But what they hadn’t realized was that they created a court-trained nightmare instead of a pet. Docile and fragile to the eye with endless pits of rage below. Rage that could see no beginning or end. She was only just beginning to understand it herself. She had never wanted to be this person. But she would be. Because you don’t get to choose the hand you're given, you only get to choose what you do with it. And she was done being a compliant, perfect doll.
Her feet ached in her slippers. Sliced in crisscrosses, and long curving scores, reminding her of what happened to women whostepped out of line. It didn’t matter, though. She had always been outside the lines. Now she was just living like it.
Elysia stepped back, allowing Remy and Daphne to go before her. Each woman held the room captive with their own specific magnetism as they entered. Remy smoldering and sauntering down like a dark flame wrapped in umber silk. Her tight dark curls were free tonight, springing out to create a perfect halo around her head. Daphne glowing as if she were the first true day of winter, so bright that she just might blind you. And Elysia, feeling the heady weight of every eye in the room, lifted her chin as if she were already their queen. Topp, the one who could make it so, stared boldly back at her as if he could see right through her to her very core. Past the mask and into the depths of emotion eddying within.
She held his cutting gaze until one of Remy’s ever present suitors paraded in front of them, blocking her view. The rest of the world seemed to rush back in around her, the music and sounds of the night boisterous in her ear.Oh, Barry.Elysia almost rolled her eyes. Poor man.
Barnett Vollen, Barry to his friends, was determined to impress the immoveable Remy. His father was responsible for building the majority of the south side of Relaclave, and he was set to inherit the budding construction empire. All those flats stacked on top of one another lined his pockets well. But Barry dreamed of more. Like having the lush vision before him throw in her considerable business savvy and political weight to his ambitions.
But unfortunately for him, magic would be reborn in Kava before Remy Wincraft truly gave her heart away. Unlike the majority of women in Kava, Remelda Wincraft had plenty of her own money and had no need to marry, no matter how much her parents pushed for a match. She might play along with the man’s affections—accepting gifts and extravagant dates—but it wouldtake a force to knock Remy off her feet. And Barnett Vollen was barely a breeze.
Elysia used the distraction to scan the room, her nerves beginning to creep in to the beat of a slow march. Her eyes went to the towering pyramid of empty glasses, all waiting for gin or wine. All thinly coated with poison. Just a dash of liquid and the poison would activate. In less than sixty minutes, bodies would be writhing. The swarms of people would drop one by one like flies, contorting as the toxin overtook their systems.
She continued to scan the room, but still not did not see Scarzan damning any conversations with his presence.Come out, come out.Anxiety crashed within her now. She just wanted this over. He would be here, though. She knew he would.
Offering a coy wink to Remy, she clasped arms with Daphne. “Let’s do a lap, shall we?”
She was fairly certain Remy was burning holes into the back of her head, now stuck with boring Barry, but her body needed the false security of movement. Arm in arm, they skirted the room, swishing past where their parents mingled near the king and the diplomats. Tipsy laughter filled the air and even the king looked to be having a good time. And yet, Scarzan was still nowhere to be seen.
The rat was hiding somewhere. She just had to find him.
Elysia swiveled, thinking to grab some of the delicious smoked meat she was smelling and scout out the buffet corner of the room. Might as well eat something before everything went sideways.
Daphne leaned in close as they walked, her words soft enough for only Elysia’s ears. “Who in the realms is that woman?”
Elysia craned her neck, searching for the source of Daphne’s awe. She barely kept the smirk off her face. It was not Kava’s best courtesan drawing every stare in the room, but instead hersister’s beloved bewitching them all in a curve-hugging crimson number. Hair freshly lightened, it rippled down her back. Dark lashes and a nude glossed mouth. Beatriz would have been drooling.
The Doorman rarely made appearances at court events, but when she did, rumors and whispers broke free like an avalanche in her wake. Her hips moved like water, as if she knew she could ensnare any soul she sought. But tonight, she had only one victim in mind.
The Doorman lifted two gin and tonics off a passing tray and made a sharp, determined line for one of the half-lit alcoves littered about, not so much as bothering to make eye contact with anyone as she passed. Elysia’s chest heaved in relief. She must have spotted Scarzan for her to move like that.
She brought her lips back to Daphne’s ear, her blonde hair tickling her nose. “That woman is the Doorman of House Gardenia.”
Daphne blinked as though in a daze. She turned wide eyes to Elysia, her voice lifting with a note of befuddled surprise. “I am not sure if I want tobeher or sleep with her. I think either option might be fine, actually.”
Elysia snorted, steering them closer to where the Doorman had disappeared only seconds before. Her trust in the Doorman only stretched so far—she wanted to see his throat bob with each poisonous swallow of his drink, to hear the revolting gurgle as he swallowed, and be confident that the Doorman had blessed him with an extra dose. Her fingers twitched. She needed to see the signal. The coy wink that would tell her death was brewing in his entrails.Thenshe could make a swift exit. And be on her way to the rendezvous that actually mattered.
She paused a few steps away from where they hid, straining to hear their quiet voices, when a loud crack that sounded an awful lot like a hand meeting flesh echoed within the folds ofthe dark gauzy hollow. A breath later, the Doorman exited with blotches of pink high on her cheeks. Her face carved into a guise of serenity, yet her fingers trembled. Regardless of the face she wore, fury coated the air she left behind. And the signal was never given.
Elysia swore beneath her breath. Waiting, hoping the Doorman would turn any moment now and relieve her fears.
But the Doorman began to converse with other guests, never so much as blinking in Elysia’s direction. What had gone wrong that a woman as well-trained as the Doorman had broken form? Surely, there was no way the man had not taken so much as a drink yet this evening—it was a party, after all. But she didn’t need him sick. She needed him dead.
Elysia turned to Daphne with a wicked grin. “Would you like to meet her?”
“Youknowher?”
“You could say we have people in common,” Elysia responded absently, her eyes still darting around the room as if Scarzan might fall dead of his own accord. She had perhaps thirty minutes now before guests began to crawl like maggots in the heat of summer. Her stomach twisted violently. She could practically feel an ulcer forming. Dead or not, she would have to bail at that point. But she had a debt to pay. And in spite of what the Doorman assumed, Elysia did feel horrible that some poor woman had borne the brunt of Scarzan’s misdirected anger. Anger meant for her because she had slipped through his hands. She knew men like him. And she had known someone would feel his wrath. Her pulse settled as she remembered exactly why this man had to die.
Jack Parker’s booming voice interrupted her thoughts, echoing over the music and all the others in the room. Her shoulders automatically rose at the sound. A protective, instinctive response. She stared at her father’s broad back, hatecoiling up like a serpent within her. Yes, she would do something worthwhile before this all fell apart.
Elysia guided Daphne to the Doorman, pushing through the growing crowd of gossip hungry onlookers surrounding her. The Doorman sent them all away with a flick of her wrist. No hello or niceties, she launched into conversation as if Elysia had been beside her the whole time. “Your mother’s parties really are impressive considering everyone has their clothes on.”
She turned her attention to Daphne, not waiting for a response, her eyes glittering. “And who is this you bring me?”
“Daphne Rieer,” Elysia announced. “Meet the much esteemed Doorman of House Gardenia.”
A charmed smile slipped onto Daphne’s face. “I should have known the Doorman is a woman. Only a woman could run such a successful House of pleasure. And yes, the Golden Seal rarely disappoints.”
