Princess Taya proved to be endlessly mercurial. The next day she was as pleasant to Katin as could be, as if their little contretemps had never happened, and suggested that Katin might soon be given a chance to go outside. But the day after, she made no mention of it, nor the day after that. When Katin asked again whether Edon had left yet, Taya said sweetly that she mustn’t be impatient.
Each night, Katin found herself unable to sleep and crept out to the balcony once Taya dozed. She sat in the chilling breeze, a spare blanket wrapped around her, watching the moon’s smiling crescent set. She would nap in the daytime, in Taya’s bed, when the princess was gone. Once she was startled awake by the old maids when they came in to tidy up, and nearly cursed at them before she remembered to act stupid. They made her sit in the corner while they cleaned, and shook their heads as they closed the door behind them.
The sun was well into its downward slide one afternoon, when something tickled Katin’s nose as she lay on Taya’s bed. She inhaled deeply and realized that it was smoke. Wood smoke.
Katin went out into the antechamber. The maids were nowhere to be seen, but the smell of smoke was stronger here. She sniffed around until she came to the locked servants’ door. Here the smell was strongest. She put her face to the doorframe. She could hear nothing, and there was no heat. Is there a fire in there? She couldn’t open it, but…
When she opened the door to the outer hall, the two guards there spun to face her. One leered at her wispy silk gown, but the other’s eyebrows raised in alarm. “You, get back in there!” he said.
“I thought I smelled something,” Katin said, letting her eyes glaze over. “Do you smell something?” She sniffed for emphasis.
The guard paused, and sniffed as well. “Smoke?” He turned his gaze on her. “What did you do, stupid girl?”
“I smelled something,” she repeated blankly.
The guard brushed past her, ordering his partner to watch her. This he did, looking her up and down with a grin. “Pity the princess can’t make proper use of you,” he purred.
She wanted to hit the lout, but just stared. “Huh?”
“Eain!” came a shout from within. “There’s a fire in the servant’s passage. Raise the alarm!”
Katin looked into the antechamber. The servants’ door was open now, and smoke poured out of it. The leering guard ran off down the corridor, shouting “Fire! Fire!”
Guards and servants came running within minutes, bearing buckets of water. Katin backed away from Taya’s rooms to let them in. I could flee now, she thought. They’ll all be distracted. But to where? The gate guards weren’t going to abandon their posts, and she was several floors up and halfway around the palace from the front gate. Maybe she could find somewhere to hide, as Amira had, and escape through the same sewer tunnel… although Amira had told the queen about that, so maybe that way out had been since barred.
She sensed someone moving behind her, and turned.
Liam.
She gasped, and he grabbed her wrists, quick as lightning, before she could embrace him. “Hush, girl, it’s all right, they’ll put out the fire. You’ll be safe, understand?”
Katin felt tears welling up, and bit her lip. Liam kept talking, barely a whisper. “They’ll move the princess to temporary chambers, and you with her. Lower in the palace, and easier to reach.”
She gazed at him. His hair had been cut quite short, and he had a beard now, well-trimmed, jutting out where his chin did. His mouth was uncovered, and his lips she remembered well. It took her a moment to notice his servants’ tunic, the royal sigil on the breast and… a horseshoe below it? How had he gotten into the palace? How had he found her?
“You’re in the stables?” she whispered. He released her arms, and she had to cross them tightly to stop herself from grabbing him.
He nodded. “I will get you out of here. Be on the balcony the night after tomorrow, at midnight.” He stepped back a little and scrunched his face into a glower. “Leave me be, harlot,” he said loudly, then turned and left. She wanted to laugh at the serious expression on his face, but there were too many people around. Instead, she granted herself a few seconds’ smile, hiding it behind her hand, then stilled her face and turned to watch the bucket brigade that had formed.
Taya’s two old maids erupted through the crowd, faces pink with exertion. When they saw Katin standing exposed out in the hall, they nearly had conniptions, and dragged her back into Taya’s chambers at once. Alone again, Katin buried her face in a pillow and screamed with joy.
———
The fire had started from a candle carelessly knocked behind a shelf in the servants’ ways. The whole of the apartments were wood and painted plaster, and there was some damage to the princess’s wardrobe.
