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“Ro,” I whispered, placing my hand on the reflective surface.
Nothing.
Damnit.
“Seriously, Ro. I need you.”
I didn’t know if she’d let me stay for long, but surely a few days while I worked out a plan couldn’t hurt. She’d know everything going on between the two kingdoms, as she always did, using her mirrors to spy. But it didn’t matter because she didn’t answer.
I placed my hand on the mirror once more, a plea more than anything. Still, she didn’t budge. And, as my only friend, this was as good as it would ever be for me.
“Fine,” I scowled, stomping out of the apartment.
The clock tower seemed to have grown an extra twenty feet overnight. With my lack of boots and no trust in the slippers, I’d gone up as far as I could inside the building before tossing them to the side and stepping out onto the ledge of the window barefoot. There were times in my life when this was fun, and times like now, when I’d lost a weapon or needed a change of clothes, and it became impossibly far to climb.
Wind had casually brushed my skin while I was on the ground, but this far up, my dark hair lashed across my face, blinding me. Digging my fingers into the crevices between cracks, bare toes curling for as much grip as they could get, I continued, until I missed a stone, and my feet slipped, leaving me dangling at a dangerous height with sore shoulders, raw feet, and hardly any strength left. Sheer stubborn will was the only thing that saved me as I regained my footing, cursed every old god, and crept to the top, slipping into the wide crack behind the rusted clock face with a huff.
With shifting gears for a floor and crow nests for company, it was not a place for sleeping or shelter, but I’d kept a change of clothing and a box of weapons and jewels hidden beyond a panel on the north side of the exposed space. I changed quickly and loaded myself down with everything I now owned in the world. The gems would be pointless to most of society. But I was no longer hunting the vagrants. I was weak. There was only one woman who could and would pay a decent price. And though I’d have to be careful with each word and agreement, Orin Faber had left me with no choice but to pay a visit to Lady Visha.
Chapter 13
“Maiden,” the dark brown man, over a head taller than me, said, gripping the lapel of his coat as he stepped to the side. I could almost hear his heart thundering when he reached and twisted the iron knob.
As I strode through the entrance of the brothel, the world transformed into a realm of clandestine desires and hidden pleasures. Sconces cast a seductive glow, their dim light revealing just enough to tantalize the senses while shrouding the illicit activities in an air of secrecy.
The musty aroma mingled with the haze of opium smoke, enveloping the hallway in a hushed, intoxicating atmosphere of lust and sex, cheap perfume, and stale cigarettes, weaving a story that spoke of every encounter behind sheer curtains.
Murmured voices floated through, their soft timbre hinting at whispered secrets. I listened carefully, confident the truths I needed could be hidden between these walls, but I couldn’t grasp words beyond the opioid haze slowly taking over my mind.
I’d been lost to the seduction of opium dens only once, ten years ago. When tragedy struck and I had nowhere else to go, when I couldn’t deal with the reality of death, I’d fallen into the darkness of that underworld, trading jewels to keep the memories at bay. It was only when Ro refused to see me that I walked away. Still, my heart yearned for the numbness the haze offered, as if a smoky finger beckoned me forward, promising me temporary escape.
A scream of pleasure pierced the veil of my mind, bringing me back, intermingling with a soft, feminine giggle. The tapping of a long cigarette on an ashtray provided a broken rhythm to the symphony of sensuality.
The atmosphere within the brothel mirrored the complex tapestry of its occupants. Patrons, frantic for attention and seeking temporary solace from their hardships, mingled with servers who themselves were desperate to repay their debts to Lady Visha. The women working here wore masks of forced smiles, concealing the sadness that lingered in their eyes. It was a world where desires met with transactional encounters, where emotions were carefully guarded.
Stepping into the main room, beyond the long hall that carried me through a world of varying degrees of promised pleasure, I moved to the red velvet couch but considered what fluids might be lingering and opted to stand as I waited for Lady Visha’s invitation. This was her world. And she was happy to let her patrons see the Death Maiden within these walls. Happy to let the world see that her power stretched beyond fear.
A reasonably attractive man, with cropped brown hair nearly hidden beneath a top hat, had no such reservations as he sprawled across another couch, his dark eyes watching the courtesans pass by. When one walked by, wearing nothing but a sheer robe and the highest heels I’d ever seen, he grabbed her wrist, pulling her onto his lap. Sad eyes met mine for only a moment before she tilted her head and laughed. Ink from the man’s fingers transferred onto her beautiful golden skin as he rubbed her back.
When she tried to pull away and he refused to let her up, protective anger surged through me, and I made it all of three paces toward the asshole before Cordelia, one of Lady Visha’s favorites, cleared her throat from the doorway. I made a mental note to pay the printer a little visit the next time I was around. Though I wasn’t sure he’d seen me beyond his lust.
Making eye contact with the woman that’d saved that man’s testicles, I wondered if she would have done that, had she not been Lady Visha’s favorite. I’d never seen another of the courtesans remain untouched. Though there was only one red band on her arm, a debt easily paid, some would say, she stayed by choice, the hostess to the Goddess of Pleasure, should such a title exist. Visha stacked her debts, each band countable, whereas the Maestro locked a person down with time. That was perhaps the only difference between them. Still, I followed the woman all the same, down the dark halls and into the serpent’s office.
“I’ve always known you to be smart, Prin—forgive me. It’s no longer princess, is it?” Lady Visha rested one arm on the plush red velvet chair, and with the other, cracked her long cigarette on the side of her mahogany desk, letting the ashes fall to the richly patterned rug.
The chestnut-haired shadow at her side rushed in, sweeping away the mess. I watched the band on her arm, but it did not fade or falter. How many debts had she agreed to with that single ring?
I didn’t respond. She’d asked me to forgive her but, while I didn’t think there could possibly be a binding contract in there, the last twenty-four hours had taught me new lessons.
“On edge, Maiden?” Lady Visha leaned forward, adjusting the collar of her feathered red robe as she lowered her dark lashes, her soft golden curls falling onto her shoulders. “One could hardly blame you after jilting the new king.”
“Something like that.” I took three steps into the room, pulled out the chair opposite of her desk, and sat.
“I assume you’ve come to ask for help? Taking back your father’s throne? I am not a miracle worker, Deyanira. But if you’d be willing to swear yourself to me, I could pull a few strings, loosen a few others.” Her gaze narrowed as gracefully as a serpent ready to strike. She nodded to Cordelia, who crossed the room, her long, perfectly groomed legs peeking from beneath her robes as she poured two glasses and delivered them without spilling a drop or lifting her eyes to me.
I took the drink. I knew the drill. If I didn’t, Lady Visha would end the meeting. There were certain battles I had to let her win, but the liquid burned all the way down, leaving a boulder in my stomach. I hadn’t eaten, and mixed with the opium haze and poison, I could feel myself melting, my shoulders relaxing, my thoughts fogging over with each second that passed. Pressing my nails into the skin on my hands, I forced myself to focus. “I have no interest in my father’s kingdom.”
She clicked her tongue. The sound echoed in my mind. “Pity. My little Petals tell me Icharius Fern has moved his soldiers into Perth.”
