Chapter 9
Years ago, when I told Caelus one of his governors was conspiring against him, I thought I had outgrown the role as a courtesan and earned a higher title. Perhaps I’d be made an advisor—get a seat on his counsel.
Instead, he assigned me to more men, more often. I’ve become known as the best, his favorite—the courtesan that only his most distinguished guests have the pleasure of being entertained by.
To Caelus, my importance isn’t my mind, but what I could do with my body—how it can be used. That is the value he sees in me.
My fingers curl into a fist, and my silk sleeve slides to my elbow as I knock on the wooden door.
I hold my breath and count the seconds, each one ticking by without the sound of footsteps echoing from the other side. The tension in my shoulders unspools. If he doesn’t answer, Caelus can’t fault me, especially when I already have blackmail against Dyerson I can pacify him with.
Ten seconds drag by, and I sigh out a breath. He’s asleep, and I can go back to my quarters, crawl into bed, and wake to my last day before The Gales begin.
I turn away from the door and take a step down the hallway.
A lock slides out of place, echoing off the walls, and the door swings open.
“Ah, Briar. I was beginning to think you’d never come.”
I freeze as his oily voice sends a shiver up my spine. They all breathe my name the same—as if they already know me. As if I’m a replica of every other woman they’ve came across. As if we’re all one in the same.
They’ve seem to forgotten that, at one point in time, women ruled all four courts.
Painting a complacent smile onto my face, I face him. “Sir Dyerson, I apologize for my tardiness. I seem to be in high demand tonight, but I cleared my evening specifically for you.”
Grey sprinkles his hairline, and the deep creases around his eyes adds at least thirty years to my twenty-eight. Over double my age.
In some ways, I pity him—this man who will forever wear an invisible collar, bending to the whims of whatever lord he serves, hoping for handouts he’ll never receive.
I may pity him, but I’ll give him no sympathy when he dies, unfulfilled.
“I’ll make the time worth your while.” He smiles as he steps to the side and gestures for me to enter the guest quarters.
Swallowing, I steel my spine and step across the threshold—onto the stone floor my feet have met far too often. The walls have stood witness to my charade for years, its windows like eyes upon me.
At the sight of the unmade bed, my stomach churns.
I dip my fingers into the hidden pocket of my slip and trace the small vial buried inside, allowing the comfort to wash over me.
As long as I have this, he can’t hurt me.
The door shuts with a soft click, and Dyerson cuts across the room, lifting a short glass of brown liquor from a table. He settles onto a padded armchair and leans against its back.
He takes a long sip and slides his sleeve across his mouth. “At least I have you as compensation for how far I traveled to come here.”
Like I’m a payment—a transaction. I grind my teeth and circle his chair, kneading his shoulders with my hands. I’ve been in this position more times than I can count, and the urge to snap their neck never fades.
“It must be difficult being so distinguished, yet having a territory so far away.” I piece my words together carefully. Equal parts compliment and barb, enough for him to feel a tinge of insecurity. A hint of embarrassment.
“Indeed.” He grabs one of my wrists and runs his thumb across the underside, directly over my veins.
“It was no surprise that Caelus assigned his brother to govern the court’s stronghold while he conquered Sarenia, but as a childhood friend, I thought I’d acquire one of the more established territories. ”
I lift a brow. “A childhood friend?”
There’s very little about Caelus’s personal life that he’s shared with me. I know he comes from a generational line of wealthy business owners from the Sky Court—that he was an advisor of the crown before he manipulated Isolde and took it over.
But beyond that, I know nothing.
“We grew up as neighbors, went to university together. At one point, he was planning to ask for my sister’s hand in marriage. Now though, it seems he’s too powerful to care about old friends.”
“Seems power has that effect on people.” I slink around the chair and drag my hand across his shoulder, ignoring the way my own words tear at my chest.
“He won’t be as smug if Callum decides he wants Atlas for himself.”
My steps falter. “You think his brother would betray him? Take the capitol of the Sky Court?”
He shrugs and wraps his hands around my hips, pulling me onto his lap.
His breath—already stained with liquor—skates over me.
“Like you said, power can have that effect on people.” He presses his face against my neck, hands roaming my waist. “And he’s left Callum to his own devices for an entire decade. ”
I close my eyes and lean into him, as if I’m enjoying his touch rather than the value of his words. If he feels so comfortable discussing the possibility of treason, there must be some truth to it—others who feel the same. “Would Callum be a better ruler?”
