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Blood of the Underworld(6)

By:David Dalglish


He stared into Victor’s eyes, and Victor stared back.

“Every guild broken. Every guildmaster dead or gone. When I can walk down my streets without fear of an arrow, and eat my food without checking for sprinkles of glass, you will have your coin, as well as any portion of land within this city you desire for your home.”

Victor’s smile grew.

“Thank you,” he said, bowing. “You’ll never regret it. I swear this upon the honor of my house.”

With a wave of his hand, Edwin dismissed the lord, who left in a hurry. A bounce was in his step. Unbelievable. Would he still be so cheerful when the collected might of every thief guild bore down upon him? How long until there were none left alive to taste his drink and sample his food? And when the chaos grew, and the real bloodshed began, was there anyone with enough skill to protect him?

He looked to the window, but the Watcher was already gone.





2



Her servant women fussed over her, fitting clothes, applying rouge, and brushing hair, until Alyssa Gemcroft finally sent them away, unable to take any more. They filed out, leaving her alone in her extravagant bedroom. Well, not quite alone...

“Come down, Zusa,” she said. “Tell me what is wrong.”

From a far corner of the room, hidden in a dark space unlit by light from the windows, a woman fell to the ground. Despite the many years it had been since leaving Karak’s cult of Faceless Women, Zusa still wore the tight wrappings across her body, strips of cloth colored various shades of black and purple. Her face, at least, she kept exposed: dark skin, dark hair cut short at the neck, and beautiful green eyes. A long grey cloak hung from her shoulders, the thin material curling about her body with the slightest tugs of Zusa’s fingers.

“There is nothing wrong,” Zusa said, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall.

“I’m used to you keeping an eye on me, but you only hide on the ceiling when you’re nervous.” She smiled at her friend. “You know I trust your instincts, so tell me.”

Zusa gestured to the dress.

“You doll yourself up worse than a whore. Powder everywhere, rouge, perfume on your neck...and I must say, I pity your breasts.”

Alyssa looked down at herself. Indeed, she’d let her servants help prepare her for her meeting, but had she let them get carried away? Her dress was a sultry red, tightly fitted, with a ring of rubies sewn along the neck. A gold chain held a large emerald tucked into the curve of her breasts, which, true to Zusa’s words, her corset had rammed almost unnaturally high.

“This is what is expected of me,” Alyssa said, sighing. She wanted to sit down, but feared to ruffle her dress, or even worse, strain the ties of the corset. The realization made her blush, and she could tell Zusa knew her defense a flimsy one.

“Since when did Lady Gemcroft do the expected?” Zusa asked, the last of her nerves fading away with a smile. “But you are beautiful, even if overdone. I only wonder why. Lord Stephen is but a child, young even compared to you. Your smile alone should impress him.”

Alyssa paced, keeping her movements slow and controlled lest she muss her appearance.

“It’s been a year since his appointment, and I am yet to meet him. I fear he’ll think I have snubbed him, or deemed him unworthy of his position. I only wish to make a good impression.”

Zusa sat down on the bed, shifting the daggers tied to her waist so they did not poke into the soft mattress.

“He will think it anyway,” she said. “Though I fear his impression will be that you are making advances upon him.”

Alyssa opened her mouth, closed it, and then looked to her dress. She sighed.

“Help me, will you?” she asked.

Ten minutes later she was in a far more comfortable dress, and they’d wiped clean her face. Alyssa left her hair the same, having always enjoyed the sight of thin braids interlocked and weaving throughout her long red locks. Able to breathe and move far more freely, she hugged Zusa, then attached a simple lace of silver about her neck.

“We have kept Stephen waiting long enough,” she said. “Let’s go.”

A litter waited outside her mansion, and she and Zusa climbed inside. As they traveled through the streets of Veldaren, Alyssa felt butterflies in her stomach and did her best to belittle them. It was stupid to be nervous. Of the three families of the Trifect, she’d been in power the longest, and had clearly solidified her position as ruler of the Gemcroft fortune. Stephen Connington was but a bastard of his father, Leon. Still, he was the only one with a clear biological relation. It’d taken several years before he’d been granted control of the estate from the caretakers. In the end, they’d had no choice. Leon had killed most of his family members and steadfastly refused to have named heirs, lest they drown him in his bath.