My arms ache as I stretch, my back straining as I haul in a lungful of frigid air, glancing between the half-built garden wall and the pile of bricks by my feet.

Some nobles collect young Void slaves in the hopes that they purchase an undiscovered Unique, but more commonly we're purchased for menial labor or as a mistress, like Master does.

I catch another slave's faltering movements from the corner of my eye. She's exhausted. And judging by the nightly summons Master has been sending her, probably pregnant too.

Not that he would care. The child of a slave can't be the heir to a noble family, why would he care?

I slap the stone bond on faster, pressing bricks into place as I make my way toward her, careful not to draw any attention. I make it to her side just in time to catch the next brick from slipping out of her hands, pressing it silently into the grey paste.

"Careful," I murmur, not bothering to look at her as I slip past, scooping another layer of stone bond out of the heavy bucket and scraping it onto the wall. I grab a brick from her pile and press it down.

I've finished my quota, card plucked from the now-empty sheet they store the bricks on, but she definitely won't be able to finish hers before they call roll. Between the amount of work and her body's condition, there's no way she'll be able to work tomorrow. And if she's punished, and then everyone's quota will rise.

"Take my card. I'll use yours."

She doesn't argue, understanding my unspoken reasoning. Instead, she waits until the overseer heads toward the far wall before slipping her hand into my pocket for the card. Her sleeves slip up at the motion, exposing mottled fingerprint bruises around her wrists, trailing up her forearms before disappearing under the ratty fabric.

It would seem Master is just as vile as rumours claim him to be.

Wordlessly, she heads back to the housing unit with my quota card, steps uneven with the weight of relief.

I barely finish in time for roll, sharp raps to my shoulders from the prodding stick of the overseer increasing speed but decreasing quality. As I drop the last brick into place, I take my last hit, scooping up the quota card they hide at the bottom of our pile and making my way toward the table.

Since I'm the last person who made it before roll call, I'll be last in line for dinner. The people after me won't even be able to get in line, but there's never enough food anyway. A meal card is no guarantee, even though it takes one to get in line.

I hand my quota card in to the supervisor on duty, a pot-bellied old man who's never worked a day of hard labor in his life. That's probably why he gets so much enjoyment out of criticizing our speed--or lack thereof.

"Barely made it, boy." He sneers, jowls jiggling under the strain of his black expression.

"Yes, sir." My face is held in a practiced blankness. I know this expression well, practicing it to perfection at the orphanage. Lips straight, dark eyes flat — not a hint any of the contempt I have for the man slouched on the cushioned chair with soup stains by his collar showing. Can't afford a single slave, yet he acts like he owns us. He's only here because he's the Master's cousin. I pull aside my collar to show the thick ridges of the brand below my collarbone so he can verify my number in the logbook, and he reluctantly gives me a meal card.

I accept it with a small bow before heading in. The warm air from the canteen smells delicious, but I turn the other hall and head directly back to the abandoned courtyard. I'm one of the people Master sends to get food, so I know that the meat they're serving is almost two weeks old, and even ‘fresh’, it was half bad. We don't have any higher water elementals in the Master's house, so there's no ice to keep it from spoiling either. Parasites are worse than hunger.

Slipping silently into the garden, I make my way over to the koi pond.

Glancing around warily, I dip my gritty hands off into the small pond, scrubbing off the dried grey paste and splashing water onto my face.

I pull loose the tie in my long black hair, sending it cascading down in straight sheets down to the middle of my back. The fish have grown used to my nightly appearances and swim over eagerly, hoping I'll give them some food.

"Sorry," I whisper, tracing my calloused fingertips over their scales, "Looks like none of us are eating tonight."

The Young Master purchased the fish on a whim, but quickly grew bored with the tiny creatures and left them to starve. When I found the garden it was wildly overgrown, having been discarded by its caretaker, and the beautiful fish had grown dull and listless from hunger. They had been eating the algae and bugs from the pond, but there wasn't enough for all six of them. I took it upon myself to care for the space, sharing my meals with the little ones and cutting back the brush to keep my hideaway manageable.

