White Stag (Permafrost #1)(8)

And how did you know a hunt would happen? I left the question unsaid.

He sat at one end of the table, waving me to sit at the other.

“You’re very tense,” he noted.

“Is there any reason I should not be?” I shot back.

Soren steepled his fingers. “Do you not feel safe in my presence?”

I sat down roughly. “I never feel safe.”

Some emotion flitted across Soren’s eyes, so fast I might’ve missed it if I didn’t know to look for it. Sadness? I couldn’t tell. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Are you? I forced my shoulders to relax, surprised at the ache in them. “What am I here for?”

Soren smiled, baring his sharp teeth. “You know what’s happening, I presume?”

“As much as any human could,” I said. “You’re going to hunt the stag.”

“And one another.” The smile disappeared. “And whoever gets in our way.”

“And you enjoy that?”

“Don’t be coy, Janneke. You know exactly how this works, even if you like to think you don’t.”

I lifted my chin. “I know what you are and what you do. I know this hunt will bring death until the stag has been reborn. And I know you all will probably enjoy it much more than you will fear for your lives.”

Soren raised an eyebrow. “Would you fear for your life?”

“I think fearing for my life would be a waste of time in my position.”

Soren chuckled drily. “That is true, although I’d say the same of myself.”

“Well, you’d be infinitely safer than me,” I said, forcing myself not to be unnerved by his laughter. “You can bring hunting hounds, sworn shields, healers, anything you’d like. And very few would take it upon themselves to kill you alone. On the other hand, I’m not you, and my worth, as well as the measures in place to protect me, would be dramatically lower.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, however.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Do you fear for your life around other goblins? Around me?” He put his elbow on the table, leaning forward with one hand.

“That wasn’t your original question,” I said, eyes narrowed. “I can play the word game just as well as you, Soren.”

He gave another dry laugh. “Almost as well. But humor me, are you afraid?”

I was silent, chewing over the words before I spoke. Yes, goblins could rip me apart so easily, torture me until my mind unraveled. Goblins stole humans for work the Permafrost wouldn’t let them do themselves. So many of the things they had—their clothing, their agriculture, their buildings—were thanks to the humans living among the monsters who possessed the skills they didn’t. Humans created, goblins destroyed. It was known.

“I think I feel equal measures fear, hate, and anger toward your kind. The one that shows the most probably depends on my mood and whether or not I’m likely to have my heart ripped out by another brute in a grand hall.”

“You’re under my protection,” Soren said with a bit of a growl.

“All of your thralls are,” I retorted.

“You’re not just any thrall.” His words made me swallow. I was painfully aware that despite Soren treating his thralls with a considerable amount of respect, honor, and social mobility, the way he treated me surpassed all of them.

“Aren’t I?”

Soren rolled his eyes. “Must we do this every time?”

“Yes.”

“Janneke,” he said. The softness of his voice, the way the corners of his lips were threatening to rise, caught me off guard. “You do know I regard you as a close friend, don’t you?”

“I don’t think you know what a friend is,” I said. “I accompany you when it suits your needs.”

“Most people would call that a companion. And if I’m right, that’s the definition of a friend.”

“In this case, companion is a polite word for concubine.”

“Usually sex is required to be a concubine.” A small grin flickered on his lips. “You don’t think after all these years, we have something?”

I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t, because I knew he was right. I could deny it all I wanted, act as obstinate as a child, but there was some type of relationship between me and Soren. It was evident in the fact that I accompanied him to most places and events he was invited to, the way we spoke freely to each other, and the good-humored banter we couldn’t help but throw. Perhaps “friends” wasn’t the correct word to use, but we weren’t enemies, and I didn’t have it in me to truly hate him.

He sighed. “Fine. I protect you because you’re my property. You’re my property because I like you. I like you because you amuse me. Is that what you want me to say?”

The door slid open and a young man bearing a silver tray walked in, saving me from responding. His eyes were narrowed and shrewd, his cheeks a little gaunt, and his frame thinner than it should’ve been. I didn’t recognize him as one of Soren’s thralls and judging from the bronze collar around his neck, he wasn’t. A slight look of disgust passed across Soren’s face as the man came over. Back at his manor, thralls were only used for skills he or his household didn’t have themselves, and preparing and serving food wasn’t on that list. Pompous as he was, Soren hated being waited on.