Enter, the voice seemed to say.
This is it, Ren thought. This is the moment of truth for me, for my entire sad life. If he stepped in, he might find himself in a chamber with Verxaen, the regent consort, humping a lady. He drew shadows to himself. It was so easy here with all the enchanted kith. It surprised him there was no resistance when it rushed to him unimpeded. He’d pass through the portal-door hidden in shadow.
On the other side—it was no different to him than walking through a door—there was nothing but a short hall. There were no plaques here or darklight. Just an empty hall. He panicked and turned, but the portal was gone. Behind him was a plain stone wall. He sunk into the shadows, willing himself to disappear, but from what? The hall was empty.
Then he heard laughter. Giggling.
He dared take a step forward. The sound increased.
Another step and the walls flickered. A large chamber revealed itself with each step. It wasn’t luxurious, like he imagined it would be, but simple and stark. A line of gossamer curtains veiled the figures. Two women were dancing slowly while a man sat on a silk mattress, watching.
Ren paused, feeling sick watching their private interactions.
“Do you think you could beat him?” one woman asked.
He grunted. “Why would I need to?”
The women laughed.
“Don’t you think someday you’ll need to?” the other woman asked. Their voices were similar.
“If you accept one of us as consort,” the first woman said, “you’d be an enemy.”
“Your mother would issue a complaint by the next court!” he said.
The women laughed.
“Come,” the first commanded, and he rose.
It had to be Verxaen.
Ren crept to a corner as they cavorted, groping, wet and slick. He tried to ignore it and began composing the report he’d write for his master. This was the juiciest bit of gossip he’d ever thought possible: Verxaen Ilor’Zauhune was bedding—in secret—two Roturra priestesses, heiresses or matrons.
Goddess above, Ren thought. How she favors me!
He grew drowsy as shadows enveloped him and he waited for them to finish. Deep silence drew him out of it. They were gone. The braziers sputtered.
He scrambled toward the pillows. They must have left through another portal. Damn this place with its tricks! He crept onto the padded platform that served as a bed and searched for short hair. It didn’t take long. Hands shaking, he collected as many as he could with a small blade. Surely, they cleaned up between guests.
The long ones he placed in a different envelope. Those he’d save. His mentor had always told him to keep information for his own benefit, but he’d always eagerly given his master everything.
He paused as anger built up in him. This time, he’d save this bit of gossip, these precious Roturra hairs, until he needed leverage.
“Leverage,” he said, forgetting himself.
A door latch clicked behind him. Shadows whooshed up around him and he darted toward the other side of the chamber, assuming they’d left that way. He crashed into the wall and searched for a portal plaque.
“Out,” he said to it. “Leave!”
Nothing happened but an intense prickling at the back of his head.
“Entrance,” he said more calmly. He shook his head and thought about it, pressing his hand to the plaque. What could the password be? Bear’s ass, he thought. His mind was blank.
The wall gave way, though, and he stepped through it into another hallway. Not the one he’d entered through. The prickling didn’t stop this time.
Heavy breathing buffeted his shadow.
He froze, looking askance at the end of the hall. Someone was there… Someones. Goddess above, save me! Get me out of here.
He turned slowly, plastered to the wall. Lights flickered, unsure whether to ignite. They bathed the couple in pale light, highlighting every shadow, each groove and ripple of clothing and skin.
“Let’s go to the room,” the man said. His shoulders were broad, his back rippled with thick muscle. His voice was deep and—all hells—his back was unmistakable. Bear’s ass, indeed. It was Vaudin Lor’Baronar, the young bear of Isilurra. Ren had seen him fight in four tournaments. The memories flooded back, and he shook. The limbs torn apart… the mass of bloody flesh.
The woman gripped Vaudin’s neck with both hands, digging into the thick sinews.
“Here, let it be here,” she said.
Vaudin shook his head. “If anyone saw us…” he said.
“Let them gossip,” she said. It was a lovely voice, but also hard-edged, like a dagger.
She gasped as he lifted her. Ren almost did the same.
He’d seen nothing so beautiful. Silver-white hair with goddess-power flared from every strand. Her clothes were like gossamer, the most expensive kind because it was unpretentious. He was shaking, both with desire and absolute terror. He was getting hard under his tunic and could barely breathe.
This is what he had dreaded. This is why he didn’t enter the crater.
A door latch clicked down the hall near the couple.
