Page 27

“It’s meant to be the Scarlet Plague, I think,” said a voice at Kel’s shoulder. “Death takes a lover while the bodies lie in the streets. The red ribbons are the malady. She will make love to Death and die of it.”

Kel turned in surprise to find Silla standing at his shoulder. She was a tall girl, nearly his height, narrow-waisted and slim-shouldered, a laced green velvet bodice making the most of her small breasts. Her skirt was slit, showing her long legs. She had freckles and blue eyes and a generous, wide-mouthed smile that had initially drawn him to her. Someone who smiled like that, he had thought, would be kind, would overlook his inexperience, would laugh with him as he learned what to do and how to do it.

He had been right, too, which was why he was still fond of her. He grinned at her now, shoving his misgivings to the back of his mind. “You get the Scarlet Plague from making love to Death?” he said. “I do not recall this as part of my lessons concerning this particular historical period. The drawbacks of Palace tutelage. They focus entirely too much on the wrong things.”

“I should say so.” Silla slid an arm around his waist. On stage, the man had divested his partner of her petticoat. She was nakedsave for the ribbons at her wrists and ankles and the spill of her long dark hair. Death drew off his mask and crawled across black velvet to lower himself upon her, her pale body arching up to his. Someone in the audience cheered, as if they were watching a sporting match in the Great Arena.

“I ought to find Conor,” Kel murmured, though it was not what he wanted to do. Silla was soft and warm against his side, and he could not help but think how she could make him forget—forget what the Ragpicker King had said to him, forget his own foolishness in being duped by Merren Asper, forget his suspicions of Alys. Of Hadja, who had brought him the false message that had lured him outside. Had she known it was a trick?

“The Prince went upstairs with Audeta,” said Silla. “He is enjoying himself. You need not worry.” She laced her fingers through Kel’s, her eyes darkening. “Come with me.”

Silla knew he would not partake in pleasure in front of the nobles of the Hill, or the Charter Families, for the same reason that he would not drink to excess or indulge in poppy-drops in their company. To lose oneself in pleasure was to lower one’s guard. Even alone with Silla or another courtesan, he could not manage it entirely. There was always some part of him holding back.

And yet. He was aware of Antonetta still looking at him, and he could not help himself. He drew Silla toward him, his hand curling under her chin, lifting her face to his. He kissed her red mouth, tasting the salt of her lip paint, savoring the moment she opened her lips to his, inviting him in. As he cradled her face in his hands, he could feel Antonetta’s gaze on him, knew she was watching. He had thought it would bother him, but it only sent a greater heat crackling through his veins.You have come here to be scandalized, Antonetta,he thought.So be scandalized.

It was Silla who finally broke off their kiss. She purred softly, laughing against his mouth, even as he noted distantly that Antonetta was no longer looking at them. She was staring determinedly toward the stage.

“You’re eager as a boy tonight,” Silla murmured. “Come.”

Taking his hand, she led him from the room. As he went, he paused to glance back at the salon as Silla led him through a small archway at the end of the room. He glimpsed Montfaucon, eyes on the stage, hand on the head of the young man who knelt before him, his head moving rhythmically over Montfaucon’s lap.He was the one who had been telling fortunes before,Kel thought. And Montfaucon was not the only noble being so serviced: The room was full of moving shadows, flashes of skin here and there, the sound of breath, caught. There seemed something hollow and sad about all of it, and he felt a little foolish for having tried to scandalize Antonetta with kissing. Far more scandalous things were going on all around them as Kel followed Silla into the shadows.

Through the archway were a number of curtained alcoves. Silla led him into one of them, its walls plush with rose velvet, before drawing the curtain behind them. Scarlet tapers burned above them in bronze holders. Silla beckoned him close, lifting her face to be kissed.

They had done this often enough that their bodies knew the dance. She arched into Kel as his mouth explored hers, but he wanted more than kissing. He could not have oblivion, but he would take forgetting, even for a short time. He slid his hands up under her bodice, her breasts rounding into his palms. If she felt the bandage on his right hand, she gave no sign. She moaned softly, her fingers trailing down his chest, finding the waistband of his trousers.

“So pretty,” she whispered. She rocked her hips against him. He was hard already, and her movements sent small shocks of pleasure through him—each shock like a sip of brandewine, slowing the racing of his mind, erasing the voice of the Ragpicker King. “Some nobles let themselves get soft, like unrisen dough.” She slid her hands up under his shirt. “Not you.”

Kel supposed he had Jolivet to thank for that. Noblescouldlet themselves get soft; they had no need to fight, to defend themselves or anyone else.But I am the Prince’s shield. And a shield must be iron.

Silla’s fingers were on the fall of his trousers, working at the buttons. Kel let his eyes drift half shut. He knew his body was feeling pleasure. It was as familiar and unmistakable as pain. He tried to focus on it, to bring his mind into the moment. Into Silla, her skin painted pale pink by the rose light of the alcove, her hair soft and thick, scented with lavender. She ran her finger around the inside of his waistband, laughed. “Velvet-lined?”

He licked her lower lip. “They’re Conor’s.”

She tilted her head. “Then I’d better not tear them.” She slipped her hand down, stroked him, her palm hot against his skin. “Does he ever let you borrow other things?” she whispered, and he realized she was still talking about Conor. “Like his crown? I think you’d look awfully handsome in a crown.”

I wore the Aurelian crown earlier today.But he could never tell her that. It struck him that if the Ragpicker King and Ji-An knew he was the Sword Catcher, did Merren know as well? And what of Alys? And Hadja? Whoelseknew?

Gray hell, stop it,he told himself.Be here now.Silla would not mind if he pushed her skirts up, took her against the wall here. Easy enough to hold her up. They’d done it before. He needed to fall into her, into the drowning pleasure of the act. He took hold of her hips just as the velvet curtain tore back, revealing Antonetta Alleyne, framed in the archway.

Antonetta’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh,” she said. “Ohdear.”

“What thehell,Antonetta?” Kel jerked his trousers into place and began to button them hastily. “What’s wrong? Do you need someone to take you home?”

Antonetta was still blushing. “I’d no idea—”

“What did you think we were doing in here, darling, reciting poetry to each other?” drawled Silla. Her corset had come unlaced, but she made no move to fix it. “Or were you hoping to join us?” She smiled a little. “Which would be up to Kellian.”

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Kel said; it was a reflex, but Silla’seyes narrowed in surprise. His response made him even angrier at Antonetta. He turned back to her. “If you’re desperate to go home, Domna Alys would have arranged a carriage for you—”

“It’s not that,” Antonetta said. “I was on my way up to the library and I saw Falconet. He was in a panic. He sent me to fetch you.” She frowned. “It’s Conor. He needs you. Something’s wrong.”

Kel’s blood turned to ice water; he heard Silla take a surprised breath. “What do you mean, something’s wrong?” But Silla was already pressing his jacket into his hand; he did not even remember taking it off. He kissed her forehead, shrugged it on; a moment later he was following Antonetta through the main room and up the stairs. “What’s happened?” he demanded in a low voice. “Silla said Conor was with Audeta—”

“I don’t know,” said Antonetta, not looking at him. “Joss didn’t tell me. Just to fetch you.”

These words spiked Kel’s alarm. Falconet being desperate enough to send Antonetta after him portended nothing good.

“I wouldn’t have expected you to be the sort to hire courtesans,” said Antonetta as they reached the landing. “I don’t know why. Silly of me, I suppose.”