Chapter 4

T he scent of bitter peach, blood orange, and a whiff of sweet vanilla streamed from my skin, my hair flowing in soft waves. My outfit was simultaneously the most scandalously sexy and the most stunning, precious garment I had ever worn. When I first saw myself in the mirror, I couldn't decide if I wanted to tear it off or never wear anything else ever again.

Tiny panties spun from aureate silk barely covered my most private parts, a smooth string nestled between my rear cheeks. My neckholder dress, if one could call it a dress, consisted of fine golden chains interwoven like a fisherman's net, brilliant white gems dangling from them. Tassels of teardrop pearls swung along my thighs, clinking softly with each step as Emily led me through the dilapidated warehouse.

I couldn't have felt more out of place as I strutted through decay on gilded heels, exposed toes wiggling to keep warm.

The air was ripe with mold, and my brow wrinkled while I glanced at cases of dull metal tools and weathered planks. Wind-tattered sails draped over towering crates looking like oddly square ghosts. Spare bits of furniture were scattered in between, stacked chairs, dusty mirrors, and sofas swollen with moisture.

"There is supposed to be a celebration … in here?" I asked and immediately snapped my lips shut, wishing the glossy pink balm Emily had applied would permanently glue them together. At least then I couldn't say more stupid things.

Who was I to question my client's taste? I wasn't paid to judge or whine. I got paid to be pleasant—a task I failed at often enough.

Emily chuckled. "A fair question. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's a very exclusive gathering. Strictly invitation only. This location, one of many warehouses in my employer's possession, was chosen as a cover to keep the privacy of those attending. But I promise you won't have to spend the night between musty sails and broken furnishings."

I swallowed the curiosity lodged in my throat.

Some rich folks were eccentric, but I'd never heard any of the other courtesans talk about a meeting spot this suspicious or a client this secretive—not even the married or influential ones.

Emily approached a gigantic wardrobe standing in front of rows of boxes reaching to the ceiling. Favoring me with a grin, she took a little key from her apron's front pocket and slid it into the closet's lock. A few runes of magic glowed around it and a click sounded. She stowed the key back where it came from, and when she pulled the doors open, my shoulders rose in a gasp.

Two human guards with swords at their hips greeted us. Their chins dipped before making way for us, and Emily laid a hand on my back, urging me forward.

From the outside, the area seemed deceptively small, but the stacked crates were merely a front for a torch-lit, parquet-floored antechamber. It was big enough to accommodate a group of perhaps ten to fifteen people, not accounting for the space taken up by a yawning, pitch-black pit on the opposite side.

A jingling rang from behind, and I twisted around just in time to catch one of the guards locking the door with their own key. I shot an alarmed glance at Emily, but she kept smiling.

"No need to worry, Ellaryth. These are safety measures to protect the guests. Please wait here, I won't be long."

She made straight for the only item in the room, a slim stone pedestal with a circular indentation at the top. As she pushed her thumb into the hollow, the whirring of distant gears stirred.

The ground vibrated, a metallic noise drawing closer. With each passing moment, the buzzing beneath increased, and finally, a dull thunk reverberated through the floor. The pit was no more. A white marble platform filled it, in its middle a sturdy, wooden handrail surrounding another pedestal, though this one had a brightly glowing glass button.

"We're almost there. Come," Emily said, ushering me onto the platform. She guided my right hand to the railing, closing my fingers around it. "Hold on tight. The first time can be a little unnerving."

With a press of the button, the platform surged in a downward motion.

My stomach lurched, and a yelp slipped from my lips. It felt like I was falling, though my feet were planted firmly on the ground. Well, as firmly as they could be with jelly knees.

"Creators, what a hellish, awful contraption!" I cursed, my knuckles blanching as I gripped the guardrail with both hands. "Why would anyone prefer this over stairs?"

Emily gave a snorty, loud laugh. "You get used to it. In fact, you're experiencing a rare technological innovation! This moving platform unites magic and mechanical parts in seamless unity. Few of them have ever been constructed outside of Xar'vath's royal palace."

My client truly must have had more money than sense.

Emily's head tilted as she sucked on the tip of her thumb—the one she'd used to awaken the machine above. The finger slipped from her mouth, leaving a small red streak across her bottom lip, and my brows rose.

"Blood magic?" I blurted out, shuddering involuntarily. "This machine is controlled by blood magic?"

"Another simple safety measure to deter intruders. It isn't controlled by blood magic, but rather guarded by it. This way, only authorized staff whose blood has been bound to the pedestal can use the mechanism. I came up with the idea." She smirked, offering a light, careless shrug. "You know, the more time we spend together, the more I think you'll have no trouble entertaining my employer."

I grimaced. "Excuse me?"

"Most courtesans would say anything to appease their clients. All they'll do is smile and purr and flatter. But you're refreshingly upfront. You wear your heart on your sleeve—and face."

I sputtered.

"That was a rather clumsy compliment. My apologies," Emily continued. "What I meant to say is that my employer despises meek or inauthentic people. But you … you're ideal for the job. He'll adore you."

My puffed chest sunk. I didn't believe a word. She was probably only being nice.

The platform ground to a halt, and Emily hooked my arm under hers. We marched through another vestibule, almost an exact copy of the one upstairs, straight toward wide double doors. Two more guards were posted on either side. They were Elves like me, but in full plate armor, their faces hidden by helmets molded to the pointed shape of their ears. Bowing, the swords at their belts rattling, they threw the doors open, and my breath caught.