As Liam had predicted, Taya’s residence was moved wholesale to a smaller, less ornate set of apartments two floors down, so that repairs could be undertaken. Katin was kept in Taya’s old sun room until the dead of night, when one of the maids turned up carrying an ill-fitting servants’ dress. There were few eyes to see them as they went to the new rooms.
Taya was in a foul mood the next morning, muttering about careless servants and what a disaster it would have been had she been present. She never seemed to consider that Katin had actually been present, and in more danger than anyone, but by now Katin expected no less of her.
The princess was gone the whole day. Katin risked going out onto the balcony. It was only one story above the gardens below; too far to jump, but perhaps if she had a rope of some kind… It would still not do to be seen, so Katin went back inside after only a few minutes, and spent the rest of the day looking through Taya’s wardrobe, wondering how she might fashion a rope out of the clothes there.
The next evening, Katin tingled with excitement. She would sneak out onto the balcony again once Taya was asleep. Perhaps Liam would scale down from a balcony above, to carry her off into the night. She had to be ready.
Taya and Juliet had gone to an evening reception for some nobles, but it had grown quite late, and they had not yet returned. When a distant bell tolled eleven, Katin’s worry intensified. If Taya returned at the wrong moment…
Half an hour later came the sound of footsteps, and then a door opening. Laughter. Katin climbed off Taya’s bed and sat on a chair. She waited, tense as a drawn bowstring.
Several minutes passed before the bedchamber door opened and Taya stumbled in. Juliet followed, smiling for once. What in the black spirits could make that girl grin so? Taya was clearly drunk, her gown half off one shoulder, her hair mussed. “I do believe th’ count got th’ message,” Taya slurred, cackling.
Katin stood and waited for Taya to notice her. The princess finally glanced at her, and waved a hand cheerily. “Oh, my dear, what a wonderful night!” She hiccuped and laughed again.
“Your highness,” Katin said, bowing. As drunk as she was, Katin hoped Taya would be abed soon.
But the princess instead danced around to some unheard tune, taking Juliet and then Katin and whirling them about. “We should have th’ musicians up here!” Taya exclaimed.
“I fear they’ve left the palace by now, your highness,” Juliet said. She was quite sober, but still hardly frowned even when Taya danced with Katin.
“Pish,” Taya slurred. “Fetch ’em back. I command it.”
“Don’t be silly,” Juliet said, becoming less amused.
“Am I your mistress ’r not?” Taya shouted. “Go!”
Juliet seemed taken aback. Katin held her breath; she’d seen the two women argue before. She could never guess in advance whose will would win out. But this time, Juliet let out a tense breath and bowed. “Yes, your highness.” With an unreadable glance at Katin, she left.
Taya kicked off her shoes and padded over to Katin. “I fancy a foot rub,” she said, and pushed Katin into her chair. The princess pulled up her own chair and plopped into it, setting her feet on Katin’s knees.
The remaining minutes dwindled as Katin pushed and rubbed at the pr
incess’s feet. She tried to keep herself from staring at the balcony door, but her eyes would not obey her. Taya prattled on about some foppish count who had spent the whole evening making eyes and lewd suggestions at her.
It would be midnight soon. Katin’s pulse raced. She had to get outside. She looked at the bed, wishing Taya would get in it already. The covers were rumpled, the product of a pre-dinner dalliance with Juliet. How long would Taya’s vala be gone?
If Taya didn’t go to bed soon… well, Katin could simply choose to do nothing. Liam would not find her waiting, and she would be stuck here. Who knew if Liam would ever get another chance? No. She had to do it. She could not merely hide and hope everything would turn out all right. Not this time. She had to get out of here. She’ll use you, rang Juliet’s voice in her memory.
Her hand slowly crept up Taya’s leg, massaging her calf and then her thigh, fading into a gentle caress. The princess had slouched into her chair, but now her head came up and she stared, surprised, at Katin.
“Your highness’s vala will be gone a while…” Katin said.
Taya’s eyebrows almost climbed off her face. “Well, how unexpected,” Taya said. “I think y’may be right.” She stood and led Katin over to the bed.
