CHAPTER 3
Three steps into the hallway, my legs decided they’d had just about enough of my nonsense and tried to fold under me. I stumbled and caught myself on the stone wall. My head swam.
The hallway had to be about forty feet long and only about twelve feet wide, just enough for two swordsmen to defend it standing side by side. Right now, it might as well have been a mile long. Getting through it felt impossibly hard.
The doors at the other end stood wide open, and I could see a hint of the main floor. It was all light and bright colors. The sound of laughter and the scents of cooked meat and spices floated in with the draft. My mouth watered. I had never been so hungry in my entire life.
Standing here and drooling, as fun as it was, wouldn’t get me any closer to food and rest. I wasn’t out of the woods yet.
I pushed from the wall, took a test step forward, and didn’t faceplant on the floor. So far, so good. Small slow steps. No rush. I started toward the light.
A beautiful melody echoed through the building, fast and compelling, with a rapid beat.
The hallway ended. I stepped onto the main floor.
I stood on the edge of a huge square room, with tiled floors and cream-colored stone walls that rose two stories high.
A colonnade wrapped around the perimeter of the square, supporting a second-floor balcony guarded by a wooden rail.
Most of the floor and the balcony was taken up by wooden tables and chairs.
Here and there patrons dined, laughing, talking, and getting drunk.
Waiters, dressed in white tunics with dark red trousers and matching sash belts, flitted between the tables delivering food and drinks.
In the center of the room, under a chandelier of glowing orbs, a round stage stood, encircled by a shallow moat about three feet wide.
The water in the moat was the color of rubies, and it shone, reflecting the light.
The line in the book said, The red dye in the water stained fabric and skin, keeping drunk patrons from storming the stage, which had made me think of watered-down red Kool-Aid when I read it.
The liquid in the moat didn’t look like Kool-Aid.
It looked like red wine, rich and almost purple.
On stage, ridiculously beautiful women danced, clad in dresses of bright green veils.
They twisted and turned in time with the music, the diaphanous fabric flaring just enough to hint at the bodies beneath, but never offering more than a glimpse.
The light of the chandelier played on their dresses, and when they raised their arms and bent their bodies, the veils shone with metallic gold.
So pretty . . .
The music sped up and so did the dancers, all but flying around the stage.
They were so graceful, their movements mesmerizing, almost hypnotic.
I had never seen anything like it. After days of rain, mud, and hunger, it didn’t seem real.
Maybe I was really dying on the street, and my brain was hallucinating, trying to offer me something beautiful before I finally kicked the bucket.
The music stopped on a high note. The women held their poses for a moment, like living statues, then withdrew along a narrow, raised path to the back of the room and vanished behind green curtains.
A man strode to the stage and halted by the red moat.
He wore a light gray doublet and dark gray trousers tucked into tall boots.
A teal cloak hung off his left shoulder, more of a fashion statement than a protective garment.
His back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face, only his curly dark hair, cut short, and the color of his skin, a russet brown.
He pondered the empty stage as if puzzled and waved his hand. A globe of red water shot up from the moat fifteen feet into the air and snapped into a monstrous fish.
Oh!
The creature swam above the stage, circling it. Its long eel-like body kept going and going, long and slightly translucent, the sharp ridged fin along its back bristling with red spikes. It was big enough to swallow a human in one gulp.
Goosebumps crawled up my arms.
The fish’s grotesque jaws snapped, catching its tail.
It exploded into a dozen stelkas. They rained onto the center of the stage and dashed into the dining room, darting between the tables.
To the side a waiter gripped his tray and jerked it up over his head as a beast shot by his legs. People chuckled.
The stelkas burst into geysers of crimson flower petals. They swirled, flashed with light, and turned into golden butterflies.
Oh wow.
The glowing swarms floated over the dining floor, bouncing on the draft, spreading in all directions.
It was too much. Too bright, too colorful, too everything . . .
The nearest group of butterflies changed its course, drifting close to each other instead of fanning out. They were heading right for me.
No time to react. A second, and they swirled around my body, clinging to my cloak. One landed on my shoulder, one tried to wedge itself in my hood, and the third rammed my right cheek . . .
People were looking at me.
