The Family of Unsavory Cravens

[Allister]

PH

[Madeira Dusk]

89th of Fall 517

It might have looked odd in any other city, but nobody even glanced at Madeira as she glided by. In one hand she was holding an elaborate gilded birdcage who's occupant, a vibrantly blue pigeon, was hooting with indignation as his cage was jostled. Under her other arm was a taxidermy tiger head, its yellow glass eyes glaring viciously at passerby and looking just as unimpressed as the bird. Leashed to a string around her waist was a black cat, who took in everything around it with a kind of vacant, cross eyed wonder. And behind them all a little ghost girl was fretting with all ten fingers in her mouth.

Today was moving day, and nobody was happy about it.

"What if they don't like me?", Emma jogged to keep up with Madeira's brisk pace.

"Then you will learn to stay out of their way."

"What if they don't like Raj?"

"Then he will learn to stay out of their way too."

Madeira had kept this running reassurance up since they left the house for the last time that morning. Her and Allister's clothing and most of their possessions were to be delivered by a courier service, but she couldn't trust a courier with the things she loved most, so she had to carry them herself. Unfortunately Allister had gotten separated from them after an incident with a giant book and a horse made of shining ink, but she had faith her would turn up sooner or later.

The truth was, she had to many things she loved now. The little cottage she had called home for several years was much too small with Allister, Jomi, Emma, Raj, Bird and Spooks were living there. They needed space. And while nobody was thrilled with the idea of leaving their cramped little home, nobody was as crushed about it as Madeira herself.

"Keep an eye out for Allister, sweetie. I hope he shows up soon..."

The truth was, she didn't want to face this without him.

But much too soon a tall, bleak house loomed in the distance. The Craven manor had a sinister air about it, though it was well maintained. Gothic architecture gave it a prickly, unwelcome look. The tall windows on every floor seemed to frown at the small troop as they made their way up the short cobble path to the front door. Madeira raised her hand to the heavy brass knocker on the double doors, but paused before it could make a sound. Closing her eyes, she silently prayed to Ionu that Allister would make it to the front door before the servants did.

x

[Allister]

“Is that all you’ve got?” Allister barked. It was hard to recognize his own voice since he was half-drown in various shades of blue, black and green ink. In the form of a man but on all fours, the Kelvic wheezed and spat the bitter liquid as it ran over him and off of his every feature. Beady black eyes lifted to find his adversary standing in an arrogant pose on the other end of the square. The creature tossed its head and gave a gargling kind of whinny. The horse was massive- larger than any Allister could remember and it was insistent on keeping the hyena from catching up to his bondmate. Had the trotting abomination known how big of a mistake that was, it might have chosen someone else to bully.

The taunt seemed to work for the horse began to charge its opponent. Allister scrambled to his feet and braced for the impact. The spindly figure looked like an illusion all on his own as the ink cascaded from his hair and down his body. The ink pooled around his boots in an ever growing puddle. The horse neighed its challenge and the hyena screamed in response. The shout was something of a mixture that held pain, anger and confusion all at the same time; a frightening thing to behold. Right as the man was wincing in anticipation of another blow from the equine beast, he curled down somewhat but it never came. The man opened his eyes and slowly straightened his posture. The horse was gone. The Kelvic started to walk away until a shadow eclipsed his form. Allister turned around with a very timid glance over his shoulder. The horse had risen out of the puddle and was climbing into the air above the lanky man. “Son of a wh-“

The horse crashed down on Allister. The massive being turned into a wave of ink as it made contact with its target and the standing figure was washed to the other side of the courtyard. He slammed into the stone wall with a thud that caused his mouth to open. The tide of dark liquids receded and reformed into the horse on the other end of the contained space. Its lifeless eyes leered at the man who was nothing more than a heap on the ground. As if satisfied, the horse neighed loudly then turned and galloped away.

Allister coughed and spat and gagged on the ink. He didn’t try and get up- not right away. His thoughts crawled across the bond, to Madeira, to push his desire to be with her. He hid his pain and embarrassment from the girl. She did not need to bear is problems. The Kelvic smiled despite his appearance and the ink flowed from his mouth, over his chin and down his neck. “I guess a little more ink isn’t going to hu-“ The phrase was cut short by a fit of coughing that doubled Allister over. He hacked and coughed until his eyes felt like they would pop out of his skull. Sadly, when he thought it was over and tried to stand once more, the ink harbored in his belly decided that now was a good time to make its escape. The hyena wretched a bucket of the ink out onto the ground with a cry that mimicked someone calling for a man named Earl...well, an angry call for such a man.

The Kelvic collapsed to his hands and knees in shame. He desperately longed to be with Madeira even if he didn’t like sharing her with all of the others. She needed him and he had failed. This foul city had deigned to intervene in his life and wedged itself between the bonded pair. The hyena looked around to assess his situation. He was lost, covered in ink which was blocking his sense of smell and was most likely late for the arrival at the house of Madeira’s family. A few stray tears washed down from his eyes and streaked clear through the ink that was staining his entire body. The blonde girl with twinkling eyes and a fine neck had been nothing but kind to him and Allister was about to fail her; something he promised he would never do. The tears fell faster now. The salty water mixed with the ink and chased it down his body amidst soft sobs and whimpers. The Kelvic shrank into a ball against the wall that stopped the wave which swallowed him. It was only now that he began to feel the dull pain from the impact.

“Don’t waste the ink, young man.”

Allister froze. He peered up over his arms to see…no one? He was slightly terrified but thoroughly confused as his eyes scanned the courtyard but found no source for the voice.

“Over here- stop watering down the ink and I’ll help you.” The hyena settled his gaze upon yet another strange sight- a giant book! The leather binding was a reddish brown like old bricks and its size was easily as big as a slave’s cage and as thick as an old swamp tree. There were no eyes, mouth or other human-like features but the book continued to talk as the pages flapped between the covers. “I need ink to finish my story and you look like you need a good scrub.” Allister just stared in amazement. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. The book laughed with a sound like two sticks being rubbed together. The kelvic just grimaced and spat out some more ink. “Alright. I can see you’re a man of few words so let me explain.” The book opened its pages a bit more and the scent of old paper began to combat the sour inky smell that filled Allister’s nose. “That horse belongs in my story but she got away. For some reason, she decided that you were a threat to the blonde girl and needed to be stopped.” Allister scoffed and was about to protest but the book continued speaking so he held his tongue. “Let me absorb the ink in which you’ve been covered. I can use it to write the next part of my story and corral the wayward horse. Not to mention, I can clean you up.” The top of the massive tome leaned in over the huddled mess that was the Kelvic. “Sound good?”

