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At that, Nadine laughed, a long wondrous peal of laughter that seemed to make the sun shine brighter. “Oh dear, no. I do nothing for Lord Kosenmark, nothing but pleasure his clients, which is why he values my services. I came out here for me. And you.”
Ilse’s skin prickled with dismay. She took refuge in smelling the flower.
“Did you quarrel with him?” Nadine asked.
Ilse smothered a laugh. “Is nothing secret?”
“Nothing,” Nadine said cheerfully. “Now tell me. No, I shall tell you. You quarreled with Lord Kosenmark. A good thing, I say. He’s far too arrogant and handsome and powerful and rich. He needs a tiny sharp goad. And you are tiny,” she said with a glance at Ilse. “Am I right my friend?”
“Right enough.” Ilse sighed, thinking of how she disliked quarrels.
“Are you leaving us?” Nadine said more quietly.
“I don’t know.”
Nadine hesitated. “I hope you stay.” Then she flicked her chin away, in a nervous gesture. “Rosel is gone. To the city hospital, they tell me. And Mistress Raendl looked a perfect thundercloud, as though she had eaten an entire wagonload of prunes.”
Ilse said nothing. Any thought of Rosel made her queasy. Her own role in that matter was not entirely without blame.
“He was worried about you, too.”
No need to ask who Nadine meant.
“I heard from Kathe that he insisted on attending you himself. He even fetched your meals and would not let the chambermaids do their duty. He chased them away, saying you needed quiet.”
“Perhaps he felt guilty,” Ilse said drily, “about working me so hard the week before.”
Nadine smirked. “You lie badly. What happened at the banquet? I’ve heard interesting stories about you and Lord Kosenmark.”
Her pointed look made clear what kind of stories she’d heard, and Ilse’s cheeks warmed. “He was avoiding someone, and he asked me to help. Nothing more.”
“He should pay you extra for such favors. Ah, I didn’t mean to make you unhappy. I’ll be quiet, if you let me sit here a while longer. Eduard is teaching Mikka and Tatiana how to play the new hammer strings, and I cannot bear the noise.”
Ilse made a gesture of acquiescence. They sat in silence, a thing so rare with Nadine that Ilse wondered if another courtesan had disguised herself as Nadine. Or was this young woman the true Nadine, and the other a performance, given to everyone and not just those she pleasured?
She was a lovely young woman, Ilse thought. Like a dark brown cat, draped over her seat as though she reclined upon silken cushions. Her lean face could be in turn sensuous or asexual, and her expression flickered from merry to serious and back. Where had she come from? How had she come into Lord Kosenmark’s service? As the setting sun glanced through the bare trees, its light reflected from a thin silvery scar along Nadine’s throat.
Ilse reached out and traced its length. “Who did that?”
Nadine shivered and closed her eyes, her long lashes brushing her cheeks. “A friend.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Oh yes. Sometimes friends make mistakes. Grievous ones that cry out for us to stay and prove we are true friends.”
“Does that mean we never disown our friends, no matter what?”
She heard a whispering sigh, as though Nadine recalled a difficult choice in her past. “It depends.”
“On what?”
Nadine tilted her head and smiled, her teeth flashing white in the sun. “It depends on the friend. And you. And what you find in your heart.”
She flowed to her feet and ran back along the path toward the pleasure house, branches swishing behind her.
Ilse remained outside another hour, thinking of what Nadine said, of what her own feelings were. (And what were those feelings? Strange and confused. Did it really matter what she felt or believed? Apparently Lord Kosenmark believed it mattered, or else he would not have lowered himself so, spoken so honestly. That is, if she could trust him to be honest and not playing yet another role.)
She made a disgusted noise. Stop it. Either
