Evangeline took in the furnishings with the eye of someone who had once known quality. The divans, chairs, tables, and fainting couches all smacked of money and good taste. She could not have decorated the room better herself.

A tall, thin woman with long, unbound black hair passed them, did a double take, and then approached. “This is no place for a child,” the woman chided Evangeline.

“Yes, I know that, but the streets are worse. Is Lilya here?”

The black-haired woman gave Evangeline a look up and down, taking in her dirty, threadbare clothes and the food basket. “Lilya is busy right now.”

The woman wore pride just as well as her lovely silk gown, but Evangeline wore her pride even better. Her jaw locked, she stepped forward and stared in challenge at the woman. “Get me Lilya. Now.”

The woman took a step backward, doubt flashing through her amber eyes.

Just then Lilya passed through the entryway on the far side of the richly decorated room. “Dora, it’s all right. I know her.”

Dora gave Evangeline a puzzled look and drifted away.

Lilya approached with a smile on her face and warmly embraced her. Evangeline had a moment of wistfulness so strong her knees almost buckled. The material of Lilya’s dress was a sturdy, expensive gray brocade. The heavy, full skirts fell to high-buttoned black boots, just the kind of boots that Evangeline had lusted over in a store window only a month ago. Sweet Joshui, had it only been a month? It felt like two years. The perfume Lilya wore enveloped her in a lingering cloud of luxury and Lilya’s skin was soft, as soft as hers had once been before the cold and the grime and the hardship.

For a moment it made Evangeline want to run away to the Temple of Dreams, but that would mean leaving Anatol and she couldn’t do that. She wasn’t sure why, but she couldn’t. They’d been through too much together, she guessed. He’d done too much for her. She felt like she owed him some loyalty, gratitude, something like that. Surely that had to be the reason why.

It was odd how her feelings for him had overtaken her desire for fine things. That was definitely a first in her life. Never had the intangible, the emotional, held sway over the tangible.

Evangeline cleared her throat of a sudden clog of wistfulness. Gods, stupid stuff. It always got in the way and made everything so much less clear. “Lilya, please meet Marta. She’s had a rough couple of days.” She fell silent for a moment. “You helped us once and I thought perhaps you might be able to help her, too. Help where I am unable.”

Lilya knelt and smiled into the frightened child’s face. “Hello, Marta. I bet you’re cold and hungry.”

Marta nodded and sniffled loudly.

Lilya held out her hand. “We have a kitchen here. I’m sure I can find you something to eat.”

Marta flew into Lilya’s arms as if she’d suddenly been reunited with a long-lost relative. Lilya’s surprise filtered up to Evangeline, followed closely by a rush of pleasure. Lilya hugged the child, and then stood, holding on to her hand.

“Can you help her find safety?” Evangeline asked.

“She can’t stay here, obviously, but I think I may know someone who can house her. A good friend of mine who lives uptown.”

Evangeline let out a breath of relief. If Lilya had refused to help Marta, she hadn’t been sure at all of what she’d be able to manage for the girl.

Lilya glanced down at the basket of bread. “You look like you could use a meal, too. Would you like to stay?”

She couldn’t turn down food. Not now. In fact, she was salivating at the very idea of something other than hard bread filling her stomach. But Anatol. How could she enjoy good food while he starved? No matter how badly hunger gnawed at her, she couldn’t do that. She looked at the door. “I—”

Lilya smiled as if she knew exactly what she was thinking. “We can make up a package to send back to Anatol.”

Evangeline relaxed and smiled. “Then, yes.”

The place seemed empty of patrons, unless the Temple of Dreams got a fair amount of well-dressed females. Though she knew there were men employed here, too. Apparently it was too early in the day for much clientele. She and Marta followed Lilya down narrow corridors decorated with thick runner rugs, accent tables with vases of flowers, and mirrors, through numerous sitting rooms where expensively clad women reclined, talking and laughing together.

“This is one of the few women-owned and -operated businesses in Milzyr. Ellabeth, the owner, is a good manager with excellent sense,” said Lilya. “She’s one of the most powerful citizens in the city.” The words went unspoken, but hung between them—now that the royals and noble people are gone.

Evangeline said nothing. She only followed behind Marta, who had a death grip on Lilya’s hand. She supposed that Lilya seemed far more like her mother than she had, since she was dressed in rags.

