The brothel’s foyer is a mass of scarlet silk, maroon velvet, and gold lace as far as I can see. The lights are dim; no electricity, only several lanterns with red or gold glass covers. Plush couches line the walls, strewn with pillows bearing an ungodly number of tassels. Partitions that look like dressing screens separate certain corners and alcoves, and I can hear tittering laughter behind at least two.
I try not to allow discomfort to show on my face as a stately woman in a dark pink gown steps into the foyer from one of the halls. The cut of her dress is modest like mine, her gray-streaked brown hair arranged in a neat pile on the top of her head. My auburn tresses, on the other hand, are hidden beneath a wide white hat decorated with black peonies. Anything to keep me from being immediately recognized should I come into contact with Mr. Duveau. Hence my human state of dress.
“I am Madame Rose,” the woman says. A false name, obviously, considering it fits a little too neatly in withBriar House. Nonetheless, she’s whom I came here to see. Her posture is confident, her eyes are keen, and her smile is welcoming. “What can I do for you? Have you come seeking companionship tonight?”
“I have, Madame.” I take a step closer to her, lowering my voice. I repeat the same thing I said to the drunk man outside, use the same term I once overheard Henry Duveau use when mentioning the Briar House. “I have…exotic tastes.”
She nods, a knowing twinkle in her eye. “And might I ask how you came to know of my wares? I do not recognize you as a regular patron.”
I know she’s testing me, but I have my lie prepared. “I was referred to your establishment by a colleague of my father’s. We are visiting from out of town, and I needed to sate my unusual appetites, if you know what I mean.”
She eyes me with scrutiny, although her smile remains on her lips. “How did you sate these…unusualappetites before? The Briar House is the only of its kind in all of Eisleigh.”
It takes no small effort to hide my giddy relief. If this is the only brothel peddling fae females as merchandise, then what I’m about to do will be far more satisfying than if I’d learned there were several more establishments like this. I hide my relief behind a conspiratorial grin and lower my voice further. “I have my ways.”
She gives me an approving nod and extends her hand toward a velvet divan strewn with gold satin pillows. “Then tell me more about your tastes and I will see if I can find something to satisfy you.”
We take a seat on the divan and I pretend to ponder. “I like them to have a tendency to put up a fight.” My voice remains steady as I say it, but my words make acid churn in my stomach. I can’t help but recall how similar they are to what Lorelei had said about Mr. Osterman.I think he liked his prey to put up a fight. Mr. Osterman was one of the two men who’d captured me and Lorelei and tried to do unspeakable things. The other man was my mentor, who I apprenticed under during my training to become a surgeon. Both men are now dead.
Good riddance.
“You like a fight, do you?” Madame Rose’s lips quirk at the corners.
“A little,” I say. “I prefer if you have someone who has remained a bit…untamed, shall we say? Feisty.”
She assesses me from head to toe. “Now, you are a surprise, aren’t you? Who did you say referred you to me?”
I lean in, my voice a whisper. “I dare not say his name, but he is a well-respected councilman. You do know who I speak of, do you not?”
“Ah,” she says. “Yes, I know exactly who you mean. He is my establishment’s prime patron. One would even call him a partner in my business. Although, I’m hurt he’s never mentioned you to me before.”
Is that suspicion I’m sensing? I hardly falter, continuing my feigned conspiratorial air. “Like I said, my father and I are on business from out of town. Father’s acquaintance with the councilman is new, but I must say it has grown quite intimate. This won’t be the last you see of me here.” I end that with a wink.
“I should think that’s the case, for I’m confident once you sate your appetite, you will hardly be able to keep away.”
“That’s what I’m hoping for.”
Madame Rose rises to her feet. “I think I have the perfect specimen in mind. Give me just a moment and I will prepare her for you.”
“One more thing,” I say, standing before she can turn away. “Father was under the impression his colleague would be here tonight. He has an urgent message he’d like me to pass on to him. Could you arrange a meeting for us?” I have no grounds to assume anything I’ve just said. No intel that Mr. Duveau is here, only the barest hope.
She cocks her head slightly to the side. “The man you speak of is not here tonight, so I apologize that I will not be able to satisfy that request.”
Damn. Still, there’s one more chance. I lock my eyes on hers, pulling her attention to me, drawing that imaginary bird into the cage of my hands—
Nothing. There’s no give in her attention, no sway in pulling her gaze. I adjust my hat as an excuse to break eye contact and glance at her wrist. There I see what I should have sought before: a hint of red beads around her wrist, barely visible beneath the lace cuff of her gown. Of course she wears rowan. In a brothel full of enslaved fae, it would be idiotic not to. Still, I had to try.
Try and fail.
Even though I went into this knowing the chance of finding Mr. Duveau was slim, I can’t stop the crushing disappointment. However, my mission is far from over.
I plaster a false smile over my lips. “Never mind that. I’ll seek him out myself.”
That’s a promise.
2
Madame Rose leaves me in the foyer for several minutes. When she returns, she guides me into one of the halls that branch off from there. The carpets are plush and red, the walls papered with red and gold designs of roses and vines. Before I went to Faerwyvae, I might have considered the decor luxurious. Compared to fae luxury, however, this place is hideous.
