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My eyes fell on a woman lying on a nearby table. Broken dishware and food littered the floor, evidence of what had been going on not all that long ago. Now, her dress was unlaced to her stomach, breasts bare for the whole room to see. Her skirt was miraculously still in place, though from the movements beneath it and the way she was moaning, it appeared that someone was hidden underneath the fabric, making her writhe and whimper for the audience of men and women at the bar.
“I’m guessing she ate the food?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
Scion threw the woman a disinterested glance. “No. She’s simply working. Anyone who ate the food is already upstairs.”
“Ah, of course.” I looked down, trying to banish the curiosity swirling in the back of my mind. “You certainly seem well-informed.”
“I don’t need to pay for sex, rebel.”
“Right. I suppose, being a prince, you could have anyone you wanted.”
He laughed bitterly. “Not anyone. Now, focus.”
I swallowed thickly but did as instructed, letting him drag me through the crowd, past the bar, and toward the bottom of the long staircase. On the bottom landing stood a curvaceous brunette woman in a gossamer sheer red dress and ample amounts of golden jewelry. Her long, spiral curls were piled on top of her head in a sort of cascade that I immediately envied as the sort of hairstyle I would want, had I any skill in that department. Her large eyes were painted with kohl liner to appear even larger, and she had bright red paint on her lips to match her dress.
To the woman’s immediate left stood a very large male, whom I assumed had to be her guard. He was large, even by Fae standards, with a stature reminiscent of Prince Gwydion. That, however, was where the similarities ended. While all Fae were attractive, this male had a face that one might call “unusual.” His features were hard, like he’d been hit in the nose one too many times and not healed quite right. His hair was long and dark and pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his skull, and he had a long scar running over the bridge of his nose.
“Evening,” the woman said nervously as we approached. “Going up?”
“No,” Scion replied stiffly. “We’re here to see Phillipa Blacktongue.”
The woman looked us over once again, and sure enough, her eyes flicked from Scion’s face to the enormous raven on his shoulder. I saw a flicker of indecision in her eyes, which I interpreted as she wasn’t positive about who we were but was afraid of making a terrible error by even asking.
This, more than anything so far, proved Scion’s original assertion that, out of context, he was unlikely to be recognized. I supposed that was reasonable—I wouldn’t expect the Everlasts to travel alone into strange brothels without guards, and I guessed if you had never seen any of them up close…it made sense, yet still, could she not see the crest on his shoulder?
“Sorry, love,” the woman said finally. “Miss Blacktongue doesn’t take visitors.”
“Don’t embarrass yourself, Slúagh.” Scion looked down his nose at her. “Go get your mistress before I become annoyed and find her myself.”
I opened my mouth to simply tell her who we were rather than forcing her to guess, but before I could, the guard at the woman’s side stepped forward, baring his teeth. “No admittance.”
My heartbeat sped up—I’d known this might happen, and yet I still wasn’t prepared for it when the guard screamed a high-pitched, soul-crushing scream I did not think could have come out of a male that large.
His eyes bulged, and he dropped the knife I’d only just noticed he was holding, letting it slide down the steps to the floor at my feet. Then, his body began to twitch as his screams turned into sobs and gasps for breath, his body crumpling on the landing.
Scion barely moved beside me, seeming not to even see the man writhing in pain before us. He looked up at the woman. “Would you care for another demonstration?”
“No, my lord,” she said quickly, clearly getting it now. She tried to do something in the way of a curtsy and only managed to trip. “Yes, um…I’ll just go get her.”
She turned and sprinted up the stairs, moving rather impressively fast, given the length and cut of her dress. I could sympathize with that. Mortality was a strong motivator, and I’d ruined many gowns while trying to stay alive.
I looked down at the male on the floor, who was no longer twitching but had not moved from where he’d landed. “Is it fair to simply torture people without warning?”
Scion’s lip curled. “Do not tell me you are starting to grow fond of the Fae. I thought you had vowed to hate us with your last gasping breath.”
“I—no.” I could not recall saying that specifically and narrowed my eyes. “I simply see a difference between you and these unsuspecting bystanders. If you don’t, that’s further proof of my point.”
His lips turned into a thin line. “That male—” He prodded the guard with his foot. “—is in charge of watching the female so she doesn’t escape. Would you consider him to be a person worthy of your sympathy? Is there no nuance to the situation?”
I grimaced and turned away. “Perhaps.”
He dropped it, and we did our best to ignore the guard while we waited, the same as we ignored every eye that bored into the backs of our heads and the whispers that swirled around us.
* * *
Ten minutes passed,and then another ten. The longer we stood, the more nervous I became, and the more the shadows on the ground seemed to swirl as Scion grew more and more annoyed.
I glanced around the room, hoping to alleviate my boredom, and immediately regretted it.
