I am extremely excited to be hosting Sarah-Jane Lehoux's Sexy Series on my blog. I have recently finished Masquerade, and I loved all three of the books, as I eagerly await more.
She
might as well have been invisible. The people of Eloria paid no mind to
the redness of her nose or to the wet marks that streaked across her
dirty face. She was just another nameless vagrant after all, of which
the city had more than its fair share.
It
was midday. People flooded the constricted, cobbled streets, busily
going about their lives. The perpetual grind and toil demanded that
sales be pitched, prices be haggled, and money be made. Each day like
the one before—an uphill battle to earn as much as the gods would allow
so that, hopefully, their own children would not have the same
desperation in their eyes that the skinny girl had in hers.
Had
it been any other day, Sevy would have laughed at the curses that flew
after her whenever she bumped into one of the merchants. Any other day,
and she would have been more reckless, more bold, snatching coins right
from outstretched hands and then making a game of the ensuing chase.
Today, sadly, was not such a day.
The
morning had begun well enough. Hopping nimbly over heaps of trash, she
had rummaged for breakfast before returning home—a derelict building
that once served as stables, decades ago, back when the Axlun royal
family still lived in Eloria and the city was in its finest hour. Now
abandoned by most of the kingdom’s aristocracy, Eloria had descended
into a long, drawn out rot. Bad for the economy perhaps, but just right
for those like Sevy. The city was littered with ramshackle houses and
factories, memories of past prosperity cast off like the shells of sea
creatures, readily appropriated and transformed into covert bastions of
beggars and brigands.
The
stables sheltered any number of street children, orphaned by choice or
by circumstance, living together in fluid, drifting groups. It was their
sanctuary against the dangers of the city, and though it couldn’t hold
heat in the winter or lose it in the summer, it was dear to them.
She
climbed up to the hayloft and tucked into her meal of a half-eaten
apple and a crust of week-old bread, quite content. The day was further
improved when Trena arrived and dangled a bottle of ruby red wine before
Sevy’s eager eyes.
“Aw, brilliant! Where’d you get it from?”
Trena popped the cork out with her teeth then took three swigs, each bigger than the last, before answering. “A friend.”
“Nice friend.”
“Mm-hmm.”
If
Sevy’s attention had not been focused on the savory liquid, she may
have noticed the nervous squirming or the edge in Trena’s voice.
Instead, she simply sighed appreciatively and held up the wine in a mock
salute to their health.
All
too soon the bottle was emptied, leaving only a pleasant heat in their
cheeks and a sickly sweet taste in their mouths. Warmed and sleepy from
the drink, Sevy reclined against the wall and picked at random splinters
of moulding hay while Trena turned the bottle over and over again in
her hands. With the distraction of the wine gone, Sevy finally discerned
that something wasn’t quite right with her normally bubbly friend.
Several times, Trena opened her mouth to speak, but then shook her head
and remained silent.
Sitting
there, in the musty ruin of an era long past, they were quite the pair
of opposites. Trena was a full head shorter than Sevy, but what she
lacked in height, she made up for in curves. Sevy often stared enviously
at those curves, comparing them to her own spindly frame. Heredity and
malnutrition combined to work against Sevy, making her appear much
younger than her sixteen years. Her brown hair, loosely tied back with a
strip of cloth, didn’t have the luster of Trena’s blonde curls. The
closest that Sevy’s pallid cheeks ever came to a fetching shade of red
was when she was embarrassed, but Trena’s seemed to be everlastingly
rouged. Trena’s clothes were always neater too. Sevy was forever
discovering new rents and tears in hers. And her shoes…
Now
that was odd, Sevy thought to herself. She hadn’t, until that moment,
noticed that Trena was wearing new shoes—slippers made from softened
leather. And a matched set as well. First a bottle of wine and now new
shoes. An eyebrow rose as she regarded her friend with suspicion.
“What’s up?” she asked lightly, drawing her legs up to her chest.
“Nothing,” came the sighed response. “It’s just…about my friend. He’s really nice.”