Allister nodded. He then allowed the pages to open and enfold him. The grim lack of hesitation was bred into the former slave- a simple acceptance of fate. It was strange to be scrubbed by a giant book. Allister was a novice at telling stories but he would certainly practice telling this one. Once the process was said and done, Allister checked himself out. His coat was a touch darker and his boots looked newer but his skin looked as it always did – like a dead pile of ash covered in scribblings. Allister would normally be over-the-top about such an experience but the storm cloud lingering above him was blocking every thought except his glaring failure to stay with Madeira. The book seemed to notice this downtrodden gaze and fluttered its pages. “Young man, what troubles you? You’re clean now, shouldn’t you be happy?”

Allister looked up and regaled the events that led him to this point. The book closed its covers with a thump as it thought through the ordeal. After a few moments, he opened himself back up to a blank page and used the ink recovered from Allister to write the next part of the story he held. As words filled the page, the thunder of hooves grew louder. The hairs on the hyena’s neck stood up on end and Allister began to look around nervously. The book called out to his new friend just as the horse came into sight at a full gallop and headed straight for them. “Don’t worry, lad! I’ve written you into my story!” Allister spun around with wide eyes. “The horse is going to take you back to your lady so you can save the day.” The frown of shame and disappointment instantly became a mouth full of teeth smiling.

“Thank you, sir!” Allister leapt at the book and threw his arms around as much of the binding as he could. He shut his eyes tight until the horse plowed into him and pushed him up on her back. As they rode away, Allister could hear the book laughing. The ride was weird. Allister had never ridden a horse before and one made of ink was, well, stranger than he imagined. The horse moved quickly and the man was jostled from his seat several times but the being simply used its liquid consistency to catch and replace the Kelvic on its back then reform. After some kind of span of time, Allister didn’t know, he found that they were riding up a street that house a terrifying mansion. Fear and excitement crept into the mind of the young man but no feeling filled him so much as the proximity to his bonded. A tick later, the horse rounded the walk and charged up at the house. The Kelvic whooped and braced for another unkind landing but was full of hope and joy at seeing the blonde with all of her most beloved knick-knacks and companions in tow.

The horse neighed and suddenly reversed itself to return to the book. This left Allister airborne with the momentum and sent him flying towards the porch. “Thanks, booooooooook!” Thump! The man found the front wall of the house with his body and once more ended up in a pile of limbs, clothes and pain. Scrapes appeared on his face and hands but the rest of him seemed in decent condition aside from some fresh scuffs on his leather coat. Allister clambered to his feet, joints popping in protest and a dizzy head which caused him to pitch backwards. As he fell onto his rump, the beady gaze found the blonde just as she was turning towards him from knocking on the door. “Madeira!” Allister smiled as big as he could, a small trickle of blood coming from the left side of his forehead where a tiny gash was letting his vitae escape. Despite having been flung into a wall for the second time in a bell, the one known as Useless staggered to his feet and swayed a moment before he ascended the stairs on wobbly legs. “I made it!” He gasped in haggard breaths. “You’re not gonna believe what happened to m-“ His eyes tracked up as his words were silenced by the door opening and a man stood with prim condescension on his face as he took in the menagerie.

NoteI haven't edited. Feel free to judge.

[Madeira Dusk]

"You're late!"

Jaded to all forms of shock and surprise, Madeira faced her tangled bondmate with a kind of sparkling relief, amusement and simmering frustration. The horse leapt the fence and disappeared down the street, scattering pedestrians as it wove liquidly through the throng.

Madeira had pulled her sleeve over the heel of her hand and was just about to pat at her bonded's bleeding forehead when the door behind them opened.

"Uncle Frode!”, cheeks pink with embarrassment, she wiped Allister’s forehead discreetly and helped him to his feet. Expecting him to still be dizzy from his airborne collision, she propped him up with a hip and an arm around his waist. "Since when have you opened your own front door? There are servants for that, you know." she laughed nervously.

Frode Varlet-Craven, a short, stooped man, whose vitality seemed to have fled to his thick iron grey hair and impressive curl of a moustache, looked over the menagerie impassively. But he seemed to study Allister for a long time, starting at his crocodile boots and travelling to his windswept brindle hair. Madeira wondered what he saw when he looked at Allister. She had been bonded for long enough that she had forgotten how the Kelvic looked without that lens of love and empathy that she looked through.

"I've heard a lot about this new creature you're bringing home, Mary-anne. Had to see for myself." Frode finally spoke, never lifting his pale, cloudy eyes off the Kelvic. "Got more ink than a paperback, doesn't he?"

"Madeira", she reminded the old man gently. "And this is Allister."

"What's with the tiger?"

"That's Raj."

Emma flickered behind Allister and Madeira, peering at Frode from the gap between their waists. She had taken her hands out of her mouth and now seemed determined to hide behind them. Brown eyes peered from the cracks between her fingers.

"Ah, I remember you!" Frode smiled wickedly, catching sight of the little ghost. He put his hands in front of his own face, then popped out from behind them, his lips curled back and his tongue extended in a mad gargoyle grin. "Boo!"

Emma let out a squeak of fright and vanished.

"Uncle!" Madeira snapped, nettled.

"Ehe~ehe~ehe" Frode laughed his wheezy laugh. "Come in, come in. The jury awaits."

"Wait, what? Uncle, wait!"

Pulling Allister by the hand still holding Bird's cage, Madeira ran after the old man who shuffled his way inside.

The foyer of the Craven manor was just as unwelcome as the exterior. Huge, opulent and old, the whole place seemed designed to make who ever walked through the door feel small. Two curving staircases flanked a marble tiled floor the echoed as you walked. Portraits of long dead family members hung on the walls, and the drapes over the tall windows let in just enough light to make the shadows creep into the corners.

