by Amber Argyle
Naiba dropped her head. “Yes, Mother.”
Zura circled the girl while Magian sifted through the chest Farood had set next to the bed. Magian laid out the jewelry for the night, marking everything on her scrolls. Cinder wondered how long before they noticed an earring was missing.
Having finished her circuit of Naiba, Zura paused before Cinder and gestured to Magian. When her daughter didn’t see her, Zura snapped her fingers. Magian removed a few trays of jewelry and pulled out one of the robes Cinder had made—this one in deepest purple. It had been her mother’s robe long ago. Cinder remembered gathering fistfuls of the gauzy fabric in her fevering hands as her mother had held her.
“Put it on,” Zura said to Naiba.
“But Mother, I specifically made the red dress to display my skills,” Cinder protested.
Zura’s gaze swung to her. “Who better to show off the design than yourself?”
“You want me to wear it?” Cinder’s mouth came open. “But . . . I made it for Naiba.”
Zura waved away her words with a lazy flick of her wrist. “The color is all wrong and the texture too heavy for her. You should have waited until you met the girl before picking the fabric. You always sew lacing into the back, so it should fit you. Perhaps a little tight, but the men won’t mind.”
Cinder counted six heartbeats and one ragged inhale and exhale. “You want me to attend the auction?”
Zura turned on her heel. “Do her hair and makeup, Ash,” she ordered before signaling Magian and the thugs to follow her from the room.
Once the door was shut, Cinder shot a helpless look at her mother, but Ash said quietly, “The walls are always listening.”
Somehow, Cinder knew they were listening now. In a daze, she sat on the chair and felt the tickle of the makeup brushes, smelled the powders on her own skin. Ash piled Cinder’s hair on her head to show off the freeborn tattoos. Cinder dropped her plain, worn robes to the floor. She pulled the dress off the form and slipped it over her head, marveling at how heavy it was. Still, the material was soft, the gown surprisingly comfortable. Her mother tightened the corset laces on the back until the bodice fit snugly across Cinder’s breasts.
Cinder bowed down under the weight of the gown and tied on the two gold sandals encrusted with bits of clear, faceted glass. Magian had left her some jewelry too—ruby-and-gold anklets and a beautifully worked belt that was a mockery of the clannish belts.
Cinder straightened, then looked at herself in the mirror. What she saw took her breath away. The dark kohl made her silver eyes smolder. Her hair was intricately braided in the manner of the clanswomen. She looked like her mother and grandmother, only the crimson dress emphasized her curves more than any robe or overdress ever could. The glass Cinder had stitched with such care caught the light with each movement of her body, making even the slightest shift look like a dazzling display.
Ash eyed her sadly. “Would that you were an ugly child.”
Cinder wrung her hands. “Zura is letting me show off my designs, probably to see how the patrons react.”
Her mother turned and strode to the door, then paused with her back to Cinder and Naiba. “Approach any man not already linked with a companion,” she instructed. “Feed them, converse with them, dance with them. Try to be charming. But do not let them lead you to a private room. That is only for patrons and with Zura’s approval.”
Cinder and Naiba trailed after Ash. Once they left the clanswoman sector, Cinder could smell the food and hear the music. Ash, Naiba, and Cinder stepped into the lamplight. The mansion’s great room already teemed with men. Companions mingled, bringing their patrons wines and dainty treats. Some of the men had gathered around low tables surrounded by velvet cushions. Others had sidled up to their companions or pulled them into private sitting rooms. Some couples were dancing.
A man perhaps in his late twenties came straight to Ash and pressed a passionate kiss to her mouth. Cinder turned away, hot with embarrassment, and tapped her fingers to her thumb.
“I’ve missed you, my clanwoman,” the man said.
Her name is Ash, Cinder thought darkly.
Ash smiled up at him. “And I you. How is your business? Are the tribesmen still raiding your caravans?”
He made a sound low in his throat. “Terribly. Blasted smugglers have stolen nearly half of my dried mangos!” Then he noticed Cinder and asked in a stunned voice, “Is she your daughter?”
