Kailehr watched Malliki drunkenly stumble to the front of their gang, turning to face them as he walked backward. “We are going to hit every single brothel in this city if it kills us! Come on, hurry!”

  Mid-stride, his friend’s foot caught the raised edge of a popped-up cobble, sending him barreling into a deep mud puddle with a splash. Malliki sat up, clad in muck. The gang soon joined Malliki on the street, laughing so hard they weren’t breathing. Kailehr couldn’t help but laugh himself.

  “Fucking bastard edges,” Malliki slurred, undignified. “Lazy Lesh masons. String ‘em all up by their fucking toes. How’s a drunk supposed to walk around here?” He scraped a brown chunk off the once-fine coat. “This was Maelinaen cloth…”

  Kailehr stepped over, whipping a tear from his eye, and reached down.

  “Come on, you fool,” he said, still smiling. “Looks like you’ll need a bathhouse, one way or the other.”

  Malliki slapped a hand to Kailehr’s wrist and wrestled himself up. “Of course! It is a sign, my brothers. Like my cloak, let us venture onward, sullying every comely Lesh whore from here to Lakash!”

  Kailehr rolled his eyes. “I’ll go for a bath, but I have training tomorrow.” He glanced back at their posse, not recognizing more than a handful of the faces. Where did Malliki find these people? “Anyways, I can’t be up watching over you drunkards all day.”

  “Of course you can! But you won't. Is the Sultiva boy too good for us? Just say so.”

  Kailehr stiffened. “I’m not saying that, but this is my last chance at Selection before I age out. I have four years, that’s it. Life has to be more than drinking and whoring.”

  “Are you saying that’s all we do?” Malliki said, hushed. His eyes were dangerous, a feral beast from the wilds waiting to pounce. The others grew quiet.

  “Of course not,” Kailehr said. “Don’t be ridiculous, you know what I meant.”

  Street lantern light flickered off the glistening wet stones, and a gust riffled Malliki’s cloak.

  “So, are you coming or not?”

  Kailehr clenched his jaw. He’d never hear the end of it if he said no now. Breathing out, he relaxed. “Tonight only.”

  Malliki clapped Kailehr’s shoulders, the tension shattering like light through storm clouds. “I’m telling you, Kai, once you’ve tried a Lesh, you’ll never want—” Malliki swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. His color drained. “Ah, shit.” Before Kailehr could pull away, Malliki spewed thick, steaming vomit all over the street—Kailehr’s boots included.

  “All to the fucking hells, man,” Kailehr groaned.

  The others laughed harder than before, so hard they turned brick red. Cael bumbled beside Kailehr and threw a thick arm over his shoulder to stabilize himself. “That was perfect. Strength, I needed that. So, where are we going?”

  Malliki slammed into the huddle, leaning onto Cael while wiping off stray bits of bile with his coat sleeve. “Ever heard of The Turquoise Maiden?”

  Steamy, fragrant air filled Kailehr’s lungs on the first step into the bathhouse threshold. Nobody manned the entry booth, which was, strangely, protected with tightly spaced vertical bars, with only a tiny opening at the bottom large enough for stones to pass through but not a hand. Combined with the banded iron doors, it told Kailehr everything he needed to know.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  “I’m leaving,” Kailehr said, turning to go.

  Malliki grabbed his shoulder, spinning him back. “I know how it looks, but listen: it’s a rough place in town, but it’s got quality. Reasonable prices and beautiful women? Where else do you get that?”

  Kailehr groaned, letting himself be pulled deeper into the entry room. Malliki slung an arm over Kailehr’s shoulder and walked together to the barred booth. Malliki picked up the miniature wooden mallet hanging off the counter edge by rough twine and slammed it rapidly against the little bell affixed to the wall.

  Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting! Ting!

  A disembodied voice carried through the walls. “Relax! I’m coming! Hold your stones.” After a bit of shuffling, the booth door swung open, and a middle-aged Mestarian woman squeezed inside. “This better be—” her eyes locked on Malliki, taking him in instantly. She perked up, her voice pitching higher. “Hello! Welcome to the Turquoise Maiden, good sirs. I am Oriana Rolan, headmistress here. How many of you will there be today?”

  “Twelve,” Malliki said. “But before all that, I have a favor to ask. My friend here,” he slapped Kailehr on the back, “needs the absolute best Lesh you’ve got. The best tits, the best ass, the whole package.”

  Oriana raised an eyebrow Kailehr’s way. Kailehr smiled uncomfortably but didn’t fight it—he would let the storm blow its course. The headmistress nodded.

  “We only have the best, but I understand your meaning.” Leaning behind the counter, she returned with a small book and passed it through the booth slot. “Take a look. We have illustrations and schedules. See what you like.”

  Malliki flipped through rapidly, passing hundreds of scantily clad Leshar and Mestarian women set in ink. Toward the end, he pushed a finger onto one name. If the picture had any accuracy, this woman would be gorgeous. She was curvy but firm in body, with soft features that contrasted against piercing eyes that popped off the paper.

  “Does this work for you?” Malliki said with a smile.

  Kailehr cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “Sure.”

  Malliki scanned the side where columns listed times free. It was blank. “This one doesn’t have a schedule. Is she available?”

  “What do you mean?” Oriana asked, leaning to look. “Oh.” The headmistress’s voice was as flat as a left-out beer. “Nessa doesn’t have a public schedule. Jaad lets her choose her clients as she wants.”

  “She’s perfect,” Malliki said. “We’ll take her.”

  Oriana's smile tightened into a line. “I can’t promise anything, but let me see what I can do.”

  Malliki scoffed. “Aren’t you the headmistress? What kind of establishment allows their stock to dismiss willing clients? Does this Lesh whore have more power than you?”

  “Of course not!” Oriana snapped. Muted sloshing and laughter reverberated out of a nearby room. A beat later, that nauseatingly fake twinkle to Oriana’s voice returned. “I will make it happen! Give me a moment.”

  A plain-looking Lesh maid in traditional loose black robes led Kailehr up a winding staircase to the top balcony of the establishment, overlooking the steaming public baths below the atrium center. Peaking over the railing, Kailehr spotted Malliki stripping at a pool’s edge, with Cael hopping in with an enormous splash. Walking a short distance down the hallway, they stopped at a sliding door beside a worn sofa. The maid turned, bowing.

  “This is Lady Nessa’s room. Do you need anything else, sir?”

  Kailehr shook his head, and the girl dodged past him, heading down the hall in a flash.

  The door was inconspicuous, the same as all the others in the establishment. Was Kailehr genuinely doing this? Couldn’t he just leave? A bath sounded lovely, especially after the cold, but he was supposed to be past this part of his life. The worst part was that Jiahn wouldn’t even care if he did—worse still, she’d welcome it.

  The door slammed open.

  “Are you going to stand there all day, or are you coming inside?”

  Emerald eyes, sharp as daggers, glared up at him. Wavy hair, dark as the Andhera, contrasted against smooth, pale skin. A thin, dark green silk nightgown boldened that piercing stare and clung to the curves beneath like a poorly kept secret. The ink had lied. Nessa was more beautiful than any artist could capture.

  “Well?” she said, smiling, that edge of annoyance giving way. “Come on, then.”

  Her soft hand took his as she led Kailehr past the threshold toward something new.