Chapter 13 Tobias #3
“Anyone with sense knows you’ve run away together. That the sovereign is doing something nefarious.” Her eyes grew large and curious. “What is it? I thought he just didn’t like you, but all this seems a bit much.”
“We need a place to stay.” The words tumbled out, fueled by Tobias’s racing heartbeat. “Somewhere safe to hide, just for a while. Can you help us?”
“One chamber for Her Holiness and Her beloved shouldn’t be an issue.”
“There are five of us.”
“Five?”
“You’re right,” Tobias said. “The sovereign is doing something very, very nefarious. None of us are safe.”
The courtesan took a step back, scanning Tobias over with a critical gaze. “You’ll elaborate later, yes?”
“If you find us a place to stay.”
She was quiet for a while, lips pursed as she contemplated his words. “God.” She rubbed her forehead. “They’re going to be pissed.”
“Who?”
“Come on.” She grabbed him by the wrist. “Your chamber awaits, Champion.”
Tobias fumbled to secure his cowl as she marched him down the alley, taking him out into the street.
Passersby paid them no mind, but he felt exposed, a breath away from death with each step they took.
They stopped in front of the tallest building he’d seen thus far, its brick walls stretching stories high, far better kept than the nearby shops.
Its red double doors displayed a decorative cock and cunt fashioned with ceramic tiles—the mark of a brothel.
The courtesan scanned the road, passing over various faces before her eyes stopped at a single man.
“Ladon,” she called out. “Over here.”
The shirtless man leaned against a shopfront windowsill, gnawing at a half-eaten apple.
Black waves hung loose over his ears, his deep golden skin polished to a shine and draped in turquoise beads.
The courtesan waved him over, and he swaggered their way, tossing his apple core aside and wiping his hand down his bare chest. He was svelte and wiry with a strong cleft chin and prominent nose, and when he reached their side, he towered over them both.
“Sabine, my mischief maker.” He gave the courtesan a playful pinch. “What do we have here?” Dark eyes lined in blue paint swept over Tobias, stopping at his cowl. “Is someone shy? It’s quite mysterious, this look. I’m positively titillated—”
“He’s not a patron,” Sabine said.
Slumping, Ladon rolled his eyes. “Then why are you wasting my time?”
“I have to show you something. But you can’t say anything.”
“Fine.”
“I mean it. Anything.”
“I said fine.” Ladon crossed his arms. “Get on with it. I’m working.”
Sabine peered around his shoulder, glancing from side to side before giving Tobias a nod. His stomach twisted, but he lowered his cowl.
Ladon stared at him, blank-faced. “I don’t get it.”
“Look at all familiar to you?” Sabine’s whisper sharpened. “Perhaps like a Giant Slayer, or a Keeper of Kin?”
Ladon’s eyebrows knitted together, and then his eyes shot wide. “Oh my God!”
Sabine smacked his arm. “Shut up.”
“You’re a legend! I was rooting for you the whole time. Well, not the whole time, but most of it, I swear.” He glanced in every direction. “Is The Savior here? Can I see Her?”
“They need a place to stay,” Sabine said. “I’m taking him to Isa.”
“Isa?” Ladon blew a raspberry. “Good luck with that.”
“You’re coming with me.”
“What?” he snapped. “Why?”
“Because he’s a wanted fugitive, and I’m not risking my hide alone.”
“Oh, I see. Throwing me to the wolves, eh?”
“Are you helping or not?”
He flashed Sabine a petulant glare, then turned to Tobias. “I get to meet Her Holiness.”
“Sure,” Tobias sputtered out. “Yes. She’d be honored.”
Ladon chewed the inside of his cheek as his painted gaze flitted between the two of them. “Fine.”
Sabine offered a nod of approval, then set her sights on Tobias.
“Cover up.” She took the task upon herself, pulling his hood low over his forehead and hoisting his cowl up the bridge of his nose.
“From this point forward, you’re our patron.
Don’t speak, don’t wander off, and don’t look anyone in the eyes.
You follow us and do as we say, understood?
” He agreed, and she glanced down at his wrist. “And since we’re being discreet, you might want to hide your promise. ”
“You’re promised?”
“Ladon.” Sabine shot him a glare before turning to Tobias once more. “Stick close. It’s a full house.”
“Make sure to appear utterly entranced by us. It shouldn’t be hard.” Ladon offered Tobias a wink. “Do you want to hear why they call me Ladon?”
“He doesn’t,” Sabine said. “No one does.”
She took Tobias’s hand while Ladon looped an arm around his waist. Stepping in time, they pushed open the double doors, ushering Tobias through an entryway—expansive and dark, the windowless walls blood red, the floor shining black tile.
They wove between sections in violet and navy, most layered with golden-stitched pillows and sheer beaded silks, some tucked behind indigo drapes or painted partitions depicting acts of debauchery.
Candles in golden sconces kept the space dimly lit, casting shadows over platters of fruit, phallic sculptures, and too many naked bodies.
The brothel was brimming with life as patrons and courtesans alike lounged atop couches, some dressed in expensive linens, others nude save for their beads.
They passed a man guzzling wine while shirtless women cooed into his ear, then three men engaged in a messy kiss, their hands down the fronts of one another’s pants.
A man and woman fucked in the corner—slow, rhythmic movements, as if they were making love rather than completing a transaction.
A courtesan with pale skin and jet hair swept by, and Sabine flagged her over.