Sevy nodded her agreement even though her stomach was beginning to churn. And it wasn’t from the wine.
“Well, um, he said he can get us all sorts of things. More wine, food, clothes. Whatever we want.”
In
one hurried rush, Trena spoke animatedly about a man named Gihaf, one
who promised them all of Eloria in exchange for certain favours.
“It’s
nothing we haven’t done before,” Trena said with a shrug of her
shoulders, trying but failing to appear casual. “Just now, he’ll give us
stuff for it.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“It’s not so bad, honest. He promises we’ll be safe and that the men he’d fix us up with wouldn’t be horrid or anything.”
In
her heart, Sevy had always known Trena might succumb to something like
this. She was weak willed, more liable to take the easy way out, and
definitely more likely to be charmed by anyone with a silver tongue.
The
gods had been smiling upon Trena the day they arranged for her to meet
Sevy four years earlier. Born from tougher stock, forged by the biting
winds and glacial waters of the Melacian Sea, it had been Sevy who
discovered such a relatively safe and comfortable place to live. It had
been Sevy who learned through trial and error how to pick pockets and
steal food. Trena may have been gullible, but she wasn’t stupid. She had
latched onto Sevy, recognizing her strength and nerve.
As
for Sevy, she was just happy to have a friend. Like the majority of
Eloria’s children, she had already experienced far too much loss for
such a short life. Trena was her surrogate family, and Sevy was not
about to let anyone, particularly some perverted cock-bawd, take her
away.
Indignation
blazed within her stout little soul as Trena continued her impassioned
speech, punctuated with sobs and frequent hitchings of her chest. She
extolled Gihaf’s virtues—by the way she spoke, he may as well have been
King Grewid himself—while rationalizing her choice with protests against
the cold and the hunger.
“I’m sick of this. I mean, look at us, Sevy. Look how we’re living. It shouldn’t be this way! And Gihaf says—”
“Gihaf
is lying!” Sevy at last exploded. “You’re so stupid! You wanna be his
whore? Fine. Go! Get out and go spread your legs for him and the whole
world!”
Trena
was shocked into silence for a moment. Then she wailed Sevy’s name and
threw herself at her feet. “Please, don’t be angry! Please!”
She
just laid there, a blubbering heap on the floor, crying so pitifully
that Sevy’s eyes misted over in spite of her anger. Maybe it was all
Sevy’s fault. She did have an overbearing personality, to put it mildly.
Bossy was a description Sevy wasn’t likely to ascribe to herself, but
it was a great deal closer to the truth. Trena had always simply
followed in Sevy’s wake, never testing the waters for herself, never
learning what manner of sharks swam in Eloria’s depths.
It’s my fault, Sevy thought. She
shouldn’t have protected Trena so fiercely in the past. By doing so,
she had set Trena up for a life of dependence on others. I’m so stupid.
But there would be plenty of time later on for Sevy to beat herself up
over the decisions she had made. Right now, she had to stop her friend
from making a huge mistake.
Her
tone softened as she helped Trena up. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll
just start stealing more. I’ll take care of you, you’ll see. Look, I’ll
go right now and get some money to pay Gihaf for the wine. You won’t owe
him anything, all right? You’ll see.”
Without
waiting for a reply, she ran outside and down the alley. She didn’t
want to hear more excuses, more justifications. Words like that,
harmless as they outwardly appeared, had a way of burning what they fell
upon, like cinders on the wind. Sevy would prove to Trena that they
could get by without resorting to prostitution. She’d prove it to her,
and then she’d make Trena grovel for ever doubting Sevy’s ability.
Finally
reaching the marketplace, Sevy pushed a strand of greasy hair from her
face as she came to a stop. Green eyes with blackened half-moons bruised
underneath sized up the crowd that was milling about the market. She
took breath after slow breath to calm herself and gain focus. She
couldn’t afford any mistakes, not today.
