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Rothnic would instantly recognize Lorian and Marth. Galon and Rythos were too large and threatening to be able to spend too much time around the illicit gambling haven. They would draw far too much attention.
That left Madinia and me.
My blond curls had been loosened, covering most of my face. The heavy rouge, red mouth paint, and dark kohl changed my appearance significantly—as did the low-cut gown I was wearing.
When I stepped into the main room, Lorian took one look at me and growled, his gaze hot as it drifted over me. I knew that expression. He was wondering if there was some way for this plan to go ahead without me. Rythos laid a hand on his arm. “Necessary,” he told him.
I met Lorian’s eyes and gave him a bawdy wink. “Well hello, handsome.”
A flicker of amusement entered his eyes. “I’ll be staying close while you’re walking through the streets baring that much skin.” His gaze landed on my collarbone before trailing lower, and I shivered at the heat in his eyes.
“If you’re nice to me, perhaps I’ll keep the dress on later,” I breathed.
He took a single step closer and leaned down, his nose brushing my throat. “I’ll be very, very nice to you, wildcat.”
My knees turned weak, and he smiled against my neck.
Rythos made a gagging sound. Without looking, Lorian lashed out with his fist. Even I could hear the dull thump as it made contact, and Rythos cursed.
“It’s time,” Vicer announced, leaning his head in the door. I wiggled out of Lorian’s arms, and Vicer nodded to me. “You know what to do?”
“Yes.” Tonight, I would finally learn what Vicer’s power was. Without him and Marth, we would have needed to torture Rothnic. As someone who’d recently been tortured myself, I’d felt my stomach churn at the thought. But when I’d broached the subject, Vicer had shaken his head. “Marth can get what we need,” he’d said. “And I can make sure he doesn’t know what we’ve done. But I’ll need several minutes alone with him, and the guards on the door of the gambling den would notice me loitering.”
I moved into the main room, where Madinia was dressed similarly to me. While I felt—and likely looked—awkward and uncomfortable, her dress fit her like a glove. Her hair was still dark, although it had faded enough that it was rust-colored in places. The dark kohl encircling her shockingly blue eyes made them almost appear to glow. Even her cheekbones seemed somehow higher. Sharper. She radiated a cool, amused confidence.
“I could really learn to hate you,” I muttered.
She just raised an eyebrow. “Stop slumping over like that.”
I sighed, pulling my shoulders back, and she nodded approvingly. Vicer, Madinia, Lorian, and I all filed downstairs. Marth had already left with Galon earlier, Telean was writing letters to her contacts in Gromalia, while Rythos was at the tavern, keeping an eye on Rothnic.
Vicer walked out of the brothel first, hands in his pockets, stride unhurried, his dark ponytail stark against the crimson velvet of his jacket.
He looked like a rich, bored noble—likely with a wife at home. I stood next to Madinia, and we watched out the small window until he’d disappeared down the street. He would walk slowly so we could follow him.
Lorian leaned over and nuzzled my cheek. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
He nodded at Madinia. “Good luck.”
She shot him a cool smile. “I don’t need luck.” Linking her arm through mine, she steered me out of the brothel exit, and we strolled away, as if getting some fresh air between clients.
A woman passed us, her dress a dark emerald green, her cheeks brightened with just a little more rouge than my own. Her lush mouth curved as our gazes met, eyes glittering. I’d seen her whispering with Vicer earlier. She knew what we were up to, and from the smirk on her face, she approved. I nodded back at her.
Lorian had prowled into the night, but I could feel his eyes on me. He was close, and he’d stay that way.
Eventually, we caught up to Vicer, staying at least ten footspans behind him. He was standing, hands clasped behind him, peering into a store window. When he wandered away, we slowly followed. Madinia leaned close to whisper in my ear.
“You look like you’re about to vomit.”
I threw my head back and attempted a laugh. She just sighed.
Vicer tapped three fingers on his thigh and then hurried away. Just a few footspans later, we were standing across the street from the gambling den.
Even without Vicer’s signal, the location would have been obvious by the large, burly men who stood against the wall outside, clearly guarding the door. The one on the left was shorter than the one on the right, but both looked as if they could punch through the stone wall, sprint to the city gates and back, and then casually hold a conversation without even breaking a sweat.
Several other women of the night had taken up residence on the street, leaning against doorways or positioning themselves near conveniently located alleys. Madinia and I found a free spot—moving after a woman hissed at us that our first choice was her fucking territory.