“Wait, your highness,” Katin said. “I have an idea.” She reached back to those days in the brothel, and gave her most lascivious grin. Her insides were a black pit, but she could not let that show. She went into the wardrobe and found the silk ribbons she’d seen there once. She fetched a handful and brought them out.
Taya had taken the opportunity to remove most of her clothes. She wore only her shift now, but had hiked it up around her hips, and Katin jerked to a halt when she saw Taya pleasuring herself. Katin forced herself to smile, and held up the ribbons.
“What’re those for?” Taya asked when she saw them.
Katin climbed into the bed and pressed a finger against Taya’s lips to silence her. She took Taya’s wrist, wrapped a ribbon around it, and bound her to the bedpost. Taya gasped and giggled. “How wicked,” she murmured.
Katin felt arousal as well, but she knew it was only her body’s base reaction. She wanted to find something heavy and hit Taya with it. Instead she hastily bound Taya’s other hand. The princess moaned now, squirming in anticipation.
But her tone changed when Katin ripped the sleeve off the princess’s discarded dress, twisted it into a gag, and wrapped it around Taya’s mouth. The princess grew confused, and then angry. But she could say nothing, only muffled grunts emitting from behind the gag. Katin had to dodge aside when the princess tried to kick her.
Midnight would come any minute now. Katin had to get out onto the balcony—
Footsteps, and a door closing. Juliet! Katin leapt off the bed and rushed over to the door. The room was lit by wall sconces, but there were also candlesticks. Katin grabbed one and blew out the candle.
“Your highness, I couldn’t—” Katin swung the candlestick into the back of Juliet’s head, knocking her to the floor. Katin felt much worse about hurting the vala than she had about merely tying up the princess. Juliet was possibly the angriest person Katin had ever met, but she did not inspire revulsion like Taya did.
Juliet was not unconscious; she moaned in pain as she lay on the floor. Katin grabbed her arms and dragged her to the bed, where she used the rest of the ribbons to tie the vala to one of the bed’s legs and gag her as well. “I am very sorry,” she whispered to Juliet.
She stood and looked at the princess again. Taya’s eyes held poison. Katin said nothing and turned away. She wrapped a spare blanket around herself and went to the balcony door.
A chill breeze slithered through the blanket and her gown as she stood out in the night, waiting, tense. Would Liam come? Had she just signed her own death warrant? She could hardly see, even when her eyes adjusted to the dimness. The gardens below were as dark as pitch. She leaned over the railing and looked again.
A shadow moved. Or was it her imagination? She had to risk it. “Liam!” she hissed.
“Katin!” came the reply. “Catch!” The darkness shifted, and Katin jerked back as something slapped her in the face. She grabbed it before it could fall again: a thick rope, knotted at the end. She tied the rope around the railing and wrapped the blanket around her hands. Going over the railing took a great deal more nerve than she thought she had, but finally she flung her legs over and took the rope in her blanket-wrapped hands. She slid down much faster than she thought she would, the blanket protecting her hands from friction burns.
Liam caught her as she landed, and she reflexively embraced him, clinging tight. When she drew her head back to look at him, he smiled and quickly kissed her, his whiskers poking her lips. She was startled, but did not object. “Little time to lose. Come on.”
He led her behind a hedge, to a door that let back into the palace. Liam carried a small sack, and when they were hidden again, he pulled a blue woolen dress from it. Not servants’ dress at all, but an ordinary dress. “Change,” he commanded in a whisper, and she was too nervous to question him. She had her wispy silk gown half off before she realized he was still watching her, but it was too dark to see much. Being ogled by the man who’d come to rescue her was the least of her worries.
Liam produced two silver hair clips in the shape of butterflies and had her put them on. Her hair was not too messy, combed as for bed. Liam seemed satisfied when the clips were in place, and led her onward.
They were in the servants’ ways, under one of the stone towers. Katin wanted so badly to ask Liam how he had found her, how he had arranged their escape, where they were going; but any delay could mean death. They turned, and turned again, and Liam said, “Ah-ha, here we are—”
He came around a corner and collided with a servant who was walking the other direction, a chubby young man with dark hair and a confused expression. For the briefest of moments, he hesitated. Then his eyes went wide and he shouted, “Guards—!”