The kitchen was a huge affair with a modern heated cooking surface and a cold chest all powered by elusian crystal. The delicious smell hit her immediately. The women had eaten porridge with cinnamon for breakfast and it immediately made Evangeline’s stomach clench with ravenousness.

Lilya sat Marta and Evangeline down at the table at the far end of the room and served them both steaming bowls of porridge topped with butter and sprinkled with cinnamon. Marta fell to it like a starving animal and Evangeline wanted to do the same, but she forced herself to eat with some decorum. All the same, not a word was spoken until both their bowls were empty and Lilya had served them seconds. Evangeline had never really liked porridge all that much when she’d lived at Belai, but now it tasted like the food Joshui likely ate in paradise.

When they worked on their second bowls, Lilya got out thick slices of brown bread, a hunk of cheese, and thin slices of meat. Slathering the pieces of bread with fresh butter, she made several sandwiches and wrapped them in thin cloth. After she’d finished, she turned toward them. “For Anatol.”

Evangeline finally set her spoon down. “Thank you for the meal and sandwiches.”

Marta pushed her bowl away and also thanked her. Leaning back in her chair, the girl smiled and all the worry and distrust disappeared from her face. Evangeline revised her age downward a little.

Just then a young woman with auburn hair entered the kitchen. “I heard we have guests.”

“Yes,” Lilya answered. “This is Evangeline and Marta, Lissan. I think Marta might be going to stay with Annalise, if she’s amenable to it. She has recently lost her family.”

Marta’s eyes welled up with tears suddenly and she leaned forward, covering her face with her hands as though she was embarrassed to be showing her emotion.

“Oh.” Lissan’s smile fell. “I’m very sorry to hear that.” She walked over and touched Marta’s shoulder. The girl looked up into Lissan’s kind face. “I lost my parents when I was about your age, too.”

“You did?” asked the child in a quavering voice.

Lissan nodded solemnly. “It was a house fire. I was the only one who got out.” She pressed her lips together for a moment. “Would you like to come with me into the sitting room? We can talk.” She looked up at Lilya. “Is that all right?”

“Of course. I think Marta could use someone to talk to. I will pay a visit to Annalise with her later this morning.”

Marta surprised Evangeline by giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she slipped down from the chair and followed Lissan out of the room.

Lilya watched them go and then turned to Evangeline. “You did a wonderful thing by bringing her here. These days, most people would have just passed her by. There are so many orphans on the street.”

“I wasn’t sure if you could do anything to help her. I just hope she’ll be all right.”

“Oh, I think it will be a good long while until she’s all right, but I do think that Annalise will take her in. Annalise used to work here a long time ago. She’s married now, to a wonderful, kind man.”

“And he won’t mind letting a child stay with them?”

“I would be very surprised if he did. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about Marta any longer. She’ll be well cared for.”

Evangeline smiled and looked down at the cuffs of her woolen pull where they lay on the table. Seeing how dirty and frayed they were, she quickly put them in her lap, away from Lilya’s view.

“And how are you doing, Evangeline?” Lilya asked softly.

She glanced up at her. “Better than the dead bodies on the palace steps. Not as good as others. But we’re not starving. We have a roof over our heads. Running water.”

“It will get better.”

“Maybe. One day.” She glanced around the kitchen. “I see no men here. Only women. Don’t men serve here at the temple, too?”

“We do have some men, but mostly we’re women.”

“Because your patronage is mostly male.”

“Yes.”

“But there must be fewer clients now. I mean, I’m sure many of the people who came before were royals or nobles.”

“There has been a slight decrease in our patronage. However I think that as the social condition for the lower classes increases it won’t last long.”

Evangeline tried not to look or sound sour, but it was hard. “So you were in favor of the revolution.”

“Of the revolution, yes, no doubt. Not of the aftermath, however. Not of the bloodshed and the new influx of orphans it has brought. Not many are in favor of all that.”

Evangeline looked into her lap, her lips twisting. “Could have fooled me. Have you ever attended a beheading? Seems lots of people are in favor of it. Revel in it, in fact.” She felt a heavy gaze on her—one that wasn’t Lilya’s. She looked up to see the shadowed form of a man in the doorway of the kitchen. He seemed to be staring at her. Evangeline stared straight back until the figure moved away.

