Page 23 of Garden of Poisoned Delights

Sometimes Charon thought about embarking on a journey to Lukos and seeing if it could be a home. He did not entirely love the way Staria functioned as a state, the strict class divides and the rulership that could not be challenged or changed without poisons and selling out your own family. He was free to go where he wished, and even with his contributions to the debts of his fellow courtesans, he had enough saved to outfit himself for the journey.

But then he would go downstairs in the late afternoon and see them all there, flittering like bees between flowers, laughing and joking and talking over each other. Yves would smile immediately when he saw Charon enter the room, and the far-off shores of Lukos didn’t hold quite the same appeal. Or maybe it was being alone that no longer seemed so enticing.

At the moment, he didn’t mind being alone with his book. It was a new book and part of a limited printing, gifted to Charon by Delauney de Mazet. Delauney knew Charon liked stories about the Lukoi, and had found a copy in a stall of—probably pirated—goods in Diabolos. Delauney knew Charon liked stories about the Lukoi, and had found a copy in a stall of—probably pirated—goods in Diabolos. Charon had already devoured it once immediately after Delauney gave it to him, reading until long past dawn when he normally would have gone to sleep for a few hours. He’d missed the meal the courtesans called “breakfast”, which in a pleasure house open until dawn, typically happened well after the bells rang at midday, and had endured the good-natured teasing from the rest of the household because of it. He was looking forward to reading it again, slowly, savoring each word as Eduard savored the marks on his backside, eager to revisit some of the fascinating history Victor Owl-Eyed recounted amid the pages.

Except when he opened the book, there was nothing there.

For a moment, he was convinced he’d picked up the wrong volume and had instead selected one of his blank journals, where he sometimes kept notes in Senex about books he’d read, or interesting tidbits he’d learned from clients or other courtesans. But no. It was the book, with the name embossed on the side and the title page clear and concise—On the Habits and Culture of the Fierce Lukoi and the subtitle in smaller type beneath—A First-Hand Account of the Exiled by a Scholar Who Now Lives Among Them.

Charon flipped the pages, but there was nothing there. There were no illustrations of the handmade home where Victor Owl-Eyed lived, built by his dominant and mate, Sava Snow-Walker, who featured in the illustrations along with a snow cat and a host of other people and creatures native to the region. The cave paintings that told the story of the Lukoi’s exile and founding of their state were also missing.

Charon rose from his reading couch, the one Yves liked to sprawl on amid a pile of blankets and pillows to drink tea on chilly winter evenings when the nobles stayed home. He placed the book on the table and went out to the hallway, listening for the sound of a certain Mislian mage’s musical voice. He could hear it coming from the back garden, where Hektor was likely having tea with Rose as they stared longingly at each other and traded kisses when they thought no one could see. Rose had passed her age of majority some months ago, shortly after Adrien’s coronation, and she and Hektor were officially courting. Laurent seemed resigned to the fact they would marry sooner rather than later, and Charon didn’t doubt that while he might have reservations due to their age, he knew Hektor would sooner lay his life down than hurt Rose. He loved her with a pure, beautiful devotion that made the entire house smile when they spoke of it.

Rose was sitting at one of the little wrought-iron tables in the back garden, which had become more expansive over the years since Hektor’s brother had become the king’s submissive. Bazyli and Emile had retired to one of Emile’s country estates after Adrien had taken the throne, and Charon knew that while Hektor missed his brother’s visits, he was happy that Baz had found someone to love him and his Mislian goddess. The flowers were a constant reminder of Bazyli, which Charon knew made up somewhat for Baz’s absence from the city.

“Good morning, Charon,” Rose said, waving cheerily. “Come join me, won’t you? Hektor is running lines for the new play. There’s plenty of tea, though I know it’s not as strong as you prefer. I can send Hektor to fetch yours, if you like.”

Rose had been a child when Charon had come here to the House of Onyx, and it was her transformation into a beautiful, accomplished actress that brought home just how long Charon had been a courtesan in Laurent’s house. She had grown into a stunning woman, with more admirers than there were stars in the sky, and still her devotion to Hektor was as strong as the moment she’d taken him under her wing when Adrien de Guillory had dropped him on their doorstep.

“Thank you,” Charon said, and bowed slightly, “but I am here to speak with Hektor.”

“I didn’t miss our lesson, did I?” Hektor looked briefly alarmed. He’d kept up his signaling lessons, even after his voice returned.

“No, nothing like that,” Charon began. “It’s about a book.”

HELLO

The House of Onyx’s resident demon, Flick the fox, emerged from Hektor’s spirit and pranced over to Charon. He wound himself around Charon’s ankles like a cat and gazed up at him adoringly, his bright gold eyes gleaming.

“Hello, Flick,” Charon said.

HELLO FIERCE WARRIOR, Flick said. I THINK YOU WOULD MAKE A DASHING WOLF MAN. THE WOLVES OF LUKOI WOULD TREMBLE.

“How strange you would say that,” Charon said, arms crossed over his chest. He raised a brow. “I have come to speak to you about just that very thing.”

“Oh, no,” Hektor said, rushing over. “Flick, you didn’t. Tell me you didn’t.”

DO YOU KNOW THAT THERE ARE FOX GODDESSES THERE IN LUKOS, MY BOY? I COULD BE A GOD.

Rose gasped. “Oh, no, Charon, your book!”

Hektor signed I am so sorry, looking miserable.

DO NOT BE SORRY, Flick said, prancing about. I KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT LUKOS. NOW I AM EVEN MORE CLEVER.

Hektor said, very carefully, “Flick, return to me.”

Instead, Flick kept prancing like he was showing off his newfound knowledge to an adoring audience instead of a mortified mage, an aghast Rose and a very unamused Charon.

CHARON DID YOU KNOW THAT THERE ARE SNOW KITTENS THERE

I HAVE SEEN THE ILLUSTRATIONS

IT IS NOT AS CUTE AS ME

BUT PASSABLY CUTE

I SUPPOSE

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