Liam struck the man in the face, then crashed into him, knocking him over. By the time they landed, the valo had plunged his dagger into the man’s chest. Liam clamped his hand over the man’s mouth to muffle his screams. The servant gurgled and flailed his arms uselessly under Liam’s weight. Liam drew the dagger out and stabbed twice more, eliciting a jerk from the man each time.
Katin bit her hand to keep from shouting. She had seen death before, on the streets of Cleavesport, in the field before Foxhill Keep, but never with such savagery. Liam knelt on the servant until he twitched and died, then drew out his dagger, wiped it on the man’s tabard, and sheathed it. “Come on.”
Katin took his hand. Liam had gotten a spot of blood on his pant leg, but it would be hard to see in the darkness. She began to feel grief for the poor man who had just died. But the risk was too great. She blinked away tears.
Up a flight of stairs, they came out into a hallway lined with tapestries. Darkness reigned here, with only a stand-lamp at one end providing faint illumination. They went out through a narrow door, and Katin gasped when she recognized the coachyard. There was the gate!
The man-sized sally port to the left of the gate had a guard shack just inside it, hard against the wall, warm yellow light spilling from its window. Two guards stood watch there, and there were no doubt more men inside the shack. The sally port itself was shut and barred, not with a wooden bar one could lift, but a metal bar that slid out of the palace’s wall and secured the door firmly in place.
Liam stopped her when the shack came in sight, and turned to whisper at her. “Listen. You are a prostitute.”
Her stomach dropped. “How did you kn—” she gasped, just as he said, “I’m smuggling you—what?”
“Nothing. Go on.” Oh, by Despair! What have I done? His eyes glinted with reflected light from the shack, and moments passed, but he said, “I’m smuggling you out after you came to service Duke Terilin Faroa, but he rejected you. Understand? Say nothing unless it can’t be helped.” He grabbed her arm and pulled, roug
her than she thought would be necessary for any ruse. She had no choice but to stumble along.
Liam’s face was stormy when the light illuminated it. The guards saw him coming, and one stepped forward, holding up a hand. “Who goes there—oh, you.” He stared at Katin for a moment, but just a moment. “The duke’s done already?”
“He didn’t like her,” Liam said. “Open the gate.”
The guard tsked and held his hand out, palm up. “First things first.”
Liam fished into his pocket, drawing out a handful of silver. He dropped two coins into the hand of each guard, then made to pass. The chief guard stopped him with an arm across the chest. “Seems to me our silence’s worth more’n that.” He showed yellowing teeth.
Katin felt Liam tense, but there was no choice. Whatever arrangement he’d made, they’d changed it, and they had the swords. He dumped more silver into their palms, until finally one of the guards leaned in through the shack’s window and spoke some quiet words. A creak and a groan, and the metal bar drew back. The first guard pushed the door open and nearly shoved Liam and Katin through it, out into the Great Square, and freedom.
———
It was a long, cold walk down the Way of Trade. Callaston didn’t technically have a curfew, but the city constables patrolled at all hours, and in the dark they’d accost anyone they felt like. Twice Liam pulled Katin into a dark alcove when they heard footsteps approaching. She clutched him, feeling his heartbeat, savoring his warmth and dreading the conversation to come.
He led them to a dingy hostel called the Sailor’s Delight. He had to pound on the door to be let in, and the rheumy-eyed owner answered it in his nightrobe, glaring and cursing, only quieting down when Liam gave him a copper for his trouble.
At long last, with the door to his room shut and the lamp lit, Katin let out a mighty sob, embracing Liam and showering his chest with her tears. He held her close and said nothing. After a minute he guided her to sit on the bed.
“How did you find me?”
“I had to put together some gossip. First was that Edon had brought a woman back from Hedenham with him and stashed her in the dungeon. Second, Taya’s bedgirl was on every tongue—pardon the pun. They said she was some idiot girl. I figured you might be both of them.” He wasn’t meeting her eyes.