“Yes, well.” Lilya sighed. “We don’t live in a perfect world.”

That was the understatement of the century. Evangeline bit her lip until she tasted blood. This was not a good topic of conversation. She liked Lilya; she’d done so much to help them. If she wanted to keep liking her, they needed to change the topic of conversation.

“So do you get many odd requests?” She couldn’t keep the note of curiosity out of her voice. Then Evangeline’s eyes bulged as she realized the impoliteness of the question she’d just blurted. “I mean—”

Lilya laughed. “It’s all right. I don’t mind talking about what I do. I suppose if I did mind talking about it I should probably stop doing it, yes?”

“Some people are prudish about these things. No one in the palace that I ever met, of course, but others.”

“Are you calling me prudish?” Lilya laughed.

Evangeline laughed with her. It felt good. It was the first time she’d felt any sort of levity in a while. “No, I’m not. Not you. I apologize.” Talking with Lilya reminded her of how she used to talk with Annetka so long ago. Could it be she was developing a friendship with Lilya? That would be nice.

“To answer your question, most requests are relatively tame, but our job is to provide a way for people to find pleasure without judgment or repercussion. So occasionally we have requests that go beyond the ordinary, people who want to be tied up or to tie us up, people who want two women at once or two men. Some people crave pain with their pleasure, or like to give pain with pleasure. As long as the acts are consensual and as long as no one is hurt who doesn’t desire it, anything the patron wants is delivered.”

“How did you come into this profession?”

Lilya paused, pressing her lips together. “Well, that’s a long story. Do you want some tea?”

Evangeline nodded and Lilya poured them both cups of steaming chamomile, then she sat down opposite her. “My background was poor and filled with hardship. I came from a destitute family and my father died when I was young. I had no other family, so I was forced to live on the streets.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I survived.” She went into detail, telling Evangeline how she’d made it, the places she’d slept, and how she’d fed herself. “I never turned to common prostitution. In fact, I managed to keep my virginity until I was over eighteen years old. That’s when I met Ivan.” She looked into her cup.

After a moment of silence, Evangeline prompted her. “Ivan?”

“A bastard I thought I loved. We’ll just skip that part of the story and say I almost died. If it hadn’t been for a special and unexpected friend of mine, I would’ve.”

“The mysterious man to whom you’re indebted. The reason you helped me and Anatol.”

She smiled. “The very one.”

Evangeline played with the delicate handle of the teacup. “You’ve had a very hard life, but you don’t sound like you came from a background like that. Your speech is educated.”

Lilya’s full red lips twisted. “Ah, yes, that’s where Annalise comes in. After I’d recovered from my ordeal, she befriended me. She asked me to come here and consider this as a lifestyle. I declined at first, but eventually I decided to come and stay for a while. To watch and consider. After I understood the philosophy of this place, the reason behind what we do here, then I fell in love with the Temple of Dreams. I agreed to work here. I’ve been here ever since.”

“The philosophy?”

“Love by choice. Every courtesan runs her practice as she sees fit. I hand select each of my clients after careful interviews. Typically I take men who are ineffectual in their personal lives, the lonely, the hopelessly shy or awkward. I don’t have many clients and my work isn’t all about sex. I’m a paid companion, essentially.”

“And you thought Anatol and I might fit here,” Evangeline ventured, “then erroneously interpreted our behavior for love and decided you’d made a mistake.”

Lilya threw her head back and laughed. “Not erroneously, Evangeline. Not erroneously. You just haven’t seen it yet.”

Evangeline shook her head and stared into her tea. It was best she left that alone. In any case, her emotions for Anatol were too tangled to know what they were. And love. Well, she didn’t know love. She’d never known it and had no idea what it felt like.

“You and Anatol will find your way,” Lilya finished.

“So you can’t be in love to work here?”

She shook her head. “No, once you fall in love, if it’s pure and deep, you can’t have sex with anyone else. Makes working here a bit ineffective.”

“So you’ve never been in love, not since you came to work here?”

Lilya gave a small smile. “No, and I never will. Annalise fell in love and then she had to leave. I truly adore it here, so maybe it’s for the best.” She fell silent for several moments, smiling wistfully. “Or maybe falling in love would be even better, the true kind of love with a man who would treat you like a princess and never raise a hand against you. Maybe one day you can tell me, Evangeline.”