“Is Isa—?”
“In their study,” the courtesan said.
Sabine turned to Tobias. “Brace yourself.”
A weight dropped in his gut. He followed Sabine and Ladon past an overflowing bathhouse that smelled of perfume and sex and up three flights of steps.
A man pounded another into oblivion in the corner of the stairwell, and Tobias and his courtesans swerved around their display, venturing onto the fourth floor.
The corridor was empty, lined in black painted doors like rows of soldiers.
He peered over the railing. The brothel had an atrium view, perhaps for the benefit of voyeurs, but he was searching for crested helmets.
A shorter set of stairs waited for them at the far end, tucked away like a secret, and they filed up one at a time, stopping at another door—a simple wood slab, no color or care.
With a deep breath, Sabine knocked three times, then pushed it open.
“Good day, Holder.” She and Ladon entered with a bow, then displayed Tobias trailing behind them. “We have a surprise for you.”
The room was sparce, the antithesis of the halls they had traveled.
Brick walls surrounded them punctuated by a single window letting in the light of the sun.
Shelves of scrolls, seashells, and weapons lined the space, the sharp edge of each blade piquing Tobias’s already heightened nerves.
A large desk made of polished olive wood sat in the room’s center, layered with parchment, reeds, and coin organized into neat stacks.
No couches, no stools. It wasn’t a room for visitation.
The only seat was the black velvet chair behind the desk, and in it, Tobias assumed, sat Isa.
They were likely around his mother’s age, though their copper skin was mostly smooth and barely wrinkled.
They wore their straight black hair short and swept to the side, and their sleeveless ivory tunic hung loose over their unimposing frame, a beige linen cowl drooping across their breasts.
An ebony tattoo wrapped their left biceps—simple in design, like uniform pyramids pointing to the floor—and plain silver rings with thick bands adorned each of their fingers.
Isa wasn’t large or imposing, but their hooded brown eyes pierced through Tobias like the knives on their shelves, and the bite behind them left him unsettled.
“This is the Artist.” Sabine smiled, though it was strained. “He is very eager to make your acquaintance.”
Reluctantly, Tobias lowered his cowl and hood only to be met with silence. Isa clasped their hands beneath their chin, their eyes unblinking as if studying the slope of his jaw, the angle of his nose.
Ladon cleared his throat. “The Artist competed in the Sovereign’s Tournament—”
“I know who he is.” Isa’s voice was a shock, keen in enunciation and tone. “You’re a fugitive.”
“Under false pretense,” Tobias said. “What the sovereign says of me isn’t true. I didn’t kidnap Her Holiness. You can ask Her yourself.”
“I’m not concerned about the validity of the claim. I’m concerned about my workers.” Isa’s gaze flitted to Sabine. “You’ve brought a fugitive into our home.”
“He’s a hero to the realm,” Sabine said.
“And?”
She wavered. “He seeks asylum.”
“And somehow that’s more important than your family within these walls?”
“If I may speak, I think they act in everyone’s best interest,” Tobias said. “The Savior’s life is in danger. If She dies, the realm dies with Her, including its people, even those within this very establishment. Sabine and Ladon simply aim to protect you.”
Isa leaned back in their seat. “A bullshitter, are we?”
“The sovereign is planning something nefarious,” Sabine said.
“Very, very nefarious.” Tobias mirrored the holder’s intensity. “Your aid in this matter will not only save the lives of your workers, but potentially the whole of Thessen.”
A pointed silence stretched between them. Isa’s gaze tore through Tobias as they flipped through slips of parchment. “You seek asylum?”
“Yes.” Tobias hesitated. “For . . . five people.”
Isa pursed their lips. “And how will we afford such hospitality?”
“There are those of us who can cook and clean.”
“Anyone willing to fuck for profit?”
“I can . . . ask.”
Isa scribbled something along one of their scrolls, uninterested in Tobias’s existence. “You will be on your best behavior. Quiet and well-mannered. The staff is not to be bothered.”
Tobias wanted to exhale in relief, but he kept himself poised. “Absolutely.”
“You will pay your way here, either in services rendered or in coin.”
“Done.”
Isa dropped their scrolls, looking him in the eyes. “If any danger befalls my workers—”
“I am skilled with the sword, as is Her Holiness. We will protect your establishment with our lives.”
The severity of Isa’s gaze didn’t lift. Rustling through a drawer, they pulled out a small blade not unlike Leila’s, twirling its tip against their index finger.
“I am quite skilled with a weapon myself. And if my people suffer in any way because of your interference, I’ll make sure the debt is paid. ”
Tobias tensed. “A fair price from a fair holder.”
Isa was quiet for a moment longer, gazing over the weapon before depositing it in the drawer. They looked to Sabine and Ladon. “Clear out their rooms.”
The courtesans bowed before disappearing, leaving Tobias alone with their holder.
Success. He’d barely thought it possible, yet here he stood, four walls shielding him, a roof over his head.
The brothel was a haven, a heavy load lifted from his back.
He’d promised sanctuary, and he’d delivered on his word—on safety for Leila, Raphael, and his family. On a shelter for the palace staff.
“You are a guest in our home—an inconvenient one at that.” Isa’s nostrils flared, umbrage alive in their eyes. “Any more surprises, and there will be hell to pay.”
Tobias’s gut twisted, but he said nothing, bowing before leaving the room.