House of Hunger

by Alexis Henderson

wide windows on three of the four walls, and they were framed with rich green draperies that pooled on the floor.

Wait what??? How do three out of four walls have big windows but also an alcove bed???

Then she relieved herself, clutching the skirt of her nightgown to her chest, listening to the faint trickle of piss pooling at the bottom of the pot and feeling as though she wasn’t worthy enough to defile such a fine object.

I think I’m beginning to see why no one ever writes about bathroom breaks

she saw a word crudely carved into the underside of the bed frame’s leg: wretch.

I’m sorry are you insinuating to me right now that someone pulled out their own tooth to carve “wretch” into the underside of a bed???

with the intent of inquiring about its origins at a later date.

Do you have no sense of self preservation?

“Which is a fancy way of saying she’s a bastard of high esteem,” said Evie, and it was enough to warrant a sharp pinch from Irene.

I like Evie

House of Hunger.

I wonder if the “hunger” is because of the blood disease that requires so much a steady diet of blood (guess they haven’t learned what blood transfusions are yet)

“If you’re so curious, I’d be happy to oblige you,” Marion quipped, and she extended her arm across the table, between the burning candles, feeling the heat of their flames on her wrist. “Would you like a taste?”

Isn’t that literally against one of the rules

or Marion’s flagrant, if sarcastic, offer to break one of the House’s most important rules—she

Ope yep okay

“Will she not appear in court tonight?” a woman inquired, seeming anxious at the thought. “I’m afraid she’s taken ill . . . again,” said Ivor, with no small amount of relish.

Why did she invite the blood maids then?? If not directly to serve her?? Yknow to do their job???

“No need to cry,” said the Countess, stepping out into the corridor. “He wasn’t worth mourning anyway.”

Damn

Sir Ivor, who limped toward his horse with the aid of a cane, casting Marion nasty, sidelong glances here and there.

Sir Ivan will remember that

Lisavet raised a hand to her mouth and tore off her leather glove with her teeth. She leaned out of her saddle and extended her hand for Marion to see. There was a thick scar there, silvered and knotted. “From her crop.”

Oh my god???? (Also, hot)

Lisavet stole her hand away and hastily slipped her glove back on, as if embarrassed.

In my head I’m imagining her to look like Ruby Rose

“Next time, don’t hesitate.”

The fuck is wrong with this woman

Ivor leaned across the table. “You fork-tongued whore—”

Wow creative

Marion froze. There was the sound of a key fitting into the lock, the soft click of the bolt sliding out of place. Cecelia opened the door by no more than a crack, and Marion slid sideways into the dark of the room.

Literally WHY would you go in. That’s some white people bullshit

Her arrival at the House had been Cecelia’s downfall, and now she’d made enemies of her peers who remained.

Marion was the one who was attacked??? Why are we victim blaming????

“You poisoned yourself to poison him?”

That’s metal as fuck

“Don’t be weak.”

She’s a brat tamer

The sickness is this House’s namesake.

Heyyyy I was right

Tutor Geoffrey swallowed hard, collected his papers hastily. “It’s been an honor,” he said to Marion, and that was to be the last she ever saw of him.

My man got fired

“I’m never wrong,”

🚩🚩🚩

“Of course,” said Ivor. Behind a fan of gilded cards, he grinned.

I smell a rat

Thiago snatched a breath and yelled, “She’s over here, near the courtyard.”

Bastard