Faine knew no other way than to conduct business. Saskia was smart enough to respect that approach, she wouldn't question beyond the normal mean of things, so Faine took Ilian's limp hand and led him up the stairs. An explanation was crucial, no one with Saskia behind the curtain would allow him in with only a single glance.

Sure enough, when she reached to open the curtain for herself, a male feliram standing off to the side stopped Faine. "What's your business?" he questioned in a dull tone.

"I have a meeting with Saskia Wilhelmina. I am part of a merchant guild I believe she would have an interest in," Faine explained.

The male feliram with skin as black as night turned his white eyes towards Ilian's lost stare. He hadn't turned away from the curtain, hadn't registered the conversation they were having, had done nothing more than breathe and stare off into nothing while the world continued on without him.

He jerked his chin at Ilian and said, "No mortals allowed. Saskia doesn't care for them."

Faine turned her head to look at him. "This is my slave; he is under a geas. He will not be a distraction, nor an unpleasant presence. He doesn't speak, he doesn't listen, he doesn't move other than to do what I command him. Surely, Saskia can let this one slide."

The male huffed through his nostrils and pushed back the translucent curtain. She had smelled the faint fog before the hidden room opened, but it hit her like a slap to the face. For her luck, and for Ilian's, it wasn't the smoke that made living beings lose their minds; it was that of a group of felirams sitting towards the back, smoking from pipes.

"I offer you no promises," the feliram deadpanned when he stepped aside to allow them in. "Don't blame me if she eats him."

For one final test, he sniffed Ilian, discovered Faine's scent covering him from head to toe, and growled underneath his breath. The mortal didn't make any sudden movements.

Faine interlaced their fingers together and ducked her head to avoid the top of the stone archway, verbally instructing Ilian to do the same—and loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Some looked up from their lounging positions in chairs or couches; the two male felirams on the low bed didn't untangle themselves from each other long enough to see who had arrived and why they smelled like a mortal.

Smoke cast a veil over what should've been clean air but Faine spotted her immediately. Legs crossed one over the other, her fine dress replaced with a lace robe, a female feliram braiding back her hair—Saskia didn't pay them any mind until she, too, caught the scent of an unwanted presence.

Her loose curls draped over one shoulder and exposed the dragon tattoo peeking out from her robe and disappearing beneath her hairline. Faine trailed it down to the point the robe covered the tail end down her left arm. Saskia's expression never changed beyond a deep frown; her black eyes specked with white never glittered like the stars would've forced her to.

Saskia never did anything that didn't please her; that meant being in the presence of a mortal.

She looked Ilian up and down without regard for Faine and puckered out her full lips. "I suggest you remove him, or I'll eat him alive," she threatened.

Faine's tone deathly cold, she asked, "Would you do the same to a servant of this fine banquet?"

"No, I would not. They serve a purpose." Saskia showed no sign of her being offended by Faine's question, but the majority of the felirams were now staring right at her and waiting to act on an order to remove both of them from the premises. Saskia worked quickly.

Faine did, too.

She examined her nails. "This is my slave. He is underneath a geas at the moment and is no more than a clutch or a tote. He cannot hear us; he cannot recall your face; he can only do what I require of him."

"If he is your slave, why is he not crawling around with the rest of the mortals? As they should be." Saskia's lip curled back from her teeth, revealing golden fangs. The woman behind her, the one braiding back her voluptuous curls, slowed her movements and studied Ilian carefully.

Saskia was a presence to get behind, but not one easy to agree with. That was the struggle of having a mortal in the room, the fear of having to watch her ally tear him to shreds while he wasn't able to scream. The only problem was—and a threat if they were found out—was that Ilian couldn't face a geas. Because of what Faine had done, no immortal being could control him. Not even the high elf father.

In response to her snarl, Faine smirked. "I wish to carry my belongings to a higher standard. Make them presentable. After all, if we wish to overpower mortals to the extent of having none free, we must make them appear like they can stand on their own."

Ilian's scent didn't change, but Faine knew he was roiling with anger on the inside. She looked down to the chair opposite of Saskia's, far enough away that she wasn't intruding, and would not bother waiting for a proper invite.

"Sit, mortal," Faine ordered.

An immediate reaction untensed Ilian's body and he moved on silent feet towards the chair, sitting down upon the velvet cushion. Saskia watched him with predatory intent, then confusion as Faine draped her arm around his shoulders and lowered herself onto his lap. No one seemed to breathe, even the smoke in the room had lightened when Faine crossed one knee over the other and felt Ilian's hand slide around her hip. Otherwise, he was completely motionless.

