Page 10 of The Desert King's Spy (Magic and Kings 2)
“For one, you’re too young to work as a tizana.”
“What if the people who visit try to force me?”
“If they try, they’ll regret it. We have really big guards who ensure our patrons respect the rules. I promise, no one will make you do anything you don’t want.”
“According to you.”
She rolled her shoulders. “I can prove it, but you’d have to come with me.”
“I don’t need your help. I’ll be fine.”
She eyed the bodies on the ground before offering an amused, “Yes, I can see that.”
Her point burned.
I offered a lame excuse. “I can’t go with you. Palla will worry.”
“Your mother? Sister?”
“Palla is my friend.”
“Dark haired, sturdy looking, passes better for a boy than you?”
It chilled to know she’d spotted us. “Are you spying on us?”
“More like very aware of what’s going on from the highest”—she glanced upward then to me—“to the lowest levels of our fair city. I’m impressed the pair of you have survived this long. But you know your luck will eventually run out.”
A glance at the bodies reminded me it had. “You promise if we go with you that you’ll feed us?”
“Feed, clothe, even give you a private room if you don’t mind sharing a bed.”
“And you won’t make us spread our legs?”
“I swear by my goddess Rotha that I will never ask you to whore yourself.” She held out her hand, and I blinked.
I suddenly remembered a dream I’d had in the desert. It still felt so real. Could this be the goddess acting in a mysterious way? Or had my luck just changed?
Didn’t matter. I slipped my hand into hers. “I’ll kill you if you lied.” A bold statement to make.
But she laughed. “Oh, did the goddess choose well. Come with me, my new apprentice. I will teach you how to always remain in control while getting everything you want.”
Tizana Butterfly had kept that promise, taking Palla and me in as her personal servants, giving us what she promised and more. When in private, we called her Qynn. She dressed us richly and to our preference. I went back to the gowns I felt most comfortable in. Palla stuck to her britches and short hair. We learned not only from Kya, Qynn’s bodyguard. During my time with Qynn, I met interesting people, each with something to teach. There was Ajja, who taught me how to speak without an accent. Loo, our cook from the kitchen, whose lessons on gardening meant I could grow some of my ingredients. Then there was Jrijori, an assassin who came by to visit every few years, gathering information and dropping tidbits we could sometimes use.
Seeing him in my boudoir, having barely aged since the last time he visited, I had a moment to wonder why he’d come to me and not Qynn. And where was Palla? He’d have had to pass her to reach me. She knew I hated surprises. So how did he get inside? I glanced at the window.
Jrijori chuckled. “Did you really think those obvious traps overhead would stop anyone?”
“What are you doing here?” I asked, wanting to grimace as I saw him fondling my blade, which he’d easily caught. The throwing knives were special, made to be concealed in the pockets of my robes.
“Really, Asharee,” Jrijori drawled while balancing my blade on a fingertip. “I thought Kya taught you better than to throw before looking.”
She had, but unlike Palla, I still startled easily at times. “You must be getting old if you’re whining about a single little knife. What’s wrong, lost your touch?”
The family friend, if you could call an assassin friend, had an affinity for weapons. It was as if they turned aside on purpose to avoid harming him. Or so it seemed the times we’d sparred. Kya thought it important we practice our skill on people other than ourselves.
Palla proved much better at the whole combat thing than I did. She had a thicker frame and enjoyed the exercise to keep herself muscled. Me, I preferred to use my head and the potions Qynn taught me to make.
“It’s a nice blade,” he remarked, handing it back, “But you really might want to think about upgrading to something with an elekium blend.”