I keep all of my valuables — meal cards and any money I earn from generous guests — here, safe from the sticky fingers of my fellow slaves.

Though it is a slave's duty to serve their master, my goal is to find a way out of the grips of this cruel one. Loyalty is engraved into my very bones, but even a slave knows what cruelty is. With his wife having just given birth to a second child, he has turned to us to slake his lust.

His slimy gaze has slid over my body many times, but thankfully I haven't been summoned yet.

I smile at the little fish, stroking them all once more before I pull my hand from the cool water and wipe it dry on my hemp robes.

Mira, the littlest of the six at the length of my forearm, wiggles in displeasure, yellow and white scales flashing in the moonlight.

"Terribly spoiled, aren't you?" I croon, resting my chin on my knees.

The biggest is Leo, twice as thick as Mira with flaming red spots covering most of his body. He bumps against her as she pouts.

The others are varying sizes and shades of orange: Maya is the lightest, then Luke, Mia, and Liam, who, despite being primarily white, has spots only a few shades lighter than Leo does.

The air shifts around me, humidity spiking. A water elemental? We don't have any in the Master's house, but I know how they feel.

I narrow my eyes at the open sky above me, moving swiftly into the corner of the courtyard and tucking myself out of sight behind a thicket of bamboo. I lighten my breathing, silently tying my hair back up and tugging the collar of my hemp robes up over my nose to hide the reflection of my skin from the moonlight.

An ethereal figure lands lightly on the roof, casting a lonely shadow into the courtyard. My heart seizes in my chest. A guest or an intruder? Either way, I can't be found.

The being — a man — has long white hair that floats lightly in the breeze, and beads of water dancing around his head and shoulders. Crystalline blue eyes flash with dangerous clarity as they glance around the space before him.

"Xiao hardly seems the type to maintain a garden so well," the man intones, voice a soft hum as he jumps down. He lands almost silently, gazing into the koi pond. The fish have all scattered in alarm, retreating under the overhanging branches. They've grown far too big to hide between the rocks like they did when I first found them.

"Looks like someone's been feeding you." The man crouches, holding back one elegant white sleeve to touch the surface of the pond ever so gently, sending glowing ripples across the water.

After a moment, a soft smile blooms, softening the frigid features ever so slightly before his face freezes over again. "You can come out now, boy."

I'm frozen in place, my mind whirling over and over as it rethinks the last minute. He said the master didn't seem the type to keep a garden. Does Master know him? If I come out, will I be obeying the will of my Master or betraying it—a crime that carries the punishment of being beaten to death?

"Your master won't be happy to know that one of his workers isn't obeying a guest."

I rise quickly to my feet and step out from behind the bamboo, giving the guest a deep bow as I clasp my hands in front of me. "My deepest apologies, honored guest. Please punish me as you see fit."

My eyes are fixed firmly on the ground as the silence drags. One minute has passed in the awkward silence. My order 'Do not speak unless spoken to' is currently conflicting with the order 'ensure the comfort of guests'.

"Please punish me as you see fit," I repeat after a long pause, just in case he didn't hear the first time.

A long finger lifts my chin, eyes flashing with dangerous intent, forcing me to hold his gaze. "Your Master lets others punish you?"

"When a slave commits an offense against an honored guest, they may punish the slave." My words slip from my throat with practiced ease, reciting an order that was beaten into us upon arrival.

"And if I don't want to?"

I blink in confusion. If he doesn't want to...do it himself? "The Master permits a guest to order their attendant to do the beating, so long as it will ease your honor's anger."

My neck and back are beginning to ache from holding the bow yet having my face raised. Is this my punishment? Or is this just a warm-up?

A single white brow arches, the air crackling around him. The long-fingered hand beneath my chin brushes my jawline, hovering over my throat.

"And if I told you I wanted your life?" he asks. If not for the edge in the very air around him, he would seem the picture of serenity.

"That is your right." I don't flinch as I hold his gaze.

