Page 15 of Guard

Rixx glanced at Zala’s eager expression. But it was possible to make the two happy, even if only until he left. He glanced at the door, knowing that it would not keep out the dangers forever. As a shadow passed in front of the gap in the curtains, his breath caught. In the Den of Thieves, danger was always waiting in the wings.

Chapter

Fifteen

“Turn for me.” Myrria swirled a finger in the air as she assessed the pale yellow dress draping from thin straps on the woman’s shoulders.

The woman with jet-black hair—who did not look old enough to have been considered a woman for long—spun on the spot, and the gossamer layers of fabric flared around her hips. She stopped and put one hand on her hip. “It’s perfect.”

Myrria smiled at the compliment but frowned at the bodice. “It isn’t too snug around the chest?”

“There’s no such thing as too snug if it makes the girls look better.” The woman laughed and winked. “The fellas liked the last dress you made me. They especially liked taking it off.”

Myrria shook her head and joined the woman in laughing. She’d been sewing garments for the nearby pleasure house for long enough that their innuendos and sly comments didn’t bother her. At least the ladies at this house were always in good spirits and seemed happy. Not all the houses could boast that.

The curtains separating the small fitting room from the rest of the madam’s office parted and a striking female with a tower of lavender curls walked in on a cloud of heady perfume. She flicked her gaze to the pleasurer and then to Myrria. “You’ve outdone yourself again, Myrria.”

Myrria smiled at the madam, her cheeks warming from the compliment. “It’s easy to create when I have such beautiful canvases to adorn.”

“She is lovely, isn’t she?” Madam Serena let her gaze linger for longer on her employee. “And quite popular with clients who like to play daddy.”

Myrria’s flush deepened, but she reminded herself that all the females who worked for Serena were well-paid and safe. That couldn’t be said about a great many females in Kurril.

The pleasurer in yellow thanked Myrria, winking again as she swished through the curtains.

“Was she your last fitting?” Serena asked.

Myrria cut a look to a nearby chair that had been piled high with garments when she arrived and was now empty. “She was.”

The madam pulled back the tasseled curtains and beckoned for Myrria to follow her into the large room that served as her office. She crossed to a gold and glass cart that was topped with decanters and bottles filled with colorful liquids and pulled the jeweled stopper from one. “That calls for a drink.”

Myrria considered declining. She usually did, since she didn’t like to leave Zala alone for long periods of time. But Rixx was with Zala, and he had assured her that the two of them wouldbe very content repairing things around the house. What harm could come from a quick drink? “Thank you.”

Serena glanced over her shoulder and smiled then proceeded to pour a pale blue liquid into two crystal glasses. “You have been working for me for many years, no?”

Myrria thought about just how long she’d been creating gowns for the women in Serena’s pleasure house. It was impossible to think back without remembering how hungry and desperate she’d been when she’d bumped into Serena at a fabric merchant’s stall in the market. She’d been admiring the fabrics with no intention—or ability—to buy when Serena had asked her if she’d made the cloak she’d been wearing.

It hadn’t been an extravagant garment—and by that time, it had been well-worn—but Myrria had lined the heavy brown wool with a pale pink velvet to make it soft against the skin and because she loved pink.

She’d known at a glance that Serena was a female of some importance because of how the vendors attended to her, and she’d sensed kindness in her eyes. “I did.”

Serena had nodded as she’d looked Myrria up and down, although the scrutiny was not unkind. “You are a seamstress?”

Myrria had never thought of herself as a seamstress although she did sew all her own clothes and loved the details that went into creating garments. Maybe it was her desperation, but she nodded eagerly. “I am.”

“May I?” Serena had asked as she’d reached for the edge of the cloak and pulled it back to reveal more of the lining. She also revealed a sleeping Zala that Myrria wore in a sling around her chest.

Serena’s brows had quirked, and she had dropped the cloak. “I need a seamstress.” Then she’d given her an address that was very close to Myrria’s own home. “Call on me this afternoon, and we can discuss it.” Before she turned away, she’d slipped Myrria a few heavy coins. “An advance.”

Myrria hadn’t found her voice before the woman had slipped into the crowds, but she had used the coins to feed herself and Zala and had gone straight to the woman’s address. Any hesitation she’d felt at working for a madam had evaporated when she’d seen how warmly Serena treated her girls and how well she paid. Myrria only wished she could work faster.

Now, holding the glass of alien gin, Myrria cleared her throat. “Many years.”

Serena raised her glass. “This is the first time in all those years that you have looked happy. Should I ask if there has been news?”

Myrria stared at the madam for a few moments before realizing what she meant, who she meant. “About Tobert? No, no word.”

Serena took a sizable sip from her glass, her gaze never leaving Myrria. “Then I cannot help but wonder what—or who—has made you happy.”

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