I didn’t belong here. I was wearing a cloak that smelled like a corpse. There was river muck in my hair. My bare feet had probably left muddy footprints in the hallway. I couldn’t have been more out of place if I had set myself on fire.
The butterflies exploded in a puff of soft sparks. Something zinged my skin, like a weak rubber band slapping against my face.
A woman blocked my view, hiding me from the other patrons. She wore a red gown cut too low, and her brown hair was braided into an elaborate lattice and secured with silver ornaments. She looked like a fairy princess in search of someone to seduce.
“Welcome, my lady. How may the Garden serve you today?”
I opened my mouth.
A paralyzing fear gripped me. I tried to make words, but nothing happened.
I hadn’t spoken to a human being since I got here.
I’d understood Lecke, but it’s not like we’d exchanged pleasantries while I robbed him and he stabbed me to death.
What if I said something, and English came out instead of Rellasian. What if she asked me questions?
I’d run away. The door was right there. She wouldn’t chase me.
The princess woman waited.
I had to say something. I strained, and miraculously my memory served up the right phrase.
“A private respite and a light dinner.” My voice sounded hoarse.
“Do you seek serenity or luxury?”
It worked. Holy shit, it worked.
“Serenity.” I couldn’t afford luxury. I probably couldn’t afford serenity either, but those were my only choices.
“It is our privilege to serve you today. Klemena will guide you to your room.”
A woman in a simpler red gown stepped forward and bowed to me. She looked to be in her late teens. “Please follow me, my lady.”
I didn’t qualify as a lady by any metric, but there were no commoners in the Garden. Here everyone was my lord and my lady. One of the perks of paying an arm and a leg to get through the door.
I trailed Klemena to the right, into the passageway defined by the colonnade and the low wooden rail connecting the stone columns.
She held a side door open for me. We passed into a hallway lit by ornate lanterns.
Klemena shut the door behind us, cutting off the loud noise of the main floor, and I could breathe again.
Six doors led to other rooms, three on each side. Klemena led me to the third door on the left, the farthest from the main floor, and held it open.
I walked into a square room about the size of a large main bedroom.
Bright lanterns glowed on bare stone walls, one of them highlighting a small door in the far wall.
On the left, a square stone bath waited, sunken in the floor, filled with steaming water, and big enough to sit four to six people comfortably.
Pink and white petals floated on the surface.
A tray on the rim of the bath offered a bar of soap the size of a small matchbox, a bottle of what was likely scented oil, a sponge, a comb, and a folded towel.
On the right, a small table and two chairs provided a place to sit down.
“May I attend to you, my lady?”
“No. I’m fine.” I dropped one of the two dens Everard had given me into her hand. Only one of his coins left. “I need a change of clothes.”
“What style?”
“The kind of dress that the wife of a successful craftsman might wear. Something that wouldn’t make me stand out on the street.”
“Shoes?”
“Yes, please.”
“Will you require a companion, my lady?”
“No.” Sex was the absolute last thing I needed right this second.
Klemena bowed. “I will return with your dinner.”
“Thank you. Could you please bring me water instead of wine?”
“Yes, my lady.”
She exited and shut the door behind her.
I dropped my cloak. It fell in a soggy mess at my feet. Something moved on my right, and I almost jumped.
An old metal mirror, pitted from the moisture, spanned the height of the wall.
My heart hammered so hard and fast, it hurt.
I took a long breath, trying to calm down, and looked.
A woman in her mid-twenties looked back at me.
About five feet four inches, pale, average build, long brown hair, face pretty in a normal-person way, and terrified eyes.
No jewel-toned irises, no raven locks, stunning features, or perfect proportions.
I hadn’t taken over anyone’s body. I was still me.
My hair was a gunky mess, my legs and face were splattered with mud, and a leather bag hung around my neck on a cord.
I had hit a man with a rock and then died for it. But I was still me.
I should’ve been more freaked out. I should’ve cried or broken down but running for my life straight into the sensory overload had wrung the last of my emotions out of me. I was numb and running on fumes.
I slipped into the bath and sat on the stone bench, submerged to my collarbones. The water was luxuriously hot and smelled faintly of lavender.