The dock was chaos.

  Voices crashed over one another, shouts from deckhands, whistles from the crew, the bray of some overworked animal pulling a cart I couldn’t see.

  People were too comfortable pressing too close. A child shrieked behind me, delight, not fear, but the sound still dug into my mind. Laughter from the upper deck.

  I gritted my teeth and moved with the surge of passengers spilling off the boat ramp, letting the tide of humans carry me towards the city.

  I needed to get clear. I needed quiet. I needed—

  My bag.

  My heart kicked in my chest. I scanned the piles being dumped near the dock, shoving forward through the mess of elbows and complaints. The crew had heaped everything together near the unloading ramp. Safety regulation, they’d said. No bags allowed across the gangplank. Too many people, too many chances to fall. I’d handed it over grudgingly, only because every other passenger was forced to do the same.

  Now I couldn’t see it.

  A hundred identical bags in a hundred forgettable shapes. Mine was small, old. The left strap fraying. I’d tied it with a knot that only held if you knew how to pull it just right.

  It wasn’t just a bag. Familiar canvas, soft with wear, stitched through with Selwyn’s quiet steadiness. I couldn’t lose it. Not now.

  There.

  The canvas lump landed on the pile with a dull thud.

  I moved to grab it, and someone else’s hand got there first.

  A human hand. Broad, sun-browned. I looked up, a growl already rising in my throat.

  And found myself face-to-face with Sinclair.

  “Me again!” he said too cheerfully, hoisting the bag over one shoulder like it belonged to him.

  “You’re joking.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m being helpful.” He stepped back, already weaving through the passengers with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Consider this… reparations.”

  I followed, close enough to be a problem if needed, but not close enough to make a scene.

  “You interrogated me. You insulted me. Gerard nearly broke your jaw.”

  “And yet,” He gestured at the bag as if it proved a point, “here we are. Rebuilding trust.”

  I exhaled through my nose, slow and sharp. I could have taken him down right there. Two steps, a twist, and he’d be face-down on the dock, groaning through a mouthful of slats.

  My eyes locked on the bag.

  Selwyn’s S, stitched into the corner of the canvas with quiet care. Something small, subtle. His.

  And now Sinclair had it.

  Sinclair noticed my gaze and grinned even wider. “See? You wouldn’t want me to tell the City Guards you’re trying to steal my bag, would you?”

  “You think you’re so clever.”

  “I am clever.”

  “Then why are you walking the wrong way?”

  I turned on my heel, taking the next left corner. With my back to him, I took a subtle breath to relax myself. He wanted something from me, that’s why he took my bag. He wouldn’t just leave with it. I had to trust his desire to follow through with whatever game he was playing.

  “Do you think you’re going to lead me down some dark alley?”

  I stopped and let out a loud, bitter laugh. “Despite what you think, you couldn’t pay me enough to go into a dark alley with you. Don’t worry. We’re going somewhere with lots of people. Lots of drinks. And lots of fun.”

  I kept walking, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. He didn’t respond, but I knew he was there, trailing behind me. His mood was annoyingly light, and he hummed to fill the silence as we walked through the busy streets.

  I kept my pace steady, but slowed enough for him to stay close to me. I couldn’t risk him falling behind, not with my bag. I watched for any opportunity to snatch the bag back, but Sinclair kept it close, his grip tight on the strap as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

  There were too many people around us. Too many eyes. I could have taken it. I could have made a scene. But I didn’t want to draw attention. And if he was stupid enough to carry my bag for me, I had to let him.

  We turned a corner, and the street ahead of us was alive with colour, more vibrant than the grey stone and muted brick of the roads we’d passed. One colour. Pink. It washed over the block, dripping from banners above the door, spilling across the facade of the building like it was the only shade that mattered. The Dusk Blush loomed ahead, impossible to ignore.

  I paused at the front door of the tavern and waited. Sinclair had slowed behind me, his head tilted back, staring at the building like he wasn’t quite sure if he was impressed or afraid.

  His expression was almost worth the trouble he’d caused.

  I glanced over my shoulder. “So you’ve heard of the place, then?”

  He didn’t answer, but the faint flush creeping up his neck did the work for him. That gave me more satisfaction than it probably should have.

  I pushed the door open and stepped through without another word. The velvet curtain that lined the inside of the door brushed against my arm as I passed. I didn’t hold the door for him, but unfortunately he caught it just before it swung shut in his face.

  The scent hit first. Spiced wine, warm incense, something sweet and citrusy underneath. The air inside was warmer than the street, not stifling, but deliberate. The kind of warmth meant to coax you into comfort, whether you asked for it or not.

