-Jaonah-

“Ah, I see,” the young woman at my side said, forcing me to tear my eyes away from him. When I looked back at her, she was smiling knowingly, almost sympathetically. “Your desires aren’t the sort I can satisfy.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” I muttered, flushing slightly at having been so obvious in my admiration.

“Oh, not at all. One can’t help what he prefers. That said…” She hesitated a moment, then leaned in to continue quietly, “I advise caution if you do choose to pursue Oleander. There is far more to him than meets the eye.” With this cryptic warning and a polite nod, she left me to seek better prospects.

Despite myself, I glanced at the dark-haired man—Oleander, she had called him—once again. He was already quite something to look at; if there was more to him than that, I was curious to discover it. Even his body language as he sat still, the languid and relaxed quality of his posture, held my gaze. I could only hope my staring wasn’t evident to everyone else.

“We’ve so missed you of late, my darling,” a woman in a black mask was telling him chidingly. “Where have you been all this time?”

“Madam, you and I both know you’ll lose all interest in me if I’m too forthcoming,” he purred in the strongest Rilleaudin accent I’d yet heard. “I’ll leave the answer to your imagination.”

“But it’s been weeks!” a second woman whined. “It’s cruel of you to stay away for so long, knowing we’re suffering in your absence.”

“Forgive me for saying so, my lady, but you’ve seen me much crueler,” he answered with a wicked smirk. “This hardly qualifies. Besides, I’m here tonight for you to enjoy to your heart’s content.”

My hopes of catching his attention quickly faded. Perhaps he was already engaged for the evening. Perhaps he was only interested in women. I drained the last of my wine and set my glass aside, debating on trying one of those pipes in the hopes of building up my courage to speak to him.

The heavy curtains swept aside as someone else hurried into the room, and I glanced up to see the young elvin woman who had greeted us earlier. A tall, well-dressed human man followed at her heels. “I’ve told you already, I won’t,” she said softly. “I’m not comfortable with it. Please, ask someone else.”

“I want you,” the man insisted, his voice low, almost warning. He moved to cut off her path, and she visibly cowered. “I’ll be more careful this time, Satella. I’ll be gentler.”

I didn’t at all like where this was going. Still, was it my place to intervene? Many courtesans in the Empire couldn’t afford to refuse work, but it should have been her prerogative nevertheless. Oleander’s conversation had fallen silent, and I noticed he was now watching the exchange intently, a frown creasing his handsome face.

“You say that every time,” the girl said softly, stealing a furtive glance in Oleander’s direction. Perhaps he was a friend?

“You ought to be grateful I keep coming back for you.” When her would-be client noticed her darting eyes, he snarled, “Look at me, you spike-eared slut!” He grabbed her jaw roughly and forced her to face him, shocking a pained cry from her lips. The tray in her hands clattered loudly to the ground, and suddenly the room went silent. I found myself standing, unable to watch one of my people being abused without acting—but Oleander moved faster.

Within seconds, he was on his feet and had produced a stiletto dagger, which he now held but a hair’s breadth from the other man’s throat. Everything was very still, the room’s other occupants frozen to observe the altercation. In a tone reminiscent of brittle ice only just holding together, Oleander commanded, “Release her. Gently.”

Despite the rage in his expression, the other man remained still and removed his hand from Satella’s jaw, allowing her to take a trembling step back. I wanted to come forward, to see if I might help at all, but as I hesitated, one of her fellows, an older woman, swept in to bear her from the room.

“You should know better than to mistreat a Flower,” Oleander admonished, keeping his blade poised where it was. “Gardeners don’t look on that sort of thing lightly.” Though the other human didn’t respond aloud, this cryptic reprimand made his face turn ashen.

Two silver-masked men entered the room, and Oleander stepped back with a sigh, shifting his weight and letting the dagger hang lazily from his fingers. “Off you go, my lord. And don’t cause any more trouble; I’m sure Madam Elain would prefer her parlor not become a crime scene.” The offender put his head down, fists tightly clenched, but allowed the guards to escort him from the room. Oleander watched them leave, then knelt to tuck his dagger into a sheath within one of his gray leather boots. Once back on his feet, he realized all the others were still watching him and let out a lighthearted laugh. “Forgive the interruption, my ladies and lords. Some people simply can’t help but be greedy.”

As they all dissolved into curious murmurs and went about their business, he seemed to notice me standing and swept me a thoughtful look. Cursing the tension in my body and hoping it wasn’t visible, I tried to speak confidently. “Your name is Oleander, yes? It’s fitting.”

Tilting his head to one side, he asked, “How so?”

“Like the flower of the same name, you’re clearly dangerous,” I told him, trying to control the spike of my heart rate, “but beautiful enough that one might accept that risk.” His mouth split into a smile that sent a delighted chill down my spine. Spirits and heavens, he is gorgeous.