"Oh that is brilliant. It's a shame Celeste came up with the rate, though I can see well why you would call for her. Go, do as she said and tell the dowager about this. But when the dowager asks why you suggested such a thing, you'll tell her it was my advice, in case you ran into such customers. This is quite the skill, Reverie. We'll talk more in the morning, but you've done very well." Ilysia praised her, and sent her on her way. She scurried to the dowager's office, and soon was standing in front of the steel haired old woman. Despite her wrinkles, the dowager was a breathtaking woman. Her cold expression was similar in many ways to Ilysia's, though her eyes were green like Anette's. 

"I see. So Ilysia came up with that, eh? Clever girl, leaving it to Celeste to set the price. That way, if I was displeased, Celeste would take fault for the money, not her. Very well. Don't offer this to any other customers for now, I want to see how it goes with Celeste. You may go, and continue your work." The old woman said, a bemused grin on her face. Ilysia and the dowager often butted heads, for reasons Reverie didn't fully understand, but she was relieved to hear the dowager accept the way things turned out. Reverie hurried out of the intimidating woman's office, and met with Anette to greet their next group. This time, she didn't peek at their emotions, and stuck to pouring their drinks. Luckily, everything went smoothly, with that group and every other that she saw that night. In the morning, true to her word, Ilysia spoke with her about what happened. 

Together, they decided that Reverie's skill could be honed and used well. She could keep an eye on the clients' state of mind, and either suggest women they'd be most likely to really enjoy, or call for one of the mercenaries to escort volatile customers out. So it was, for several years after that incident, the business of the Garden slowly changed shape as Reverie tested, grew, and refined her abilities. 

Three years after that first group of customers, Reverie used her magic in a new way for the third time. It didn't take long for the Garden to adapt to the growing demand for the hour long services, and soon it evolved to become hour long parties, of a sort. Rather than just sitting and talking, frequently the clients would come in groups and spend the time being served by the younger apprentices, while being entertained and flirted with by the older apprentices, and any of the courtesans who hadn't been booked at the time. This new practice made the Garden enough money to make the dowager smile, for the first time that Reverie could remember. Ilysia was credited with the idea, and had gained a significant amount of favor and clout with the dowager as a result. In exchange, Ilysia had made Reverie her exclusive entertainer. Reverie spent nearly every night entertaining guests, and as a result, her ability to subtly affect the moods of others flourished. She could make people feel more at ease, prevent arguments between customers who'd had too much to drink, and make suggestions about which woman might suit a guest's mood. More often than not, her time was being fought over by customers who wanted to vent to her about how awful their lives were, as she used her magic to make them feel more comfortable talking, they would inadvertently bring up things they probably shouldn't to a girl working in a brothel. Reverie learned much about the secrets of merchants, the habits of nobles, and the things that happened behind the façade of proper etiquette. Most of these secrets, she passed on to Ilysia, who had been busy amassing support among the more influential patrons. As it was, the dowager would retire before long, she made no secret of this. And though the Garden was a private institution, the wealthier regulars had a great deal of say in deciding who her successor would be. Though there were some half-hearted contenders, like Celeste, Ilysia was coming closer and closer to being the official choice. She owed a great deal of this to the information Reverie provided, like who was keeping mistresses, and which nobles were putting pressure on merchants to betray their competitors. Though by this time she was fifteen, and had started to look like less of a girl, she had avoided taking her own clients. She would receive gifts of favor from the men who came to talk to her, some of which she kept rather than selling or trading for favors. But, despite her changing appearance, she was very much still a girl on the inside. She didn't notice the heat behind many of the gazes, and paid no mind to the rumor that many customers were impatiently asking when she would be made available. After all, Reverie still thought of herself as rather plain. This was probably why, despite advice not to, Reverie sometimes spoke with men in private rooms, far from the entertainment rooms she usually worked in. It was in one of those rooms, that everything changed drastically for her. 

"The dowager still hasn't given me permission to work yet." She said warily, when one of her regular guests had propositioned her. He was a very handsome young man, barely twenty, a baron's son named Beau. His features were fine his red hair and green eyes were striking. Many of the younger girls harbored daydreams of him spiriting them away. When he sought Reverie out the first time, he had outright accused her of selling secrets. Luckily, she hadn't sensed any malice from him, and from their first encounter, a strange friendship had formed between them. He gave her particularly good information, sometimes even about very high ranking nobles. In return, he enjoyed honest conversation on her part. Though Reverie had a pleasant mask on for most of the time, underneath she had a sharp tongue. He claimed it was refreshing, and happily paid the fee several times a week. 

"Reverie, that old woman is keeping you on a chain because she knows good and well that these parties won't be nearly so popular once you're not available for them. She may not like it, but there's nothing she can do to you, if you take matters into your own hands. You make her nearly as much as Ilysia does, I'd say." Beau reasoned. Reverie frowned and shook her head.