“So you set the fire to get a chance to talk to me.” Suddenly she was angry. “You didn’t know for certain it was me, did you? I could have been hurt, or burned alive! What if it really had been some idiot girl, too stupid to escape, burning to death because of you?”
His cheeks reddened. “Would you rather I’d not tried at all? I didn’t even know for sure that you were in the palace. Maybe Edon had left you in a shallow grave somewhere.” He stopped, looking down at his hands. “Were you her bedgirl?”
Katin gaped. He’s worried about that, of all things? “Of course not! It was a ruse, to hide me from Edon. And to cover the fact that Taya’s vala is her bedgirl.”
Liam drew back, stunned. “The royals really do think they can get away with anything, don’t they?”
Katin shrugged. “I’m just glad to be gone from there. That vala of hers is almost as mad as her mistress.” She gulped and told Liam what she’d had to do to escape.
His eyebrows climbed almost as high as Taya’s had. “I’d like to have seen the look on her face,” Liam said, grinning.
“It wasn’t funny at the time,” Katin said.
“So why did Taya want to hide you from Edon?” His grin disappeared. “What did she want with you?”
“She…” Katin hadn’t thought her stomach could fall any further. She was glad she hadn’t eaten in hours. “She wanted to know about Amira. About why Edon wanted her so badly.”
Liam’s eyes widened. “You know why?”
I told the likes of Taya. How could I hide it from Liam? And so she told him everything she’d told the princess, although Liam was stunned and asked many fewer questions. By the time she finished, he was up and pacing around the little bedroom.
“Tell me Amira cannot do the monstrous things Edon can.”
“No! Her power is much weaker, and it is just a tool, no more. Edon was a monster even before any of this happened. Amira is good, you know it. You know her.”
“I thought I did.” He shook his head, leaning against the wall for a moment. “If only we’d known…”
“Blame me if you must. I swore her to secrecy. Can you imagine if we’d explained this power months ago? Before going to Hedenham, before the summer ball?”
Liam chuckled, his eyes crinkling a little. “Dardan would have had conniptions, in that contained way of his.” He mimicked his master, shaking violently while trying to hold very still. Katin laughed, for what felt like the first time in memory. Liam sat down on the bed next to her, and took her hands, laughing as well.
“How did you arrange our escape?” she asked when her mirth subsided.
“Ah, well, the plan was to bring one woman in, and later take one woman out, only not the same woman.” Liam blushed. “I had to visit, ah, quite a number of… establishments… to find a woman who resembled you.”
Katin’s grin vanished. “What of her? Is she still in the palace?”
Liam shrugged. “Indeed, although by now I’m sure Duke Faroa is trying to explain to his wife that he has no idea who the girl is. I told her to arrive at his door at half past midnight, with a silver for each guard. I put her in a matching dress to what you wear now, with the same silver clips.” He reached up and took them out of her hair. Here, where there was more light, she could see that they were only iron that had been painted silver. “She looked similar enough that I hoped the guards would think I was bringing her back out again.”
“She’ll be whipped, you realize,” Katin said. “Duke Faroa will want to prove he knew nothing of her.”
“Yes, well, I… I had to get you out of there.” His face closed up a bit. “What was that you said, in the yard, when I started explaining how you were to pretend to be a prostitute?”
No. No no no no. She’d prayed he’d forget, but the man was too canny. Telling him about Amira’s power was one thing, but this…
He must have seen the desperation in her face, for he took her hands in his again and leaned in. “Katin. Katin, look at me.” She did, gazing into his deep brown eyes. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. There is nothing you can say that will change that. Unless you’re actually Prince Edon in a wig.” She snorted despite herself, but the dread came back.
I love you. He’d never said that before. Men had claimed it, men she’d barely known, but Liam had never said it… until he’d proved it. Her own feelings about him were muddled. She’d thought he was dead; even before that, she’d never let herself really care for him. Or maybe she had, and denied it to herself.
She could not be ungrateful. He’d done her a good turn. A great turn. She owed him. Anxiety like she’d never known clawed at her innards. It almost caused her physical pain. I owe him.
