The streets cleared as the sun lowered beyond the horizon. The sun set orange, much like her hair, but eventually faded, bringing about a dull light, like fog that layered the street before twilight.
Narra shifted in the alleyway, tapping the uneven cobblestone with the toe of her boot. Nerves turned her stomach and sent her fingers thrumming against her hips. Used to missions, thievery, and the cover of darkness, Narra despised the lack of preparation in Asher’s plan. She hadn’t a clue what the layout of this Dollhouse resembled, where she’d find her target, or when. Until then, she’d endure lustful glances and prying eyes, most likely wondering why General Grayson would bring a naizer with him.
The soft beat of leather boots interrupted her thoughts. She leapt for cover in an alcove between two shops. Rats scattered into their holes as she kicked trash and plastered her body to the wall.
“Rheka?” a male voice asked.
Narra sagged in relief, stepping from between the brick buildings. Asher stood tall amongst the semi-maintained alley. He wore a black suit, his crowned rapier, and a bowtie. She raised a brow. She hadn’t realized the Dollhouse was so formal.
“You’re dressed up,” she said after a long pause.
“Of course,” he said. She nodded slightly, as if she understood. In reality, she had no idea why he would need such a fancy suit for this establishment. “Are you ready?”
Narra glanced up. Was she ready to be fussed over by some doddering old maid bent on making her the prettiest girl at the party? No. She wrinkled her nose and worked her jaw.
Asher smiled and motioned at the back door of a two-story brick building. She’d already investigated the front before his arrival. With ornate metal fencing and white wooden accents, the shop was one of the most lavish on the block. Its windows were filled with ruffled skirts, pinstripe suits, and tight corsets in varying colors.
She swallowed the lump in her throat and stepped toward the door .
Up a few stone steps, she knocked gently on the oak door. Asher reached around her, his arm brushing hers as he gripped the metal handle and flung the door inward.
“She’s expecting us,” he said.
Narra nodded and took a breath. She stepped inside.
The back room contained rolls upon rolls of fabric, silks, cotton, jewels, wheels of yarn, and spools of thread. Narra parted heavy purple silk curtains and walked into the main shop. Mannequins draped in the most luxurious pearls and finest gowns adorned the majority of the room. Several rolls of fabric lined the far wall with shelves of dozens more below. Leather shoes, boots, heels and more were displayed on the opposite wall among stockings, socks, and garters.
Narra gulped. What was she doing there? This was no place for a thief. She turned to the door. Asher barred her way.
“General!” a high tinkle of a voice broke her sudden panic.
Her heart raced. She was trapped between Asher and the shop owner.
“Mrs. Vena.” Asher smiled and bowed.
She forced herself to face the business owner.
“This is the girl you told me about?” Vena gasped. Silver strands fell from her bun, brushing her rosy cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell me she was so beautiful?” The woman reached for her hands before Narra could pull away. Her fingers were warm with a gentleness she wasn’t accustomed to. “Welcome, dear.”
Narra took a deep breath and forced her expression to some semblance of neutral interest. She quirked her lips slightly, nerves racing cross her skin as she nodded. “Thank you,” Narra said.
“I have a few gowns picked out, but General Grayson forgot to inform me of the fire atop your head.” Vena glared at Asher behind thin, round spectacles. She took Narra’s arm and led her further into the open shop. “I’ll have to throw out all the blues and reds. What do you think about something more neutral?”
Narra glanced back at Asher with wide eyes. She hadn’t a clue what she wanted. She didn’t wear gowns, or any such frivolities .
The General grinned, flashing white teeth. His jaw was clear of stubble, his olive skin smooth. He must have shaved this morning. “I think something neutral would be best.”
Between something garish in color, and a range of medium tones, she’d gladly take gray, black, or beige any day.
“Let’s get you in some dresses.” Vena paused and released her arm, leaving Narra beside a long counter with an iron register. The short woman shuffled behind a large fabric screen with ruffles, pinstripes, and stockings thrown over the top. She emerged with a long piece of silver. “Let’s start with this. Do you have stockings and garters with you?” Her brown eyes shifted up and down Narra’s person. “Ah, it seems not. Not to worry!”