Two servants in starched uniforms came bustling down the stairs to meet them. After bowing to all three of them they began reliving Madeira of her burdens.

"No, thank you, I'm quite fine to take them myself", she pulled Bird out of reach and tightened her hold on Raj as Spooks fled under her long skirt.

"Nonsense. You can't bring them to dinner, can you?" Frode cackled. “I told you, the jury awaits! They're all... excited to meet the Kelvic."

Madeira's heart frosted over so fast she was surprised they couldn’t see her misty breath. She expected to have more time before they were summoned. She expected to have time to explain things to Allister: how the house ran, about the invisible bonds of authority, loyalty and expectation that wrapped around all of them. Gods, he didn't even know his table manners! This wasn't a normal family. This was a government, a city all it's own, with rulers and classes and a long sordid history. They would eat him alive.

Allister was the toughest person she knew, but also the most brittle. He was the selflessness that Madeira lacked, at the expense of the self control that she thrived on. In that way they evened each other out, filling in the gaps to make them one complete person. But here what he brought out was seen as weakness, and he did not have the ability to stand up for himself.

She stepped unconsciously in front of her bondmate, her voice low and soft even as she batted away another attempt to pry Raj out of her arms.

"Uncle, please send our regrets. We've come a long way and we're tired."

"Can't do." Frode shook his head. Was that a spark of pity she saw in his eyes? Madeira sighed.

"I understand. It's just dinner, what's the worst that can happen?” she smiled without humour.

"Your Kelvic could be kicked out of the house." Frode supplied unhelpfully. "If it goes really really badly you could sabotage your career."

"Thanks, uncle."

"Alright, pip pip! You're expected in the dining hall."

With that the old man hobbled away, and his wheezy breath could almost be taken for laughter.

With Frode gone Madeira relinquished her precious things reluctantly, keeping up a running dialogue as the maids untangled her.

"Make sure to leave the cage by the window. Bird likes the sunlight. But don't open it! The cat will fall out if you do, mark my words. Oh, do be careful with that! Leave the tiger head on the bed, and treat it gently. The cat likes earl grey with milk. I don't know, he's odd. And if a little girl asks you to make a cup of tea for the tiger too, do it. No you may not ask why."

The maids were halfway up the stairs before Madeira stopped shouting instructions at them. And when their tapping shoes and the cooing of the annoyed bird were gone, the silence settled heavy on the Spiritist. She turned to Allister and wrapped her arms around his waist. Resting her forehead on his chest she breathed in the smell of blood, metal and leather that he always seemed to carry.

"Oh Ally. I'm sorry I'm dragging you into this. It's only for a season or two. Then I'll be able to afford to buy us a great big house. Something with a garden. Then you can spend all day telling stories and singing and do whatever you want." She looked up at him, chin resting on his collar, and dapped at the blood that still trickled from his hair. "Doesn't that sound nice? Can we just... look forward to that?"

x

[Allister]

Allister leaned into the delicate fawning of Madeira and her old-fashioned dress. When the door opened and he saw the blood rush to her cheeks, his heart thumped harder than perhaps it ever had. The sensation was so abrupt that the kelvic twitched with his entire body in a single motion that popped through bone, joint and muscle like the crack of a whip. An uncomfortable warmth passed through his form that seemed to highlight everything that hurt. Perhaps such actions are best left to dying creatures. He thought to himself. Despite these things, the swamp rat wore the biggest grin of admiration and affection for the girl. Her physical support made him tingle and feel slightly more grounded but there something electric about it that made him lose bits and pieces of the conversation- not that he minded the disruption.

A name crossed his ears and it shattered his focus like cold glass. The black eyes and now somewhat of a grimace turned to face this ‘uncle’ person. He called Madeira by another name. The bewilderment and slowly linking hunks of logic were clearly visible in the beady gaze of Allister. When the man who greeted them stalked forth and then scared Emma, Allister barked a ‘hey’ at the old man- a combination of surprise and protective nature towards the ghost. Though he had never made much interaction with the little deceased girl, she always called to him when they crossed paths. ‘Ally!’ she would say and it always made him smile. This old fart just scared his friend but more than that, he was annoying Madeira. The bond tightened like a choke collar as her anxiety and stress bound themselves together and created a barrier between shifter and human.

The hyena suddenly felt brave and marched into Craven Manor on the hem of Madeira’s dress. He began to formulate what he considered to be valid and powerful statements in his mind that he would sling at the aged kin of his spiritist bond mate. This all came crashing down in a huge heap of fear, painful memories and the crushing reality of his situation.

In Kenash, Allister was owned by a Freeborn woman of little influence and a modest lifestyle. He was purchased from a family of true power, wealth and ambition; a dynasty. He saw the homes of such people when he was forced to entertain or simply be used as a doll in some sick game. The winding staircases and endless ceiling turned Allister’s bravery into sweat which poured from his skin and slicked his face and neck almost instantly. The cold and uncaring walls with dead paintings seemed to suck the life from the room which made the kelvic shiver. Allister pulled his coat around his body as tight as he could and shuffled as close to Madeira as he could while trying to avert his gaze from the uncle’s face and voice.

Madeira was in one of her miniature speeches where she uses her words to command others into action. A sly smile crept onto his face but Allister made sure to stick to keeping his expression in the shadows, head down and shoulders rounded. When she put his arms around him, his fire was reignited and relief like a hot bath washed over him. The pale shade of a man drape his long limbs around her dainty form with a gentle strength that presented itself to her but hid from the former slave. All bad thoughts cowered from the moist steam of her breath against his clammy skin though they would never completely leave. As she looked up, he looked down and his ears perked to soak in everything she had said. Listening to her talk was something Allister had learned brought him joy. She knew big words and talked about fascinating things. The young woman also knew how to accomplish tasks and make the most of a situation; both things that a once somewhat productive slave appreciated.

