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The golden skin. The arrogant lift of her chin. The sound of a woman’s contralto voice, but in a man’s body.
“You came to rescue your brother.”
The reaction came far more quickly than she had anticipated. Without warning, the woman drew a knife from her belt and attacked. Nadine sidestepped the first blow—all the while admiring the speed—gripped the woman’s wrist, and slid under the blade to draw her close. Its point had nicked her cheek in passing, and she felt blood trickling down her neck. She ignored it. “You must excuse my impertinence. I dislike knives.”
Their dance had taken them underneath one of the lamps. Both of them breathed heavily, the rise and fall of one chest in counterpoint to the other. The other woman attempted to draw back, but Nadine kept her arm locked around her waist. Now she could discern other details, which had been invisible before. The fine texture of the woman’s jacket, with a subtle pattern woven into the cloth. The scent of perfumed soap. The calluses on her palm, which spoke of constant practice with a sword.
She knows weapons, but she had never attacked another before, not in earnest.
The woman glanced down. She must have noticed the scar at Nadine’s neck, because her eyes widened. “I see why you might not like knives,” she said. “Why did you threaten me?”
“I did no such thing. I merely observed what was obvious. Which sister are you?”
Those brilliant brown eyes narrowed. “Which courtesan are you?”
Nadine gave a low, gurgling laugh. So quick, so clever, this one. “Guess.”
Kosenmark’s sister shook her head. “I have no time for games. My brother—”
“Is locked in a cell, two floors below. Your father spoke with the king. The outcome displeased Markus Khandarr. More I cannot tell you.”
The tension in the woman’s arm eased. Nadine, however, did not loosen her grip, nor did she move to withdraw from the embrace. There was still a chance that Kosenmark’s sister might choose to kill rather than trust Nadine to keep silent.
“You must be Nadine,” the woman said at last.
“So my mother told me, years ago.”
A brief smile lightened the other’s expression. “I am Heloïse.”
The oldest of Kosenmark’s three sisters. He called them all dangerous, she remembered.
“How did you learn about my brother?” Heloïse asked.
“Why did your father not tell you?” Nadine replied.
Heloïse dropped her gaze and shifted her weight, a move calculated to throw the unwary off balance. Nadine merely smiled and drew her companion closer. Heloïse had rose-colored lips, as full and mobile as her brother’s. How to tell if the differences outweighed the similarities?
“I will not stab you,” Heloïse said, glancing up toward Nadine through her eyelashes.
Nadine recognized a technique as deliberate as Evanna’s. Or Georg’s.
“No, you will not,” she agreed. “Tell me the truth. You had no idea your father spoke with the king, did you? Does your entire family keep secrets from one another?”
Heloïse laughed softly, bitterly. “Oh, secrets. Damned, cursed secrets. We are poisoned with them, all of us. If I had only known that my fool brother intended to visit this court, I would have beaten him senseless with a club, then locked him in a prison myself.”
“Your brother inspires such longings in most of his acquaintances. Where are your two sisters?”
“At home in Valentain. Standing behind you with a knife. Locked in conference with our father, discussing their future. Pick one, it might be true.”
“I dislike guesses as much as you,” Nadine replied. “Do you have rooms in the palace?”
Heloïse regarded her with increased wariness. “I do. The king … Let us say the king wishes one member of the family to reside here, and I prefer the distance from my family. Why?”
“Because I prefer the comfort of a soft bed to this bare corridor.”
She squeezed the bones in Heloïse’s wrist. Heloïse gave an annoyed cry and dropped the knife. Nadine kicked it away and stepped back. “Send for me tonight,” she said. “Give whatever reason you like to your maids, whatever will convince them you prefer a woman this once—”
“Not only this once,” Heloïse breathed.