The first word was the hardest. “You must promise me you will never repeat this to anyone. You cannot even tell Amira you know, if we ever do find her again, unless I allow it.” Liam nodded, his frown showing his confusion.
She took a deep breath and let it out, then another and another, until she felt calm enough to speak. “Amira and I lived in Cleavesport when Valmir Estaile found us. That much is true. But… Amira is not the daughter of a silk merchant. And I… I’m not anyone’s daughter. I was an orphan.” She bit her lip. “Orphaned girls only have one use in a town like Cleavesport.”
She couldn’t even say the word, but she didn’t have to. Liam grasped her meaning at once. “You… you were a prostitute?” Katin shut her eyes and turned away. She’d scream if she saw betrayal on his face. “What about Amira? Her as well?”
“No!” Her voice trembled. “No… She was—is—the daughter of the woman who owns the… establishment.”
“Where you sold your body to men,” he said flatly
.
Now she looked at him and bristled. “And you’ve never been to a brothel, I suppose?”
Liam’s mouth worked for a moment. “I… Yes. I suppose I have.” All his humor was gone now. “But you—”
“I had no choice. It was safety and security.” Her face had grown hot. She was surprised to find that she was angry, not embarrassed. “Should I have stayed on the streets for the sake of your pride? Is a used girl not good enough for you?”
“No! I mean, yes. I mean, it doesn’t matter, of course! I just… I did not suspect this, not at all. It will take some getting used to.” But he let go of her hands and stood. “Are there any other surprises in store? Are you really Prince Edon in a wig?”
“No, and no.”
“Then tell me your story. Please.” Liam leaned against the wall again. He’d given her some space; or was the space for him?
———
Karen was a quiet little girl. Her mother died when she was four. Who knew who her father was? No other relations were found, and Cleavesport had no orphanage. The count did not believe in them. He claimed they only encouraged people to breed irresponsibly.
Karen fell in with a crowd of other street urchins who prowled the docks and alleys of Cleavesport, stealing and begging and running games and tricks, just to gather enough to eat. They squatted on the rooftops and in the attics and cellars of the goodfolk.
But Karen was small and weak. She was knocked around by the bigger boys. None of the others would help her, or protect her from their taunts, their fists. One day, a few years later—when she was a little bigger—she stabbed one of them with a shard of glass and ran away.
She hid. She came out at night, to scavenge and forage, a ghost in the streets, silent and invisible as a shadow in the dark. She came to know some of the locals, the shop owners, the goodwives and servants who lived in the poorest parts of town that Karen haunted. They took pity on her, giving her scraps or a copper here and there, or letting her sweep rooms for a hot meal. Some even offered her a place to sleep, but that took more trust than Karen had.
She grew bigger. She saw men start looking at her in ways that made her uncomfortable. She learned a little bit about what men and women did together, and thought it sounded horrifying.
She drifted to a nicer part of Cleavesport, begging for change, looking for loose purses, or unwatched merchandise in market stalls. In one market in particular, she saw a plump blonde woman, pretty but gone a little fat. The woman turned piercing eyes upon her. Karen ran.
She saw the woman again the next day, at a wagon that sold hot skewered pork. The woman sat on a stool and set down two plates. After a moment she caught Karen’s eye and patted an empty stool next to her.
Something kept Karen from running. She shuffled over, moved the stool a few feet away, and sat down. “Who’re you?”
“My name is Lucy,” the woman said. “Lucy Marks.”
Karen learned that Lucy owned a brothel, a place where men paid women to lie with them. Lucy said that her girls were treated well, and offered Karen safety: a bedroom of her own; food; clean clothing. In exchange, Karen would cook and clean and fetch and serve, and when she came of age, she would join the other girls, and lie with men for money, some of which Karen would keep, and some of which would go to Lucy.
“Of age” was years away. Karen had never had to think past the next day, and had never had more than two coppers to rub together. It seemed like something out of a story. Karen’s instinct was to run and hide in her dusty attic. But this once she told her instinct to be quiet, and Lucy told her where to find the brothel.
