Page 90 of Trick

I expected gaping. I predicted they would make their excuses and scuttle off to a place where they could properly mock me. Either that, or they would mumble their acceptance out of duty.

The ladies did neither. Instead, they traded glances, a silent exchange occurring between them. Then they sprouted from their hiding place and eagerly looped their arms with mine.

Relief swept through me. Our skirts flounced together, veils of fabric rustling as we embarked through the passages.

Posy and Vale proved knowledgeable companions, having acquainted themselves with the accessible corners of Spring. The tailor’s room, where bolts of cloth and spools of thread flushed under the glow of moonlight. The perfumer’s laboratory crammed with oils, essences, and dried flowers. The frosty cellar containing barrels of Spring wine, all corked and sealed and clinking when we touched them.

Posy complained about having stiff nipples. Vale crooned a saucy comment about that, which made her lover grin, then she looted a bottle of merlot for our jaunt.

Lastly, we entered a repository lined in black velvet walls. My feet slowed as I frowned at the mounted harnesses, bridles, and rods. “What …”

But after another leery step, I didn’t need to finish the question. My hands bunched in front of me, and I struggled to quell my features. Metallic designs inlaid the collection of straps and belts. The rods were as thin as reeds and propped on a display rack, and several open cabinets showcased fringed items, as well as ropes and silk eye cloths and masquerade masks.

Posy and Vale trotted inside while tossing me sprightly expressions. Noticing something, they halted and rounded on me. Disquiet must be squatting on my face, because sudden uncertainty crossed their features.

“So it’s true,” Vale mused. “Autumn is indeed as modest as they say.”

“Sorry, Highness,” Posy hastened. “Perhaps we got carried away. Is it too much?”

I swallowed, not wishing to offend them. “We have our private preferences, as everyone does. I was just startled.”

“Never seen a pleasure vault, then?” Vale inquired without judgement.

Quite the contrary. I had never seen anything like this, but I’d discovered not long ago several similar apparatuses in someone’s wardrobe. Not that I would confess about that.

Posy took my hand and escorted me. “Are you not curious?”

No, I was not. The objects seemed either frivolous, aggressive, or highly complicated. Although I knew what Poet kept in his closet, nothing in his collection had been arduous or convoluted, though I had seen a few softly assertive options.

My scalp prickled. Perhaps I was a little curious.

Posy and Vale gave me a tour, their voices teetering between naughty and regal. According to the ladies, this vault was open to anyone in the mood to energize the ambience in their bedchambers.

I questioned whether that could possibly be sanitary until the females pointed to the shelves holding pearlescent liquid, compliments of Winter. The mixtures presumably took care of cleaning the accessories, restoring them as if they’d never been used.

Posy and Vale retreated to admire a variety of feather wands filling a vase, whereas apprehension delayed me from continuing by myself. Electing to keep an open mind, I maneuvered through the repository and pretended it was research. Clasping my hands in front of me, I viewed each instrument as if I were in a museum.

Despite the nature of these devices, the craftsmanship was beautiful. Dark colors. Eloquent patterns. The space itself was organized, streamlined yet lushly decorated with a miniature chandelier bolted to the ceiling.

I approached a chain dangling from above, which held an assortment of satin ribbons. My fingers glided over a thick one trimmed in lace, my skin pebbling as it glided over my wrist like a bracelet.

I blinked and drew my hand away. Vale and Posy debated whether to borrow one of the feather wands, then forgot to decide once they uncorked the merlot bottle.

From what I’d seen wine do to otherwise sane people, it appealed to me as much as spittle. But this was not my kingdom. Besides, the Seven pounded their spirits and kept them down better than most warriors. Tipsy or sober scarcely made a dent in their behavior.

They passed the merlot back and forth. I declined more than a sip.

“I’m impressed, Your Highness,” a feminine voice intruded, this one sounding like a cut gem—fair but glaring.

Our trio startled. We spun toward Cadence as she sidled into the room wearing a gown of chartreuse silk, the pigment clashing with her evergreen tresses.

The lady gestured at the surroundings, then to Posy and Vale, then to the vessel in my hand. “Very impressed,” she underscored. “To lower yourself to this level. I wouldn’t have guessed.”

That I would spend my precious hours with two of the Seven. That I would set foot in a pleasure vault. That my prim lips would take a drink.

I wouldn’t have predicted it, either. Still, I did not care for her tone. As the most indiscreet of the Seven, Cadence also proved herself the brashest. Perhaps she believed her long-legged, razor-cheeked beauty could get away with having a cobra for a tongue.

“What a pleasant surprise,” I said trimly, then quirked a brow, waiting for her to do as her station required.

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