“I can look forward to every day because of you.” His voice wheezed but he pumped confidence across the bond. His faith was completely in Madeira for he truly thought she could get through anything. She defeated the worst of the plague and even managed to work her strange and dangerous career despite being hobbled for a time. Her doubts suddenly became clear to him. It was as if his burst of positivity filtered some of her emotional strains in a way that made sense to Allister. The pleas for a pass on dinner, the calls of wait to gather more time and the insistently smug comments from the uncle all pointed to one thing; dinner was not a safe place.

The man sighed and gave his favorite person a squeeze with both of his arms then curled his back and lifted her from the ground a few inches. Allister did not suspend her for very long but just long enough to pop a couple of his vertebrae and so he could remove his smile. When he set Madeira down, the kelvic stepped back just a bit so that he could level his stare at her brilliant eyes. His voice was soft but calm yet his tone held a grave seriousness that hadn’t been previously shared. “Dinner will be ok.” His hands slid up to her shoulders where long fingers wrapped around her delicate arms as he continued. “You just need to act as if I’m not there and I’ll pretend like I’m a slave.” Before she could protest, the kelvic jutted out his chin and kept speaking. “I’ve been in houses like this before. The people who build places like this aren’t known for being good and gentle folk.”

Allister was happy but sad at the same time. He knew Madeira was not like the wicked people from his past but to stand in her house and feel like he was back in the presence of swamp royalty dug at his resolve and nipped at his faith. “I’ll just be quiet and they’ll ignore me.” He forced a weak smile to his lips and pushed a genuine respect into the bond for her to feel. At the very least, Allister could take comfort in knowing exactly what to do as a slave. It would also give him a chance to watch the Cravens without being under their scrutiny as well. Most importantly, it would allow Madeira the freedom to navigate the night’s events without having to drag the hyena along for the ride. From the looks of things, she might need all of her wits and weapons to succeed.

The bonded kelvic tried to hide a grin. Madeira will succeed. Allister just knew it.

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira closed her eyes and breathed deep. Through their bond Allister was feeding her his faith and respect that bordered on worship, and she was turning to it like a flower to the sun, or an addict to their addiction. Her doubts washed away with the tide of his certainty and she let it. Under his gentle care she could almost believe she was just as worthy as he thought she was.

Suddenly he was bending backwards and her feet left the ground. With her ear pressed to his chest she heard his bones realigned with a sound like the earth cracking open. Then he set her down and stepped back, his large hands holding her firm by the arms. And when she looked up at him she was shocked to see a dark, steady look in his green eyes.

He said she should ignore him, treat him as a slave. And as she opened her mouth to protest he interrupted her, something she had never seen him do. He knew people who lived in houses like this, he went on. No kindness lived here.

She was brought up short. This was strategy and logic that the damaged ex-slave seldom displayed. Yet the look in his eye and force of will felt strangely familiar. It took her a long moment to realize she recognized it only because she recognized herself. He sounded like her.

She paused, her expression drawn and bitter. She despised the thought of her family seeing her bonded as a slave, yet couldn't deny that he was speaking sense. She conceded gracelessly and shrugged off his hands.

"Ok", she nodded. "Ok, you're right. We'll play the roles and stay on the script, right? This is a stage production like you do. An act. Or better yet, a game. This is a strategy game and all the people in there are against us." Determination was lighting a fire in her eyes. She beat the city dust from her skirt and did her best to make the Kelvic presentable. She pulled his sleeves to tighten out the wrinkles, and made a concerted effort to smooth down his hair.

"And once we beat them they'll leave us alone. That's what happened the last time I moved in. They take a great interest in new things, but grow bored quickly. Stay out of their way and they'll stay out of ours. Ok. Ready?"

Taking Allister's hand, she lead him to the dinning hall.

A servant waiting outside opened the doors for them, and Madeira dropped Allister's hand and entered ahead of him. At first the dinning hall looked strangely empty. Less than a third of the seats at the long mahogany table were occupied, with everyone sitting at the far end. Two great crystal chandeliers were lit and a wide gated marble fireplace burned in the wall. In Madeira's heightened state of apprehension the brightness seemed searching. As the doors opened every eye turned to them, and Madeira took quick inventory of who was there.

Madara Craven sat at the highest backed chair at the end of the table. Her impossibly pale blue eyes, a family trait she shared with Madeira, were stern and cold. Madeira was terrified of her, but also knew she and Allister was far beneath her notice.

The twins Everard and Einar were sat together. Einar she would typically consider an ally when on his own. But his loyalty to his cocky, antagonistic brother who hated her cancelled out any camaraderie they had while the two were together. They should avoid both of them.

Minerva Vigliacco-Craven, who sat at Madara's right, would typically take no notice of the ward and Kelvic who could do nothing to further her own illustrious career. But she strongly disliked Everard, which might make her side with Madeira if she was cornered by the favoured.

Frode was there, of course. He sat opposite the twins and was shovelling the first course of stuffed dates into his mouth. By far her favourite relative, and the one she was sure would have her back, he was none the less as mad as they come and probably wouldn't be on the ball in an argument.

And lastly there was Godric. He sat to Madara's left and had the kind of ironclad composure that made him both admirable and impossible to read. He would be civil, but beyond that she couldn’t say. He nodded to the two in acknowledgement and speared his own dates with a delicate two-pronged fork.

These would be the players of the game. And with a practise that came only with experience, Madeira had mapped out the dynamic of the room within a tick of stepping in the door. She put on her best, most practised smile, and introduced the Kelvic.

"Thank you for inviting us to dinner. This is Allister Useless, my bondmate."

She spoke mostly to Madara, but made a point of making eye contact with each of them.

"Of course." Madara answered with the same brevity and politeness. "Join us."

They had saved them two seats between Godric and Frode, directly opposite the twins. Madeira sat next to Frode, leaving Allister to sit beside her cousin. At once Everard spoke, flicking the end of his fork at Allister and his voice purposefully casual.

"Since when do we let dogs sit at the table?"

A red anger blossomed in Madeira, but she quickly mastered it. This was a game, she remind herself. She had to be smarter than just flinging words around.

"Is that how a Craven speaks to a guest?" she probed, keeping her face blank. Just as she expected, Minerva was quick to back her against her cousin.

