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“Which fable is it?” I asked. Most of them were quite fantastical with magic and monsters. The latter I had no choice but to believe, but magic? People wielding invisible forces to do their will? I was too mature to believe that existed.
“The Fall of Temple Rotha. Apparently, the King currently has the only copy.”
With all the books I’d devoured since learning to read, that one didn’t sound familiar. “Rotha doesn’t have a temple.” Or so I’d been taught.
Qynn rolled her shoulders. “Or it’s been gone so long no one remembers.”
“Why would a long-dead temple…” Even as I said it, the lines connected. “The King thinks the Duke’s ruins are the temple.”
“I don’t know what the King thinks. But the Duke might.”
“Why would some old ruins matter?” At that age, I couldn’t understand why people clung to the past. It was much easier to forget everything before the day I met Palla.
“That’s what I’d like to find out. And for that, I need to find a way to get close to the Duke.”
It seemed a simple solution. “Next time he comes to the gradeena, invite him up even if he’s not the highest bidder.” It wouldn’t be the first time we’d manipulated who won the privilege.
“He’ll never come here. We don’t offer what he wants.”
“Surely of the men and women here, we have someone who will appeal.” We offered a variety of appearances, mannerisms, and even nationalities.
“The problem is we only offer men and women.”
Palla was the one to gasp, “He likes to bed animals?”
“No.” Qynn blinked in surprise. “Remember how you noticed his number of squires? All young, I’d wager? There’s a reason for that. He prefers his bedmates on the younger side.”
“Ew.” My nose wrinkled. While Mistress had saved me from being assaulted by those men, I’d never forgotten.
“Disgusting. We should skewer him.” Palla had a violent response. With reason. She'd been the unlucky one to be assaulted a few months after our arrival in the city and before we met Qynn. A large fellow went after Palla not because she was female. He thought her a boy, and when he found out she wasn’t… He managed to hurt Palla before she killed him. Gutted him like the pig he was and spat on his body after she stripped him of everything she could sell. It left Palla leery and more aware of her surroundings, a tough way to live.
“We cannot kill the Duke,” Mistress grumbled. “Not until we get some answers.”
I liked that she called us “we,” even if we were more a supporting cast than the ones truly doing the work.
“Maybe not kill, but we could perhaps change the direction of his predilections.” Kya’s soft addition.
“That requires me getting close enough,” Qynn reminded. “I’m too old for him.”
“Send me,” I blurted out suddenly. Brave words considering my racing heart. “I’m young looking enough. Let me handle the duke.”
“No.” It wasn’t Qynn who refused but Kya of all people.
“Why not?”
“You can barely hold a sword for one, and you forget, I was the one who tried to train you to fight.”
Indeed, many lessons had happened since our arrival. While Mistress provided us with cloaks of deep vermillion that identified us as under protection—gradeenas were known for hiring the biggest, most brutish guards, as they had to keep the clients in line—there would be times we’d be alone or have to fend off an attack.
For those occasions I got to learn how to sweat and grunt as I learned to fight, a task that got easier as I developed muscle from my dance practice. There was no doubt in my mind, once I grasped the brilliance of Qynn’s act, that I wanted to emulate her.
And Palla wanted to be Kya, a personal bodyguard. Mine to be exact. My friend excelled at hand-to-hand combat, but I was better with a dagger. When it came to sword work, I skipped to practice the alchemy that gave mistress her true power.
A power I’d been studying. I was ready to try out my skills.
“We both know I’m the one most likely to get close.”
“Close how?” Qynn questioned. “Going to march up to the fortress where he’s staying, wearing my colors, and saying what exactly to get in?”
