Chapter 14

Julian

Percival and his brethren are an utter delight, and not just because the entire lot of them are so easy on the eyes. They're both interesting and interested creatures, eager to gain knowledge, just as eager to share their own.

Perfect company for the likes of Cricket and me.

The brothel is in the heart of the city. Through the doors, a wave of perfumed air tickles the nose and disguises the more earthy scent of sex. Everything is lush, soft, and decadent. Each rug, every tapestry, all the furniture.

The den is done in rich jewel tones, colorful and cozy. Plush pillows lie on every surface. Candles light the interior with a warm golden glow that pairs nicely with faerie lights floating along the ceilings.

I've given all who wish to learn the basic lessons in shielding, how to enchant an object for protection, and a simple spell to make oneself slightly less noticeable to a passerby. Hopefully, they'll never need any of it, but I'm glad to have helped if they do.

Afterward, we gather around their parlor with fizzy drinks and an assortment of cakes and treats.

Farsius, who stands out as particularly flirty even in a group of flirty people, casts his piercing blue gaze on Cricket as if he wants my companion for his next snack. When he sees I've noticed, he winks and bites his lip. "Don't suppose one or both of you would like to sample the wears, as it were?"

Percival elbows him. "Leave them be."

"What? A man has to eat, hasn't he?"

"You've had plenty. We know you kept tabs on a certain soldier who's stayed in town."

Farsius ignores him. "And it isn't as if what I offer is worth nothing. The prices men would pay!"

"Yes, but these are guests, not clients. Not food."

"Unless"—Farsius licks his painted lips—"they want to be food."

Cricket and I look at each other. His eyes sparkle with mirth. And with mischief, which must match my own. We silently dare one another, then burst out laughing at the same time.

"What they want," says Percival, gaze darting between us, "is obvious."

"Each other." Farsius purses his lips. "Well, if you change your mind, the more, the merrier."

Cricket looks away, but I can't take my eyes off him. The incubi are right—I do want him—but I can't be sure he wants me. Not with the coin's interference.

"I had been wondering how you'd been handling…you know…since the rebellion," says Cricket. "Didn't think I'd have the chance to find out for myself in carnal detail."

"You know?" I tease him. "If you can't even say it, you definitely partake. Maybe we'll let you watch, right, Farsius?" I return his wink.

"You will not, Jules. And I can say it. I'm just not used to discussing it in public."

"It?" I grin, challenging him.

Cricket groans dramatically. "Sex. I'm not used to talking about sex in a group setting. Or with people I just met." He arches his brows as he mouths the words Or with you.

His cheeks have gone pink. The flush is pretty on him, but then again, Cricket is pretty all the time.

Percival to the rescue. "And here we talk about the beast with two backs so often the topic has grown stale."

"Speak for yourself," says Farsius jovially.

They chuckle, and the conversation drifts on easily. With enough alcohol and sugar, Cricket's likely to be up chattering half the night.

Meanwhile, questions loom large in my mind. Perhaps Hiluron, the older incubus who runs this brothel, might be able to shed some light on a few of them for me.

I catch his gaze and nod toward the open archway from the parlor to a wide hall.

He tips his head, and we both rise.

Cricket glares, curious, but Hiluron puts him at ease. "Could I borrow your sorcerer for a moment? I promise to return him unharmed and fully clothed," he says with a wicked grin.

"He's not my sorcerer." Cricket watches us leave.

Ah, if only I could be.

Ifollow the giant gray incubus, his hips swaying like a mountain cat's, through a hallway and down a set of stairs, his tail swinging behind him. He's dressed like the rest of them, in loose-fitting sheer pants that only cover enough to be decent, body bedecked in jewelry, long lavender hair tied with a piece of black leather at his nape.

Hiluron takes me to what I assume is his personal study. Shelves line the far wall, full of books, scrolls, and trinkets. His desk—suitably large for a man of his size—is made of gleaming dark wood, and papers and quill are stacked neatly in the corner.

He opens his hands. "What can I do for you? I already know it's not sex, not with the way you look at Cricket."

"Is it that obvious?"

"To a sex demon? Yes. To Cricket? Apparently not."

I chuckle sadly. "You're right. It's not sex."

"Have a seat." He gestures to a pair of armchairs in front of the desk. I sit in one, and he takes the other. "What's on your mind?"

Heavy question. My fingers. My wings. Revenge. "Are you aware of the Guild of Dark Waters operating in your city?"

A shadow crosses his face. He frowns and blows out a breath. "I am. I'd hoped they'd been decommissioned, as it were. But no such luck. What is your business with those scoundrels?"

"Not business. Never that. More like morbid curiosity. I owe them a debt or two." I hold up my hands and wiggle my remaining fingers.

"Guildsmen did that to you?"

"One in particular. I intend to pay him back tenfold."

"Dangerous. Why risk it now that the new rules of Luminia have forced them even farther into hiding?"

"My reasons are simple. I swore revenge when I escaped, and I will have it."

"What makes you think I can help?"

"You have eyes and ears in this town. I do not."

"You'll have to go to Irondale."

"Yes, I figured."

Crossing one long leg over the other, he leans back in his chair. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

My mind races as I leave Hiluron's study. I'm so close now I taste revenge on my tongue. Not sweet like they say. But savory and full of flavor. A fine five-course dinner complete with paired wines.

In the parlor, Farsius tells me Cricket has retired and offers to show me to our room.

Room. Singular.

We had every chance to ask for a second, and neither of us did.

"Have a good night," says Farsius, somehow putting more meaning into the word good than I ever thought it could hold.

Should I knock?

No. It's my room too.

But what if he's indisposed?

Ha. As if that's a deterrent. Who am I fooling? Certainly not myself.

I push the door open and step inside.

Cricket startles, glancing up from the bath.

So he is indisposed. Lucky me. Not that we haven't been around each other while bathing in rivers and creeks, but a steamy wooden-barreled bath perfumed with rosewater and vanilla in a private suite?

This feels different.

Intimate. Like I'm not sure if I should turn around and leave…or come closer.

"Jules." My name rises from rosy lips.

Closer it is.