"If you cannot conduct yourself civilly you can eat in the kitchen with the servants, Everard."

Everard scowled at Madeira and looked over Allister like a cat might look at a wily mouse, but held his tongue. Not that it would hold for long, she was sure.

A servant materialized at their elbows and poured Allister and herself a measured glass of deep red wine and set before them their own small portion of honey glazed dates stuffed with goat cheese. Madeira knew Allister hated eating in front of people. Even her. She wondered how he would get through the four course meal. She leaned towards him and spoke under her breath. "Start at the outside and work your way in”, she said, motioning to the exotic setting of silver utensils that radiated outward from his plate. She picked up her own two pronged fork to reiterate.

"So, Allister", Godric spoke over the renewed scrapping of forks and knives. "What do you do for work? You do work, don't you?" He spoke with a kind of passive curiosity. His teeth cut delicately through the ripe skin of a date, and nobody saw his tongue run wet and red over the wounded appetizer as he studied Allister's mutilated hands.

x

[Allister]

Allister was without hesitation as he followed Madeira into the dining hall. His mind shuddered as wave after wave of awful things flooded back to him. The only thing that kept him from fleeing the horrid structure was the calm resolve of his bonded. The young woman seemed to be extremely nervous about the magnitude of the situation they faced but she showed no symptoms of his on her beautiful exterior. The number of flickering wicks was a staggering thing to behold but the kelvic found himself to be taken aback by the way that Madeira’s skin glowed beneath the illumination. Had the rest of the room been able to feel the bond, each member would be washed away in the deluge of admiration and wonder that the hyena unleashed. He was so wrapped up in watching her that he ran into the corner of the massive table. It’s dull stab sent a pain shooting down through his right leg from groin to arch but despite this error in judgement, the kelvic ignored the unpleasant sensation and kept stride with the blonde woman.

When they sat, Allister instantly felt out of place. He stared at the arrangement of dishes and utensils with all the recognition of a fish as he gazed upon the desert. Black eyes pointed down and his broad yet thin shoulders hunched forward. The hyena tuned out as Madeira engaged in what must have been the normal formalities. A rising tide of fear and uncertainty gripped him then jerked him into an undertow of memories that had long been forgotten.

”Get on the floor, you petching mutt!”

A huge fist wrapped in leather cord crashed into Allister’s face and sent him sprawling onto the elegantly cut marble floor. Thin limbs struggled to receive the brain’s orders since his mind was still reeling from the blow he had just taken. Blood poured from a cut on his cheek and more seeping from his mouth. The hyena looked up with far away eyes at the person giving him orders and simply smiled; ruby blood filled the space in and around his metal teeth. He shifted his body a bit so that he could gather hands and knees beneath his frame. Shaking as he moved, the slave pushed himself up onto his base then looked back to his master.

“Bite her- now!”

The beady black eyes turned to stare at a cowering girl who sat a body’s length away from him. Like Allister, she was naked, malnourished and covered in various scars and bruises. Apparently, he wasn’t the only slave used for letting off a little steam though from the expression of fear and resignation, the hyena wondered if being a female in this station was a far worse fate. With unsteady steps, Allister crawled over the tiles to the other slave. He received a glancing smack across his spine for taking too long but he persisted. When their eyes met, the kelvic knew in an instant that he could never inflict the harm they asked of him. He slowly leaned down towards her exposed leg, the target he’d been given, and put a very soft kiss upon her dry skin. The girl’s face saw a bit of color return to her cheeks but it was hardly noticed amidst the shock and overwhelming paranoia that flooded the girl.

“You petching disgrace!” The voice shouted. Allister turned around just in time to see the bound fist crash against his face once more.

Allister snapped back to the present with a jolt just in time to hear one of Madera’s kin insult him. Fool. He only insults himself. The kelvic had no delusions about himself and for someone who was supposed to be a peer to Madeira, it was beneath them to worry about a former slave. Still, the hyena had to lower his head so that the creeping smile that arose at his bonded’s calm retort would not be seen.

Pale hands took the instruction given and lifted the fork furthest from the plate. It was heavier than Allister anticipated and he marveled at it for a moment. So thin and frail in appearance, he registered that the two tines would do a fair amount of damage if wedged into Everard’s skull. While this was entertaining to the former slave, he knew he couldn’t act on such things...unless Madeira asked him to but that was a different story. Seeing some of the others eating the dainty fruit on their plates, Allister mimicked the motions and stabbed at the round dates. He missed a few times but was finally able to snare one. He lifted it triumphantly but caught himself and flushed a bit. The kelvic stuffed it into is mouth and bit down, the thickly sweet juices erupted on his tongue and it nearly made him gag on the unchewed fruit. Unaccustomed to eating with silverware, the man bit down on the fork. Normal people hated this for it hurt something awful but for Allister, he heard a strange metallic noise then pulled the fork out to reveal that his teeth had bent the thing. Ashamed and worried, he quickly lowered the fork beneath the table and went about trying to straighten it again.

It was in this awkward moment when Allister was asked about his profession. Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, the man looked up with wide eyes to his inquisitor. With a few moments of time taken to think about his response, the hyena continued to chew on his food then swallowed loudly. He looked at Madeira but knew that she couldn’t answer for him- not in something like this. The man had addressed the kelvic and not his mistress. “I..uhhm.” Allister had to clear his throat since it felt tight and made his voice soft. “I sing at the Crooked.” His volume was far too loud- nearly a shout. “I sing at the Crooked Playhouse.”

What a mess. Allister felt really bad for trashing the first impression with the Cravens. The inadvertent outburst seemed to open the flood gates, however, as Everard almost choked on his wine. “You?! A singer?!” He rumbled with laughter and nudged his brother who began to laugh nervously and quietly, the quieter twin’s gaze falling to the head of the table. “I’ve seen many shows there but I’ve never seen an eyesore like you on stage.” Madara cleared her throat and Godric shot the boy a foul glare which quieted the two young punks for the most part. Evarard was a clever snake and well versed in politics. He bowed his head at Allister. “Forgive me, Allister. You’re just...surprising, is all. Certainly, to have bonded with such a person as Madeira you’d have to be.”