Vena nudged Narra gently behind the screen, dropping the silk dress in her arms before dancing across the room.
Narra narrowed her eyes at Asher, who chuckled as she disappeared around the screen. A wooden chair sat behind it, along with a large black jewellery box on top of a small round table. She draped the piece of silk across the back of the chair before stripping her cloak and knife holsters. She wrapped them in her cloak, hoping the old woman wouldn’t unravel it.
Her cotton shirt hit the floor next, followed by her boots and leather pants. Cold assaulted her skin. Goosebumps ran rampant over her bare arms, hairs standing on end. She gritted her teeth, standing in only her undergarments.
“Do you need help, dear?” Vena taped the wooden spine of the screen.
“No,” Narra said quickly. She grabbed the dress; silk nearly slipping through her fingers. She bunched it before letting the waves of fabric fall across her skin. It clung to her body from her neck to her hips, leaving her shoulders and arms exposed while the bottom draped to the ground.
She’d never be able to fight in this. Narra twisted the thick jewelled neckline. No, this wouldn’t work at all.
“This won’t work.” Narra crossed her arms, rubbing her fingers along her biceps and forearms .
Vena peeked around the corner and grinned. “But miss, it looks gorgeous on you!” She snatched Narra’s wrist, yanking her from behind the screen before she could put a stop to it.
Narra stumbled across the oak floor, regaining her balance just outside the safety of her screen. Asher’s jaw dropped and he stared at her wide-eyed. She crossed her arms over her chest. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
“This won’t do,” Narra repeated more forcefully. She spun from Vena’s grasp and dove behind the curtain.
The old woman sighed and shuffled to a stack of garments piled atop a chair. “What are you looking for?”
Narra yanked the dress from her head. Her hair became a mess of tangles as she dumped the dress over the back of the chair. Her teeth chattered in the cold.
“Something I can move in.” She rubbed her arms harder.
“Hmm…” the woman dug through gowns, throwing dresses at the back wall. Heaps of purple, black, white, and gold stacked with each dress. “Ah ha! This is the one!” She shoved the gown behind the screen. A mass of light gray pinstripes lay in her hands. “You’ll need these.” Vena shoved a pair of black stockings and silk garters at her next.
Narra sighed and took them. “Fine.”
She slipped on the garters and the stockings first, then the gown. Ruffles came to her mid-thighs, just barely meeting her thick stockings. She clipped the garter to the socks and smoothed the fabric. It wasn’t as rich as the silk, but it was warm. From her thighs, the back of the gown dipped to the earth, a mass of dark ruffles and sheer black fabric that itched.
Laces ran up the back of the bodice. The corset lie loose at her breasts, small bits of black sticking from the top and continuing along the neckline, encircling her shoulders and the back of her neck. The sleeves were tight at her wrists, almost too much so. She slid the holsters and knives beneath them. Just loose enough for one on each inner forearm.
This would do. Narra strapped in her leather thigh holsters and patted her hair into submission.
“Are you decent?” Vena
smiled as she peeked around the screen. Narra quirked an eyebrow at the woman. If she weren’t, Vena would have looked anyway. “You are! Perfect.” She stepped around the screen. “Let me get that laced up for you.” She motioned for Narra to turn, and she did. Vena laced the back, her fingers working quickly until she nudged Narra’s hips with her fingers. Suddenly she pulled the laces taut.
Narra gasped. “What in Srah’s name—”
“Hush now,” Vena chastised. She pulled again. Air burst from Narra’s lungs. The corset strangled her ribs and compressed her stomach. “There we are.”
“I can’t breathe!” Heat rushed to Narra’s cheeks. She reached for the ties at her back, but Vena slapped her hand.
“You’ll be fine.” The old woman handed her a pair of high boots with buttons up each side. “Put these on and you’ll be ready for finishing touches.”
