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Alesso smiled. “Hush, no. Merely added a few pinches of valerian powder. You will sleep better and wake without harm.”
“But…” Her tongue tripped over the word.
He shushed her again. Gently, he took her by the elbow and helped her to stand. No one noticed their departure. Courtesans and clients were absorbed entirely in each other, in the giving and receiving of pleasure. Ilse made an attempt to shake free of Alesso’s hand. He laughed and drew her close with an arm around her waist. No, she thought. I do n
ot want you. I only want Raul.
Her body admitted the lie, however. When Alesso adjusted his hold, his hand shifted downward to her hip. A bright burst of warmth flooded her body. She sucked in a quick breath. He paused, and she could tell he was looking down at her, because his breath feathered her hair. “All well?” he asked.
She shook her head. It was a false desire, born of weariness and fear and the drugged wine.
Outside her rooms, Alesso produced a key and unlocked the door. A part of her protested. How had he obtained a key? But her tongue felt too clumsy, and the words slipped away from her, even as she tried to form them. Alesso paid no attention to her distress. He guided her easily into her bedroom, where he laid her on the bed and loosened her clothes. This close, Ilse caught the whiff of his scent, a mix of bergamot and ginger, and another, a warmer scent, one she knew very well. It was the scent of a man not entirely immune to desire himself. As Alesso spread the quilt over her, Ilse tilted up her chin and kissed him on the lips.
Alesso went still. His expression was invisible in the darkness, but she heard his quick intake of breath. He muttered something—a curse or prayer, she couldn’t tell which—then pressed his lips against hers.
He tasted of wine and bittersweet smoke. She opened her mouth to his, and another kiss followed, slow and expert. His lips were hot against her skin as he imprinted more kisses along her cheek to the corner of her jaw. One hand drifted down to her breast.
The touch shocked her into awareness. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. She placed both hands on his chest and pushed him away. “No.”
Silence between them. Then Alesso said, “As you wish.”
He laid a hand over her forehead and spoke a string of syllables. Erythandran, but with an accent she had never heard before, softer and more fluid, the harsh syllables overlaid with tones of Fortezzien’s own ancient tongue. That was all that registered before the magical current wrapped her in sleep.
* * *
DOWN AND DOWN, into a sleep so immediate, so profound that she did not respond at first to the hands shaking her. She stirred, mumbled a protest, and tried to bury herself in sleep once more. The hands, however, were persistent. “Ilse. Wake up. You have a letter.”
That was impossible. A letter? What letter? Raul would never commit any message to paper. It was too dangerous. Markus Khandarr had spies everywhere.
Hands gripped both shoulders and shook harder. “Ilse, wake up. Now!”
With a gasp, she came awake.
Moonlight poured through the open shutters of her bedroom. A salt-scented breeze brushed her face, sweet and cool. Ilse sat up. She saw a shadow retreating through the door. “Who—?”
The shadow paused. “You will find the letter on your desk. Don’t worry. I promise to lock the doors behind me.”
Soft footsteps padded over the tiled floor. Moments later, she heard the door shut. Only then did she recognize Alesso’s voice. What was he doing here?
Oh. I kissed him.
All the details returned with hideous clarity. She stumbled from bed and into her study, but he had already vanished. Outside a gibbous moon hung low in the sky; bells rang whisper-soft through the night. It was well after midnight. Now she recalled how Alesso had promised to wait for any messages. He must have seen her give the note to the house runner. He was a spy. Or did he think he might blackmail her?
Letter first. Speculation later.
She found an envelope waiting on a serving tray on her table. There was also a carafe of fresh hot coffee, brewed strong, and a small drinking cup filled with water. She sniffed the water. It smelled sweet and aromatic. Not plain water then.
It was then she noticed a scrap of paper, which the cup had hidden. Printed in anonymous letters was the message: No poison. Merely an antidote for the valerian in the water. There is nothing in the coffee except coffee.
Ilse set the water aside, untouched. She didn’t trust Alesso’s claim. The coffee smelled ordinary, however, so she poured a cup and took a tentative sip. It tasted normal enough, so she drank down two full mugs and felt her head clear. Then she turned her attention to the letter.
The envelope carried no inscription except her name. Joannis had sealed the edges with plain yellow wax. Very ordinary. Very convincing. Anyone might think him too busy to bother with other precautions. Ilse knew better. She tested the paper and detected several layers of spells, keyed to her touch. Ah, interesting. Someone had attempted to break the spells, but failed. Probing deeper, she sensed two magical signatures, one strong and intoxicating, as bitter and pungent as alcohol. The second was warmer, softer and thinner, like a ribbon of worn velvet. She was not certain which belonged to which man.
Wax and magic remained intact, however. She touched her thumb to the wax and felt the magic ripple over her skin as the spell yielded to her identity.
Inside was a single sheet of fine parchment, with one line in Joannis’s distinctive script. I can spare you half an hour tonight. Come directly to the palace.
Ilse brushed a hand over her face. Alesso was still on watch, no doubt. She could do nothing about him today, however. It was more important that she speak with Joannis.
