Page 165 of Sword & Sacrifice

“Hidden route to the back rooms. The Eternal Dream’s clients are the sort that don’t want anyone to know they’re having clandestine meetings in the back of a tavern. There are separate entrances for each party, so no one sees them together.”

I never would have found this on my own, Emmaline thought as she marveled at the complexity of her father’s operations. She’d pictured them sharing information in a private office somewhere, or perhaps over drinks at the tavern. Not in a secret pirate hidey-hole.

Rafe held his finger to his lips to remind her not to talk, then guided her down the hallway. At the end was a wooden stairway leading up to the second floor. He silently walked up a step, then gestured for her to follow directly in his footsteps.

They climbed up the stairs without a single creak to give them away. As they neared the room, they could already hear the low voices of a conversation.

The landing before the room was only wide enough for the two of them to stand on it if they squeezed together. Rafe positioned himself behind Emmaline, allowing her access to the crack in the door. Opening it would surely lead to them getting caught, so she pressed her face against the wood and tried to catch a glimpse of the speaker and listen to snatches of conversation.

“—happy to trade the witch—in exchange—trust we have your support?”

The voice was familiar, though Emmaline couldn’t place it right away. She twisted her head, trying to get a better look.

“Yes.” Everett’s voice came through the wood much clearer, which meant he was probably standing closer to the door. “You’re certain Alistair can deliver?”

“Positive.”

“Then my ships are yours.”

“I’ll pass the message along.” The other speaker’s voice became clearer and louder as they approached her father. They passed directly in front of the door and Emmaline saw them clearly for a split second: a tall, broad-shouldered man with short gray hair and a cruel, age-lined face.

Emmaline clapped a hand over her mouth to silence her shock. Her father’s contact was General Varro, one of the councilors who had betrayed Silas. What deal had her father made with him?

A hand grabbed her from behind, interrupting her racing thoughts. She looked at Rafe, wondering if he knew—if that was why he insisted on helping her. She couldn’t read his expression in the dim light, but she saw his lips shape a silent order, “We’re leaving.”

He tugged her down the stairs less carefully than they’d ascended. Their thumping feet and the creaks and squeaks from the old boards alerted the people upstairs to their presence. A door opened and a calm, cold voice ordered, “Find the rat.”

Rafe shoved the bottom door open with his shoulder and dragged Emmaline all the way out into the street. They could join the crowd, but her father would recognize them. What would they do once he confronted them? Would Everett hurt her now that she knew he was working with traitors? Would he try to explain himself? Could he explain himself?

As Emmaline worried, Rafe tugged off his eyepatch. The golden hair shifted to a paler, duller blond and his features lost the sharp, rugged edges, softening into androgyny. The scar melted away, and a stranger looked at Emmaline with two perfect hazel eyes. They held up a silver necklace and ordered, “Put this on.” Even Rafe’s voice changed, like metal getting a new shine.

Emmaline had experienced too many shocks too quickly. She didn’t react to Rafe’s order, so they slid the necklace over her head. Only once she felt the glamour settle around her did she realize they’d been wearing one.

Braz burst out onto the street, head swiveling as he searched every direction. He looked right at Emmaline, his eyes sliding over her, before he moved on to the next potential target. “Not here,” he called over his shoulder. “Someone check the tavern.”

Rafe squeezed Emmaline’s hand, silently reminding her to keep quiet. They waited for Braz to move on, then Rafe whispered, “Come on, we’ll find somewhere to talk.”

Chapter Eleven

Rafe’s idea of ‘somewhere to talk’ apparently meant a brothel. Two ladies stood outside of The Crimson Dream draped in silks and laces of various colors. The fabric swathed their curves and brightened their pale skin. They unashamedly called out to passersby, sometimes cupping their breasts to better display their assets.

As Rafe approached, the sales pitch quieted and the girl on the right greeted them with a more genuine smile. “Visiting Lady Carmine again?” she asked with a suggestive wink.

“The one and only,” Rafe replied, grinning as they tugged Emmaline into the brothel. Without the scar and eyepatch, their smile seemed more genuine and cheerful. It was like the air of mischief and mystery had been wiped clean from their face, leaving a blank slate that only raised more questions for Emmaline.

An older woman stood behind a counter near the front door. Her white hair shimmered under the golden candlelight and delicate wrinkles accentuated her shapely lips and bright eyes. As soon as she saw Rafe, she held out a key to them and an empty palm.

Rafe dropped a few coins into her palm and snatched up the key. “My guest and I will need absolute privacy.”

“Of course,” the madam replied, her voice low and sultry. “Lady Carmine always gives her clients her full attention.” Her eyes slid over Emmaline without sticking before she turned her attention back to the door.

“You’ve brought me to your mistress?” Emmaline hissed.

“Safest place on the island.”

“But the whole crew knows you frequent her! This is the first place they’ll look!”

Rafe ignored her as they guided her all the way up to the third floor, to a single locked door. They unlocked it to reveal a room decorated in red silks and dark velvets. The center of the room had a sitting area that could comfortably entertain four or five guests. The far-left corner had a large wardrobe and a dressing screen with black silhouettes painted on each panel. The silhouettes were of a man and a woman dancing toward each other until they kissed in the middle panel. The right corner of the room held a massive four-poster bed, the red curtains hiding what lay beyond.