The hyena felt a genuine smile fill his face. He was pleased to hear the young man pay him a compliment but more importantly that he recognized Madeira as extraordinary. Allister used his fingers to pop another date into his mouth and began to chew. Seeing the opening in the conversation, Evarard went into a quick dialogue which revealed his true feelings on the matter. “I mean it makes sense. Madeira is so plain and boring, why shouldn’t she have a bond mate who’s as unique as a broken snowflake. Her unimpressive face and plank body fit well with this… piece of parchment wrapped in purple leather.” By the end of it all, he was rolling and his twin was laughing as were a few other members but they did so discreetly. Allister felt his body temperature rise to a point where the fork he held beneath the table was folded in half and a slight growl was starting to climb out of his throat. The man was a hair away from leaping over the table and strangling the insolent cousin with his own smugness. Allister heaved his breaths in and out of his chest while keeping his eyes down on his plate. His only redeeming grace wa Madeira and he was pushing all of his love and admiration towards her. This was her world and he would need her to get him through it… even though he really wanted to tear Evarard limb from limb and beat him with his own appendages.

[Madeira Dusk]

Allister's nervous bark of a voice caused everyone at the table to wince. Madeira watched as Madara pressed two long, delicate fingers to her temple as if to massage out the sound. And of course, Everard jumped on the opportunity to slice into the inexperienced Kelvic.

Though with the silent wave of disapproval from the rest of the family, his open mockery turned into something slick and oily as he bowed his head at Allister. From the bond Madeira could feel Allister’s genuine pleasure at what seemed like acceptance from the hotblooded Craven. But Madeira could nearly see a forked tongue slithering between his handsome lips, and braced for impact.

Ah, there it was. Having nothing deeper to cut with, her cousin ripped into her and Allister's physical appearance. She fought the rise of blood in her face as the rest of the family chuckled into their wine. But nobody was laughing harder than Frode. The old man was nearly howling, tears in his eyes. Through his wrecked whisper of a voice she could hear snippets of 'parchment' and 'purple leather' as if he had just heard the most hilarious joke in the world. So much for counting on the mad old man for help...

Beside her Allister was nearly vibrating under the pressure of sitting still. There was a growl under the laughter, the kind that started in the back of the throat and ended up in someone else's. A wash of love and admiration was being force fed to her from their shared bond, and she realized he was grounding himself by anchoring his love to her.

From beneath the table she took his hand, prying the mutilated fork from between his fingers and slotting herself into the empty space. She wasn't worried about him losing control and crushing her fingers like he did the cutlery. There were a lot of things she couldn't trust about Allister. She couldn't trust his mental stability, his ability to act normal in public, or to keep out of the personal space of attractive women. But she could, from the bottom of his sick, diseased heart, trust him not to hurt her. So she held his hand, and through the bond she smoothed the roughness of his anger. The laughter was eating at her confidence, so she used Allister's aggressive admiration to fill in the cracks. And from herself she soothed the fraying edges of his self control with calm and patience. Were long to reach for him and run her fingers through his brindle hair, but settled with stroking the back of his hand in long, gentle strokes.

Only once he was under control did she try to plan some form of attack or defence from Everard. It was a low blow to insult someones physical appearance, not to mention that of a guest. But to point it out would needle shame into those who laughed, and she wasn't brave enough to imply Madara should be ashamed of herself. So how did she turn this on Everard and match the humour? Everard and his brother both shared a careless yet striking handsomeness that had skipped completely over most of the family, including their own father, but he was not vain. Attacking his pride via his appearance wouldn't work. And more than that, giving back exactly what he gave them was something wounded animals do. They had to come out with more dignity to win.

"Well, we all know looks aren't everything", she purred, smiling slightly to appear unoffended by the joke, though she couldn't quite hide the burn in her cheeks. "The Crooked has been known to take freaks of all kinds. Should Allister make some inquiries for you, just in case?"

Direct hit. Her smile turned genuine as his eyes turned cold. She couldn't get to his pride through vanity, but she could shake it by questioning his place in the family. Yet while she succeeded in shutting him up for now, the atmosphere around the table immediately turned cold, and Madeira realized at once she said something she shouldn’t have. Everard's tenuous hold on his position was not a secret, yet the stiff shoulders and uncomfortable click of silver on porcelain made it clear they did not consider this a conversation you had outside of whispers in closed rooms.

Now Madeira had a moment of panic, wondering if she would save more face apologizing or pretending nothing happened. She went with the former.

"That was uncalled for, Everard, I apologize." she smiled demurely to the man who ticks ago brazenly insulted her and her beloved. If this was a boxing match, this would have been the point both Madeira and Allister would have lost the round.

It was at this moment that the servants came in bearing the main course. The smell of cooked meat and mint wafted through the room as portions of lamb ribs and a thick green mint sauce, with a side of expensive white rice from Sylira, were laid out in front of each of them. Madeira polished off the last of her wine and asked for a second glass, praying they would think her flushed face had to do more with alcohol than embarrassment.

x

[Allister]

Allister was appalled, shocked, hurt and smoldering. That smug shyke-spewing pretty boy was just getting away with an open mockery of his cherished Madeira. A shiver ran up the hyena’s spine and he once again debated opening the throat of this petulant man. That’s when she did it. Subtle as it was tactful, Madeira took the bent piece of silver from his strangely powerful grip and placed her delicate fingers into his grasp. The cold, smooth skin was like a magical potion of healing, a salve, that spread through his body and eased his anger. The desire to harm Everard did not flee but because of the patient calculating mind of his bonded, Allister found that rage tempered into a weapon- better still...a plan.

He bowed his head as if accepting a challenge that the twins hadn’t realized was offered then turned to give Madeira a very wide yet calm smile. His eyes danced in the blue that she washed over him. The roasted lamb and mint sauce struck his nose and filled him with a hunger that reminded the former slave of the night he met his fairest Craven. Genuine admiration, gratitude and respect poured through the bond to her. He felt her timid fears and inadequacies grow like weeds around her confidence and appetite for power. He promised to protect her and this was part of it. When her wine was taken and replaced, Allister allowed the servants to lay the plates and fill the cups before he rose as delicately as one untrained in such arts could. He managed the flaps of his coat with his boney fingers and did his best to stand as straight and proper as the rigid statues painted on the walls.

