Chapter 9
Once she had looked forward to nights with Topp. She’d thrown dresses and skirts and tops in a ridiculous pile, trying to decide what she wished to wear. Her worries had been limited to him asking too many questions about what it was exactly that she did for her father. That he might wonder where her clever instincts and tips really came from after all.
Now she worried that falling asleep in his arms would be signing her own death warrant.
All relationships have problems . Elysia cracked a grin and held up a black dress with silver stitching.
An envelope popped through the mail slot, whizzing forcefully through the air and smacking against the ground. Elysia dropped the dress she had been considering and picked up the envelope.
She peered curiously at the seal.
It was an exact replica of the coin that hid in her flat. She immediately lurched forward, ripping open the door to the castle halls, looking back and forth for whoever had delivered the envelope. The halls were empty, though. Not a servant or stranger in sight.
Padding over to her vanity, she pulled out a fresh blade from the bottom drawer. Her small stockpile gleamed back at her and she smiled, a little rush flitting through her at the sight.
Lipstick and daggers. Every lady’s favorite.
Elysia cracked the knife through the wax and tossed the weapon aside.
Her eyebrows rose higher and higher the further she read.
We would like to welcome you, Ms. Parker.
But first, we will need something in return.
Three evenings from now you will deliver:
A distraction of grand proportions.
A guarantee your royal attachments will be occupied.
A promise you are not compromised by false love.
Give us this and you will be welcomed kindly.
Your response shall be collected soon.
She shredded the letter and all its stupid demands without a thought. Bit by bit, she fed the pieces to the fire, watching them turn to ash. A distraction? What did they expect her to do, set the godsdamn castle on fire?
Fuck .
She collapsed onto her dressing chair in front of the fireplace. In the next three days, she must confirm diplomat Scarzan’s actions against his daughter, find a suitable distraction for Rollie’s rebel network, and attend her mother’s party.
Good thing she hadn't been sleeping anyway.
Her thoughts stopped. The party . The party was in three days' time.
What a blessed coincidence from the undead gods.
The wheels of her mind began to spin. Perhaps, this would not be so difficult after all.
Elysia walked at a brisk pace through the castle halls. The heightened tension of the servants as they all but bolted from errand to errand was an echo of her own. Normally, she would have been plotting for weeks how to make the most of the diplomats’ brief time in Kava. She’d have scouted their schedules and made herself invisible amongst their vices with no agenda really, other than to collect information for whenever a deal was truly needed.
But now, her priorities had narrowed. Pin down Scarzan. Create a distraction of royal measure. And figure out how to save her own life. Easy.
She turned the corner, mind focused on the first steps of her insane plan. There are so many ways for this all to go wrong. Elysia arrived at her destination, and after knocking soundly upon the closed door, she stepped back to wait.
The young maid, Hannah, opened the door just a crack, peering through with her watery blue eyes.
She whispered, “Yes, Ms. Parker?”
Elysia smiled and looked on curiously, dropping her voice low in good humor. “Why are we whispering, Hannah?”
The girl’s cheeks tinged with pink. “Mrs. Parker is hosting our foreign guests. She does not wish to be disturbed.”
Elysia raised her voice loudly, “Oh, of course, Hannah, I wouldn’t dream of being a bother! I will have to come see my mother later then.”
The girl’s eyes widened, and Elysia gave a wink.
Heels pounded the floor, and the door flung open, poor Hannah barely escaping its path. Not that Georgia Parker noticed.
Her mother was wrapped in a tulle and silk concoction of black with a waist sash of red. The black and red reminded their guests she was the Crown’s woman through and through. Elysia admired the dark creation and wondered at how what would be both garish and far too girlish on most women was a refined statement upon her mother.
Georgia pulled Elysia into the room and lightly kissed each of her cheeks. Guiding her over to the crowded sitting room, she demurely announced, “Elysia Parker, everyone, my daughter and a most valued member of the Crown.”