“Finishing touches?” Narra stared at her wide-eyed.
“You can’t very well go out without your hair and makeup done!”
“Yes, I can.”
“Not in my dress you won’t.” Vena huffed and disappeared back around the screen.
“What have you done ?” Narra growled at Asher.
The general chuckled nearby. “Most Rovan women would kill to have Mrs. Vena dress and dote on them.”
“I am not most women.”
“No, you aren’t.” Narra pretended she couldn’t hear the amusement in his voice. He was enjoying this, while she was stuck in some sort of abdomen constricting torture device. She sighed and pulled on the boots. They rose just above her knees, a few inches shy of her stockings. With only a slight heel, they would do in a pinch. Though she wouldn’t be able to sail across rooftops in her current attire, she had access to her knives.
If it came down to it, Narra could fight. Though, maybe just barely.
S he'd let them do it.
Her face was caked with enough makeup that she hardly recognized herself. Her hair sat atop her head in swirls with long stands brushing her exposed collar. Still embarrassed by all the attention and fussing, Narra trudged alongside Asher.
"We're nearly there," Asher said. He glanced at her, but didn't comment on her appearance.
The sun was long gone, leaving the city drenched in darkness. After the shop owner had dressed her, it had taken more than an hour to fix her orange strands and coax her pale face into some semblance of beauty. Powder smoothed the pores from her face, and her lashes were curled high. Her eyelids felt heavy, weighed down by black lacquer and colored powders.
Why had she allowed it all? Why bear the indignity?
Yet, she hadn't put up a fuss. Or at least tried not to. Now, she was the mistress. Beautiful. Elegant. Sultry. She'd gasped at her own reflection—never having seen herself so done up. Not once in her twenty-five years had she desired any of this. But it wasn't her decision tonight.
The cobblestone street smoothed out in the shopping district. Only a few blocks from the dress shop, Asher stopped before a tall, dark brick building. Black curtains dropped across the tall arched windows. A balcony encased the second floor, and a wide black door barred the entrance. A tall, bronze-skinned man stood at the entrance, the perfect semblance of severity.
She narrowed her eyes, but Asher simply stepped closer and nudged her elbow.
"Ready to play your part?" he asked.
Narra sighed and nodded. "The mistress, correct?"
Asher's lips pressed into a firm line. Was she so repulsive that he wouldn't wish her to be his mistress? She shook her head. Why should she care? This was all a means to an end.
"Yes."
Narra took a deep breath. "Let's go."
He offered his arm and she took it. His warmth radiated through his thick coat and into her. She steeled herself against holding his arm any tighter than necessary. Her heart raced. It had been a long time since she entered a lion’s den, and with nowhere to go but forward, she followed at Asher's side.
The man at the door scanned her bodice and legs. With her breasts nearly to her ears, she didn't blame him.
"General," the man said, his voice deep. He nodded and opened the door.
Sultry music poured from the depths of the club. Violet light bathed their faces and clothes as they stepped inside. Warmth embraced her entire body, and the door shut behind them with a click.
She'd been in unfamiliar territory many times. She could do this. Narra took a breath and smoothed her features. She simply needed to find Mistress Maxina and get the potion. Then this ruse could be over and she'd return to the pirate ship.
"Welcome." A dark-haired beauty stepped from the shadows with a tray splayed on her hand. Two small glasses sat atop the tray with cloudy blue liquid swirling in their depths. She smiled, her lips painted a deep red, and her eyes shrouded in black kohl.
“Thank you.” Asher took one of the glasses and flung it down his throat.
The woman gazed at her expectantly, but she shook her head. She needed a clear head, not alcohol in her system. “No, thank you.”
The hostess’s expression dropped from sultry to confused. Her dark brows cinched atop dark olive skin.
“You have to take it to enter,” Asher explained. He smiled at the woman and handed Narra the second glass. “It’s her first time.”
The dark-haired woman’s eyes lit and she smiled, brushing her long fingers across Narra’s bicep. “Well, enjoy yourself, lovely.”