"There's no way that's true." Reverie refuted, scoffing and trying to turn his attention to a glass of wine. Beau ignored it, and pressed on, leaning closer to her.

"You don't actually have no idea, do you?"

"No idea about what?" She asked. Beau searched her face, and when he saw her genuine confusion, threw his head back and laughed. 

"You really are something, aren't you? You've lived in a sex house your entire life, and you don't even realize how many men follow you around with their hands down their pants." Beau snickered, and tugged on a bit of her hair that had fallen from her usual braided bun. She wrinkled her nose in distaste, and put the wine down.

"Beau, I think you've had enough. Are you seeing anyone, or should I just call your carriage?" She asked, standing and trying to walk away from him. All at once his laughter stopped, and he'd latched onto her wrist. Too late, she took a gauge of his mood and realized that not only was Beau very drunk, he was also very serious. The way he was staring at her chest made it clear what he was serious about. Reverie felt like a fool for not preparing for this, how could she not have seen this day coming?

"I'm seeing you." He said, lowly. There were a dozen girls in the Garden who'd faint at that tone coming from him, but Reverie's stomach just dropped.

"I told you, I'm not allowed to. You'll have to ask the dowager's permission first." She said, trying to pull her wrist away. She didn't want things to escalate, for fear of killing him. She'd never exerted enough of her magic to force someone to behave a certain way, not since she'd killed the man who attacked Ilysia. 

"I'll ask her forgiveness, tomorrow." He said and yanked her towards him. She regretted not following the advice to stay out of these rooms, as she realized no one would take particular note of any noises coming from a room in this area. She couldn't expect any help just from screaming. She tried to wriggle away from him as he pulled her into his lap, but the struggle only succeeded in frustrating him. He huffed and stood, haphazardly carrying her towards the bed in the room. With a thump, he had lowered them onto it, her pinned beneath his weight. She felt dizzy, as her heart hammered in her chest, and a cold sweat broke out all over her.

"Stop, Beau, please." She begged in a whisper, tears forming in her eyes. Beau grinned at her, taking it as embarrassment, and began kissing her neck. 

"Don't worry, Reverie. I'll make it good for you, promise." He said, and his hands got to work bunching up her skirt. She tried to scoot away from him, but he simply pulled her back down, with a warning bite on her shoulder. She shuddered and barely stifled a cry when his fingers forcefully made their way between her thighs. She sucked in a heaving breath and pulled as much of her magic as she could manage to her, much like she had that night. But instead of tearing through the cocoon of life around him, she encased what she could now recognize as his lust. She covered him in her magic, and amplified his desire until it seemed as though he would break. On top of her, Beau suddenly convulsed with a shout and a groan, then fell unconscious. Once Reverie was sure he was out, she pushed him off of her. There was blood on his fingers, and a wet splotch on his trousers. She gasped and sobbed for a few minutes, staring in horror at him while she fought off waves of nausea.  Eventually though, her mind began to work again, and her stomach settled. He would wake up, though what he would remember, she couldn't know. The blood on his hands was enough to ruin any chance that the dowager would believe nothing had happened between them. She stood up, straightened as much of herself as she could, and went to find Anette. Ilysia would be busy, but Anette could help her.  She was coming back from her most recent client, an old man who enjoyed sitting her on his lap and pretending she was his granddaughter. As usual, after his visits, Anette looked bone weary and heartsick. Reverie, for once, could genuinely relate.

"Anette." She whispered hoarsely, causing the other young woman to startle. When she caught sight of Reverie, still mostly disheveled, and clearly upset, she had a general idea of what had happened.

"Oh, Reverie! Oh, no, I'm so sorry lovely. I can't believe someone did this. Here come with me, I'll get you to a bath." Anette immediately launched into the general procedure for this type of circumstance. It wasn't unheard of, or even uncommon, for the women to be forced at least once. But Reverie shook her head, and pulled Anette after her.

"No, Anette. I need you to come with me. It's Beau, he tried to force himself on me, but he wasn't able to." Reverie hissed. Anette sighed.

"I was afraid he might do such a thing one day." Anette murmured to herself, before coming to a sudden stop, her face paling. "What do you mean he wasn't able to? Reverie, oh please tell me you didn't do something to him. He's a baron's son! Oh you could be killed, we can't stay here. Oh Reverie come on, we have to go!" Anette cried out, tugging Reverie as though they would run away into the night. Reverie was momentarily stunned by Anette's genuine intention to flee with her, rather than turn her in for her imagined crime. She smiled ruefully before calming Anette down.

"No, Anette. I didn't hurt him, I don't think. I can't explain in the hallway, follow me. Quickly." She insisted, and the two practically ran back to the room Beau was, thankfully, still asleep in.