Orro stood at the intersection, his gaze fixed on the Night Ladies Court.

  The towering structure was a grotesque masterpiece he was sure Cade would have a dragon’s horde amount to remark on. It was composed of two interwoven trees that gave off the unsettling impression of being locked in an eternal, carnal embrace.

  The branches and roots twisted together, forming a formidable fortress that was both beautiful and practical.

  No one could pass the sprawling entrance without getting seen by any of the dozen scouts Orro could spot, and he was confident more were just behind the thick velvet curtains that separated them from the inside.

  The faint scent of jasmine and decay wafted through the air, a perfume that clung to the skin and suffused the senses with a heady mix of allure and unease. It spread through the entire district, but with each block they passed this morning, it grew stronger.

  Beside him stood Elena, Evie, and Nora.

  Bunny and Jer were off on their portion of Cade’s insane mission. Orro’s mind worked in overdrive, assessing every detail, every potential threat as they waited. The street was alive with the hum of the city’s more hormonal crowd, the bloodlust of the arena apparently not everyone’s preferred poison.

  His attention was currently split between the present and the calculated moves of the past and future. They were as prepared as they could be, but still…

  Too much rode on shoulders that weren’t his own.

  Orro hated it.

  A simple but cleanly dressed gentleman cleared his throat from behind a portable table on the corner of the street.

  Finally.

  “Ladies and gentlefolk!” the street performer shouted, garnering the attention of the bustling street. “I have here in my hand a respectable pouch of not ten, not twenty, but thirty bright and shiny gold coins!”

  The man let the greed settle into the ground before he continued.

  “If you want to relieve me of this great burden, all you must do is guess the number my little dice here turns up after you cast it on my table! I’ll make the odds even more in your favor, my dear Elysians and travelers from abroad.”

  The street performer lifted up an innocuous red dice.

  “This die here only has two numbers to its name! That means you have a fifty percent chance of getting your guess right! It’s that simple!”

  The man’s challenge was met with immediate interest, and Orro had to admit the sales pitch was indeed enticing. If he hadn’t known to look out for it, and if it hadn’t been their cue to begin their rescue mission, Orro might’ve tried his hand at it. He was not averse to using his own skillset to outsmart a con artist when he saw one.

  The assassin’s tactical mind analyzed the setup. He knew there were two more tables set up around the block, each one orchestrating similar games.

  A plump she-elf stepped up, her cheeks burning with the effects of liquor. She flopped two coppers down, wobbling on her legs slightly as she took the white porcelain die with red dots across its surface.

  “One!” she declared, choosing the only other option besides ‘two’ and sealing her fate at her guess.

  The cube clinked lightly on the smooth surface of the table, and the crowd held its breath as they waited to see what side would land on top. As if Destiny himself had fated it, the die landed on a two.

  There was a collective groan and the plump woman shuffled away, the burning red across her face worse than ever. The crowd grew larger, the frustration palpable as more and more people lost their coppers to the game. The die glowed with a faint red hue, growing just a little brighter with each loss.

  Orro’s gaze flicked between the gamemaster and the crowd. He noticed a large guard from the Court, his muscles bulging under his tight vest, watching the game with a growing scowl. The pinks and reds of his uniform were oddly intimidating.

  The guard’s presence was like a thundercloud, dark and threatening, ready to unleash its fury at any moment.

  “Step right up, my fine folk! Just two coppers to guess the number, and you could win this bag of gold!” the con artist shouted even louder this time, his voice smooth and enticing.

  He held up the pouch, shaking it so the coins clinked together enticingly.

  A rotund dwarf with a sunburned neck stepped forward, fumbling for coins.

  “Two numbers on a six-sided die? That’s a steal!” he exclaimed, dropping the coppers into the gentleman’s hand.

  The die rolled across the cobblestones, the red hue intensifying as it came to a stop. The tourist’s face fell as he saw the result.

  “Damn, lost again,” he muttered, stepping back into the crowd.

  When people didn’t immediately move, he shoved his way through the gathered throng with fists raised. More curses arose in his wake, the mood of the pedestrians souring by the second.

  It was working.

  The con artist’s grin widened. “Better luck next time! Who’s next? Who wants to try their luck?”

