Page 85 of Song of the Shadow Prince
I gasped. “Who?”
“The seer. He’s the emperor’s right-hand man. He’ll have all the answers you seek.”
Before I could ask anything further, he disappeared into thin air. I gritted my teeth in aggravation. I hated when he did that. I wanted to ask more questions, but he never gave me the opportunity to do so.
Who the hell was the seer? Was it that creepy guy who stood beside the emperor when we went to the luncheon at the palace?If so, how the hell was I supposed to talk to him? He was practically glued to the emperor’s side. The only other person I could ask was Damien’s uncle. He might know.
Snapping out of my daze, I looked up and down the street, searching for the carriage that was supposed to be waiting to take me back to the beach house. The sun had set and it was dark out, and with only the flickering light from gas lamps, it was difficult to tell which one was mine. I swiveled my head back down the street and saw a hooded figure entering The Gilded Serpent. A veryfamiliarhooded figure.
“Damien?” I murmured with a frown. He disappeared inside and I wondered what the heck he was doing on the mainland. Ignoring the promise of a warm carriage, I jogged down the street and stepped over the brothel’s threshold.
By the time I entered, he was already climbing the stairs that led to the second floor, two at a time. I pushed through the patrons toward the stairs, but by the time I reached the second, he was gone. Closed doors lined the hallway and I didn’t have a clue which one he’d entered.
“Damnit!” I spun around and decided to press my ear against the wood of each door, hoping I’d get lucky and hear his voice on the other side. Unfortunately, the rooms were soundproof.
Just then, a group of three young women carrying instruments climbed the stairs and walked towards me.
“Lysandra said we must play but not listen,” a dark-skinned brunette whispered. “These are special men.”
“I hate when she makes us play for them,” the blonde said, her voice forlorn. “We could get killed at any moment!” The redhead nodded but kept quiet.
I bit my lip and silently followed them. I trailed their steps most of the way without being noticed, until the quiet one turned around and stopped the group.
“W-What are you doing here?” she gasped as she pointed at me.
I cleared my throat as the three women clutched their instruments and stared at me, wide eyed.
“I’m the dancer Lysandra sent,” I answered confidently. “They didn’t give me my attire, but—”
“Oh!” The brunette smiled. “There’s a change of clothes in the room. You can change there.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, then I fell into step with them. At the end of the hall, we entered a small dressing room to the left, which was filled with clothes and instruments.
“You can change here and meet us inside. Go through that door,” the blonde instructed as she pointed to another door.
I nodded and watched them leave. Once they were gone, I quickly discarded my cloak and shuffled through the costumes for something that could cover my tattoos but was also provocative. There weren’t many options, as many of the costumes were sheer and didn’t leave much to the imagination. But I found something a little less revealing along with a filmy face panel that covered from the nose down. After adding some bangles and tear-drop earrings, I checked out my reflection in the mirror, surprised that I truly looked like one of the women from the brothel.
Lilting music began to play on the other side of the door, which I took as my cue to enter. I grasped the handle and stepped inside, certain I was about to make a fool out of myself.
I stepped into a much larger room with dark corners and scant lighting. The musicians sat against the far wall playing their instruments, partially obscured by a gauzy curtain that hid the identity of the guests. From what I could tell, ourguestsconsisted of two men. Not wanting to be caught staring, I started to dance.
Swaying to the music, I stepped onto the center stage and put on the performance of a lifetime. I wasn’t a dancer. Far from it. But I was an actress, and I knew how to perform. I moved with each melodious, smooth note. My hips swayed, my hands twirled, I arched my back and showed more of my skin than I probably should have.
I was too close to the music to hear their conversation, so I twirled around and inched closer to the sheer curtain that separated us from them. Then I heard his voice.
“I just don’t have the evidence,” Damien said. “It’s a solid theory, but the evidence is lacking.”
“Do you think you can find a way into Nightfall Citadel? I would wager that’s where they’re being held,” the other male said.
“It’ll be tricky, but I always find a way,” Damien said. “I’m just not convinced they’re meeting at the Citadel. I find it hard to believe royals and noblemen are traveling all the way to the furthest point of the Southern District to the Citadel to avoid the underground fights at the market.”
There was a pause. “I think it’s easier and more private in the Citadel than the market. Especially for the dragons who can fly there,” his companion suggested. He sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place his voice.
I continued to dance and seductively sway to the music while earnestly eavesdropping on their conversation. The lilting harp and lute flowed together like water. Caught up in the melody, I accidentally brushed against the sheer curtain and their attention darted to me.
Shit. I stumbled back toward the musicians. My heart plummeted to my stomach when the main door opened and a woman strode in and greeted the men. That must have been the signal to break up the meeting, because one of the men left, leaving the other man with the woman.
The woman clapped a few times and the music came to a screeching halt. Startled by the abruptness of the gesture, I tripped. When the musicians stood and gathered their instruments, I followed in their wake. Just as I reached the door, Damien called out, “Stop!”
