Maybe this was an inheritance to be proud of.
“There is one more thing,” he said as a thought occurred to him. “Tell me about Lady Desdra. Is she a muse, too?”
“Nay,” Anosia said, shaking her head. “She could be, and she could make a great deal of money if she wished, but her function has been strictly with the ledgers. Lord Chester depended on her. She knows everything about The Feast. Have you spoken to her yet?”
He shook his head. “Nay,” he said, but then hesitated. “Well, not much, anyway. If she is not a muse like you, why is she even here, I wonder?”
“A debt,” Anosia said.
Jareth’s brow furrowed. “What kind of debt?”
“I do not know,” Anosia said. “But I do know she is here because of a debt. She is a very bright lass, but had an unfortunate upbringing. I have heard her father was not very kind to her, but I do not know more than that.”
Jareth simply nodded. “Thank you for telling me about yourself, Lady Anosia,” he said. “I appreciate your candor.”
Anosia smiled and stood up from the rock, excusing herself now that she’d accomplished what she’d set out to do. As she headed back toward the building, another young woman was heading toward them. This lass had long, curly black hair and blue eyes. She was quite lovely and quite young. She introduced herself as Melaina, and Jareth listened to a second young woman tell him about her place at Aphrodite’s Feast and what it meant to her. Yet one more young woman who seemed to have found a life here, only in Melaina’s case, she was indeed a prostitute, but she did it of her own free will. She did it because she liked to be touched—and she wasn’t shy about telling him.
Jareth sat for about a half-hour, listening to Melaina speak most happily about her life at Aphrodite’s Feast. She loved to dance and sing, and she had a lot of repeat customers. Jareth suspected that it was not only because she was pretty, but she also had a childlike manner about her. She seemed innocent, but she wasn’t. She would do anything for money and wasn’t the least bit sorry about it. It had made her very rich, and she made sure to show him the jewels she wore on her neck and ears. Jewels she had paid for herself. With a happy farewell, she bounded off, being replaced a short time later by a woman named Limenia.
Limenia was different. She wasn’t from England, but from a sunny land somewhere near the Levant. She had beautiful skin, kissed by the sun, with dark hair and flashing, dark eyes. She was calm by nature, speaking of the great artists from her land of birth and of her own paintings. Evidently she was a painter, and took great pride in telling Jareth that it was she who had painted the murals in the room where the great mosaic floor was. She also painted pictures for men who paid her a good deal of money to recreate their homelands or sweethearts based on their descriptions. Sometimes, she would dine with them and have conversations about her home far away, or their homes faraway, but she was an introspective woman who was allowed to create her paintings to her heart’s content.
And on the afternoon went.
When the sun began to hang low in the western sky and the boats were brought in from the river, pulled upon the banks, Jareth was still in his spot overlooking the waterway. He’d spoken to eleven women that afternoon, all of them telling him different stories as to why they’d come to Aphrodite’s Feast. Quite honestly, he was stunned by what he’d heard. It was nothing that he’d expected after everything he’d been told. These were strong women, women who had made a life for themselves any way they could, but in every case, they’d managed to keep their dignity. Even Melaina, who genuinely seemed to like what she was doing. She wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed.
Perhaps if she wasn’t, then Jareth shouldn’t be, either.
It was the strangest thing he’d ever experienced.
“It is getting dark, my lord. Mayhap you should come inside now.”
The soft voice came from behind, and he turned to see Desdra standing behind him. When their eyes met, she forced a smile and he could feel his heart leap.
Just a little.
Just enough.
“In a moment,” he said, thinking his reaction to her odd. “I am enjoying the sunset. Will you sit?”
Desdra went to sit on the same rock that the other ladies had sat upon. It was a few feet away from him and he watched her settle down, noticing the sunlight as it played upon her hair. She had the longest hair he’d ever seen, all the way down to her ankles. He thought it was dark, but as the sun glinted off it, he could see red and gold flecks. Coupled with her pale blue eyes, she was truly a stunning woman.
He’d never seen finer.
“I believe that I owe you an apology,” he said, looking back to the river, to the sunset. “I was quite rude to you earlier and I am sorry. That is not my usual manner.”
“So I am told,” she said. When he looked at her curiously, her smile turned genuine. “Sir Hugh and I had a conversation about you.”
“Whatever he told you, they are lies.”
“He told me good things.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “I should hope so,” he said. “He knows my wrath shall be swift.”
Desdra sensed humor in his statement. “He does not seem to be the fearful type,” she said. “He does, however, seem to be the honest type. He spoke highly of you.”
“What did he say?”
“That you are a fine man,” she said. “He said that you are an elite knight who serves King Henry.”