Narra nodded. She stared into the clouded liquid. One shot wouldn’t remove all of her wits. She flung it back. Sweet nectar dripped down her tongue and throat, the opposite of the burning poison she was used to. She swallowed and set the glass back on the tray. The woman winked and returned to the shadows, slipping away unseen into the abyss of black and deep violet silk curtains that shrouded the walls.
“We have to move quickly before it sets in,” Asher said. His smile faded. He took her arm and led her further inside. His fingers dug into her flesh. “We’ll only have a few moment—”
Another woman arrived to guide them inside. Clad in a bright white corset and a flushed skirt, she smiled and motioned them past the entrance and through an arched entry carved from stone.
“This way,” she purred.
A tentative smile returned to Asher’s face. What was going on? Before what set in? What had she just taken? The music was louder inside the main room, brushing her skin with its deep, haunting melody. Their guide led them past plush leather booths, men and women draped over the seats and tables.
Oh no.
Warmth spread through her stomach. Violet lights flashed, spread by two devices on either side of the room. The volume increased, seeping into her bones. Beautiful women danced on several tables, while equally scantily clad servers slipped through the sea of tables. They carried trays with brilliantly colored liquids in tall glasses, leaving each at separate tables of military men, businessmen, politicians and more. Everyone was dressed in fine clothes, though some had come undone, fingers finding their way inside jackets and blouses.
Heat rushed to her cheeks. What was this place?
“Here you are.” Their guide smiled and motioned them into an empty booth fit for four or more bodies.
Asher slipped into the booth, while she hesitated at its edge. Laughs permeated the fog of music. Euphoric smiles and doped gazes occupied each table. Couples kissed in every other booth, their bodies grinding against one another. Narra looked away and slid in beside Asher.
The long room held at least twenty patrons with a dozen doll-like dancers and servers around every bend. Her fingers itched at her sides. She needed action. Adrenaline spread through her veins, heating her from the inside. Sweat beaded on her neck. She stripped off her coat, exposing her chest and shoulders. Why was it so hot?
“What in Srah’s name have you given me?” Narra narrowed her gaze at the man. Her usual steel wasn’t behind it.
Asher blinked slowly, his brown eyes glazed. That couldn’t be good. Whatever it was, it was already affecti
ng him. Fire burned to life in her chest. How could he let them take some sort of drug when they were there on a mission?
Narra stood, spurred by anger. Doll-like women danced by the table, blocking her path. A server with a tray of colorful liquids stopped and laid two drinks on their table.
“We didn’t order…” Her words slurred and the heat spread to her limbs. The world tilted before her eyes, hazy and colorful.
Fingers probed her bare wrist, sending fire through her veins. Narra gasped. The fingers tightened, pulling her down. She sunk back into the leather. It was suddenly soft and welcoming. She leaned into it.
“Why don’t you have a drink?” One of the dancers leaned in close, her lips brushing Narra’s ear. A shiver ran up her spine. The glass slid into her hand. Warm air brushed her neck. Who was that? Cool sweetness passed her lips. What was she drinking? Her taste buds tingled. Something foreign, like strawberries. She smiled and swallowed another mouthful. Gentle fingers ran along the nape of her neck and her worries fled.
She deserved this. She deserved a drink and some fun. A smile pulled at her lips. Why not enjoy herself for once? She finished the drink and leaned into the gentle touch. The doll-woman disappeared and she turned to Asher. His fingers paused at her hairline. He was the one touching her?
Her brows cinched together.
She should mind that, but she didn’t. His hands closed around her waist and pulled her closer. Warmth encased every inch of her. Purple light danced across Asher’s square jaw and handsome face. His dark lashes lifted up and down, blurring together. She blinked slowly, tilting her head back against the leather. Her whole body was heavy, hot, and utterly delightful.
The dark melody picked up tempo. A band sat atop a stage at the far end of the room. Black masks with long faces of animals lay atop their expressions. A stag, a fox, and a wolf. Narra smiled.
Clockwork Thief Box Set Page 16
