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Odeya helped her into a simple blue dress, cinched at the waist and sheer at the bust.

“Blue to match your eyes,” said Odeya as she tightened the bustier. She fluffed Riella’s hair, arranging it in waves around her face and shoulders. “Count Zemora is an odd man. He’ll adore you, but don’t let him push you too far. He will, if you let him. They’re all like that.”

Riella sat on the chair while Odeya helped her put on silk slippers. Like all of the clothes, wearing the shoes made her feel oddly constricted.

But, here on the land, it seemed that body parts needed the protection of garments—for more than one reason. Jarin had been right about that, too.

There was a light rapping on the door, in a distinct rhythm.

“Come in,” called Odeya.

Yvette and Sehild were in states of semi-undress, their hair and makeup messy.

“Done,” said Yvette, heaving a sigh and flopping down on the chair. “Until the next one.”

“That captain is a vile man.” Sehild wriggled out of her dress with Odeya’s help. “Thank the heavens he’s gone.”

“Get anything good from him?” asked Odeya.

Yvette unlaced a hidden section of her bustier and two gold coins fell into her waiting palm.

“Madame gave him a hefty bag of gold for you, alright,” she said to Riella.

“You stole that from Artus?” asked the siren.

“Yes.” Yvette gave her a wary look. “What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. I’m glad.”

Yvette’s face relaxed. From the hidden compartment, she also withdrew a battered piece of folded parchment. She opened it and frowned at the contents.

“What’s that?” asked Sehild, lowering herself into the bathtub naked, having arranged her red braids on top of her head to stay dry.

“I thought it might be a title or deed.” Yvette shrugged. “But it’s just some nonsense.”

She tossed it onto the cosmetics bench and began raking her fingers through her thick, unruly curls.

Out of pure curiosity, Riella picked it up. The parchment was indeed covered in nonsense markings and symbols. Except . . . some of them weren’t nonsense to her.

“It’s Shirranis,” she said in wonder. “The ancient language of Shirrani mystics. We studied it during our language lessons with the elders, but we didn’t learn in detail, because it’s too rare. I recognize this symbol, though.” She tapped the parchment. “It means sacrifice. What would Artus be doing with this?”

“Knowing Artus, something bad,” said Yvette with disinterest, scrubbing her face with a dampened washcloth. “You can have it, if you like. I’ve certainly no use for it.”

Riella wasn’t sure she did either, but decided she may as well keep it, if for no other reason than Artus wanted it, and she liked the idea of depriving him of something he wanted.

She’d just stuffed the parchment down the front of her dress when the door banged open without warning. In the threshold stood Madame Quaan, surveying the women with blatant contempt.

“Siren.” She pointed her gloved finger at Riella. “Your turn.”

CHAPTER 9

The house had become crowded while Riella was in the washroom.

Prettily-painted women populated the hallway, chatting and laughing softly to each other. They filed downstairs from the second floor, where they resided. The bawdy laughter of men traveled into the hallway from the other direction, at the bar.

“Our guests are important people,” said Madame Quaan as she walked. “You’ll treat them with the respect they deserve.”

“Oh, I will,” replied Riella.