Page 25 of The Ragpicker King (Chronicles of Castellane #2)

“,” Audeta whispers. “, come here a moment.”

approaches the other girl hesitantly. She likes Audeta, she always has, but Audeta has a boldness to her that renders her somewhat insensitive to anxiety in others. has been on her guard all night, since Artal Gremont came into the Caravel with some of the other nobles. He’d been laugh-snorting like he often did—he reminds of a horse that way—and slapping Joss Falconet on the back. He gave no sign of having noticed , but she still didn’t wish to risk running into him; her wrist has only just healed. She’d slipped away past Alys’s office instead, where Alys sat closeted with the blond girl from the Hill.

Audeta is lounging in an open doorway, wearing a colorful silk robe and smoking a cheroot. Her hair is down around her shoulders. She winks at as the other girl approaches and stands back, letting have a clear view into the room where Artal Gremont is sprawled on the bed, snoring and... quite naked. He hasn’t a stitch on—not even the gaudy necklace he usually wears.

Audeta blows a smoke circle. “He’s drugged. One of Alys’s brother’s potions. Won’t be awake for hours.”

“What are you going to do to him?” whispers. She knows she can’t wake Artal up, but she can’t help herself.

“We won’t lay a finger on him, scaredy-cat.” Audeta grins. “But Alys said he’ll learn what we’ve done the hard way soon enough.”