  Pink velvet lined the walls, draped in long, trailing banners that hung from the ceiling and pooled slightly at the floor. In the breaks between fabric, huge woven tapestries dominated the space—warrior women mid-charge on winged horses, swords lifted in radiant light, enemies crushed beneath them in stylised ruin.

  They were stunning. And unsubtle. This wasn’t just a tavern. It was a declaration, and warning.

  I moved through the foyer like I knew the space. Round tables scattered across the main room, a few early patrons lingering with drinks and half-finished plates.

  She was exactly where I expected her to be, at the far end of the room, behind the long polished bar.

  Annabeth.

  Tall, with rose-pink skin that glowed in the warm light, and long golden hair that shimmered like molten sunlight down her back. She wore a floor-length sheath of velvet the same shade as the banners outside. Gold jewelry traced the elegant lines of her neck and wrists, catching the light with every slow, deliberate movement.

  Her horns had been cut years ago, now just smooth inch-long ridges that rose clean from her hair. Not hidden. She didn’t soften them with jewelry or tuck them behind a veil. They were part of her silhouette, and like everything else about her, impossible to ignore.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I glanced back to be sure Sinclair was following. He was. Barely. His mouth hung open like someone had smacked him in the head with a velvet cushion.

  Which they probably did here.

  For a price.

  Annabeth stepped out from behind the bar, squinting toward the door, her voice smooth and bright. “Greetings, friends. Welcome to the Dusk Blush. You’re just in time to make the morning interesting.”

  The light from outside caught her eyes. She blinked against it, lifting a hand reflexively as she looked toward the doorway.

  The moment the door clicked shut behind us and the light vanished, she saw me properly.

  And everything in her shifted.

  Her smile stretched wide, genuine and radiant, and in the next second she was moving, arms open, velvet whispering as she closed the distance between us and pulled me into a tight embrace.

  I didn’t hesitate.

  I sank into her arms, wrapping mine around her waist, resting my head on her shoulder. The scent of her hit me like a blow and a balm. Syrellis extract. Sweet at first, but with a bitterness that curled at the edges. Beautiful, familiar, poisonous if you didn’t know how to correctly handle it.

  We didn’t speak. Just held each other for a few seconds more than was polite.

  When she finally pulled back, her eyes flicked over my shoulder, and something sly curled at the corner of her mouth.

  “Did you bring me a new toy to play with?”

  Her eyes dragged down Sinclair’s body and back up again, and when her tongue flicked out, forked and glinting in the low light, I felt his discomfort ripple behind me.

  Annabeth let go of me and circled around him leisurely, dragging her fingers across the back of his shoulders as she passed.

  My bag was at his feet, abandoned, for once. I crossed my arms and said nothing, enjoying his unease.

  Annabeth stopped in front of him, lifting her chin as she extended a hand.

  “Mistress Jasper. And you are… brave, I hope?”

  The forked tip of her tongue flicked again, tasting the air near his face. Sinclair looked like he wasn’t sure whether to shake her hand or run for the door.

  Annabeth turned to me, one brow raised in mock formality. “And will you two be needing a bedroom?”

  I couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out. Sinclair made a sound like he’d just choked on his own name.

  Annabeth’s grin widened. “Alright, business it is.”

  She guided us to one of the small tables near the far wall with a gentle pressure at my elbow. I took the seat facing the room. Sinclair dropped into the other chair, and tossed my bag under the table with a thud.

  Annabeth ran one hand lightly across the back of Sinclair’s chair, equally amused at his discomfort as I was, then turned her gaze on me. “The usual?”

  I nodded. “Please.”

  “Ah, my favourite word.”

  I let my smile sharpen. “And let’s show our guest a little Naerithi hospitality.”

  Sinclair opened his mouth, probably to protest, but once glance at the twin expressions on our faces shut it again. He gave a tight smile and stayed quiet.

  “Understood.” Annabeth said smoothly.

  She rested a hand lightly on my shoulder, her fingers warm though the fabric. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”

  I covered her hand with mine, thumb brushing against her knuckles. “Five years. It feels like a lifetime. Once this business is done… maybe I can come back and spend some time with you.”

  Annabeth drifted back toward the bar, her touch still warm on my shoulder.

  I turned my attention to Sinclair and my smile immediately dropped.

  “I told you I’d bring you somewhere with people.”

  He hesitated, just for a second. “So, what was it when you worked here? By the hour or by the act?”

  I didn’t flinch, but he leaned forward on the table eagerly like he’d won a point.

  “You and the mistress, huh? Guess it’s true what they say, you never forget your first leash. Does Velez know about her?”

  “What is it you want from me? You’re one of the rudest men I’ve ever met in my entire life.”