Silence accompanied the kelvic along with every pair of eyes in the room. The black stare moved from one face to the next starting at the far end of the table and then working the side he was on before he reached for his glass and looked to Madara. The matriarch was watching with a less than amused look on her aged face. Allister’s voice was even, controlled and pitch perfect as he spoke with a dignity he mimicked after the arrogant bastard who sat across from him. “Lady Craven, I want to say thank you for allowing me to sit at your table.” The genuine look on his face was so serious that it looked like a tear might slip past his comical visage. “I have never been at such a fine dinner and the meal smells so good that I find it hard to not show my lack of good habits.” His grinning stomach growled nearly on cue.

While he spoke, his right hand raised with a wine glass, the novice mage shook his left hand free from its anchor in the astral plane. He delicately detached the limb at the wrist and sent it floating gently over towards Madeira’s cousin. “It is only because of Madeira’s love, intelligence and propriety that have enough sense to say these truths to you.” The bonded looked down to her with his abosluteworpship of the thin blonde plastered upon his face for the whole family to see. “She has greatness in her. I know it’s true now because I see the same light in your eyes.” Allister gestured with his drink around the entire dining hall. “I am a simple creature. I am not equal to those of you here but I am not so blind that I miss the grace that you’ve shown.” Allister raised his glass to Madara who was glowing and looking rather uncomfortable about it. “Thank you for everything, your ladyship. If I may serve you in any way, all you need to do is ask. It is the least I can do to try and repay you for the blessing who sits next to me.” Allister winked at Madeira then chimed a bolstrous cheer.

“To Lady Madara Craven and her house.” He lifted the glass higher. “May it endure forever.” As he drank, his left hand was idly waiting...patiently waiting. If Madeira could get past the affection shone on her in the speech, she might find the mischievous child lurking in the shadows for the perfect time to pull his prank. In a tumbling of chairs, those in attendance rose and took their wine to toast the woman who held all of their lives in her hand. Like dominos lined up and knocked down, they echoed the call for a continuation of their wealth, status and lifestyle. The twins were both a bit hesitant, especially Everard, but he dared not look a fool after a such a display. Certainly, the cousin had misjudged the actor for in his mind that had to have been some sort of prepared display.

“To Madara.” He said with a charming smile and kind eyes as he looked upon his meal ticket. The athletic youth tilted his wine to his lips for a small drink and that’s when Allister struck. A slight twitch at the corners of his mouth would be the only indication to his antics. His detached hand rose quickly beneath the glass and slapped the stem upwards just as the spoiled brat was taking a drink. The alcohol flew against the young man’s face and splashed everywhere not to mention the ‘ting’ the expensive crystal made as it collided with his teeth. As he covered his mouth and cursed, wine ran down Everard’s face, neck and shirt. A servant rushed in to dab and clean the spill but was swatted at and fended off by the indignant fellow.

Allister stifled a laugh but others around the table were not as gracious. Quickly, the projectionist reeled his stray hand back to him being careful to avoid any other dishes or decorations. Before he guided it back to his arm and reattached the hand, he traced steep pressure along the tendons on either side of Madeira’s neck, his eyes focused upon her face through all of the aftermath. From this, he smiled shyly and made his being whole once more. Once he was sure she knew what had happened, he turned and spoke softly, perhaps so quiet that not everyone heard him.

“Young master, if you were as lucky as I to have a bond mate, you would have a person willing to help you in your situation out of love...not duty.” Allister stared down at his plate and began to fiddle with the silverware. “Perhaps you’re just not interesting enough.” This last bit was said mostly for Madeira’s amusement. Everard heard something but the actual words were lost since his brother and Uncle Frode were still choking down guffaws. The handsome cousin reared his malcontent and cast a very firm finger at Allister’s dearest.

“This was your little ghost brat!” His tone was very ugly and even though Allister was feeling triumphant about the ordeal, he felt his hackles rise in defense of his one true relationship. The tendons in his neck flickered under the paper white skin as the jaw set and the clank of metal teeth chomping against one another reverberated. The hyena already didn’t like the guy...now he was sure that the world would be a better place without him. Time, he told himself. Time would provide an opportunity. In the space between, daggers and pain filled his black orbs as they broke through the room to make sure Everard knew he was marked.

The kelvic watched Frode carve the meat from the lamb with knife and fork. He took a few moments to check his grips then did the same but made a horrid scraping sound. Without taking his eyes from Madeira’s cousin, he leaned over and stuffed the hunk of meat into his mouth and chewed. It was amazing and he moaned in appreciation of the delicious morsel. A guy could get used to this.

[Madeira Dusk]

Madeira nearly choked on her wine as the Kelvic got to his feet. In this way the bonded pair were exact opposites: Madeira operated with her head down, Allister on the other hand preferred more dramatic problem solving.

The rest of the table were staring at the guest like he was a perplexing sideshow attraction; as if he was the gruesome dummy of a well-spoken gentleman ventriloquist. But nobody was immune to flattery. Madara's smouldering pride was gratified with the Kelvic’s words. Madeira, on the other hand, felt herself sliding further down her high back chair as he turned the gushing admiration on her. Words she would have consumed greedily in private felt as if they were painting a target on her back. She felt the entire table turn to look at her and wonder where he possibly found those traits in their least talented, meek and mild ward.

Yet when Allister lifted his glass high and gave a rousing cheers, Madeira was obligated to get to her feet along with everyone else. She smiled a gracious smile as they toasted their matron, but Madeira’s mind was somewhere else. She was searching their bond, looking for a clue as to what would spring the trap he was expertly leading to.

Suddenly there was a choke and a curse and a ring of expensive crystal as Everard flubbed the very simple task of drinking. His crisp cravat and shirt were drenched with wine, and even the ends of his tousled bangs were dripping. He stood there sputtering, hand over his mouth, slapping away the nervous servant who rushed to help.

