Page 30 of The Rose in the Shadows

She nodded as if she had been expecting that and gestured to a small cart where an older woman was selling fabrics of a variety of colors. Iris pulled me towards the cart and began looking over the material as if she planned to make a purchase herself.

“You lookin’ for somethin’ specific, dearie?” the woman asked.

Iris smiled. “Our lady favors teal. We need to be makin’ her something for the ball.”

I bristled, surprised by how effortlessly she adopted the woman’s accent. There was no way I could do that. Did she expect me to do that?

The woman pulled out a roll of shimmering blue taffeta. “You like this?”

“It’s pretty.” Iris nodded and pulled some coins from the purse on her hip. “Bet you’re making quite a coin with that party comin’ up.”

“Moreso than usual this year.”

Iris raised her brows. “I’m not surprised. What with that new Hyraxian girl and all.”

The woman snorted. “If you can call her that.”

My stomach dropped, and I stepped towards her. I knew I should stay quiet, should let Iris take the lead, but there was an undertone in the woman’s words I didn’t understand. One that I needed to understand. “You doubt she’s a Descendant of Hyrax?”

The woman looked over at me suspiciously, obviously noting the ways my speech didn’t blend in with the rest of the townfolk, and Iris kicked my ankle as if to remind me I should let her do the talking.

“It’s not that,” the woman amended, as she took the coins Iris extended towards her. “I saw her myself on that bridge and at the castle d’other day. She got that Mark alright. It’s that story I don’t trust.”

“Why not?” Iris pressed, keeping her voice light, and her eyes focused on the fabric.

“That Zachariah fellow was no stranger to these parts. Spent quite a bit of his time and coin down at Madame Stefania’s.”

Iris stilled. It was a small movement, almost unnoticeable, and yet it was enough to tell me she’d heard something important. She nodded her thanks to the woman, gripped my hand, and started pulling me in the opposite direction. I struggled to keep pace with her, barely keeping my grasp on the blue fabric she tossed at me.

“Who’s Madame Stefania?” I questioned, which earned me some disapproving glances from the townsfolk we passed as we walked.

Iris grimaced. “You’re about to find out. And I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

She didn’t explain any further before stopping so suddenly in front of a shabby wooden building that I ran into her back. Music and laughter escaped through the door that swung open and closed as various young couples walked in and out of the establishment. The shutters were all drawn, hiding what was happening inside, but it wasn’t hard to make out the sound of moaning from the upper floors.

Dear Gods.

I’d overheard some of the ladies at court talking about places like this. Places where men and women alike could come to get theirneedsfulfilled.

I flushed the color of the roses on my bedside table.

Iris had brought me to a brothel. Seemingly unaffected by it, she tore the fabric from my hands, tossed it in the mud beside the door, mussed her hair, and pulled down the front of her dress until her breasts looked as if they were ready to bust out. Amazingly, I smelt the scent of her magic in the air once more and watched as her chest grew until she was impressively betterendowed. Catching sight of my shocked open mouth, she winked and nodded to my own dress. And while part of me wanted to protest, a bigger part of me wanted to know what secrets that woman had known about Zachariah. So I followed her lead and stuck close to her as she pushed open the door and walked inside.

The room we entered wasn’t particularly large. To my left was a long wooden bar where a burly man was pouring liquor for some of the guests. Stairs to the right led to the upper floors, and in the back corner of the room, several men stood at tables, talking and smoking. Much of the space was a sitting area where people laughed and chatted with each other on three worn olive couches.

All in all, everything seemed… appropriate. At first glance, all anyone appeared to be doing was talking, and some naïve part of me momentarily wondered if I had been wrong. Perhaps this wasn’t one of those establishments the ladies at court talked about.

But then, as I looked a bit more closely, it became easy enough to discern that Madame Stefania’s was meant for somethingmore.

On the stairs, a thin woman wearing a tight midnight blue dress with a slit cut nearly to the very tip of her pelvic bone was tugging on the hand of another woman. They laughed as they went up, a male following quickly behind them. In the room's corner, on one couch that hid in the shadows, a couple pressed close together. The man had buried his face into her neck while her hand stretched into the top of his trousers. At the table where a group of men were engaged in cards, a woman in red sat on the lap of the gentleman at the head of the table. He was focused on his cards, puffing smoke from the cigar dangling from his mouth, but as her eyes closed and her head fell backagainst his chest, I noticed his other hand was deep between her thighs.

I bit my lip and turned away, suddenly desperate to hide my flaming cheeks.

I wasn’t sure if I was more uncomfortable because they were engaging in such behavior publicly or because watching them made me feel oddly… curious.

I couldn’t remember if I had ever been touched in that way. Had I left behind a lover with my memories?

Iris, remarkably, didn’t seem to be phased by any of it. She approached the barkeep confidently, demanding to speak to Madame Stefania.

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