Elysia kept her face fixed. Her mother loathed her recent dabbling outside of her father’s assignments. Even though it’d been just the once, and ultimately, still for the Crown, she’d much prefer Elysia use her considerable skills to build upon her and her father’s legacy rather than sift through the mud she found within the city.
Today was not for standoffs between mothers and daughters, though.
Today was a day for gaining secrets and bringing grown men to their knees.
Elysia smiled softly at their guests. “An honor to have you in our beloved home. Have you seen much of Relaclave?”
There were four in total.
Four overstuffed men in boring clothes with golden rings and dirty cigars stinking up her mother’s beautiful sitting room. Diplomat Scarzan had the teeth and eyes of a rat. She continued to smile gently even as his eyes raked over her.
So, it was tables and women for him then, she noted sourly.
The man to his right sat with a stiff back and his black hair coiled to perfection. She could almost admire his beauty if not for the words that came out of his mouth. He ignored her polite question altogether, turning to her mother instead.
“I had always thought you Kavians had gotten it right with your women, unlike the Bellians.” He eyed Scarzan derisively, who grunted and muttered his agreement in spite of the criticism against his people. The Peretian diplomat continued, chuckling as if what he was about to say was absurd. “I’ve heard your daughter often sits in on Jack’s business dealings. That she goes so far as to whisper counsel in his ear. Verging on inappropriate for your customs, isn’t it?”
What. A. Dick. She was surprised his ego could handle the affront it must be to have to review his schedule with her mother right now.
But the gentleman with the perfect hair and deep complexion from the land across the great waters, Peretia, did no more than speak the opinion of the masses in Kava. And it seemed the women in Peretia did not fare much better if his comments were any indication.
Elysia blinked her eyes a little slower, letting out a throaty laugh.
“You’re so kind to worry, Diplomat Batar.” She gave a teasing smile. “But I promise you, my position is secure.” Barf. Her mother was clearly made of steel because five minutes in and she wanted to smash their heads against the castle walls.
And yet, if her smile was that of a mouse, then her mother’s was that of a barracuda.
She ran her fingers over Elysia’s dark, loose waves. The gentle touch of a doting mother.
Georgia’s voice flowed like cool water. “Elysia, the prince mentioned he was unavailable for cards this evening. I imagine you are the one who is stealing him away from our fine guests?”
She forced a blush, letting her eyes shoot to and away from the diplomats. “My apologies—I hadn’t realized. His days are always so full. I can’t bear to say no when he finds a little time. I actually was wondering if I could borrow some jewelry? We’re going out this evening.”
The twinkle in her eyes was real this time as she looked on imploringly—her mother’s jewels were legendary. Sapphires. Diamonds. Golden cuffs. Silver rings. If it gleamed when the light hit it, then Georgia wanted it in her trove. Jack Parker was a merchant, after all.
Elysia could hear the men twitter, laughing at her wide eyes and innocent air. She was just a girl. A girl who wanted silly things like jewels. Her father must indulge her because there isn’t a thought inside her pretty head.
Vapid faces hide brilliant minds. She should make that the Parker women motto. Men like these were no bother. They saw what they wanted and acted accordingly. Frankly, that was the truth of most people. It was rare that anyone truly paid attention. And she thanked the undead gods for it. Made her job that much easier.
Georgia pulled a small key from within the folds of her dress and waved Hannah back over. “Please escort Elysia to my rooms.” She pressed the key into Elysia’s hand and gave her a knowing smile. “Enjoy your evening with the prince, darling.”
Elysia turned to follow Hannah, but was stopped by the sound of Scarzan’s voice.
“Ms. Parker, will you be joining us for our farewell party?”
She turned on her heel. “Of course, Diplomat Scarzan. My mother has worked very hard to create a lovely occasion for you all.”
His returning smile made her insides slick with dread. “Then you will save me a dance. I’ve heard such interesting things about you.”
Incredible how so few words and a single look could make her feel the need to bathe until her skin turned red and wilted.