  And that was saying something. I’d had blades help to my throat with better manners.

  He looked at me for a moment, with that annoying, calculating, half-smile that I was beginning to despise.

  “I’m doing my job.”

  “Admiral. But you lack the intelligence to be military intelligence, and I’m beginning to doubt the military part too.”

  He leaned back with a smirk. “I never said I was military intelligence. You did.”

  “From what I have seen, you’re either surveillance, or professional sleaze.”

  He didn’t answer. Just stared, waiting for me to break first.

  We sat like that until the soft clink of glass cut through the tension.

  Annabeth returned to the table, a small gold tray in her hands. She set a blue glass rimmed in gold in front of Sinclair with a practiced flourish.

  “For the gentleman.”

  Then she placed a matching pink glass in front of me, her fingers brushing mine as she did so.

  “And pink for the lady.”

  She gave me a wink before gliding back to the bar.

  I picked up my glass and turned it slowly in my hand, watching the lights catch the faceted glass.

  “What exactly is your job, then, Sinclair?”

  He grinned again. “None of your business.”

  I clicked my tongue, took a sip, and let the burn warm my chest.

  “You’re going to get yourself killed. I haven’t ruled out doing it myself.”

  My eyes dropped to his glass and I grinned. “Take your time with that. It’s stronger than you’ll be used to.”

  Sinclair leaned forward, like I knew he would, grabbed the drink and knocked it all back in one swallow. He didn’t even blink, just stared at me as he slammed the empty glass onto the centre of the table.

  “I can handle my liquor.”

  I took another slow sip, not breaking eye contact.

  “Better than you handled Thistleclaw venom, I hope.”

  He jaw twitched, just slightly.

  “I can handle my liquor.” He repeated, more earnest this time, but with a tell-tale slur.

  “I can-”

  His body pitched forward, head thudding against the table with a dull, wooden crack. Then he slid off the edge of the chair and crumpled to the floor in a heap.

  Honestly, it was disappointing how fast it happened. No sputtering. No dramatic gasp. Just—thud.

  He should have listened.

  Soft footsteps whispered across the floorboards. Annabeth came to a stop beside the table and looked down at the unconscious mess.

  “That didn’t take long.” Her expression was somewhere between curious and calculating.

  “He insisted he could handle it.”

  “They always do.”

  She nudged him lightly with the toe of her shoe.

  I picked up his glass, turning it slowly between my fingers. No scent. I ran my tongue along the rim. It was sweet, just for a moment, then a sharp bitterness like crushed flower stems and rust. I swallowed reflexively, feeling the numbness spread across the back of my throat.

  Annabeth’s hand landed on my shoulder firmly.

  “Don’t. Naerithi don’t react the same way humans do. It’s… not safe.”

  “You’re not using Thistleclaw anymore?”

  “No. this is human-made. They call it Golden-Hour. It’s newer, quiet. Doesn’t leave a scent. And it hits fast.”

  I nodded, the taste still curled around my tongue.

  “It’s good. Clean.”

  Annabeth’s hand lingered a moment longer before slipping away. Sh watched me retrieve my bag beneath the table.

  “You’ll be long gone before he wakes up.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  I stood, brushing down the front of my silks.

  “I need to be.”

  She let out a breath, part sigh, part resignation. I didn’t miss her eyes flicking to my collar.

  “One day you’ll come through my door without needing to leave again.”

  “One day,” I echoed.

  Annabeth moved with me to the door. When we reached it, she rested a hand lightly on the frame, blocking my path.

  “You’re walking into something, aren’t you?”

  “With open eyes.”

  She saw more than she let on. She always had.

  “Promise me. Promise me that you’re not in over your head.”

  I swallowed, aware of the numbness still in my throat. This was my last chance to keep my mouth shut. But if Annabeth found out from anyone else…

  “It’s not me you need to worry about. It’s Ellah. She’s already in deeper than either of us wanted.”

  Her face went pale, the warmth draining from it as her fingers tightened around the doorframe.

  “What can I do?”

  I reached up and tucked a loose lock of gold behind her ear.

  “I will call on you if it comes to that.” I paused, letting the next word fall quieter. “Tesh’ilia.”

  Her eyes locked on mine, wide with recognition, but no hesitation. Her hand reached for mine and pulled it gently toward her, pressing a kiss to my palm.

  “I await your command.”

  “Thank you.”

  I cupped her cheek in return, then leaned in and kissed her softly on the forehead.

  “Keep that one away from the girls.” I glanced at Sinclair. “He may not wake quietly.”

  I turned toward the door, adjusted the strap of my bag, and stepped out into the light of the street.