Frode let out a roar of laughter, and even his brother and Minerva couldn't keep the chuckling to themselves. Madeira's eyes flashed triumphantly as she lowered herself back to her seat, certain this was Allister's doing. For all her effort to keep her composure she couldn't quite stop the giggling that was sneaking out of her chest.

Feeling the familiar touch of projection on her neck confirmed her suspicion. Her and Allister locked eyes and they shared a secret smile. The Kelvic's further goading of the hotblooded man was met with a dark little smirk from Madeira as she maintained burning eye contact with her cousin over the rim of her wineglass.

This was Everard's breaking point. Red faced and fuming, he smashed one hand down on the table and leaned over to jam the other in Madeira's face. He didn't look remotely handsome anymore, now that his face was sodden and red and twisted with rage. This was the temper that had gotten him in plenty of trouble before.

"This was your little ghost brat!" he accused. Madeira flicked a fleck of his spittle off her cheek.

"Emma is upstairs, where she is suppose to be." she said, wiping her hands off on her white napkin. "And if you were half the Spiritist you claim to be you would know that too. Now stop blaming others for your idiocy and go wash up. You're dripping on the tablecloth."

Perhaps it was the indignation of her ordering him around, or simply her pointing out the logic of how a ghost could sneak by undetected in a room full of Spiritists, but something about it enraged him. He flung the crystal glass, and it smashed on the wall behind them.

"Do you think i'm an idiot?!" he roared, and Madeira pushed back in her chair, certain he was going to leap across the table. Behind her wide eyes that were fixed on his, she dragged forward the dijed from the core of her soul. She flung it out in front of her like a shield, using their unblinking eye contact to ferry a simple hypnotic suggestion: calm!

At that moment, Minerva stood. The cloud of grey hair on her head only emphasized the thunderous tone of her voice. "You are excused, Everard! I do not tolerate behaviour like this from those who sit at this table!"

For a long tick the cousins were stiff and immovable as they stared into each others eyes. Madeira's eyes were starting to ache with the force of the keeping the hypnotism steady through the contact. Yet the magic seemed to sizzle and die before it reached his burning eyes. Finally Everard turned and stalked away, knocking a servant aside so he could kick open the door himself.

There was a static silence as the door was hurriedly closed again, and Everard's footsteps faded. Everyone silently tucked into their food as a servant with a broom came to clean the shards of crystal. Madeira ate tiny forkfuls of tender meat, but she could have been eating sand for all she was aware. One down, she was thinking as her mind spun. After only a few bites she discreetly passed the lamb to Allister's plate.

As she poked at her rice, her eyes slid to her Uncle Frode. The madman was looking at Allister in a way she immediately did not like. His gaze was unnaturally clear and steady as he considered the Kelvic, one hand absently curled in his beard. He felt Madeira's gaze and his eyes flicked to hers. From beneath his moustache he gave a sardonic little smile, and Madeira remembered that Frode was a projectionist, too.

"I don't mean to be indelicate, ma'am", Madeira spoke suddenly, leaning around Frode to speak to Madara, effectively blocking Frodes view of the Kelvic and bringing the attention to herself. “But Everard's temper and judgement is getting worse. Should I pick up some of his duties, so he isn't under quite so much strain? I'd be happy to take over for him."

"That is probably wise." Madara nodded, not looking up from her meal. "You may take over his Favoured work until such a time as I see fit that he resumes them."

"I will, Ma'am."

Madeira nodded her head respectfully, her face a mask of solemn agreement. Only Allister had a window into her mind, so only he could see the fierce triumph she was masking. General subdued chatter began to rise as the family strove to bury the tense situation. Yet Madeira only wanted to revel in it. She became fidgety as she waited for people to clear their plates. Frode on her left, and Godric on Allister's right, were both slyly studying the Kelvic from the corners of their eyes. She fought the need to push her beloved under the table or else remove him from their sight.

Soon the main course was whisked away, and servants entered with crystal cups piled high with jewel bright jellied fruits. Breathing a sigh of relief, Madeira waved her and Allister's portions away without asking him and got to her feet.

"Thank you for the excellent meal, and for welcoming my bondmate. It’s been quite the long day and we are both tired, may we be excused?” Etiquette demands a guest not leave the table until the completion of the last corse, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could sit there quietly with thoughts whirling around her head and Allister under scrutiny. So she smiled as contritely as she could manage while pulling Allister to his feet by the upper arm.

Madara looked up under her lashes. "If you must. It has been… enlightening, Allister. Madeira." she nodded to both of them. “Sleep well."

There was a murmur of polite goodbyes around the table, and a bombastic "Goodnight, Alfred!" from uncle Frode, before Madeira steered Allister around the table and out the door.

A servant closed the door behind them, and Madeira waited until they were across the foyer and well out of earshot before she turned on the Kelvic and smacked him playfully across the chest. Her guarded expression melted away. Alone with the man who understood her best her smile was wide and unfettered and her eyes danced gleefully.

"You were brilliant, Ally. I knew you could do it! Come, we’re going to our room. We need to talk."

At her request they were staying in the same room she did as a teenager. It was on the third floor, deep into the heart of the Manor and smaller than most. It held no good memories or momentos, yet there was something appealingly full circle about returning to her old haunt. She led them there, keeping quiet besides pointing out the amenities to Allister as they passed them. Finally they came across a nondescript door of dark wood indistinguishable from the dozens they had passed. She turned the brass knob and entered their room.

Her first thought, upon seeing her old room, was of how much it seemed to have changed. Yet everything from the dark plush carpet, the large canopied bed and the fireplace that dominated the far wall all looked the same. It took her a moment to realize it was her that had changed.

The chandelier had been lit with fresh candles, and a warm golden glow did it's best to illuminate the dark, exquisite furniture that was a staple of the house. A small fire had been lit in the hearth, and Spooks was staring wide-eyed into the flames close enough to singe his whiskers. Bird was settled down with his head under his brilliantly blue wing, his cage set on a small table next to the tall window overlooking the back garden. Raj was on the bed, snarl aimed at the purple canopy, beside a stone cold cup of tea and an animatedly chattering Emma.

Madeira smiled. For the first time in her life, the room looked like home.

x