  Another man, surrounded by his similarly well-dressed comrades, stepped forward. He wore a bowler hat and had—Orro admitted to himself silently—a truly magnificent mustache. The man wasn’t Bernard from that disgusting pottery class, but he no doubt owed his fealty to the Stone Britches gang Bernard led.

  “I’ll give it a go,” he said, his voice rough.

  Orro watched, his eyes narrowing. The die rolled again, landing on the same number. The red hue grew brighter, a subtle but clear indicator of the mounting frustration in the crowd. When he lost, the local man cursed under his breath, shoving his way back into the mass of people.

  The guard from the Court moved closer, his patience obviously wearing thin.

  “This is loaded!” he bellowed, shoving the con artist hard. The man stumbled back, his hands raised defensively.

  “There’s a fifty percent chance to win,” the gamemaster argued. “Much better odds than any gambling den!”

  The guard’s eyes narrowed.

  “You think we’re all that stupid?” He grabbed the con artist by the collar, lifting him off the ground with ease. “Show it to me… NOW!”

  A dagger flashed, and the street performer cried out in pain as the tip of the metal pinched against his neck. A few people backed away, but the majority sneered and shouted for blood.

  The crowd murmured, tension thick in the air. Orro could see the red hue of the die growing brighter with each passing moment. This was the tipping point, the moment chaos would erupt.

  He signaled to Elena, who bumped her elbows into Nora and Evie’s sides. They exchanged a look but said nothing.

  “I swear, it’s fair! Look, see for yourself!” the con artist’s voice wavered, but he maintained his defiant stance, holding the cube out for inspection.

  The guard snatched it from his hand, inspecting it closely. His scowl deepened as he saw the two numbers etched on the six sides.

  “This has to be a scam! Someone had to have won by now!” he roared, throwing the die to the ground. “You’re cheating us!”

  The entertainer’s face twisted in anger. “It’s not a scam! You’ve just been unlucky!”

  The guard’s patience snapped. He punched the con artist square in the jaw, sending him sprawling to the ground. The crowd erupted, insults flying as people began to shove each other. The die’s red hue now blazed like a beacon, reflecting the mounting aggression.

  Orro’s veins pounded in his ears as he saw the crowd’s frustration boil over into violence. People started pushing and shoving, fists flying as tempers flared. A woman screamed as she was knocked to the ground, and a man yelled in pain as he was trampled.

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  “This is bad,” Evie muttered, her eyes wide as she watched the chaos unfold.

  Elena nodded, her expression grim. “We should move now.”

  Orro scanned the scene, his mind racing. He spotted the other two con artists around the block, similar commotions erupting around them. The plan was working, but they needed to act quickly.

  “Let’s go,” Orro whispered to his team, his voice firm. “Stick to the plan.”

  They moved as one, slipping through the crowd with practiced ease. Orro’s eyes flicked up to the canopied rooftops, where he saw the tiny forms of Jer and Bunny racing along a branch high above.

  His heart nearly stopped when Jer missed his mark, spiraling toward the ground. Orro clenched his fists, his breath caught in his throat. But then Jer’s descent slowed, the sticky gloves from the Lifekeeper vaults clinging to the trunk and halting his fall.

  The Grassblade assassin exhaled, forcing himself to remain stoic as they walked. Beneath his cowl, however, he shook his head in amazement at Cade’s foresight.

  The riot in the street reached a fever pitch, a red haze spreading around the large intersection. Orro fidgeted with the new bracelet on his right arm, careful not to disturb the chalk hidden beneath his other sleeve.

  He noticed Elena scratching at her left arm and grabbed her hand, shaking his head softly. She blanched and nodded, mouthing a quiet “thank you” as they approached the Court.

  The brawl behind them faded as they crossed the threshold into the Night Ladies Court. The instant they stepped inside, the cacophony of the street was replaced by an eerie silence.

  Orro’s senses were on high alert, his mind mapping every detail of their surroundings, just like he was trained to do. His vision swam as a faint but all-encompassing red mist suffused every inch of this place. He glanced at the others, but either they didn’t notice the rosy fog, or just didn’t care. He might’ve let it slide too if not for the hairs on his neck standing at attention with each second he breathed the strange substance in.

  The entrance hall was grand, with polished marble floors and towering columns entwined with living vines. Soft, ambient light filtered through stained glass windows, casting colorful patterns on the walls. The attendants, dressed in revealing silks and adorned with delicate jewelry, moved with a grace that was both welcoming and predatory.