"I was wondering why you didn't pick from the scrap pile," Saskia pondered as she brought a chalice of wine to her lips.

"He is my slave," Faine responded. As she was sitting to the side of Ilian's lap, giving him a full view of Saskia and the dark side of the room, she slid her hand underneath his shirt and gently stroked the smooth skin underneath. "But for my own desires, I picked the most handsome of the bunch. The services I require of him are not to bring me breakfast in bed." She grinned, baring her own set of ordinary fangs.

Saskia clicked her tongue. She wasn't yet convinced. "Does he have a name, or should I call him mortal?"

"I call him boy, though he's well beyond that." Faine's fingers traced over his heart and passed the rapid beat underneath, pounding out from his core. After this, once they made it out alive with the necessary information, she'd give him a lesson about how to control his emotions. It was a normal response for a mortal to feel fear through a geas, but he was coming close to crossing the line. "I purchased him from Echo Market. They said he gave the strongest fight, but crumbled when his family met their end. Only those with a heart are what I desire."

Smoke clogged the air in the room once more. Every feliram went back to what they were doing, the wet sound of kisses resumed towards the back of the room, and muttered conversation from the smokers before them were hardly anything of interest. Nothing about explosives or Saskia's next mission. Faine was so focused on explaining why Ilian was there that she nearly forgot what her true mission was—dig up information that Saskia wouldn't otherwise give.

Saskia took another sip from her chalice. "Has he been worthwhile for you? I've considered something of a similar make, though the young and beautiful mortals don't have enough experience for me," she said.

"Find the right one, and all your needs will be met," Faine responded with glittering eyes. The meaning behind her words was clear enough, and it caught Saskia's attention; she was roped in as quickly as Faine desired. No one could pass up the opportunity on an immortal woman using a mortal for something other than cleaning a residence or delivering breakfast in bed.

Turning her head towards the side of Ilian's face, she pressed her lips against his temple, then his cheek, and tugged on the tip of his earlobe. She trailed her hand from his shirt and up the other side of his neck, only to end her show by pressing her cheek against the temple she had just kissed.

"He's quite handsome, don't you think?" she purred.

It was rare to see such a light forming in Saskia's eyes, but the display in front of her was crafting enough ideas. She wanted a mortal of her own, wanted the attention Faine was receiving; the tight grip around her hips.

"Truthfully, he's not my type." Saskia swirled the wine in her chalice. "I prefer...the softer side of things. Men believe everything belongs to them, especially the body of a woman, but it is nice to see one so powerless in your arms." For the first time in the few occurrences Faine had been near Saskia, the woman laughed outright. Even the felirams closest to her appeared stunned that such a sound had left her throat. A joyful tune.

Faine threaded her fingers into Ilian's hairline. "There is plenty of what you're looking for in Echo Market. Though this is not what I came here to discuss with you," Faine revealed. "Surely, you know who I am by now."

The female feliram narrowed her black eyes. Even in the dull light, her soft skin glowed a lively shade of smooth caramel. Her lips, stained red, matched the blood that flowed underneath their skin. "I don't believe I do. I meet many people in my life, but something tells me you already know who I am. Otherwise, why would you sit here and deliberate your mortal slave? Surely, there are more important matters to discuss."

Faine turned Ilian's head towards her, enough to give him a hint, and his hand tightened on her hip while the other slid around to grip onto her waist. He angled himself in such a way that gave him access to her body. Through the eyes of anyone else in the room, it appeared to be the silent order of a geas. His performance was going above and beyond what Faine expected; the fluidness of his movements wasn't natural. And that was all they hoped for.

"I am part of a merchant guild," Faine said with ease. "The Splithoods. Have you heard of me now?"

Saskia watched Ilian carefully when he buried his face in Faine's neck and kissed her lilac skin. That lazy touch was perfected and not distracting enough to the feliram with her own sort of attention. The one braiding her hair had begun massaging her shoulders through the lace robe.

"I have a faint recognition of your business." She sighed out of boredom. "You deal in delivering herbs and spices from farmlands and take them into cities. That's quite the route for such a small guild."

Ilian slid his tongue over her pulse and applied the gentle pressure of his lips. As much as Faine hadn't expected it to happen, her own heartbeat quickened at the warmth of his hands sliding up and down her side to register the curve of her hip in his grasp. The motion didn't belong to the fake geas, that was his. As was every kiss he warmed her skin with.

While she continued to stroke the back of Ilian's scalp, Faine blinked herself out of the trance. "Quite. But you must also know that we deal in more than what you believe." She laughed under her breath. "It's fair to assume you know that already. Someone like you doesn't know of a merchant guild unless they are a possible ally."