Karen was taken in, and good to her word, Lucy gave her a bedroom—shared with other girls, but that was all right, for they were friendly and smelled nice—and food and clothing, as promised. And in addition, Lucy gave her a new name: Katin Berisha, in the Elibander style. All the girls had Elibander names; it made them sound like noblewomen, which enticed men and made them willing to pay more. Berisha, she was told, was an ancient Garovan queen, renowned for her beauty.
Almost immediately, Karen—Katin—met Lucy’s daughter, Amira. Amira was a year older than Katin, and it was made clear at once that Amira would never lie with men for money. Lucy was training her to run the brothel, so that she would inherit it when Lucy passed on.
Amira and Katin became fast friends. Amira never asked anything of Katin beyond companionship. They talked in the halls, they gossiped late at night, they peeked at the brothel’s lounge from the balcony above and whispered jests about the lecherous men down below.
Amira had been raised, mostly by servants, in a town house a short distance away. Lucy had scrimped and saved and connived her way to owning the brothel, insisting that her daughter would never have to work on her back the way Lucy had. Men called it a crime, for Amira was far more beautiful than any of the other girls.
A few years passed. Amira grew ever more radiant, and the day when Katin would first lie with men grew closer. And then, one day, when Katin was sixteen, Lucy told her that it was time.
Katin did not elaborate on that. There was no point, and anyway Liam did not ask. She skipped ahead to the day the following winter when Valmir Estaile had first set foot in the establishment. Like all men, he sought only companionship for the evening, but when he saw Amira he was struck dumb. He asked for her, and was refused by Miss Lucy. He returned the next day and offered double the usual price, but again he was rebuffed. Each time he came back, and was told he would have to make do with another girl, no matter how much he offered for Amira.
Finally, at the break of spring, he returned one last time, accompanied by a nervous trade agent. They ensconced themselves with Miss Lucy, and Valmir offered to marry Amira, proving his worth with documentation of his extensive wealth and holdings. She would have more money and comfort than Lucy could ever hope to offer her, and in exchange, Valmir would gain a beautiful, vivacious, and thoroughly charming wife, whom he could show off to his friends and business partners.
Lucy took the offer to her daughter. Amira might be flighty and impulsive, but she was no fool. She accepted the offer straight away, on the single condition that Katin become her maid.
Lucy was furious. Katin was a steady earner for the brothel; not in high demand, but not often idle. Katin sat and listened as Amira and her mother battled over her fate. Amira finally went to Valmir herself, and convinced him to pay something akin to a bride price—a year’s earnings—for Lucy to release Katin. A princely sum to her, but mere pocket change to Valmir.
And so Katin had become Amira’s maid, until Valmir and his wife had been granted peerage. At Amira’s insistence, Valmir paid for vala training for Katin.
“And then he died so suddenly, from the galloping cough.” Katin shuddered, remembering the man who had helped free her. There had been no love between him and Amira, just an amiable partnership. They both got what they wanted. Did I?
She slumped a little, fatigue settling on her like a cloak. “We meant no harm by this deception,” she insisted. “That life was left behind us, and it was one we never chose. You must not tell Dardan. Amira might one day tell him, but that is her decision.”
Liam stared away for a long minute. “It may not matter. For all we know, Dardan is dead, or they’ve fled across the sea, and we’ll never hear from them again.” He rubbed his eyes. “We need to rest. Half the night is gone, and we must leave the city the instant the gate opens. Taya will not be pleased with either of us, especially once my ruse is discovered.” Or that poor servant you killed. Katin shook that thought off as Liam continued. “Which by now it probably has been. At least we don’t have to worry about Edon.”
“What? What do you mean?”
Liam stared. “No one told you? Edon and his army rode for Vasland a week ago.”
Katin clenched her jaw. Taya had let her believe that she was still protecting Katin from Edon, that she could not be set free. One more reason to hate that family.
They would need to ri
se in a few hours. Liam blew out the lamp, and they lay down in the narrow bed. Katin would have let him bed her, if he’d asked, but he merely held her until he fell asleep.
Katin hated to ask the Caretaker for help, but tonight she set aside her pride and made a prayer to the Aspect of Chaos that the morning would find them leaving Callaston, and not returning to the palace in chains.
CHAPTER 21
AMIRA