  A scantily clad attendant approached them, her smile practiced and alluring. Kaleidoscopic lights of pinks and golds and blues swirled in the woman’s eyes, and Orro had to look away to avoid their hypnotic allure.

  “Welcome to the Night Ladies Court,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “What pleasures do you seek?”

  Elena stepped forward, her confidence unshaken. “We’d like private chambers with your best courtesans and tea brought to us. Money is no issue.”

  The attendant's eyes flicked over their attire, no doubt calculating their worth. Elena, sensing the hesitation, flashed her golden Pennyweather card. The attendant’s demeanor shifted instantly, her smile widening.

  Those eyes shifted quickly to Orro before they returned to the redhead. “Of course. Right this way, esteemed guests.”

  As they followed her deeper into the Court, Orro took in every detail. The ground floor was a vast, open space filled with plush cushions and low tables. Patrons lounged in various stages of undress, attended by courtesans who seemed to float between them, their movements fluid and sensual. Every fantasy appeared to be catered to here.

  They passed through a large archway into a room where a heated pool shimmered under the glow of lanterns. The water was crystal clear, and several patrons were being attended to by Court members who moved through the water like mermaids, their laughter echoing softly off the tiled walls.

  The scent of jasmine and rose petals floated through the air, adding to the surreal, dreamlike quality of the scene. Orro bit his inner cheek, using the pain to focus away from the fog of pleasure that encompassed this place.

  Gavin was right. This was indeed a trap laced with honey.

  On the next floor, they entered a gambling hall where dice rolled and cards flipped, the sound of clinking coins a constant backdrop. The patrons here were more focused, their eyes sharp and their movements calculated.

  Courtesans in regal reds and golds moved among them while others coordinated the various games. Elves and humans drifted around in their silken uniforms, offering drinks and whispered encouragements.

  Orro noted the strategic placement of mirrors and the hidden alcoves where deals were made and secrets exchanged.

  They ascended another flight of stairs and found themselves in a grand ballroom where dancers moved in perfect synchrony to the haunting melodies of a string quartet.

  The floor was a mosaic composed of glowflakes, the glowing tiles creating shifting patterns of light and color that seemed to dance with the music. Orro’s eyebrow twitched at the sight of the intricate designs, many of which depicted scenes of explicit passion.

  He averted his eyes, focusing instead on the path ahead.

  On the fourth floor, they passed through a series of suites available for rent. Each room was unique, designed to cater to different tastes and desires. One room featured a grand canopy bed draped in silks, another a sunken bath surrounded by flickering candles. The scent of incense was stronger here, mingling with the faint hint of sweat and perfume.

  “We are almost to our second floor of suites, but feel free to retire to one of our many great halls. We would be honored to serve you in any way you need,” the attendant stated in a voice just loud enough for them to hear.

  There it was again. Those eyes. That look.

  Orro’s mouth felt dry. He focused, wishing that his gods-damned mind would cease betraying him like this. Cade had warned him about this place’s influence, but he had been overconfident.

  Like a river over stone, it smoothed his sharp edges until all that was left was a dull exterior.

  But he was a weapon forged in flames and tempered by death. A brothel would not be his undoing. He began to recite his mission over and over again.

  Save Rayka.

  They continued upward, finally reaching a floor dedicated to various forms of entertainment. There were stages for performances, private booths for intimate shows, and bars where liquor flowed like water. Orro’s eyes darted from one spectacle to the next, taking in the courtesans and patrons who seemed lost in a world of indulgence.

  Save Rayka.

  At last, they reached the fifth floor, where the atmosphere shifted to one of brooding opulence. The walls were adorned with dark velvet curtains and rich tapestries, the flickering candlelight casting deep shadows. Orro noted the presence of several guards and at least one courtesan in disguise trailing them.

  The attendant found rooms first for Nora and Evie, then Elena. Orro was the last to be led to his chamber, a sprawling expanse with fluffy cushions, dark curtains, and a few candles casting flickering shadows. The atmosphere was one of brooding mystery.

  Orro was unable to settle into the sprawling expanse of his assigned chamber, the atmosphere thick with an almost tangible air of opulence and danger. He roamed the room, taking in its attention to shadows and angles. It was decorated with dark, velvety curtains that absorbed the flickering candlelight, casting long, shifting shadows across the walls.