She barely managed a polite nod before grabbing Hannah by the hand and forcing herself to walk at a measured pace to the door. It was impossible that Scarzan knew anything—there wasn’t anything to know. She stopped herself from looking back over her shoulder, where she could still feel him staring. She had mentioned her plans to no one. And yet the sick feeling persisted. I’m being ridiculous .
The servant clicked the door shut, and Elysia gave herself one long exhale to allow the awful sensation to slide away. Truth or not, she could easily see how the rumors of Scarzan dumping his daughter to crime lords like trash had come about.
Honestly, she imagined it would be a waste of her time even bothering to confirm his disgusting actions. But she would. Because she was better than that.
Negligence bred negligence, after all.
“Are you alright, Ms. Parker?” Hannah looked on in concern.
She held out an arm to the girl. “Let’s move along, shall we?” She tapped her ear, making her message clear.
Hannah’s eyes grew, but she stepped closer to Elysia, taking her offered elbow. They walked in silence away from the politics behind them, and both women breathed a little easier with each step. She pressed her lips, thinking as they strolled. “Hannah, Diplomat Scarzan has many, many needs. So many important needs that all the ladies waiting on him would do well to work in pairs. Tell him it is due to his stature that he receives such care. Do you understand?”
Elysia continued to smile blandly as she spoke her words of caution, and she knew her meaning was received when the young maid’s grip tightened on her arm. Oh, she knew alright. Elysia was sure they all did.
“I’ll make sure my mother knows you are to work in pairs. It will not be a problem.”
They stopped in front of the wide double doors leading to her parents’ rooms. The wood was heavy and dark with smoothed etchings of ships, coins, and treasures splayed across a map of their land, a subtle indication of her father’s role within the Crown. Elysia had always thought it rather brainless to declare who slept where in a castle, but maybe she had just spent too much time with an assassin.
Hannah opened the main room with her service key, and once the doors thudded shut, she finally spoke.
Her voice was lower than Elysia would have expected, low, but sweet. “Thank you, Ms. Parker. Working in pairs would make our jobs much easier while the diplomats are here.” She shifted from foot to foot.
Elysia’s smile faded, her brow wrinkling in knowing expectation. “He’s already attacked someone, hasn’t he?”
The girl looked up with a bit of fire in her eyes. “The maids have done a fair job of avoiding his needs , but I am not sure the same can be said for those who work elsewhere in the city. I… I heard things.”
Elysia gave a slow nod, thinking through the gift she was just given. “Of course...” She sighed, shaking her head. It was too bad Gage didn’t want to help with this one. She wouldn’t mind his assistance one bit with someone as slippery as Scarzan.
She brought her attention back to the task at hand, glancing around her parents’ suite. She had to get through dinner with the prince before she could worry about Scarzan.
“I should grab those jewels then.”
Hannah recognized her dismissal and left quietly.
Guilt flooded in as the door shut behind the young girl. Elysia stared at the door blankly, lost in thoughts of how the maids stood no chance against Scarzan if he truly attacked any of them. If he ordered one to leave and kept another behind. How no one would believe them or care. Even when it was someone as obvious as Scarzan. He was not golden. He had no charm or false veneer. But he was powerful.
Maybe if he went after the wrong woman, there would be fallout—but the maids? Her stomach felt sick and anger writhed somewhere deep inside her. You didn’t work within the Crown’s court without realizing there were only two necessary ingredients if you wanted to get away with wrecking someone’s life. The first was power, and the second was a fragile appendage swinging between your legs. That was it. If the man was sweet and easy on the eyes, then their path to destruction was even simpler, but it was far from a requirement.
Elysia turned back to face her parents’ rooms and inhaled deeply. Tobacco smoke clung like a second skin to every inch of the room. The smooth warmth of her father’s cologne layered over the smoke, leaving his fingerprint on every surface. Larger than life, he’d become the very air. The rich scent settled her bones, leaving a pang behind in its wake. Comfort, pain. He was both. And all these years later, she still didn’t know what to do with that.
Some might expect the Golden Seal to have rooms filled with excess and decadence, but then they didn’t really know Georgia Parker at all.
