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As for Medora’s second concern, it hasn’t escaped my notice that I’ll have to place my trust in a man if I’m to do this. He won’t be like Pholios, weaker than me due to illness. I’ll have to choose someone who will not abuse me, who will heed my wishes when we are behind closed doors. Even then, I could choose someone who seems kind and then proves to be entirely different when we’re alone, just as Pholios was. Luckily, my staff consists of many footmen with impressive physiques, bless Mrs. Lagos for hiring them. I will have them within hearing distance, should I need aid.

It’s sad that such things have to be considered, but if I’m to do this, I need to do it the right way.

I step into my dress and turn around so Medora can do up the back. I imagine myself at Alessandra’s wedding, all eyes on me, not the bride. On me, not the queen.

“I promise to be careful,” I tell her. “Time to take next steps, then. I suppose I should interview some candidates.”

“Perhaps you need not choose someone so soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“May I speak my mind, Your Grace?”

“Please do.”

The fabric at my back tightens as she does another clasp. “Perhaps you might take some time to figure out what you like. Men don’t start by taking mistresses. They sample first.”

“Sample?”

“Yes, at brothels and the like.”

“Oh.”

I think on that for a while. Even when I’m fully dressed, I don’t yet turn.Visit a brothel. Sample. Learn what I like.

It’s a good idea.

Nerves and excitement clash in a delicious dance in my belly. I’m going to do this. I’m really going to do this.

I will have everything I’ve ever wanted.

IT DOESN’T TAKE MUCHdigging to find the perfect place. Not only has Alessandra been busy making her new edicts, but the people of Naxos have quickly made changes to accommodate the new laws. Women no longer have to wait until marriage to engage in sexual relations?

Then why not open a brothel dedicated to serving female clientele? Zanita’s boasts its “welcoming environment, enthusiastic and healthyworkers, and complete discretion for any noblewoman wishing to partake,” according to the article in the paper Medora shows me. Its grand opening was just two weeks ago.

I arrange for a carriage to take me that very night.

Everything is lit by candles, rather than electricity, which of course adds a sensual air to the main receiving room. Having never been to a brothel before, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but something tells me this place is much classier than those the poor attend.

For one, all the prostitutes are more clothed than I expected. The men wearverytight pants. Some wear suspenders without shirts underneath. Others are barefoot with buttoned-down shirts left open. Everything is meant to entice, rather than give anything away. It’s tasteful while slightly scandalous.

Second, there are so many more male prostitutes than women, but there are female workers present, too. Many women of the nobility prefer female to male lovers, so it’s no surprise that Zanita’s has some of each. They all lounge on chairs and cushioned ottomans, talking or playing games of cards. You’d think this were no more than a gaming hall. It’s so relaxed and normal, clearly meant to ease the gentler patrons.

“Welcome,” the madam says, stepping forward out of the crowd. I assume she’s the madam, since she looks a bit older. “I’m Zanita. How can I help you?”

I hand over a hefty purse. “I’m here to sample your male workers.”

“Of course, my lady.”

“Your Grace,” I correct her.

“Please forgive the oversight, Your Grace. It shan’t happen again.” Lady Zanita snaps her fingers. “Gentlemen, if you please.”

The men in the room immediately stop what they’re doing and line up against the far wall, shoulder to shoulder.

“Your advertisement claimed discretion,” I say, turning away from the dozens of well-muscled men.

“Indeed, Your Grace.”