She
needed to gather as much as she could, as fast as she could. She needed
an easy mark. Not the dwarf over there sloppily drinking from a rain
bucket. She would bet that his purse was in danger of bursting, but
dwarves guarded their money like wolves guarded their dens. No point in
risking injury. The two men discussing rhetoric over rum cakes and
coffee were suitably distracted, but they were most likely students, and
the pockets of students rarely contained anything more than lint and
dreams of grandeur. What about the elf dancing on the corner? She could
skim from his earnings while he had his limbs tangled up in a bizarre
impression of a bird, but as she walked past him, she saw that his hat
held only two half pieces of copper. He’d either have to learn some new
steps or start stripping before the crowd tossed him anything worth
stealing.
No,
no, no! This wasn’t going well at all! What in Koad’s name was wrong
with these people? Why did they have to make things so difficult? What
had started as a simple task was turning into something infuriatingly
problematic.
But
then she saw him. A tall, dark-haired young man dressed in a smart blue
jacket. His attention was fixed on a busty merchant, though his eyes
drifted more to her chest than to the wares laid out on her table. The
pair flirted and laughed freely. Whatever they were bantering back and
forth was certainly more engrossing than the scrawny girl sneaking up
behind them.
Sevy
could see a money bag hanging on his belt, and it was plenty full too.
Perfect! She smoothed back her hair and wiped away the fine layer of
sweat that had broken out across her brow. Breathe! she commanded herself. Quit acting like such a beginner! This guy is a complete patsy. Not worth the worry, so just relax!
She
brushed against him, pretending to peruse the trinkets for sale. Oh my,
what a pretty set of wooden earrings, and goodness me! Those bone
bangles are absolutely to die for. She felt his eyes pass over her as he
politely attempted to shift out of her way, but they quickly returned
to the buxom beauty behind the table.
That’s it, buddy. You just take your time with her tits, and I’ll be gone before you can wipe the drool off your lips.
Trembling
fingers slipped around the bag, carefully working it off his belt.
Almost had it. Just one more tug. Success! Sevy could scarcely suppress
her snicker of victory while she moved to sidle back into the ranks of
the invisible underclass.
Before she could, a hand gripped her shoulder, halting her escape.
“I’ll take that back, sweetheart.”
“Take what back?”
He laughed as he turned her to face him. She glared at him in defiance, looking straight into his face for the first time.
Beautiful.
The word almost escaped her lips in an awed whisper as she found
herself mesmerized by the twinkle of his oceanic blue eyes, but,
luckily, her tongue was so tied by the sight of his bewitching smile
that she couldn’t speak. The way the sun lapped at each strand of his
flowing black hair was so engrossing that she forgot to struggle against
his hold until his voice, mellifluous and tinged with mirth, broke her
out of the spell.
“Nice try, really it was. But your technique is terrible.”
“Wh—what?” she stammered, remembering her predicament. “You’re crazy! Let me go or I’ll call the guards.”
“Oh
really? All right, call them then. We’ll wait here together and let
them sort it out.” Without waiting for her reply, he pulled her closer
and reached into her pocket.
“Let me go, you lecher!”
Smirking,
he scooped out the bag of coins and made a show of tucking it inside of
his jacket. Sevy felt her face grow red, but was it from the chagrin of
being caught or from the intensity of those eyes shining down at her?
She
had to look away, and it was only then that she noticed the people
gathering around them like ravenous dogs primed for the scent of blood,
no doubt hoping for a spot of entertainment to help break up the day.
There’s nothing quite like a public thrashing to lift the stupor of
drudgery.
“What’s going on, Jarro? Gonna teach her a lesson?” someone shouted.
“Give her to me. I’ll teach her real good,” another man jeered, thrusting his pelvis.
She
had been caught in the act. By city law, it was his right to dole out
her punishment, but in his face she saw none of the hatred and righteous
indignation she had come to expect. There was only merriment, as though
the two of them were sharing in a joke that the others were not privy
to.
“Shut
up!” he yelled to the yammering horde before flashing her another
brilliant smile. “Listen, sweetheart, how’s about I let you go this
time? Just promise me you’ll work on that technique.”
