2
I picked up my pace as I turned the next corner and barreled right into an enormous wall…of Alphas. “Hey, lass,” one of them barked. “Watch where you’re goin’.”
He loomed over me, his red beard and metal helmet making him appear as some creature straight from the Goddess’ hell. I had fallen onto my padded bottom, and when he reached for me, I scuttled backward like a crab.
“S-sorry, sir.” My gaze darted from him to the others, all six of them wearing expressions that ranged from amusement to annoyance, and every last one of them Alphas.
Oh, Goddess save me. Just my luck to run into the King’s Guard, the most feared members of his army. I tucked my head down into the grease-stained scarf at my neck and muttered a few choice curses.
Red Beard heard me and roared with laughter. “Her mouth’s as dirty as the rest of her.” In two steps he had the corner of my dress pinned with one boot as he leaned down and took a sniff. “What do you say, Tarn? Could this be the legendary Omega that King Rigol sent us all across the kingdom to find? She has a distinctive smell, that’s for damn certain.” His lips turned up under his beard. “But she sure doesn’t look like Rigol said.”
“Not that there ever was an Omega to find,” another soldier mumbled. “They’ve been extinct for centuries. He’ll send us out to bring him a unicorn next week.”
Red Beard growled. “Rigol’s a good king, and a scholar. He says there’s an Omega in Rimholt, there must be one. And you’re paid to follow orders, same as me.”
“Leave off tormenting the street rats,” the Alpha he had addressed as Tarn called over his shoulder, already halfway down the street. All I could see of him was strong shoulders, leather trousers that seemed painted on, and a crop of shining, golden curls that reminded me a bit too much of Selene’s.
I tugged at my dress. “Can I go, sir?”
“What’s your name, lass?” Red Beard asked, his voice dropping low as he took another, closer sniff at my hair.
Crap. I poked him as hard as I could in the eye, and while he was cursing, made a break for it. His friends didn’t try to stop me, and I didn’t make the mistake of colliding with anyone else as I ran even faster.
When I reached The Frisky Kitten, breathless and red-faced, I knocked at the back door, praying my friend would be there. The shout came instantly. “Who’s callin’ at this hour? Rooms aren’t ready ‘til dusk!”
“Hi, Jem!” I blew a kiss at the stout woman who stood at the top of the step.
Jemma was at least sixty-five years old, and every year of it showed on her wizened face. Her skin looked a little like a piece of faded paper that had been wadded up, thrown away, and stepped on a few hundred times. Her hair was frizzed and matted like a dog that had never been brushed. And she wore men’s clothes, never dresses, though I knew she loved both men and women.
She was perfect.
Jemma let out a stream of dark tobacco-laced spit. “Comin’ to work for a real class act establishment?”
I held out the coppers. “Just here for sponges and vinegar. Herbs, if you got some?”
“That won’t buy all that, Vali, not anywhere.”
We both knew that’s why I’d come. The Kitten did a lot of business; they wouldn’t miss a few supplies. “It’s all she’d give me,” I pleaded. “Just this once?”
She growled. “You’ll have to do some chores. Take out the garbage, scrub some chamber pots.”
I batted my eyelashes and dropped into a curtsey. “As it happens, I’m already wearing my chamber pot scrubbing gown! Lead on, fair Jemma.”
“Gown, indeed.” She sniffed through a nose that had been broken at least four times. Her steely gray eyes took in every detail of my appearance, obviously disapproving. “That madam of yours is a disgrace ta the profession. Lettin’ her gals run ‘round stinkin’ like hogs. Ruttin’ Sows, indeed.”
“I’m not one of her gals.” I rolled my eyes when she hmphed. “I’m a servant. They don’t even let me into the main rooms after dark. They lock me in a closet, Jemma!” I pretended to sob. “I’m kept alone, with no chance to meet a fine man.”
She let out a boisterous laugh. “Like you’d want a man.” She knew as well as I did that I had never once looked at a man with anything like interest, although I had confided in her that I’d longed to feel the “butterflies” the other servant girls had gone on about. I was twenty, for crying out loud! What was wrong with me that I never wanted anyone—man or woman—in that way?
Jemma grumbled, “I think the Sow spoiled you for men. Seein’ them at their worst.”
“I haven’t seen much at all,” I interrupted. “You know that. Nell spent a whole month’s earnings for metal flaps over the blasted keyholes as soon as I was tall enough to peek through them.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’ve only heard what goes on inside; I’ve never seen a dang thing.”
It was close to true; I’d had glimpses of my friends with their customers, so I knew what went where, even if I couldn’t see how any woman would want to do such a thing. Madam had put me together with naked men years before, but nothing had come of it, except for some memorable beatings at the end of her switch. And an abiding fear of Alphas.