Burn Bright

Lenoir had her taken to a room close to his own. Naif learned that from overheard whispers between Ripers who watched outside her door, and from Graselle, who came to tend her.

‘He’s put you near him,’ Graselle muttered, as she sponged Naif down. ‘I’m not sure why, but it’s different. He wants something from you and he’ll get it. Which means you’ll have power.’

Even though she was recovering, Naif felt reluctant to talk. Her mind still struggled to absorb what had happened.

Instead she examined the whitewashed room. It appeared, like the other caves, to be carved from the rock of Ixion. The walls were impregnated with crosses and statues like the Grotto and the heavy wood and iron bed she lay upon was made up with white linen sheets.

Graselle emptied the basin of washing water into a bucket and pulled the clean sheet up past her waist.

Naif closed her eyes. She didn’t wish to think of her body at all, or Lenoir, but Graselle’s words had fashioned a filigree of hope around her sickened heart. Power.

‘Look at me,’ demanded Graselle.

Naif’s eyes flicked open. Graselle was so close that she could smell her perfumed skin and see the moth-shaped flecks of black in her tawny eyes.

‘You know what Enlightenment means now?’

Naif glanced away but Graselle would not have it. She seized Naif’s chin with strong fingers and forced her to look back at her. ‘Tell me what it is.’

‘It’s … I think … it’s … pleasure,’ Naif gasped.

‘Pleasure. That’s right. And that’s what you came here for. To Ixion.’

‘No – I … I …’ But Naif could not say the rest. She’d lost the trace of her purpose.

‘Everyone comes here for pleasure. Even if they think they don’t. Embracing it is harder for some and they go mad before they truly accept it. Most of the places they come from are founded on guilt and rules. The Ripers want us to break away from that – some wish to tear it from us while others are more subtle.’

Guilt and rules. Grave was like that. But it seemed so far away now. So distant. Grave belonged to Retra, the person she was – not Naif.

Graselle went on. ‘Lenoir fights his own battles. There’s plenty here among the Guardians that would be him. He has to show Brand that he’s still the one with the power. Perhaps by turning one like you – a Seal – to pleasure, gets him more kudos … or per’aps …’

‘Wha-at?’ croaked Naif.

‘Per’aps he just fancies you.’

Naif forced more words out, something to distract from the notion of Lenoir finding her attractive. ‘He says … I owe him … my life.’

Graselle collected her washers and the bucket and went to the door. ‘And you do. But the “owing” works both ways. He’ll have got what he needed from you. But there’s a bond between you and Lenoir now and others will know it. Watch yourself.’

‘How do you know all this?’

A sheen of moisture glazed Graselle’s eyes. ‘He has bonded before.’

‘To you?’

‘You don’t speak of your bonding to anyone. See,’ Graselle hissed.