Elysia dropped the hairpin into a drawstring pouch, careful not to cut herself, and knotted it tightly. There were some doors in Kava that not even Elysia had dared sneak, buy, or trade her way into, and the House Gardenia was one of them.
The House Gardenia had a very particular guest list. Curious and frustrated that she had not received an invitation, Elysia had studied who came and went from the House for years. Followedpeople in. Followed them back home. She had found that the Doorman curated the guest list based on vice and value.
What was it you really wanted? And what were you willing to give up?
A guest’s first evening—the night their invitation indicated they should arrive—tended to be a wicked, unforgettable thing. An evening personalized to your own shadowed tastes. Cost determined upon departure. That was the gamble of the House.
Some people couldn’t stay away after that. Others never stepped foot in twice.
On any regular evening, every manner of delight or horror could be found within its walls. One need only whisper their longings to the Doorman and for the right price they would deliver. Secret loves, secret pains. They were the same, really.
The most important rule of the House was silence. Without it, there would be no House. People of every class and order visited the House, all with the expectation of a secret night that no one would ever be the wiser to. The person next to you might work beside the king, or just as easily be the woman who scrubbed his floors. Either way, to divulge identity or happenings was strictly forbidden.
This was the part that Elysia still did not understand.No one ever told.Something happened between entrance and exit that it was truly rare anyone ever broke this rule.
The ones who did? They were found with their eyes blank and bodies bloated by the sea. Dead and branded with the House’s crest.
It was brutal. Enough to scare the soot off of you. But she didn’t buy it. People weren’t made for secrets. It went against their nature. Always wanting to drop a little gossip, chat over a morning brew. The average person was far too stupid and arrogant to keep their mouth shut even when faced with thethreat of death. Especially if they had just seen their neighbor fuck a stranger in a bird mask.
Now, the Doorman of the House Gardenia was something of a legend.
For each hand selected guest, the House gifted a precious bauble. A token of entry, if you will. It was the Doorman’s privilege and requirement to know the exact design, color, and shape of them all. Years of little treasures stored in finite memory.
People worried the House would fall if the Doorman ever did. Someone like that was bound to have enemies. It seemed a reckless, foolish system. But Elysia doubted this would happen.
For when did the House ever truly lose?
Chapter 10
Night stretched its fingers,slowly pushing back the day’s burnt umber skies. Without pause, the ashes fell like rain, misting over the smoldering remains of the sun and disappearing into the swaths of night. At this hour, the world was a smog-ridden dream. In a strange way, it felt as though she could slip into its folds and disappear.
That was just wishful thinking, though. Elysia hadn’t even seen Topp yet, and her heart was threatening to explode. She rubbed her neck, her throat tight and hot with anxiety. She’d been dodging him more and more over the last few months. Easy enough when he’d been gone, working in other parts of Kava. But lately, he’d been home.
She’d done her best to see him during the day. Tried to keep her midnight escapes to a minimum. She blamed the unavoidable departures from his bed on early mornings with her father. But he wasn’t buying it anymore. His cunning green eyes had finally latched onto her bizarre behavior and he wanted answers. Elysia felt a chill run over her arms—she would just have to stay. Pick a day next week and stay. Stare at the ceiling all night and refuse to sleep.How in the world do you plan to marry him?
Fear gripped her chest. She was getting ahead of herself. All she had to do was get through tonight. She was an expert at hiding right in front of people, she reminded herself. The problem was, none of the people she hid from werehim.
She swallowed and stepped in front of her mirror. Iron vines crawled and bloomed into the flowers that Kava could not have along the floor-length mirror’s edge. She stood, twisting this way and that to see her work. Wide straps met a sweetheart neck, the dark green silk flowing down and pooling around her feet. And the woman in the reflection stared back, eyes dark enough to hide the turmoil within.
Elysia let the door of her building fall heavy behind her, tugging on the bronze handle until the stubborn wood finally wedged itself all the way closed. Pulling her black cloak a little tighter, she stuck her face into the swell of frosted air and set off.Showtime.
Topp had offered to send a carriage, but she’d declined. She wanted as many people to see her as possible tonight. Hood down and ears stinging with cold, she lingered as she walked, making sure to stop for quick hellos and dropping empty promises for drinks.
By the time she arrived at the Boar’s Bones and slunk her way to the table, her nose and ears had been bitten a rosy pink. While the blush staining her cheeks originated from the ever present chill, the ruddy tinge high on Topp’s wide cheekbones was undoubtedly thanks to the dwindling gin in his glass.
The Boar’s Bones held the faintest reverberation of long lost magic. There was the magic that people once carried and then there was the magic that lived and breathed in all things. And in this instance, the culprit was both. Hanging from the ceiling were aged leather pouches filled with bones. Bones of the men, women, and children who had died when magic disappeared and Kava was almost overtaken. It was a Kavian tradition tokeep a few bones of anyone who passed. Their people once believed that the spirit remained in the bones. Now, the bones hung as a reminder of all who died because of the fickle nature of magic. A visceral reminder not to trust magic or spirit in any form.
Elysia untied her cloak and handed it to the hostess, feeling the weight of Topp’s gaze as it followed her every movement. His head tilted. Green eyes glimmering as they traveled from the crown of her head to the silk that dusted the floor.
His eyes roved freely, studying—always studying—even if it never was the right thing. Her body, her breath. Oh, he loved to study those. And who was she to stop him? Especially if it kept him from turning those shrewd eyes where she did not wish for them to stray. By now, he was just as aware as her of the power of the lust between them and had no scruples about using it to his advantage.
Butthatwasn’t what made him dangerous.
What made him dangerous was that every single bright moment in her life had been a moment stolen with him. It was his loud ridiculous whispers that got them caught and her chaotic laughter as they broke every rule. It was squealing leaps from trees and forest chases that had grown from innocent to heart racing. It was his lips soft against her neck. And infinite locked, knowing gazes in rooms filled with people who were all pretending. It was the illusion that it would always just be them.
Standing here now, the sight of him made her ache—the fantasy of their love fading to nothing but a cold, hard crown.
Get your head in the game, Parker.She came here to find out what he knew. And that was exactly what she was going to do. She was on a schedule, for the gods’ sake.
