When Iori came for him, she did not speak. She took his hand and led him away from the main floor toward the private wing.
The noise faded behind them as the door closed. distant moans, clink of crystal, rustle of falling silk.
The corridor was quiet. The rooms here warded, sealed, designed for privacy that extended beyond discretion.
She stopped at one near the end. Pressed her hand to the ward. The door opened.
Warm light filled the space inside.
Low. Amber. Softening everything without hiding it. It caressed velvet upholstery and the large bed draped in black silk sheets.
The room was large, carefully arranged. The bed prominent. Furnishings understated and expensive. Silence held in place by layered wards.
Two courtesans stood near the bed, their ornate masks still in place, gowns loosened. emerald silk hanging open to reveal smooth curves and peaked nipples, lace bodice unlaced to expose generous breasts.
And on the velvet settee, partially shadowed, sat Aria.