Ash started pulling him away. “Come along, Kaveh. There is wine on the tables.”
He resisted. “It’s remarkable—she looks so like you! Has she had her auction yet?”
Cinder squared herself in front of him. “I am not a companion. I am freeborn. I am here to train the House of Night’s newest companion.” Cinder started to gesture to Naiba, but found her hiding behind one of the columns. She gave the girl a desperate look and motioned her toward them, taking hold of her arm so she couldn’t try to escape. “Naiba is our newest companion. She has a beautiful voice, as you will see later.”
Kaveh looked the girl over but was clearly unimpressed. “Well, on to the wine then.” He followed Ash, who was all sugary smiles. Yet Cinder could read the lines of fury in her stiff movements.
Trying not to squirm under the intense gazes of the dozens of men, Cinder locked her arm around Naiba’s. “Smile at them,” she whispered. The girl managed a terrified smile. Cinder let out a long sigh. She needed more sleep. But she might survive the night if she could taste some of the food. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”
She pulled Naiba toward the banquet tables, which were crowded with every kind of food imaginable, divided into sections from each nation. There was whale soup from the highmen, leopard skewers from Luatha, and even a stew of vegetables and lamb from the clanlands. Unable to resist, Cinder filled a plate and nearly fainted at the smoky taste of the meat. Naiba was just as bad, drinking a bowl of soup without pause.
A voice came from over the girls’ shoulders. “Take the food to the men. It’s a good way to break the ice.”
Inundated by the scent of her mother’s jasmine perfume, Cinder swallowed. “Which ones?”
“Choose the men with the kindest eyes and the richest clothes,” her mother replied, then loaded a plate with food and hurried back to Kaveh’s side.
Cinder took a bowl of soup, Naiba a plate of skewers. Counting the men who watched them like a hawk watching a duckling, she noticed many of their eyes settling on her. She took a deep breath and steered Naiba away from the men who stared at the young girl with a sick kind of fascination. “The more you impress them, the more money you’ll bring and the better you’ll be endowed,” Cinder told her.
Naiba squared herself and glanced around the room. With Cinder trailing her, the girl walked over to an older man with a bushy beard and dark eyes. Naiba placed the bowl in his hands and did a little bow before turning away.
Cinder grabbed the girl’s arm and pulled her back to the man. “This is Naiba. She’s to be our newest companion. She’s brilliant with Luathan songs.”
The man stroked his beard one, two, three times. “I have a meeting coming up with a possible buyer from the Adrack. If she’s as good as you say, well, her youth might leave him a touch softened for the deal.”
Cinder gave him a bright smile.
He looked over Naiba again. “Of course, it would also be nice to hear of the rustic ways of the Luathan—and you know how tribesmen are with their stories. Does she know any?”
Cinder turned an expectant gaze toward Naiba, who was staring at the man’s chest. Cinder squeezed her arm, and Naiba said, “I used to tell stories to my sisters. Stories of the three virgin goddesses and their three horses—thunder, lightning, and wind.”
The man rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. Most promising.”
Cinder gave a little bow and began steering Naiba away. “If you will please excuse us.” When they were out of earshot of the man, Cinder said, “Now was that so bad?”
; Naiba gave a small shake of her head. “No. Not bad at all.”
Cinder was giddy with hope. “We’re going to pull this off. You will wear the finest clothes and eat the finest foods and travel the city telling stories and singing songs.”
Naiba smiled weakly and gathered up another plate of food. Cinder scanned the room, searching for another kind-looking man with an honest expression. A portly man with a piggish nose and red skin caught her eye. There was a sort of jolliness about him—he was the type of man who liked his wine and laughter. He lifted his glass to Cinder and Naiba and made a little bow.
“There.” Cinder pointed. “Why don’t you try this one yourself?”
Naiba blanched. “But I don’t know what to say!”
