Sedition by Alicia Cameron Read Free Book Online

first time in weeks, and it’s unnerving. I don’t sleep well and I’m surprised to wake up to breakfast the next morning. He brings it to me silently. I don’t know how to bring up what happened, but I hope he’s not too upset. It’s strange that I even care. After all, he’s a slave, he should have been punished. I just can’t help regret what happened after things were going so well.
    I try to thank him, but he turns and leaves before I can say anything else. He’s silent the whole time, just as he is while he works all day. He works harder than usual, perhaps to make up for his mistake, but he doesn’t speak to me. Even when I tell him I’m going into the office for a while, he just nods. When I go into our bedroom to change, I realize that he’s taken his clothes and toiletries and everything that has accumulated since we started sleeping together. I stay late at the office, messaging him to let him know I won’t be home for dinner.
    I remind him to eat, because I worry about him.
    He’s in his bed when I come home, pretending to sleep. I stand in his doorway, not knowing what to do. I could handle a pouty slave; I have no idea how to handle an injured lover.
    “Sascha, are you all right?” I ask. I realize too late that I sound more irritated than concerned.
    “Yes, master,” he answers, stiff and cold.
    I don’t know what to do or say. I stand there for a few minutes, taking note of the bruises that are visible even in the dim light from the hallway. I did that to him, and he doesn’t even know why.
    I try to let him take space the next day and he does so silently. I look at him sometimes and wish things could go back to the way they were. I don’t know if he’s scared, or angry, or something else. It bothers me that I have no idea how to fix it.
    My mother has always had a knack for knowing when I’m struggling, and she always manages to exacerbate it. She coms while I’m avoiding Sascha. I’d ignore her, but I’ve experienced the repercussions of avoiding her contact. I don’t need a private investigator following me around again, nor do I want to discover another tracking device on my com unit. She’s made it clear over the years that answering her is a priority.
    “Oliver Torenze is partnering with Dean & Chanu? Quite convenient,” she starts, her voice taking on the thick, syrupy tone it used to when she caught me doing something wrong as a child.
    “He has a successful business. We manage finances and investments for successful businesses.”
    “One of my associates saw you at that slave auction,” she reminds me, her voice taking on an accusatory tone. “And I heard you and your little pet were honored guests at Torenze’s opening?”
    “Plenty of people saw me,” I reply, cold. “I was there on business. Which was why I did business there.”
    “That better be all you were there for.”
    I let the line go silent, unwilling to respond. I can lie to her, but it won’t matter. She thinks she knows what I’m doing already. She’s right, of course, which makes it that much harder to hide.
    “Cashiel, I’ve done the best I can to protect you from business dealings like this. Torenze, the people in the slave industry—you want to stick with the legitimate businesses.”
    “Like yours?” I mutter.
    “The Miller System isn’t just the most effective training system in the world, it is one of the most financially stable,” my mother reminds me. If she were anyone else, I’d say she was really calling to give me advice.
    “I’m just following the business interest,” I say, trying not to sound so meek.
    “Do they know?” my mother asks. “Do they know about your history? I mean, except for Oliver. Do any of your other ‘business interests’ know that you tried to destroy them in the past? That you’d do it again if you could get away with it?”
    I fume, because she’s always ahead of me. When I first conducted research into the Demoted system and the