Deja Vu

I have a sense of déjà vu when Kassian shows up in my rooms holding a dress. It was not long ago when Kastien was the one offering me a dress to enjoy a night of fun with him. Only tonight is far more likely to be a night of danger and deception.

I hold out the garment so I can get a proper look at it. "Do I want to know where you got this?"

"It's clean, if that's what you're worried about. Freshly washed."

"There's more to it than I would have thought."

"I need your arms covered," he explains. Without his shadows, we are at the highest risk of touching. Though I'm sure he will wear his own gloves, there can't be any mistakes.

"It won't be a problem," I say. "With this low neckline, no one will be looking at my arms."

"I'm counting on it."

Kassian waits outside for me while I lace up what little there is of the bodice. I can't wear boots to hide my knife, so I find a way to tie the sheath into one of my garters. Since I can't very well be seen leaving my quarters like this, I don a scarlet cape over the top of everything. With the way it clasps about my throat, the sides cover my cleavage and shoulders.

No one will think anything of the absence of petticoats. I'm known to wear all kinds of oddities. When I find Kassian, he's holding a red rose, the thorns already having been plucked from the stem. I hold out my hand for it.

"It's not for you," he says.

"But I'm supposed to wear a flower to mark myself."

"And that would put you in danger. I'll give the flower to some girl at the club to draw our contact out. Then we'll question him properly once we have the upper hand. I have men already canvassing the area. Dressed as civilians. Some are already stationed at the club discreetly."

"And what if your own men are in on the attempts made against your life?"

"Then I suppose we'd best hope they can't see through our disguises." He pulls out a blond wig for me, curled ringlets bouncing every which way. Kassian helps me to secure the whole mess over the top of my head, tucking all the strands of my dark hair beneath it.

For himself, a light brown wig and a slight beard, which he attaches with some sort of adhesive.

"How do I look?" he asks.

Actually, he looks a lot like Kassian now. The hair color and beard length are the same, though I doubt he would appreciate such a comment.

"Less kingly," I offer.

"Good. Then let's be off."

Dawson is located in Smack Dab in the middle of the city. It's the largest building in the entire block, as well as the loudest.

"Damn," Kassian says from the horse next to me. "I just realized we can't go in together."

"Why not?"

"A man doesn't take his mistress to a place like this. He goes here for a break from his mistress."

"What about his wife?" I ask.

"He needs a mistress for a break from his wife."

"What about your parents?"

"That's a different case entirely. The men in my family don't give up their power for anything less than the most all consuming love. Something that they're willing to give their lives for."

His words make my mouth go dry, and I can't quite meet his eyes.

"Then I suppose we'd better head in so we can better protect yours," I say. "What should I do?"

"I don't want to separate."

"You just said we have to. We'll draw too much attention if we enter together."

He thinks a moment, not bothering to climb down from his horse yet. "There should be other entrances in the back. We just need to get you in. Try to get to the gaming room. I will find you from there. But if anything happens, if any man tries to … grab you or do anything at all—you leave. You get out. And I will do this on my own. I should do it on my own anyway."

"Too late," I say. "Friends don't let friends go to gentleman's clubs alone when someone is trying to kill them."

He doesn't bother to laugh at the lame joke. I slide down from my horse. Catching myself on my feet, I hand the reins to Kassian before he can utter another word of protest.

I feel my way around to the side of the building. Music and laughter spill out through an open window when I reach the back, the light helping me to find a door. There's nothing left but to use my talents of manipulation to get myself where I need to be.

I pull the unlocked door open, my eyes blinking at the sudden onslaught of light. Taking a few hesitant steps into the room, I try to make sense of where I am. Tubs of water. Stacks of used mugs. A strong scent of stew.

Kitchens.

A young girl—perhaps ten or so—looks up from where she's scrubbing at pots in one of the tubs of hot water, her hands red and raw from the task.

"Oh," she says upon my sudden entrance. She flicks her head back in an attempt to get an errant strand of thick black hair out of her eyes. Her hair doesn't look as though it's ever been brushed in its life. A relief. She doesn't work here as a prostitute. She's merely a kitchen girl.

"Sorry," I say. "I think I came in the wrong way. I'm a new hire. Can you point me to the gaming room?"

"That door. Down the hallway. Up the stairs. Second door." Her hands never cease their scrubbing.

As I exit the room, another girl is entering, and we collide. The fall sends my cape sprawling open, and the older woman gets a good look at me. A good look at more of me than has ever been seen in public.

"Who are you?" The new voice is stern and exhausted.

She's broader than I am, which I tell myself is why she was able keep her feet and I wasn't.

"New hire," I say as I catch my feet.

"I don't think so. I do the hiring for the working girls." Damn. New tactic. "I need the money. Thought if I came ready to work, you might have need of me."

She steps up to me and unclasps my cloak. It falls to the ground in a tangled heap.

"You're wearing gloves? Honey, the men here aren't worried about getting dirty." She pinches my fingers as she slides each one off and pockets them. She examines me as she walks in a circle about me. "You know your way around a bedroom?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You don't have much for a man to hold on to up top. Open your mouth."

A bit startled by the question, I do so. It is the only reason I'm able to let slide the insult to my décolletage.

"You've got nice teeth. That's a rarity around here. All right. You're in luck. I'm short a girl tonight. I can't give you regular work. But I'll give you a quarter necos if you finish out the week."

"A quarter necos!" I shout back without thinking, forgetting myself for a moment.

"Fine. A half. Just because of the teeth. But if I get one complaint about you, you're out."

I have to remind myself that I'm not posing as a noblewoman tonight. I'm a poor working girl.

"Done," I say.

"Take this. You'll save me a trip." She hands me a tray full of mugs spilling over with ale. Then Madam Dawson gives me the same instructions up to the gaming room. "Let the men have a good look at you. Most of them are regulars, so they already know where the rooms are. They can show you where to go to receive your services."

I take the proffered drinks and push at the swinging door with my hip, so very glad to be out of that room. I couldn't believe all the things Madam Dawson said in front of the little girl. Though if she works here, she's probably heard much worse.

Even without the directions, I'm sure I could have found the right room. Music from fiddles and other stringed instruments pours down the stairs, along with the tinkling of coins hitting tabletops. Cigar smoke clogs the air.

As soon as I walk in, I hold back the urge to cough. How the hell am I supposed to find Kassian in this? How did I let the king talk me into bringing him to a place like this?