Cinder took a deep breath, tapping her fingers and trying to remain patient. “Be kind, Naiba. It’s who you are. And maybe he came here looking for a little kindness.”
Naiba bit her lip and stepped toward the man. Cinder watched as the girl asked him a hesitant question. He clapped his hand on her shoulder and laughed uproariously. She rewarded him with a timid smile.
At that moment, Cinder noticed Zura tracking Naiba. Her eyes never leaving the other girl’s progress, the mistress came to stand beside Cinder and said, “You will circulate food to the men as well.”
Cinder’s mouth fell open and she forced it shut. “I thought only the companions were allowed to interact—”
“I already told you, more men came tonight than I expected, all of them potential clients. Two men in particular with more money than all the others combined—they’re both on the north side. I want them to return. So you will mingle. You will feed them. And you will shine like my companions. Am I clear?”
Cinder barely managed to hold back her anger. “Yes, Mother.”
The woman slipped away. Cinder went to the table and filled a plate. In three steps, she had brought it to the first man she saw—an older gentleman with a dizzying amount of tattoos on his head. “You look hungry,” she said with a smile.
“And cold,” he responded. “I wouldn’t mind having you under me to keep me warm.”
An image of the man on top of her flashed in her mind. I’m trapped, I’m trapped, I’m trapped! Reeling, she returned to the table and steadied herself against it. I’m not supposed to seduce the men, simply serve them, she reminded herself. She brought each of them a plate of food with a little bow, not bothering to say a word anymore. To and from the table she counted her steps, making sure she always landed on an even number.
A little shriek of dismay broke her counting, and the numbers fell to pieces all around her. She whirled around. One of the men had pulled Naiba into his lap. Cinder shoved a plate of food into a man’s unsuspecting hands. “Farush! Farood!” she called.
Seven steps later, she hauled a cowering Naiba out of the man’s grasp. “Show some respect. She’s training to be a companion, not a common whore. And she’s only twelve years old!”
The man jumped to his feet and stood far too close to Cinder. “That’s not what I heard.”
Cinder fisted her hands on her hips. “Well, you’ve heard wrong.”
Zura was suddenly there, her thugs beside her. “Problem, sir?”
He turned a glare onto her. “I was told—”
She held up a hand to silence him. “Perhaps you are new to companion houses, but there is no touching of the companions—in training or otherwise—by anyone other than their assigned patrons. Granted, many men succumb to the temptation on their first visits. Perhaps a distraction is in order. Would you like to come with me to one of the private rooms? I have some Luathan berry wine I’d like you to sample. Or perhaps you’re more of a spirits man? I have some fine rye whiskey all the way from the clanlands.” Zura expertly steered the man away.
Cinder turned to a cowering Naiba, who folded her arms across herself. “Are those the kind of men who will be my patrons?” the girl asked, her bottom lip quivering.
Cinder reached out with a shaking hand and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Naiba’s ear. “I promise you won’t have to worry about any men like that. The House of Night is the finest and most respected companion house in the city.”
Naiba approached five more men, with Cinder by her side. Twice she had to steer the girl away when the conversation turned lewd after only a few words. How had the sods even been let inside? Cinder gestured to Farush and Farood, who came over to take the men to the tasting room with Zura. After two more, Naiba had just started to gain a little confidence, so Cinder let her try on her own again, staying close the whole time.
Most of the men at the gathering appeared to be over forty years old, but now Cinder and Naiba approached a cluster of young men. In the center, his eyes never leaving Cinder’s face, was Darsam. Laughing loudly at a joke, he seemed much different than the quiet, steady man she’d encountered last night. Instead of dark, plain robes and swords, he wore fine linen with an embroidered vest that spoke of money. His face was shaved after the manner of the tribesmen.
Tapping her fingers to her thigh, Cinder felt a flush of shame. He would never believe she was not a companion now that he had seen her serving. Reminding herself that it didn’t matter what Darsam thought, she turned to look for Naiba, only to find her headed toward them. When the girl offered him a bowl of soup, Darsam laughed and waved her off. Naiba’s eyes fell and she hurried away.
