Page 116 of The Sorrow of Shadows

“Do you honestly believe your brother had any part of this?” he asks.

“Layne would never,” I say resolutely. I had absolute faith in my brother.

“Then you have nothing to fear. I know Breyla better than anyone. She would never hold you—or your brother—accountable for your father’s actions. That’s not how she thinks.” He says this with the same certainty I had about Layne.

“But the law dictates that Layne and I should share his fate.History would tend to agree,” I argue, referring to the story of Myer, Elythia, and their children.

“Breyla is the law, Ophelia. She would never let something happen to you. I promise.” I don’t know if I’m totally reassured, but it’s good enough for now.

“There’s something else I found—I think.” He says this cautiously, I’m sure to keep from triggering another episode in me.

“What is it?” I ask.

Elijah pulls me over to the desk and the record he was looking at. It’s a ledger of all my father’s accounts. Something I wouldn’t have thought to look over.

“At first, I almost looked over it, but I’m glad I didn’t,” he starts, running his finger down the page. “Here—just a week ago there were two suspiciously large transactions made close together. One is recorded as ‘H’ and the other as ‘M’. I’m fairly certain the ‘M’ is for the services of the Midnight Brotherhood, but I’m wondering if he did pay the Howard family.”

I scan over the records, trying to make sense of them. My eyes snag on one other transaction, dated several weeks prior. “Here,” I say pointing to it. “It looks like he paid the salary of Delilah Howard shortly before Aurelius's attempted poisoning.”

Elijah’s eyes widen. “I’m not the royal treasurer, but I can tell you that is far more than any other servant makes, Ophelia.”

I pull the ledger sheet out, folding and tucking it carefully in the bodice of my dress. Elijah then slips the letters into his pocket, and we return the room to its original state. “We need to get these to Breyla, immediately.” I say it with more confidence than I feel.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

BREYLA

Iwait until nightfall to track down the mercenaries I suspect are behind the Howard family’s deaths. Tomorrow is when my mother plans to announce her engagement to Lord Seamus, and I am running out of time. My auburn curls are braided tightly and tucked under a black hood, and I’m dressed in all black to help me blend in. My knives are strapped to their normal places, plus a few extras. One can never be too careful around mercenaries and assassins.

Shadows wrap around my body, helping me to blend in even more as I make my way through town. I duck and weave, moving as quickly as possible without being noticed. Finally, I come to an unassuming building on the outskirts of town. The citizens recognize it as a brothel, but it is so much more than that.

I slip in the front, careful to keep my hood pulled low. It’s not the first time I’ve been here, but I don’t need to be recognized right now. Sitting on a stool at the bar, I lean over to the madame as she greets me.

“Good evening, miss. What are you drinking tonight?” sheasks. She doesn’t mean liquor; she’s asking about my sexual preferences.

“I’ll take a gin with lavender,” I respond as quietly as possible.

Her brown eyes widen slightly in recognition of the phrase only used by those seekingotherservices. She leans over the bar to speak low. “And will that be with honey?” Another code.

“Honey and cinnamon, please,” I respond, letting her know I need to speak with the mercenary king.

“I’ll have that out in just a minute, miss.” She nods and steps back from the bar top, leaving through a door in the back.

A few minutes later, a young female with olive skin and black hair and a silver-haired male with onyx eyes step up on either side of me. The female’s lips are painted red and she wears a sheer matching colored gown. Her hair hangs low enough to cover her nipples, but nothing else is left to the imagination. I can see every beautiful curve of her lithe body. The male is topless, wearing only silk sleep pants low on his hips. He’s fair-skinned and has well-defined muscles that most males work years for.

They press into each side of me, their body warmth cocooning me.

“You ordered a gin with lavender?” asks the female directly in my ear.

I nod ever so slightly and lean into her embrace. The male presses in closer, burying his face in my neck, then whispers, “With honey and cinnamon?”

Again, I nod in confirmation, wrapping an arm around each of their backs. The male places a tender kiss on my neck, and I fight the urge to stiffen in his hold. It would seem suspicious behavior, but I know the fury he’d face if Aurelius finds out. It doesn’t matter that this is all part of the process for gaining entry to see the mercenary king. With my luck, Aurelius will smell another male’s scent on me and go feral.

“Come with us,” the female says. Her voice is low and sultry. To anyone else, this would look like exactly what people come to brothels for. But these two aren’t your typical courtesans. They’re part of a specially trained group that works for both the mercenary king and the brothel's madame. They function primarily as spies and bodyguards for the other courtesans that reside here.

I stand, letting them lead me out of the main room to the hallway. We travel to the back, up a flight of stairs and down another hallway. The male opens a door at the end and ushers us inside, locking it behind him. Immediately, I’m pushed against the wall and the female’s lips are on mine. They’re soft and full as she explores my mouth.

I don’t kiss her back, but let her hands roam my body as the male joins her. He pulls down my hood and kisses down my throat, his hands also exploring my body. This little inspection used to thrill me, but now I feel nothing. Now that I’ve had Aurelius, I’m afraid no one else will compare.

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