not make the comparison and judge her the lesser?
Granted, that was foolish vanity speaking, but still.
She eventually went with a dark blue dress she somewhat liked for the rippling manner the skirt moved with her, although the bodice was cut rather tighter than she felt comfortable with. As she was looking at herself in the mirror, a soft knock sounded on the door. Another young woman entered; a short, lithe girl with chestnut hair pulled back from her face and bold, slanted eyes.
"Milyn? I am Chen Li. Mrithasee told me you were awake, so I thought I would invite you to breakfast with the rest of us?"
"Mrithasee?"
Chen Li smiled. "One of my spirit friends. He's always poking around! Curious little fellow. This way!"
A demon-worshipping whore then! Milyn elevated her nose slightly as she followed the other woman. She wasn't quite sure what a whore was, mind you, but she knew it was something very, very bad. The scripture had one or two passing references to them conjoined with the blackest sins and punishments, and Mother Hathrick had once called one of the novices a lazy whore when she had been shirking her chores.
The whore led her into a room with a tall, vaulted ceiling, lit by massive windows reaching nearly from the floor to the roof. The walls were carved in a strange, baroque style, and leering gargoyles and grotesque, weeping masks gazed down on them as they entered. Several people – to use the term loosely, in some cases – were gathered around a long table inside, eating a hearty repast of fresh fruit, bacon, buttered bread, and fried eggs; indulging in light conversation as they did. As she was led to a seat, Milyn studied the other guests as discreetly as she knew how. Aside from the angel, seated sullenly to one side, these were the enemy, and she wanted to know what to expect from them.
Lord Susurrus held court at the head of the table. That was the only phrase she could think of to really describe the effortless control he commanded over the gathering. Everyone seemed to regard him with a mixture of respect and deference. He was dressed in a rich silver and black doublet today, with black lace at the throat and wrists. He gave her a nod and a small smile as he saw her, and she quickly averted her eyes.
To his right sat the bull-necked leader of the rogues, his fresh-shaven pate gleaming in the morning light. On his left was some sort of phantom, the ghostly figure of a woman dressed in finery that would have terrified her if not for the sense of inescapable unreality that had gripped her the last few days. Absently, she wondered if her circumstances had driven her mad. That would explain some of her reactions. But if she were mad, wouldn't she worry less about her situation? She was still afraid, still wracked with despair, just... numb. She'd been in the grip of these emotions for a few days now, and while potent, the emotions were more familiar than they had been.
Distracted by her thoughts, Milyn meekly seated herself in the seat Chen Li indicated. Looking over at the person next to her, she started violently. Daria smiled back at her, positively glowing in a short, tight black dress that showed entirely too much bosom and thigh. The Sister looked a perfect vision of health. Milyn clutched the table in front of her in an involuntary attempt to reassure herself, and her eyelids fluttered as she quickly reassessed her position on her own sanity.
"You..." she managed to choke out at last, as Daria looked at her with some concern. "You..."
"Close your mouth, cow, before you catch flies," sneered a cold voice from the other end of the table.
An imposing female lounged there regally, her face a mask of disdain. She was dressed almost as a man, in breeches and a blouse with a vest tightly strained over it; although the curves of her form left no doubt as to her gender. Her long hair was so black it seemed to glimmer with hints of purple, and was bound with multiple silver chains strung with bells in a long braid that hung over one shoulder down to her waist.
