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“It’s a different world,” he agreed.

“And it’s wrong,” she murmured back. “So few have so much. So many have so little.”

He glanced at her. “Profound indeed, Maelin of Theryn.”

She managed a brief grin. “I can be, now and again. But apparently it’s not really approved of if you’re a young and unmarried woman. It supposedly scares off suitors.”

“Only the stupid ones.”

She nudged him with her arm. “There. You see? That’s exactly what I say too.”

He slowed his pace. “Are you sure you want to do this? I can get you back to the wharf, Maelin. There’s no need for you to go any further at this point...”

She shot him a look that should have incinerated him on the spot. “Don’t be an idiot, Cyrus.”

Sighing, he shrugged. “All right, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He turned down an even darker alley, which led to a large building illuminated with dark red lights that shone oddly against the black marble.

It filled the entire end of the alley, and although there was no obvious name, few would mistake it for anything other than what it was—The Crimson Lantern.

A licensed whorehouse for vampires.

Cyrus knew that regardless of the time of day in Caelemar, it was always night in the Gloamtide, so there would be customers enjoying the activities on offer. Probably right in front of an audience, too. His conscience kicked him once more. Maelin absolutely shouldn’t be here.

And yet he was glad she was.

The door opened silently as if sensing their presence, and they walked slowly inside.

“Welcome, Sir, Madam.”

A beautiful young woman greeted them with a smile—marred slightly by the gleaming white fangs shining against her full scarlet lips. “What is your pleasure, this evening? To drink? To feed? To offer to others?” She shot a glance at Maelin. “Or perhaps you would prefer a room for a private feeding and other delights?” She looked at Maelin’s neck and licked her lips. “Many would be happy to join, I’m sure...” Closing the distance between herself and Maelin, she breathed deeply. “Oh yes. Rich, full of life...” She licked her fangs.

“Perhaps some other time,” replied Maelin, calmly. “But thank you for the suggestions.”

Cyrus felt the tiny shiver in her body, and pulled her even closer. “We need whoever is doing Velvetkeeper duty this evening.”

“That would be Madame Vane, sir.” The young woman glanced down the hallway. “If you would follow me?”

Glad to see that Maelin still kept hold of his arm, the two of them followed the young vampire into the murk that surrounded a large door. She tapped, twice, sharply.

With a dramatic creak, the door swung inward, revealing a rather bright reddish glow.

“Madame Vane,” bowed their hostess, waving her arm toward the light in a very expressive fashion.

“Thank you,” nodded Cyrus, leading Maelin inside.

The door closed behind them with a solid thud.

It was, he realised, a dramatic place. Definitely designed with that in mind, of course, playing into the darkest fantasies of the Velvet House guests.

Madame Vane was the perfect choice for her position. She rose from behind her desk, tall and imposing, her blood red silk gown perfectly fitting every queenly inch of her.

White hair cascaded in curls from a high knot, and a single ruby sparkled on the smooth white skin of her décolletage, suspended by what looked like a finely worked black iron chain.

She narrowed her eyes. “Lord Drake, isn’t it?”

He bowed. “An honour, Madame Vane. If I may introduce my companion, this is...”