"Is that what the Splithoods are to be to me? An ally? I suggest you rethink your use of words, feliram, for I don't have allies. I have a network of traders; it's hard to keep track of all of them. The Splithoods won't change the tide for me, no matter what you deal in."

Just like that, Faine's lead was slipping. The grasp she had on Saskia was becoming too heavy to carry and the feliram was focusing on the woman over her shoulder, whispering something in her ear. They had gotten to the point of getting Ilian inside without trouble, but Faine hadn't been forward enough.

Ilian grabbed onto her wrist and squeezed tight in warning. His nose grazed against the side of her throat, near her ear, but Faine couldn't enjoy that sensation. There was too much else on her mind that made it impossible to focus on anything else. Including how tempting each kiss Ilian pressed against her skin was.

She needed to leap. And leap she did. "I know you have an important job coming up," Faine blurted. That caught the attention of everyone nearby. "You're still in discussion, but all the pieces have not yet fit together. That's what tonight is for, isn't it?" At one time, they both narrowed their eyes at each other. "You need the Splithoods to deliver your explosives from one place to the next. As it turns out, we deal in exactly that."

The corner of Saskia's mouth stretched into a small smile. Hardly anything to notice, but it was a silent testament that Faine won her attention. "I'm curious as to where you've gathered this intel. I instructed every associate of mine to keep their mouths shut."

Faine shrugged. "We're the Splithoods. We have all the information we'll ever need. More so, even." Ilian gave her earlobe one soft tug with his teeth. "What I'm asking of you is simple. Consider us for your next mission. I know it's coming and assigning us as your delivery may be just what you need. We promise not to disappoint."

"You promise me nothing other than your word. I've never dealt with Splithoods, how can I be certain you won't fail?"

The woman behind Saskia, one with bright eyes that didn't fit well with her thin face, ran her fingers up the side of her leader's neck and did more than whisper in her ear. Little did she know; she was creating the perfect situation for Faine; lessening the chances of Saskia being in the right mindset to say no to her offer.

"Every proposal starts with a chance," Faine reasoned. "I understand you don't trust me yet, but in order to know whether we can do this at all, I need to have an idea of your next mission. After all, those that deliver the explosives are also willing to set them up for you."

Saskia's stare turned heavy-lidded. So close, they were so close. The wine was fogging her thoughts, as was the warm breath cascading against her shoulder. "You wouldn't understand the volume of my target, nor am I willing to give out that information to a complete stranger without signing a contract first. All I give you is a fragment of the truth. This mission will define my career. If you've heard enough of me, then you know what I've done. The volume of people I've assassinated with my explosives. But this one—this one will set a new wave of life for Pinedon and I cannot mess it up by assigning a young merchant guild to fail."

"You're so confident we would fail, Saskia," Faine said.

They stared each other down once more, each with their own distraction, but Saskia was winning. And it wasn't at the hand of her strength or focus, it was because Ilian was sliding his hand so far up the inside of Faine's thigh that she had to turn her attention towards that. He kissed the sharp plane of her jaw, more thorough than he had been before.

Faine swallowed the lump in her throat and attempted to halt the burning in her core, but it came anyway. The hidden rooms were here for a reason, not just for these secret meetings. She imagined herself taking Ilian into one of those rooms, laying him down on the low bed...

"I take no chances," Saskia finally spoke, interrupting Faine's imagination. "Not when the risk is this high. Come looking for me once this is over."

"How will I know?" Faine steeled her nerves. Ilian's thumb rubbed against the highest point of her thigh, but he felt nothing of the truth through her gown. Nothing of the desire building within her.

The master of explosives stood from the chair she was draped over and stared down at both of them. She studied the way Ilian's hands had traveled to desirable places, and with a grin, told everyone in the room what they needed to know about the scent leaking from Faine's body. Faine hoped Saskia kept her mouth shut.

Saskia's body curved plentiful. Her wide hips against her small waist resembled a plump pear, and her face matched the narrowness of a dagger. She caught the eye of everyone in the room; they turned to her without question, but she didn't care about anyone else other than the woman that had come to stand at her side. Also, with the body of a goddess.

"Trust me, you'll know," Saskia said with a sickening grin. "I have matters to tend to, and judging by your slave here, you are in the same boat. Either you can join us, or leave. We require nothing of your business." She waved them off with a hand and not a second look. Nothing she believed Faine deserved.

As Saskia walked towards the empty low bed, Faine stood from Ilian's lap and held out her hand to him. He took it, warm fingers sliding carefully into her own, and she led him out of the hidden room without looking back.