Ten fingers curling into a fist, Cinder stormed over to him. “What are you doing here?”
“Can’t you guess?” he teased.
She had thought him different from the rest. A spoiled man playing at criminal, yes, but maybe a decent criminal. Apparently, that was only a front. So he was just like every other man she knew. Anger tingled along Cinder’s scalp, lifting her hair. “Why did you humiliate her?”
Darsam cocked an eyebrow. “Who?”
Cinder took a breath to compose herself. “Naiba. Her auction is tonight. Would it have hurt you to take the soup?”
He tugged the plate from Cinder’s reluctant hands, then picked up a skewer and took a bite. “I wanted to talk to you, not her.”
Cinder narrowed her eyes. Despite his careless manner, there was something different about this man and the others with him. Some kind of quiet readiness instead of insatiable hunger. Were they here about the earring Ash had given to Darsam’s cohort? About whatever deal Cinder’s mother had made with them? Cinder studied this man and then said softly, “Give it back. Before it costs her something she can’t afford to lose.”
Darsam held her gaze. “If she isn’t willing to risk the price, neither are we.”
Cinder opened her mouth to ask what that meant when he caught her arm, his fingers gentle but firm. “I must speak with you privately,” he whispered. The flippant manner was gone again, the serious man back, like he’d slipped off a mask. She wondered which mask was really Darsam, or if neither of them was.
She turned and saw Naiba speaking with another man. “I can’t leave her.”
Darsam looked at Cinder expectantly. “There’s not a lot you can do for her. There never was.”
“What?” she gasped.
He extended a hand. “Please come with me.”
Not certain she should trust him, Cinder almost didn’t follow. But he hadn’t grabbed her or demanded; he had said please. As if she had a choice. Worry over her mother cinched her resolve, and she trailed after him into the soft shadows of the colonnade that led to the kitchens. The hot air throbbed against her skin. The monsoon would start any moment.
Darsam glanced back at the kitchen, where a couple of lanterns highlighted his face, then at the shadows as if to make sure he and Cinder were truly alone. He looked at her and said softly, “You have a good heart and an innocence about you. I never would have expected that. But you need to trust your mother and no one else.”
“Including you?”
“You would be a fool to. But I am helping you.”
Cinder stepped back, unnerved by his nearness. “Help
me? Can you free me from the prison? Will you pay my debts?”
His brow furrowed. “Prison?”
He must not know about that part. “I made a deal with Zura. If I could make the next girl into a companion worthy of the House, I would be the next seamstress. If not, I go to the debtors’ mines.” Despite the heat pricking her skin, Cinder shivered.
“Is that what Zura told you?” Darsam asked in disbelief.
Cinder squared herself in front of him. “What kind of deal did you make with my mother? It was to help me escape the mine, wasn’t it? They’ll kill her for it, you know. Kill her for taking that earring. I won’t trade two years in the mines for my mother’s life. So you may as well give it back now.”
Cinder could feel him staring at her, though it was too dark to see his expression. Suddenly, the heavens opened, the rain coming down in sheets. Despite the protection of the colonnade, she could feel the spray against her skin. “I will face this alone,” she said loudly enough to be heard over the storm.
Darsam leaned in, so close her skin prickled with his nearness. “You’ve never had a chance, Cinder. Not from the start.”
The trembling started deep inside her, working its way out of her body until she was shivering. She wrapped her arms around herself to keep from coming apart from the inside out. “What do you mean?”
He gently laid a hand on her arm. “I told you I would help you.”
She felt the weight of his fingers, felt his closeness. And the way he was looking at her—almost like he admired her. Then his gaze strayed to her mouth. Heat prickled in her lower belly, and she found herself wanting to be closer, to touch his skin.
With a start, she realized the faint music from the other room had stopped altogether. She’d left Naiba alone for far too long. She backpedaled. “I must go.” She turned and ran for the mansion.