Women in just their corsets basked over the edges of beautiful chairs, grinning like rogues, and men with shirts half open and top hats askew threw tiny arrows at targets, laughing as their drinks spilled. A pair of men sat still as statues, tracing each other’s eyes with smokey liner and smudging it out to unholy perfection. Both the air and the chandeliers shook with music meant for dancing. And jubilant destruction took the form of tornadoes of children, all tearing through the House with little shrieks to announce their arrival.
Elysia did not realize she had stopped until the Doorman called out, beckoning her to come along up the stairs. There was something about this strange House with its makeup and illusions. Her first and only evening here had left a terrible taste in her mouth, butthiswas something altogether different. Before the lights went out and the evening show began, it appeared the House was ahome. She followed the Doorman, her eyes still wandering back to the folks playing and teasing as they readied themselves. Her feet were slow as her fingers slid over the bannister. She didn’t want to look away. Watching them brought an unexpected longing to life inside her.
She couldn’t help but wonder if the House’s real secret just might be love.
A different sort of love, but love nonetheless. The love found between people who did not have a home, but then found one in both this place and each other. The love that she imagined came from a space in which your soul felt its own freedom.
Her throat tightened. She thought she might like to know that one day. What it would be like to be both anchored and set free within love. Somehow, she doubted that was in the cards.
The Doorman looked back at her with questioning eyes, but Elysia said nothing. She just shook her head and followed her upstairs. Elysia found her words as she entered a lavish dressing room that swirled with soft tones of lavender and cream and gray. “The people of the House... They wish to be here, don’t they?”
She spritzed on perfume from an ornate glass bottle and considered the question. Taking a deep inhale as the mist hit her neck and chest, the Doorman made a pleased sound in the back of her throat. A sugar-sweet scent with something sharp beneath its breath pillowed through the air. Elysia thought it matched her company well. Delectable but dangerous.
Racks and racks of silk and organza decorated the room. From suits to dresses and corsets, the Doorman knew how to draw the eye. She sat down on a cream footstool, turning to a vanity suited for a queen. The marbled vanity glittered beneath the soft glow of countless tea lights. Even when no one was watching, it was like she couldn’t help but entice and beguile.
The Doorman pulled down a small pot of face cream from a towering stack of choices and looked up at Elysia through the mirror. “The House is not like other pleasure houses, Ms. Parker. The House is my home and I open it to those who would make it their own as well. Do you not care for the ones in your keep?”
Elysia remained silent. She had none in her keep, spare the ever-dashing Sir Larkspur and the tiny sprouts she tended, and she was afraid that even her cat was mad at her after so many days of simply piling food high and dashing back out the door. She would very likely be snubbed with a flick of his regal tail upon her return.
The Doorman watched these thoughts play across Elysia’s face, and her shoulders dropped with a sigh. She scooped outsome moisturizer and began rubbing it into her face with smooth circular motions.
“I forget. You’re a Parker, and more than that, you’re Crown. There is no one more important to protect than yourself.” She scoffed, but was quick to keep talking with a wave of her manicured hand. “I’m not one to judge. I haven’t lasted this long in my line of work without vigilance. But what is life withoutsomeoneto trust and hold?”
She pursed her lips, looking at Elysia shrewdly. “It’s a lonely life, putting your love into the wrong hands. But I suppose people underestimate the bonds forged in childhood. They’re irrational and completely heart driven.”
Elysia met her eyes in the mirror, but kept her mouth clamped shut.She’s not wrong.All the Crown kids were grown up now. And yet, for better or for worse, they couldn’t leave each other behind. Rollie bringing her into the fold even though it risked himself. Remy and Daphne subtly reminding her that deviance in behavior was how people found themselves ostracized or dead. And Topp hesitating to end her life and their love in spite of what it meant to be a Blatz.
All of their love was dishonest—at the end of the day, they would all choose their own necks. But if there was the choice to save each otherandthemselves, then they would every time. And in her world, that was about as close as it got to love.
The Doorman tipped her head knowingly, unaware of Elysia’s musings. “It’s a shame about Syren Herrin. She was a good but stupid woman, healing everyone left and right. But we’re fools for those we love, and that’s what I saw in my House the other night. You love your sister. And now your beau knows the truth of what you are.” She paused, grabbing another jar. “Don’t worry, unlike him, your secret is safe with me.”
The Doorman stopped what she was doing and looked at Elysia with a stark sadness in her eyes. “From one woman toanother—choose yourself, Elysia Parker, before time runs out. That man has a destiny to fulfill and love will not stop him.”
Elysia blinked rapidly as if it could stave off the painful truth of the Doorman’s words. Her voice came out thick. “I have always loved my sister. But this was my fault. Not hers.”
She cleared her throat sharply. “But I did not come here to discuss the prince or his ambitions.”
Heartbreak masquerading as regret twinged within her. Sometimes she wished she had never met Topp. She should have chosen a pretty but insipid man. Instead, she chose one with the security of a crown and clever, enthralling eyes.Don’t forget the part where he’s why you die.She was an idiot.
The Doorman nodded, accepting her words. “No, that is not why you came, is it? Tell me about your proposition, Ms. Parker.”
Elysia dragged over a matching pillowed footstool and sat down, crossing her ankles out leisurely in front of her. “These people are your family.” She sat with the thought for a moment. Everything in her plan depended on the Doorman agreeing to her designs. Looking back up, she found the Doorman studying her carefully, so she looked right back without any fear and spoke boldly.
“Scarzan killed one of your own. I would like to see him dead as well. If I’m going to be caught and executed, then I might as well take a bit of the trash out before I go.” Her voice went tight, betraying the terror that raged inside her at the thought of being on the execution block.
The Doorman’s eyes continued to slowly track over Elysia. She popped off the tops of several tubes of lipstick, humming as she swatched them on her hand. Setting the lipsticks down, she turned, giving Elysia her full attention. There was a generous portion of skepticism in her voice.
“I had not pegged you for one of the old ways. Tell me what draws your hand, Ms. Parker. Because I do doubt the death of a whore you did not know has begged your tears or blade.”
She went back to her mirror, reaching for black ink and a brush. The Doorman’s words were as harsh as the line she flicked out from the corner of her monolid eye, but Elysia had expected nothing less.
She switched to her other eye. “And how might one kill vermin like that, anyway? They always seem to escape through holes in the wall.”
Elysia huffed a short laugh, not missing the Doorman’s slight. “What draws my hand, indeed? The truth is, the world is crawling with men like Scarzan.”
She looked down, her jaw flexing and emotion beginning to leak into her voice. “One less is nothing in the grand scheme of things. But I amtiredof fawning and hiding and running. If I was braver, then I would go after the lot of them—the king, my father. But I’m not. And there’s still a foolish hope in me that I’ll make it out of this somehow. And to be blunt, killing this one man will pay many debts for me.”
Elysia implored the beautiful woman in front of her. “You watched him every night while he ransacked your House. You and your people know what and who he likes better than anyone else.” A tiny dangerous grin crossed her face. “I would like to set a trap the night of my mother’s farewell gathering.”