  Plush cushions in deep, rich colors were scattered across the floor, inviting him to sink into their softness. The scent of exotic spices and incense hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of blood.

  He took in every detail, his tactical mind assessing the room as both a potential haven and a trap. The bed was a large, intricately carved piece of furniture, draped in dark silks that gleamed in the candlelight.

  The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of pleasure and pain, their vibrant colors and explicit imagery falling to the wayside as he continued to recite his mission. n. Despite the brooding decor, Orro couldn’t help but appreciate the craftsmanship of the room, even as he silently wished for the simplicity and brightness of floral decor.

  Not that he would breathe a word of that to anyone, of course.

  The heavy wooden door to his chamber closed with a soft thud, sealing him in. Orro could feel the weight of the place pressing down on him, every detail meticulously designed to disarm and entrap.

  He fidgeted with the new bracelet on his right arm, the feel of the cold metal against his skin a small comfort. He’d practiced with it for hours yesterday, but he had far from mastered the strange device.

  Worse, Cade had said that overusing it might kill him, and he had at least listened to that warning.

  Underneath his sleeve, he could feel the chalk on his skin. He was about to check on it when a soft knock on the door broke his reverie. Orro tensed, his senses sharpening as he unlatched one of his kunai. The door opened slowly, revealing a slightly older woman who exuded an air of refinement and authority. Her auburn hair was a tousled halo around her head, her movements graceful and assured. The heavy aroma of cinnamon and roses wafted from her in nearly visible rivulets.

  “Relax,” she said, her voice a soothing melody. “I’m here to make your stay enjoyable.”

  Orro’s eyes narrowed as he took in her appearance. There was something about her that set his instincts on edge. She moved with the confidence of someone who was used to being in control, her eyes sharp and assessing.

  “I can see you’re a man used to living by the blade. But here, right now, there is only one blade we shall concern ourselves with.” She laughed when she noticed the red that crept into his cheeks. “My, my, you really are easy to tease. Fret not, I shall tell no one of this minor lapse in your prowess. Come, sit with me. I shall not bite nor throw myself at you. Let us speak and see where this lovely morning takes us.”

  She gestured for him to sit, and he complied, his gaze never leaving her face. She prepared tea, each delicate gesture of her hands creating a sort of trance. He watched her delicate fingers as she moved, carefully avoiding the passage of her long silken sleeves from splashing against the heating runes or teapot.

  She tapped the teapot against the sturdy black table twice before she poured first his drink and then hers, replacing the container with a flourish that briefly exposed her respectable chest.

  Orro froze, though this time not in shame but shock. Her movements were identical to the rituals of his homeland. The sight stirred a mix of nostalgia and suspicion within him.

  She glanced up at him, a smile teasing against her lips. “What? Are you not impressed I know the ways of the Grassblades? It took me several hours to scrape the rust off of those old memories, you know.”

  With each word, Orro’s pulse quickened. This opulent room was not a haven of pleasure. It was a spider web painted to look like a comfortable bed.

  And before him was the spider who’d spun it.

  “Won’t you say anything, Mr. Yanson?” she asked with a slight tilt to her auburn head.

  The blue silks she wore slid down her shoulder a few inches at her pout.

  Orro went still. The way she said it, with such casual familiarity, sent a chill down his spine.

  Her smile turned feral, and she leaned in closer.

  “Hugh has told me so much about you,” she said, her voice dripping with honeyed malice. “You shouldn’t have left your friends, but fret not. You’ll soon forget all about them.”

  The woman rose slowly to her feet, hands splayed out to either side of her as a red glow spread from them.

  “When I’m done with you, you’ll be an obedient boy in my menagerie of sharp things,” she promised darkly.

  Orro’s chest tightened as he realized the truth.

  “You’re George.” It wasn’t a question, but the woman in front of him laughed in delight all the same.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Yanson.” She smiled and Orro’s blood went cold. His muscles were turning to mush. He tried to react, to pull away, but it was like swimming through molasses.

  This was indeed George, the ruthless leader of the Night Ladies Court, and she had just turned a seductive encounter into a deadly trap. His mind raced, calculating his next move. Right before she leaned over to kiss him, he held his breath and activated the bracelet.

  The world around him disappeared.

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