The grass around him flash freezes, and a milky white film forms over the edge of the pond. "If I may be so bold, please spare the fish." My voice is flat, but I can't hide my tightly clenched fists as anxiety courses through me. His gaze darts over to the pond and he sighs lightly, retracting the ice harmlessly with a flick of his hand.

I drop my head back into my bow, awaiting my punishment.

"Get up." His tone is harsh, but I feel no malice in it. "I'm going to see your master. Bring me there."

So you were on top of the house because you got lost? I let my eyes fall closed for a moment to hide the amusement in them, straightening my aching spine and adjusting my robes before leading him to the Master's sitting room. It wouldn’t do to express impertinence or he may take up the master’s offer after all. I’m not so foolish as to throw away a night free of pain for a moment of laughter.

I stop outside the doorway, giving another deep bow. My nerves gnaw at my stomach like rats. "This is where Master discusses business with his guests. May I offer you something to drink before I go?" Please, let me go.

"Stay."

A single word dashes any hope for leniency. He's going to ask Master to punish me. Given the number of hits I took during the day and the fact that I didn't eat dinner, I'm going to be in a bad way tomorrow.

"Yes, honored guest." I push the large red doors open, revealing a sitting room that is extravagant to the point of being gaudy, all but dripping with jewels and overcrowded baubles.

The man settles himself on one of the couches — the gold one with tacky ruby buttons fastening the fabric to the backing, one arm draped elegantly over the gilded back, one folded neatly in his lap. The water droplets I noticed earlier fan out, wandering around the room like small children without care for courtesy.

I keep my eyes down as we wait for the Master to arrive. The seconds drag by, my mind detaching itself from my body to search the premises for the Master's whereabouts via electrical signature, pulsing with his heartbeat.

"Please be patient, the Master is on his way," I tell the man quietly from my place by the door.

He casts a curious glance my way. "How do you know?"

I blink, calm. "The Master gives his honored guests the highest priority. So as not to prolong the period of your wait, I alerted the Master of your arrival on our way." Naturally, that wouldn’t be enough to hedge my bets on, but I can hardly reveal my identity as a Unique to a stranger, so he’ll be left to draw the incorrect assumption that Master is diligent in dealing with guests.

Shortly after leaving the courtyard, I pressed one of the ornate carvings to alert the Master of a guest's arrival. One of his attendants verified his identity by lying in wait along the way to the sitting room, and once his identity was confirmed, gave word to the Master.

He hums a thoughtful note. "So well trained," he muses.

"It is merely my duty, sir," I reply tactfully.

Vibrations reach me through the floor, static in the air whispering that the Master is coming, and at an alarmingly quick pace. Not a second later, Master throws the doors open in his haste, nearly tripping on his overly-ornate robes that match the sitting room. "Master Naga, my apologies for making you wait." He bows as deeply as he can over his bulging belly.

Master? Those of equal status don't need titles.

The white-haired man casts me a long glance, as though seeking my reaction. To punish me further? To scare me? I keep my eyes fixed on the wall ahead, giving away nothing.

"Your servant happened upon me and led me here. My apologies for arriving early." He doesn't sound apologetic, but I don't particularly care. I'm just waiting for him to tell the Master about my disobedience.

"He found you?" The Master bows hastily, cheeks jiggling at the force. "My apologies, your Excellency, this slave is hopeless. I'll punish him harshly." I don't even blink at the promise of more pain.

Master Naga arches an elegant brow, casting his gaze in my direction again. "Hopeless for escorting me to your waiting room?”

“That is — you are far too important to be brought to just any room, Master Naga,” Master simpers. “Had he been competent, he would have understood your stature.”

“You're not fond of him?" Master Naga asks easily, as though he isn’t single handedly trampling on common social graces by sending the conversation wherever he wishes.

Master sputters awkwardly before giving an ingratiating smile. "He is merely a slave, Master Naga. How could I be fond of him?"

A strange smile unfurls across the pale man's lips, not quite reaching his eyes as the water droplets that had been wandering make their way over to me, twirling around my figure excitedly. I wonder idly if they are a manifestation of his will or independent beings like fae or sprites.

"Then give him to me."