Page 201 of Blade of the Nightking

Movement seemed to follow me wherever I looked. Faces appeared in windows only to vanish when I turned toward them. Entire streets stretched away between buildings before ending abruptly in solid walls. More than once, I found myself stepping aside for a passerby only to realize I’d been staring at a reflection.

Because the entire city was built of mirrors.

Nothing about Illyra resembled the den of criminals I’d expected. Buildings rose on either side of the street, their facades inset with enormous sheets of polished mirror-glass. Floating fae lights drifted overhead, their glow multiplying infinitely across those surfaces. Reflections folded into reflections, streets becoming streets becoming streets again, until it was nearly impossible to tell where the city truly ended and illusion began.

The effect was magnificent—and deeply disorienting. I could already see how easily one might become lost within it, no less thoroughly than on the salt flats.

Beside me, Rìan strode forward without hesitation, never once glancing around. I had no idea how he knew where he was going, or how he could possibly orient himself in a city designed to deceive the eye, but he navigated the winding avenues confidently, turning corners and slipping through narrow lanes as though he’d walked them a thousand times before.

At last, he stopped before a building so unremarkable I could have walked past it a dozen times without noticing it. There was no sign above the door, no indication of what lay within.

Without a word, he pushed it open and stepped inside.

The sounds hit me first.

Low moans drifted through the dim interior, accompanied by breathless laughter, muffled gasps, and the unmistakable sounds of bodies tangled together in intimate pursuits. Color flooded my face.

Heavy curtains draped from the ceiling in sweeping folds, dividing the vast interior into shadowed alcoves and secluded corners. Thick carpets swallowed footsteps. Pipe smoke curled lazily through the air, carrying an acrid scent I didn't recognize that made my head swim.

Behind one gauzy curtain, I caught the silhouettes of bodies moving together in the shadows. A female knelt amongst a heap of embroidered cushions while a male and another female occupied either end of her, all three utterly absorbed in the pleasure building between them.

As we passed another alcove, I glanced up and immediately regretted it. A male reclined on a divan while three naked females took turns attending to him, their laughter mingling with his obvious enjoyment. One of them noticed me watching. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused, her smile slow and knowing as she crooked a finger in my direction.

I lowered my gaze and hurried after Rìan, who’d paused beside a table set with a crystal pitcher and several glasses. He lifted the pitcher, sniffed its contents cautiously, then filled two glasses and handed one to me.

“What is this place?” I hissed, my cheeks burning.

He drained his water in a single swallow and shot me an exasperated look, as though I should have already pieced it together. Which, in truth, I had.

Without answering, he refilled his glass. I drank mine, and the moment the water touched my tongue I nearly moaned with relief. The glass was empty almost instantly. Rìan refilled it, and together we drained the entire pitcher until nothing remained and the vicious edge of our thirst finally dulled.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before setting it aside, then turned and continued weaving through the maze of rooms and corridors.

People lounged on low sofas or wandered through the halls. Many were robed from head to toe, their faces hidden behind veils so that only their eyes showed. They watched us pass with open interest, some beckoning suggestively, others tilting their heads in silent invitation.

It seemed strange for them to be so thoroughly clothed when clothing appeared to be the least necessary thing in a pleasure house.

“Why are they all dressed like that?” I’d only ever seen one person conceal herself beneath robes and veils before, when the Full Circle had convened in Solmire.

“To honor the High Lady,” a melodious voice called.

I looked up to find a female reclining against a high counter. Like everyone else, she was veiled completely. An untouched jewel-toned cocktail rested beside her, faint sparks of carbonation fizzing above its surface.

“Lady Elyndra is famed throughout Elantis for her beauty,” she continued. “The stories claim a single glimpse of her face can drive a person mad with desire.”

She gestured to the robed figures filling the pleasure house. “The Looking Glass was built upon that fantasy. Our patrons delight in the mystery of what lies beneath the veils.” Her emerald eyes crinkled with amusement. “Especially when there is always the possibility it might be the High Lady herself.”

My eyebrows lifted in shock and the female laughed, a pleasant tinkling sound.

“They say Lady Elyndra once took a lover who ruined her for all others. She's been searching for his equal ever since, and every patron who enters these halls hopes they'll be the one fortunate enough to take his place.”

Rìan snorted.

“Hope springs eternal,” a male called drunkenly from the corner, raising his glass before draining it. Soft laughter rippled through the room.

“Are you looking to try your luck this evening?” Her brows lifted suggestively.

“Two rooms,” Rìan ordered beside me, his face still shadowed by the hood.