First, however, she had to survive this dinner.
The meeting so far passed in what looked like a light-hearted conversation, but in reality both sides were circling each other, trying to size the other up. The baron certainly was. The two elves were mostly bored and did their best to hide their distaste for their hosts. They were annoyed that the baron refused to talk about the real reason they were here.
When the meal finally ended, the baron crossed his legs with a satisfied air.
"And now, let the real entertainment begin. We have prepared a little gift for you, which I hope will be much to your liking. You may come in," he said, nodding to one of the guards by the door.
The guard straightened, pulled the door open, and seven or eight young girls walked into the room. Marcus turned his head toward them, suspicion flickering in his expression. Most of the girls looked barely past twenty, wearing far less clothing than decency required. Fear was plain on most of their faces as they lined up beside the table. The baron's friends whistled and clapped in approval, their eyes devouring the girls. Dorian watched the girls instead, his revulsion growing as the baron's intentions became clear.
He raised a brow in disbelief.
"Here is our entertainment for tonight, gentlemen. There is enough for everyone, no need to worry," the baron beamed. "But the honor belongs to our guests—they will choose first whose company they wish to enjoy for the rest of the evening."
Marcus glanced at Dorian with an incredulous look, shaking his head. The baron watched him as well, clearly curious how he would react.
After half a minute of silence, Dorian's lips curved into a lazy smile and he pushed his chair back. His hands clasped behind his back, he strolled toward the line of girls. At his threatening proximity, several of them began to sob quietly; it was obvious they had not volunteered for this task. The baron liked to summon women from the brothel for amusement, but on special occasions he always had young, inexperienced girls brought in—girls he and his friends essentially bought from their desperately poor families.
"Dorian," Marcus said quietly, in warning. "You can't be serious."
In response, Dorian flashed him his most predatory smile.
"Marcus, our new friends have offered us an exceptionally generous gift. It would be rude to refuse. You know how much I like to have fun."
He turned back to the girls, and a dark, round patch appeared beneath one of them as she lost control of her bladder. He pitied these poor creatures; he could easily imagine what horrors awaited them tonight, and he hated these humans all the more for it. But he was forced to play along, no matter how much it went against his nature.
With a sigh he stepped closer to a tall, lanky, black-haired girl. She looked barely sixteen, her tear-stained face twisted with terror as Dorian cupped her chin and gently lifted it.
"I'm sorry," he whispered so only she could hear. For a heartbeat, genuine compassion flickered in his eyes before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. Louder, for everyone at the table to hear, he added, "I like this one."
Several men around the table burst into crude laughter.
At that moment, a small figure slipped out of the shadows, gliding over to stand with the sacrificial lambs—more precisely, directly in front of the black-haired girl, pushing her behind her own back.
Leonie had been watching the scene in horror. It wasn't the first time she had to witness the baron's followers selecting their "prey", and she herself had more than once become a victim of the man's depravity. And yet, despite her fear, she acted on a sudden impulse, thoughtlessly stepping between the girl and Dorian. This poor child was so young and so terrified. And the blond elf was so much taller and stronger than her, with such a feral smile on his face that Leonie was convinced the girl wouldn't survive the night with him.
But why was she doing this? Perhaps because she had just realized her whole life had been a lie and had lost her mind from the shock. Or perhaps because she felt it her duty to protect these children from her own kind. Good heavens, what had she been thinking? She was smaller than the girl herself; she really had gone insane. Dorian could crush her body with a single move. And even if she survived the night, the baron would be more furious with her than ever. He had never allowed anyone else to have her—he wanted her only for himself, and he flew into a murderous rage whenever someone dared to go near her without his permission.
A trembling silence filled the room as Leonie and Dorian stared into each other's eyes. Her whole body shook, but she did not move an inch. He, on the other hand, studied her with sincere curiosity. She was so fragile—how could she have enough presence of mind and courage to stand up in front of so many aroused, domineering men and, forgetting her own safety, try to protect another unfortunate soul? There was only one answer: she had to be foolish and reckless.
Her behavior, however, intrigued him—and there was something else. Something strange and inexplicable. Standing this close to her, he felt his magic stir, as if it were reacting to her presence.
"I want her," he said at last, after half a minute of strained quiet, pointing at Leonie.
Her heart leapt into her throat. A wave of dizziness washed over her as bone-deep terror flooded her. There was no way out now.
Marcus tensed in the background. He could hardly believe Dorian was going to go through with this disgusting game. Folding his arms, he turned his head aside in silent protest.
"No!" the baron roared, leaping to his feet with such force that his chair toppled over behind him. Murder burned in his eyes as he glared at his guest. "She is not part of my offer. This is an extraordinary insult. How dare you?"
Dorian cast one more look at the trembling redhead, then turned away with a note of contempt in his voice.
"I want her. She'll be mine for the night, and we're going to have a great time," he said. The baron's men glanced uncertainly at their master, who was still staring at Dorian, taut as a drawn bow.
"Impossible," he declared.
"Don't tell me she's your favorite," Dorian clicked his tongue in feigned reproach. "You really should try something new. I will. I've never shared a bed with a human before, and this little redhead is very much to my taste. And I always get what I want. Surely you don't want our first meeting to end so quickly that you have nothing to report to your king but failure?"
At Dorian's veiled threat, the baron opened his mouth for an angry retort, then snapped it shut again and nodded.
"Excellent," Dorian said, clapping his hands together. He nodded to Marcus and headed for the door. "Have her in my room in half an hour. Enjoy the rest of your evening, gentlemen!"
He spared one last look for the row of girls. His heart clenched that he could not help all of them, but he had long since learned that his choices carried weight. He had made his decision and would not go back on it. With Marcus following him, he walked out of the hall without looking back at the beings he found so utterly repulsive.
The moment the door closed, the baron exploded—just as expected. His men watched his tantrum with heads bowed as he vaulted over the overturned chair in two strides and came to stand in front of Leonie. Before she could react, he slapped her so hard across the face that she toppled to the floor like a rag doll. Seizing the opportunity, the other girls scattered, fleeing the hall, and soon Leonie was left alone with the baron and the remaining men, who, recovering from their initial shock, watched the unfolding scene with growing enjoyment.
"You never learn your place, do you?" he bellowed into her face on the floor, then kicked her in the ribs with all his strength. A loud crack announced he had hit home, and Leonie couldn't even scream from the air being knocked from her lungs.
"You belong to me! How dare you offer yourself to someone else?" he shouted and punctuated his words with another kick each time. "You stupid whore, is this how grateful you are that I saved your wretched life and raised you? I gave you everything!"
He stomped down on her already injured wrist, grinding her bones together until a faint scream tore from her throat. Then he turned his back on her, stomped back to the table, and drained his cup in one gulp. Without looking around, breathing hard, he barked over his shoulder:
"Get her out of my sight. Now. Have Esthelle patch her up and take her to that barbarian's room. Let him deal with her."
Leonie lay curled up on her side, unable to move under the waves of pain crashing through her. Her vision blurred and cleared, blurred and cleared again. She caught a glimpse of the approaching boots, then felt rough hands shove under her arms and haul her up. The guards dragged the half-conscious girl out of the hall, back to her room, where they dumped her on the bed and left her.