Get him aroused, take him to a room. Slice his throat, then stab his heart and his head. Seems like overkill… I snort a nervous laugh at my own pun. But it does strike me as odd that my employer would stipulate those three lethal blows.
I can’t linger here any longer. If I’m not in the parlor when the Captain arrives, he might take Elbeth to bed, or the courtesan with the strawberry-blond hair. I need to be present when he enters the Orchid.
Swiftly I secure the dagger to my upper thigh. The end of the hilt brushes against the pink lace of my panties as I settle my dress back into place. This is the white outfit I wore on my first night at the Orchid; it has been freshly laundered since then, and thankfully the gauzy, layered skirts are just thick enough to conceal the shape of the dagger. Still, I’ll have to be careful not to let anyone brush against that area or run their hand too far up my leg.
One last check of my face in the mirror. I whisk away a few flakes of black eyelash paint from my cheekbones, pat a little more powder onto my nose, and adjust one earring which tends to rotate inward.
I’m ready now. Prepared to kill, not for my mother or my employer, but for myself. For my future.
I’ve never killed anyone, and there’s no one I can ask about it—no one to tutor me in this. It can’t be that difficult, can it?
It’s only bodies, flesh and bone and juices. Means nothing. My mother’s words circle through my mind as I lounge near the bar, one hip propped against the marble countertop. Lamplight glitters on glass and metal, glows on brown arms and pale jeweled throats, highlights laughing lips and dancing fingertips.
I’ve gently turned away two men, hinting that I’m waiting for someone. Elbeth gave me a quizzical look the second time I denied a client, but she’s now preoccupied with a pleasant-faced older gentleman, and she can’t question me. Zadi is sitting on a man’s lap, toying with his wife’s hair, charming them both.
Maybe my employer was wrong. Perhaps the pirate captain isn’t coming here tonight. What if I wait all night and he doesn’t show up? I think I’ll be sick. My nerves are already tightening into noxious coils, poisoning my calm.
I can’t bear this. I can’t do this. I’m going to—
Movement at the parlor entrance catches my eye. A new arrival, accompanied by the hostess, Jorjana—but it’s a pair of black-haired gentlemen—brothers, if I had to guess. Jorjana escorts them into the parlor, then floats back toward the foyer.
While Legayle is the caretaker for the girls and the manager of the servants at The Royal Orchid, Jorjana acts as the greeter for guests. From what Bess told me, Jorjana is around my mother’s age, but quality food and frequent access to a healer make her look much younger. Zadi whispered once that Jorjana services the house-masters themselves—men I haven’t seen since I arrived. I’m not even sure how many house-masters there are, nor have I heard their names…
All thoughts of the house-masters flee my head, because Jorjana is re-entering the parlor, and the man beside her wears a gorgeous coat trimmed with gold thread and decorated with fringed epaulets. Beneath the open coat I glimpse a white shirt and dark pants, tucked into glossy black boots.
This man is young and handsome, with a freshly-washed, newly-shaven look about him. He’s lightly tanned, and his brown hair has threads of blond, coaxed out by days in the sun.
This must be the pirate captain, though he doesn’t look quite as I expected. I’ve seen pirates before—greasy, hairy, wearing a myriad of chains and medallions around their necks, fingers strung with rings, leathery skin marked with tattoos. This man has neither tattoos nor jewelry—just a pair of very fine boots and a magnificent coat—and a feathered hat, which he sweeps off and twirls on one hand. When a servant comes forward to take it, he smoothly passes her a coin.
At Jorjana’s encouraging gesture, the Captain saunters forward, surveying the room with an air of saucy confidence—almost over-confidence. I know that forcedly casual swagger, that brashness—I’ve faked that sort of boldness myself. This is a man who doesn’t quite belong, and is very anxious to convince everyone that he does.
The Captain notices Elbeth’s ample figure, her lush curves commanding the older gentleman’s attention. A shadow of disappointment passes over his face. Then he glances at the strawberry-blond courtesan, who is heading upstairs with a client.
This is definitely the man I’m waiting for—the one obsessed with redheads. He looks as if he’s resigning himself to wait on the strawberry-blonde or Elbeth—until he notices me, standing by the bar.
Shock and admiration flare in his gaze, immediately followed by a look of determined hunger.
My heart thumps heavily as he strides toward me.
Rapist. Kidnapper. Seller of children. It’s difficult to believe those things of this young man. But I’ve seen handsome, innocent faces before. They can hide wicked hearts just as easily as an ugly, care-worn visage.
I turn away, running my fingertip along the rim of my wine-glass. We’re allowed to drink a little, just not enough to muddle our heads. Usually the bartender dilutes the courtesan’s drinks with juice or mineral water, so we can appear to indulge along with the clients while not consuming too much alcohol.
The Captain comes up beside me, leans both forearms on the bar. “You’re new.” His voice is low and warm, with a hint of roughness, as if the salt winds have scraped his throat during the voyage. Or perhaps he has shouted one too many orders aboard ship.
“I’m Fire-Rose,” I murmur. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Captain.”
His brows pull together. “How do you know I’m a captain?”
“The hat, and the coat.” I give him a coy sidelong smile.
“Ah, of course.” He clears his throat and lowers his voice. “Actually, I’m not only a captain. I’m a lord.”
“A lord?”
“Pirate Lord,” he says confidentially. “The title was bestowed on me by the Pirate King himself. Of course I don’t go about proclaiming that in this city. The Seven Kingdoms aren’t always friendly to my kind.”
It’s not unusual for guests to spill their secrets to courtesans. Bess told me I must always be ready to accept confidences and to guard them. There is a policy at The Royal Orchid, that all secrets are safe here. No doubt that’s one more reason the Captain frequents this place—it’s a haven where he can boast about his achievements to pretty women.
“What a dangerous and exciting life you must lead,” I say in my most breathless, admiring tone. “What kind of cargo do you carry?”
“All sorts. Wine, silks, jewels, soaps, weapons, spices, fruit, livestock—”
“Livestock?” I echo. The masked gentleman’s accusation rings in my mind. Slaver. Child seller.
“Last port we stopped in, I sold a flock of sheep. Some very pretty lambs among them, too.”
He’s referring to the children he sold. He must be. Or they are literal lambs—I have no way of knowing for sure, and I despise the uncertainty. Not that it matters whether I think him innocent or not. I have to kill him either way.
The Captain looks to the bartender and taps his fingers on the countertop. “I’ll have a—”