Soft grays nuzzled against deeper shades of charcoal. Cool, sea-glass-blue blankets draped over muted brown furniture. It had almost a foggy effect, reminiscent of a Relaclave morning by the docks. That was where her mother had met Jack Parker. It was where she had spent many a morning, waiting, watching—hoping he would be back from his travels. Now, he almost never left. Well into his fifties, he had young ambitious men to do that hard work for him.
Elysia snagged her father’s pipe and sniffed it before setting it back down. She supposed she would have to see him as well this week. She wondered what he made of the possible proposal.
He was hard to pin sometimes, unlike her mother, with whom she always knew where she would stand. Her father swung between his heart and the politics that ruled them all. Sometimes she thought that it was almost worse. The not knowing if it was her that mattered, or just how she impacted the bottom line. It was a strange sensation, being equally convinced of someone’s love and disgust for your presence. At least her mother was consistent.
She left the sitting room, drifting past her thoughts over to her mother’s vanity. A carved chest made from driftwood stood tall, each thin drawer set with a tiny golden key hole. Elysia freed the drawer she needed with the key her mother had loaned her and stood on tiptoes to see inside.
Two small sapphire drops for her ears. A stack of silver bands for her wrist. Both gorgeous yet understated. They were perfect for dinner. And they were also not why she had come here.
Elysia squatted down, unlocking the bottom drawer of the chest. Sliding her knife out from her ankle, she used it to gently pry the drawer’s false velvet bottom free. Her breath sped a little at the sight of the jeweled hairpin her mother had squirreled away from even her father’s eyes.
Thin, burnished silver branches with edges so sharp they’d slit your skin. The branches intertwined, curving to rest on one side of the owner’s head. A spray of dark rubies and milky opals dripped down the branches.
Elysia dropped the hairpin into a drawstring pouch, careful not to cut herself, and knotted it tightly. There were some doors in Kava that not even Elysia had dared sneak, buy, or trade her way into, and the House Gardenia was one of them.
The House Gardenia had a very particular guest list. Curious and frustrated that she had not received an invitation, Elysia had studied who came and went from the House for years. Followed people in. Followed them back home. She had found that the Doorman curated the guest list based on vice and value.
What was it you really wanted? And what were you willing to give up?
A guest’s first evening—the night their invitation indicated they should arrive—tended to be a wicked, unforgettable thing. An evening personalized to your own shadowed tastes. Cost determined upon departure. That was the gamble of the House.
Some people couldn’t stay away after that. Others never stepped foot in twice.
On any regular evening, every manner of delight or horror could be found within its walls. One need only whisper their longings to the Doorman and for the right price they would deliver. Secret loves, secret pains. They were the same, really.
The most important rule of the House was silence. Without it, there would be no House. People of every class and order visited the House, all with the expectation of a secret night that no one would ever be the wiser to. The person next to you might work beside the king, or just as easily be the woman who scrubbed his floors. Either way, to divulge identity or happenings was strictly forbidden.
This was the part that Elysia still did not understand. No one ever told. Something happened between entrance and exit that it was truly rare anyone ever broke this rule.
The ones who did? They were found with their eyes blank and bodies bloated by the sea. Dead and branded with the House’s crest.
It was brutal. Enough to scare the soot off of you. But she didn’t buy it. People weren’t made for secrets. It went against their nature. Always wanting to drop a little gossip, chat over a morning brew. The average person was far too stupid and arrogant to keep their mouth shut even when faced with the threat of death. Especially if they had just seen their neighbor fuck a stranger in a bird mask.
Now, the Doorman of the House Gardenia was something of a legend.
For each hand selected guest, the House gifted a precious bauble. A token of entry, if you will. It was the Doorman’s privilege and requirement to know the exact design, color, and shape of them all. Years of little treasures stored in finite memory.
People worried the House would fall if the Doorman ever did. Someone like that was bound to have enemies. It seemed a reckless, foolish system. But Elysia doubted this would happen.
For when did the House ever truly lose?