I whipped his cloak off my shoulders and handed it to him. He fastened the neck and flipped the hood over his head. “I’m serious, Cat. Stay outside. The Gilded Serpent is not… for your kind.”
I snorted. “My kind being what?”
“Women.”
“Now that’s just sexist,” I grumbled. I watched him enter the brothel with more than a little disappointment. As Damien disappeared into The Gilded Serpent, a surge of defiance straightened my shoulders.
The brothel’s ornate façade beckoned with a sly opulence that was difficult to ignore. From the outside, the building shimmered under the glow of streetlamps, its columns adorned with intricate serpent motifs that twisted up toward a sign glittering with gold. No reds marred the purity of its decoration—only the gleam of gold that gave the place a regal, if not somewhat foreboding allure.
Ignoring Damien’s warning, I pushed the heavy door and stepped inside. The interior was a stark contrast to the dark, grimy streets outside. Golden light bathed lush carpets that led the way through an opulently decorated hall. More golden serpents adorned the walls, each scale meticulously crafted to catch the light and create the illusion of movement. Spicy perfume and the subtle undertone of incense wove a seductive spell that was hard to resist.
Intense, palpable energy charged the atmosphere. A singer’s sultry voice curled around the patrons, her melody weaving through the air like smoke, enhanced by softly clinking glassesand the discreet rustle of silk. Dancers moved with fluid grace on a small, elevated stage, their bodies clad in scant golden fabrics that clung to their lithe forms, revealing more than they concealed. Their movements were hypnotic, each step and turn executed with a precision that spoke of many hours spent perfecting their art.
The women of The Gilded Serpent were diverse in their beauty, each possessing her own unique allure. Some had long, flowing hair that cascaded down their backs, others sported shorter styles that framed beautiful faces. Their makeup was impeccable, bold and artful, designed to enhance their features under the golden lighting. They moved among the guests with a confidence that was almost tangible, their eyes occasionally catching the light to reveal a spark of ambition or perhaps mischief.
The patrons in the room varied from young men to older gentlemen, all seemingly entranced by the display of charm and sensuality around them. The hunger in their eyes was unmistakable; it was a look of men who saw what they wanted and were used to taking it. Yet, here in this realm, they played by the rules of the house, their gazes merely following the dancers with a mix of admiration and barely concealed desire, unless they had the money to pay for it.
Feeling a blend of curiosity and boldness, I moved deeper into the brothel, my ears tuned to the conversations around me, my eyes soaking in every detail. The opulence of the interior, the heady mix of fragrances, and the allure of the seductive dances created an environment that was worlds away from the gritty streets outside.
I found an unoccupied table in the corner and sat down, hoping to not be noticed and just people watch. Women led men away to private rooms and my imagination ran wild with whatwas happening behind closed doors. Just then, a server stopped at my table and snapped me from those thoughts.
“Would you like anything to drink?” Her brow was raised, though she didn’t seem surprised in the least to find a woman in this establishment.
My tolerance for alcohol was abysmal. “Uh… water, please.”
She nodded and left to get my drink just as music began to play; a melody so whimsical, I couldn’t help but turn in its direction.
A scantily clad woman stood in the center of the stage. She hummed in tune with the instruments before she began to sing.
In the whispersof a broken town,
When the sun has long gone down,
There’s a tale of dark disgrace,
Of a prince who hides his face.
Never seen and seldom known,
Wanders far, always alone.
A specter in the night so still,
With a lonely heart no love can ever fill.
The melody playedand the chorus began:
Hearthe song of the Shadow Prince,
Through the alleys where shadows wince.
A dragon’s blood with no flame to dance,
In the darkness, he finds his chance.
The waitress arrivedwith my cup of water and placed it on the table before me. She was about to leave when I gripped her arm.“Wait.” Entranced, my eyes never left the stage. “This song. Is it about the third prince?”
She nodded. “Aye. It’s the song of the Shadow Prince. He’s very well known here in The Gilded Serpent, though none of us has ever seen him.”