I spear my fingers into his nape and encourage his lips to find the arch of my throat—a distraction as I slide my hand into my pocket.
“Surely more generous,” he breathes against my skin.
Easing the vial out, I uncork it and pour the colorless and tasteless liquid into his glass.
Women aren’t the only thing I barter jewels for.
And now, I’ve only added to the collection of information I have against him—knowledge I won’t be sharing with Caelus. If Callum is indeed planning an uprising against his brother, I don’t want Caelus to see it coming.
“You deserve nothing but the best,” I whisper into his ear, leaning away as he presses a kiss to my jaw. I drag a finger under his collar and down his shirt buttons. “Go on, finish your drink and we’ll get started.”
He palms my hips and slides his hands farther down, cupping my ass. He pulls me closer. “I’ve already had enough tonight. Wouldn’t want to drink too much, would I?”
My throat tightens, and a weight settles on my chest. There have been times, of course, where the men don’t finish their drink after I pour the tonic in. Times I’ve blotted from my memory—forced myself to focus on the patterns of the painted ceiling rather than their hands on my body.
“Are you sure?” I tease, quirking the corner of my mouth. “This is the finest liquor on the continent, flown in monthly from Atlas.”
He scoffs. “It tastes like every other whisky to me.”
“But—”
His mouth covers mine, his lips dry, tongue eager as he weaves a hand into my hair. I tense, and my body goes rigid, screaming to get away. But I pin myself into place. If I step out of line, I’ll be punished. Or worse, fired.
I force myself to melt against him and send my mind somewhere distant—on the shores of Delterran, the deck of my ship.
He grinds his hips upward, pressing his groin against me, and I clench my eyes shut. A moan escapes his mouth, and he dips a finger beneath the hem of my slip, sliding it up my bare thigh. “I can see why you’re in such high demand.”
I swallow, making my eyelids heavy as I offer him a smile. Glancing at his lips, I lift his glass from the table and offer it to him. “Some say I’m the best on the continent.”
He takes the glass and places it back on the table as he pushes me from his lap and stands. “I can’t wait to see why.”
Cupping my face, he smothers me with his mouth and guides me toward the bed. My thoughts race, and as the back of my knees hit the mattress, a whimper escapes my mouth.
His grip on me tightens, taking the noise as a hint of pleasure, not panic. He lowers me down until the cotton sheets meet my back.
He climbs on top of me, settling his weight against my hips. I sink into the mattress, deeper, deeper—
A knock sounds at the door.
Dyerson presses his face into the crook of my neck and groans. “Who is it?”
The door creaks open, and he springs from the bed, adjusting his collar as a face peers through the crack.
Isolde.
Our eyes lock, and a silent conversation passes between us. There have been times in the past where she’s risked sneaking out of her quarters to rescue me from the men I’m assigned to service. But this soon after she was caught?
A sour taste fills my mouth. She shouldn’t be here.
“I apologize Sir Dyerson, but Briar is needed elsewhere.”
“Right at this moment?” He doesn’t glance my way as he crosses back to the armchair, lifts his glass, and drains it. “I was told she cleared her evening for me, and she hasn’t even been here an hour.”
Isolde dips her chin. “I assure you, this will not happen again.”
I shove myself from the bed and straighten my slip, giving Dyerson an apologetic smile. “Until next time, Sir Dyerson.”
Without waiting for him to convince me otherwise, I stride for Isolde. She holds the door open as I pass through, and swings it shut.
“Briar.” She pulls me against her chest. “Are you okay?”
I settle into her space, breathing in the sweet lilac perfume I could recognize anywhere. Her warmth seeps into me—a balm to my nerves. “I am now, but what about Caelus? I would have been fine, but if he catches you—”
“I’ll go back soon.” She runs her hand down my hair, gently combing through the strands. “The staff said I had ten minutes to spare before he’s meant to arrive at my room. Long enough to get here, knock on the door, and hurry back.”
I press my eyes shut and listen to her steady heartbeat. This late, there’s only a couple guards making rounds, but if any were to see her, they’d report it to Caelus immediately.
“Thank you.” Pulling back, I drag my thumb over her cheekbone. “Tomorrow?”
She presses a kiss to my forehead. “Tomorrow.”
Untangling herself, she glances down the hallway and strides in the direction of her quarters. I ache to follow—to lie down beside her and hold her close, bury my face into her hair. To protect her from Caelus.
But I can’t.
Her shadow disappears around the corner, taking my heart with it.