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"You'll need this," he says, stepping behind me. "All of Madam's ladies wear one."
The mask rests on my cheekbones, protecting my identity. I touch the lace, wishing I could see myself in such a beautiful piece of art. I've never owned something so exquisite before. With mom, money was tight. We only bought the necessities to survive. Uncle, on the other hand, spends like he has silver to spare, but only on himself. I fall somewhere in the middle, given the necessities but having to earn the coin for anything else.
It never crossed my mind to need a mask, let alone one as beautiful as this. I feel guilty taking it. Ezra must have saved for weeks, spending money that should have gone to food or bills. My stomach sours thinking about what he sacrificed. “Where'd you get it?"
Ezra shrugs, and he looks away. His fingers clench and unclench in a fist, and I realize he didn't buy this mask. He stole it. Recently too. I don't push him for details. Despite my choice to keep my relationship with Ezra platonic, there are some things about his life I'd rather not know.
"I'll be in there should you need me." Ezra brushes his finger along my jawline until his thumb caresses my bottom lip. He stares, patiently waiting for me to change things between us and make a move. It's a dance I find myself in too often, and like every other time, I respond by looking down at the ground. Ezra wordlessly kisses my forehead and pulls away, leaving more than a few words unsaid between us.
I chew on my bottom lip and watch him round the front of the Red Keep. A small part of me feels bad. Hurting Ezra is the last thing I want to do, but he knows where I stand.
Still, I can't help but wonder how much more the man can take. One day, he will give up on me, and I don’t know if that eases my nerves or agitates them.
The worker's entrance to the tavern opens as someone tosses a bucketof dirty water out. A masked woman and I lock eyes. She's a little more than twice my age, possibly in her forties, but beautiful. Long copper curls hang over her shoulders, falling to the center of her back. Unlike my costume tonight, this woman's dress rises high to her neck and kisses her ankles. She has an air of authority; if I were to guess, I’d say she's the woman in charge.
The Madam.
"You're late," the Madam hisses as her gaze runs over my body. She's expressionless, neither angry nor surprised to see a new girl hiding in the shadows. "You're lucky you're pretty." Her eyes narrow, but then her features soften, and she sighs. "We'll fetch you more suitable garments after you've earned some wages. Is this your first time?"
"Yes, ma'am."
I wonder if the Madam will ask where I’m from or what drove me to her stoop in the dead of night? Everyone has a story to tell, mouths to feed, or someone they hope to see behind those doors. I wait for the questions, already having a fabricated tale that muddies the truth about my life with lies, but the woman's lips remain pressed together.
The Madam goes inside, leaving the Red Keep's door open, an invitation to follow should I choose this path. What she doesn't understand is that being on the Red Keep's doorstep was never a choice. My path was painted in the blood of those I loved. I simply followed it to her place of business.
"There's only one rule at the Red Keep," the Madam says as I follow her through the busy kitchen. "Everything is your choice. No one will force you to do anything, but once you accept Silver, the agreement you crafted is binding. You do what that man asks, hating or loving it without causing trouble. Girls get hurt when they don't uphold their commitments, so be specific in what you’ll allow."
Meaning when the men get too rough and the women want to stop, they can't. Anger swelters under my skin. Paid or not, no woman should have a man's hands on her body if they're laid with ill intent. It kills me to remain expressionless and nod in understanding. This rule goes against everything I believe in. But I agree.
"Here." The Madam hands me an earthenware jar filled with wine. "Take a turn around the room. Offer the men a drink and fill their glasses. Geta feel for what you're in for tonight. You are free to flirt and interact as long as you want, but remember, as soon as you accept the first Silver, you are committed to that man for the duration of his pay. It's your first night. Be cautious. Understand me, girl?"
"Yes, ma'am."
The Madam studies my face, unconvinced by the warm smile it holds, but lets me out onto the floor. I doubt I'm the first new girl to walk through her door tonight, nor will I be the last in the forthcoming. The difference the Madam is probably trying to figure out is that, unlike the others who need the money and will likely return, I'm here for something far more valuable.
Something that can only be claimed once.
Ihesitate in the doorway that separates the kitchen from the main floor and survey the room. The Red Keep is a large tavern with a lot of ground to cover in a short time. It’s busy for such a late hour, but I expected as much. Shifts switch tonight, and those guarding the lands for the past six months are finally granted a reprieve. Tomorrow, they’ll be free to see their families for a few weeks, but tonight, they have to stay in Overburn.
If Ezra’s sources are correct, Graves is in this room somewhere, celebrating another six months of killing innocent families under the guise of protecting the Crown. I just have to find him.
I scan the room and quickly inventory possible escapes and trouble spots. The whole damn tavern is going to cause trouble, but some areas seem to be more popular than others.
The large bar to my left is crowded. Barrels of wine and whiskey sit on display as the tender behind it fills glass after glass. In addition to him, two other girls carry jars of wine, offering the deep purple liquid to the men who play cards at tables. For those who aren’t entertained by cards, targets hang on the walls toward the back of the room where men stand in lines to throw their daggers, trying to hit the center marker.
At the furthest corner, near a set of swinging doors that lead out to the tents, an older man is sitting in the corner at a small piano, bringing life to the party with his music. He plays well, keeping his melodies upbeat so the girls can dance around him. Most of the soldiers watch, but a few keep in stepwith the ladies. Besides them, there aren’t many soldiers near the pianist or his instrument. It’s the emptiest space in the tavern.
A small note of worry tickles my mind as I watch the patrons drink and flirt with the pretty girls on duty tonight. The plague that wiped out a third of Divale this season isn’t airborne. It’s spread by fluids. Blood. Spit. Sex. If it’s traveled to these lands, the risk of Ezra being infected in a place like this is high. I know he had to have shared some sort of fluid to steal my mask, even if it was just a kiss, but if he catches the sickness because of me, I’ll never forgive myself.
I stroll through the room, trying to focus on finding Graves, but the weight of my guilt expands with each step, becoming a pressure I can’t bear in my chest. What if Ezra dies? What will happen to his sister? She’s too young to employ at the manor, not that Uncle could afford to keep her on the payroll, and not pretty enough to marry into money. She’ll end up on the streets. Or worse, selling herself like a lady of the night. She could find herself at the hands of someone like Graves, and then…
I can’t take my thoughts any longer. I find an empty chalice at a nearby table and pour myself a glass of wine to silence them. It tastes like boysenberry, not my favorite, but I keep drinking until the alcohol drowns my worries. It only takes two rounds to feel the slight haze in my mind. I’m not drunk, but the anchor of fear and worry finally lifts enough for me to focus.
With a little boost from liquid courage, I forgo my surveillance plan and approach my first table as a working girl. There are four men playing cards, none of which are Graves. My gaze scans over each of them, looking for the brand that marks Graves’s regime on their forearm. I've killed every soldier who bore the mark of the serpent. By my count, Graves should be the last, but that never stops me from searching for others he might have recruited.
In my opinion, following orders isn’t an excuse for their actions. Those men chose to burn down villages. They chose to slaughter innocent families. They chose to look the other way when Graves took my virginity against my will.
They are all at fault.
