Chapter Seventeen After #2
Gone was the ridiculous merchant coat and tricorne hat, leaving him bareheaded.
He had done his best to clean up too, donning cream breeches, polished leather boots, and a loose white shirt beneath a blue silk brocade vest with silver buttons that matched his eyes.
If Cat did not know his character, she might think him dashing, with his piercing look and glossy black hair.
“My things are still on your ship,” she said wearily, gesturing in the direction of her cramped cabin.
“You and I both know you would leave everything behind if it meant saving your own skin,” he said.
Cat glanced back at him, her brow tight. “Tell me about the state of my skin, Jasper Fell. You’d know better than me.”
She did not mistake the way he looked at her. Not as an officer would a lady, or even a man would a woman. Fell watched her as he would a snake, waiting for her to strike.
“So long as you do as the governor asks, you will be granted a full pardon, and everything the Meridian Empire owes you,” he said evenly. “I promise you that.”
There was no use in pointing out how little his promises meant. Cat could still feel the heavy damp of the prison cells beneath the fort.
Together they descended from the deck of the Fledge to the docks of Alvaris.
As in the morning, there was a flurry of activity as ships came in for the night or sailed out into darkness.
Sailors, merchants, porters, and servants scurried despite the falling shadows.
Across the market and city skyline, lanterns flared to life, flickering warm and golden.
The pink-washed buildings flushed like rosy cheeks and music drifted through the humid air, the streets still clinging to the heat of the day.
While the ordered chaos of the market did not disappear, it moved, drifting from the square plaza at the waterside into the various taverns, parlors, and clubs dotting every street corner.
Laughter and jeers spilled from every open doorway and cigar smoke wafted through the windows, perfuming the city with an all-too-familiar scent.
Cat could not help but breathe deeply. For a moment, the smell was a memory, as good as stepping back through time.
Her eyelids fluttered, drifting shut. She was no longer in Alvaris, but Archenport a year ago.
Still caught in the throes of the pirate republic.
No governor, no king. No law but the law of the sea.
No empire but what they made themselves.
And it was already crumbling, Cat thought, opening her eyes to the city in front of her and the truth she always knew.
“Mr. Whisten seems relieved he was not asked to escort us in this endeavor,” Cat said, glancing back towards the harbor. The Fledge had disappeared, swallowed up by larger vessels.
Fell tossed back his head and laughed, the long line of his jaw sharp in profile. “Mr. Whisten is more priest than sailor these days, and shockingly faithful to a little wife back in Meridia,” he said, chuckling. “But the others were not so pleased to be left behind.”
“I could hardly turn up on the doorstep of a brothel dragging six men behind me,” Cat replied, turning them onto the wide avenue. “One is enough.”
Beneath her arm, Fell seemed to stiffen, and his gait slowed. She did not miss the way his throat bobbed, the bare skin jumping over the tied collar of his shirt.
Cat fought a smile, amused by the endless contradictions of Jasper Fell.
Sea battles did not frighten him, but a brothel certainly did.
“So, I am to pose as a customer?” he prodded, sounding unsure for once.
“Will that be difficult for you?”
Cat could not help but tease him, leaning close enough to smell sandalwood.
Her smile widened. “I know you would never pay for the pleasure of a woman’s company, even now when you can afford it.”
Pink tinged his cheeks, and Fell swallowed again. “And what will you do while I wait?”
A flush of pleasure washed over Cat, as if she had just gulped down a glass of spiced rum or burning taquil.
She inhaled deeply, smelling tobacco again.
This time, it did not remind her of the pirate republic and its dying days, but the Widow Rose in her triumph.
When the tavern spilled over with all manner of patrons, and Cat ruled them all.
“News of Osprin’s violence in Archenport is well known by now.
I am a simple barmaid fleeing the Meridian Empire and the noose.
Looking for work, looking for somewhere to go,” she offered.
Then her voice rose an octave, her refined Meridian accent replaced by something rougher.
“My darling Bobby was just a ship’s mate on the Harmony.
He survived the fleet’s arrival just to face the gallows.
And I had to run,’afore I hang next to him,” she finished, sniffling.
Her eyelashes fluttered for good measure. “Sometimes I think I should have.”
A corner of Fell’s mouth lifted, his cold, iron eyes fixed on her face.
“You are a frightening woman, Cat Rose,” he said, more impressed than insulting.
She grinned back at him. “I do my best.”
* * *
ALVARIS AT DUSK thrummed and the first stars twinkled in a purple sky.
Cat ventured they were due for a storm to break the heat soon, but no clouds rolled in, leaving the endless constellations unobscured.
Until the buildings closed in, tiled roofs mere feet apart, some connected by flowered vines and arcs of fresh washing, shirts and skirts hanging like flags.
Cat could not help but think of Archenport again as they walked, another brothel looming in her mind.
The governor’s mansion.
Six months ago, an enterprising madam named the Duchess held sway over Osprin’s estate, her business well-established.
But not so anymore. The Duchess was smart enough to abandon Archenport at first sign of the Meridian fleet, fleeing with whatever she could carry.
Most of her boys and girls were not so lucky.
They were charged with fraternization or piracy itself, and executed with the rest in the early days.
Abby All-Smiles, hanged. Billy Charm, Blushing Henry, Theria Wallace, all hanged. Executed by governor’s order for the crime of survival.
I almost hung with them, Cat thought as she led Fell deeper into the city.
I still might.
A fiddler played at the doorway of a nearby tavern, beckoning customers next to a painted sign of an ale tankard. Cat bypassed him neatly, maneuvering around a crowd of Esperese merchants making their rounds.
When they turned a corner, Fell’s jaw dropped open and Cat’s smirk curled.
A long row of lanterns flickered behind red glass, painting the street in a wash of scarlet.
All manner of people—men and women, sailors, servants, officers, traders, maids, and nobles—thronged along the curbs, a crowd that rivaled the market.
Some drank from dusty rum bottles, others crystal glasses.
Many smoked cigars and pipes, the air thick with clouds of heady smoke.
It felt like stepping into a fog or a mist rolled in from the sea.
“It’s the whole street. How can it be the whole street,” she heard Fell murmur, his wide eyes scanning the thrown-open windows and doors.
“Welcome to the Paradise Quarter,” Cat muttered as she pulled Fell into the crowd. The red oil lamps lit their way, marking every archway alongside a beaming man or woman, all of them dressed in bright green silk.
“I can’t believe the Esperese governor allows this,” he said, incredulous.
She rolled her eyes. “The Esperese have always been more tolerant of prostitution. Probably because they make them pay taxes.”
Revelers ducked in and out of adjoining buildings, but most flowed towards the largest structure on the street.
The villa towered over the red lanterns, its windows lit with the same scarlet glow.
Doors opened onto its courtyard, the mahogany panels banded with iron.
There were no guards to filter the crowd, and people passed through without issue, most of them content to glimpse within the famed brothel.
Cat could already smell the jasmine blooming and hear the undercurrent of gurgling fountains.