“Where have you been?” Anatol fairly accosted her as soon as she crossed the threshold. “It’s been hours!”

Unwinding her makeshift scarf, she felt how chilly it was in the room and wound it back around. She handed over the sack of sandwiches wrapped in material. “This is from Lilya.”

“Lilya? You went to the Temple of Dreams?” He looked suspicious. “Why?”

“Are you afraid I’ll leave you to go to work over there, Anatol?” She shook her head. “Oddly enough, even though that life might give me some semblance of what I used to have, I won’t. I went there for another reason.” She told him about Marta and taking the child to the temple.

He opened one of the sandwiches as she talked and bit into it. Closing his eyes, he groaned as if in ecstasy. It was a strangely sexual sound and she noticed it in every part of her body. He polished it off in record time and started in on a second after offering her the sandwich, which she declined.

Once he’d finished, he set the remnants of the material aside and stared at her so intently that she winced. “You used your magick, didn’t you? On the little girl?”

Sweet Joshui, how could he know that? How did he see the truth of things so annoyingly clearly? Or maybe he was just presuming. “Yes, I had to. She didn’t trust me in a situation where she should, a situation in which she needed to trust me. I had to manufacture her emotional response to me for her own good.”

He nodded. “You’re just lucky that no one noticed.”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Using magick is second nature to us. Of course you will. Just be careful.” He paused and gave her a suspicious look. “Now explain that bit about not going to work at the Temple of Dreams, would you?”

She swallowed hard, sorry she’d said anything at all about it.

Wandering over to the window, she gazed down onto the street. It was close to twilight and all the factory workers were returning home from their shift. Steam and smoke belched from the tower of the metal working factory behind Belai, spoiling the cold winter blue sky. She’d be lucky to find a job there. At the thought, she closed her eyes. Oh, sweet Joshui.

“You saved me, Anatol.” She opened her eyes. “If it wasn’t for you finding me in the palace and getting me out, my head would have rolled with all the others. I don’t intend to abandon you anytime soon.”

She could feel his body heat behind her. He leaned on the windowsill, a hand on either side of her, pinning her there. Her body tightened, although being trapped there by Anatol wasn’t exactly an unpleasant thing. His heat warmed her and he smelled good—like the soap he used to bathe with that morning.

“Are you sure there’s not something more to it?” he murmured.

“Don’t get too confident, Anatol.” Scowling, she pushed away from him. “I’m just saying I feel loyal to you, nothing more.”

His eyelids had lowered a little and his pupils had darkened. Men were always the same. They always thought with their dicks. “Maybe one day you’ll feel more. I want you to feel more for me, Evangeline.”

She blinked. Though few men thought of any emotion that went past lust, especially not love, fewer talked of such things openly. “Don’t waste your time on me, Anatol. I’m too damaged. Even if you could heal me, I wouldn’t be worth it.”

“I don’t believe that.”

She snorted and turned away. “Then you’re a fool.”

He gripped her upper arm and whirled her to face him. “Don’t say that. Remember that I can see into the true heart of you. I have since the moment I took notice of you over a decade ago.” He cupped her chin gently in his strong fingers, forcing her to look at him. “I know you better than you know yourself. I know the value that is in you. Don’t discount yourself that way within my earshot, all right?”

He actually sounded angry. “That’s a pretty arrogant thing to say.”

“Maybe, but it’s the truth. I’ll never give up on you.”

“Because you love me,” she whispered.

He released her chin and her upper arm. “Yes, Evangeline.” He stared into her eyes. “Because I love you.”

She blinked again, not knowing how to react to that. Not even knowing if she could continue to look him in the eye. She turned away, but he caught her by the arm. This time when he turned her to face him, his hot mouth came down on hers, his lips firm and demanding. She stiffened in his arms, surprised. His arms snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him as his tongue eased into her mouth and brushed up against hers.

She relaxed against him in spite of herself, her body molding to his. He moved her back toward the bed a few inches, then stopped. His mouth parted from hers and he looked down at her as if fighting with himself. Then he swore under her breath and turned away from her.

“Anatol?” she asked as he walked away from her.“What’s wrong?”

He grabbed his coat and went toward the door. Pausing in the threshold, he half turned toward her. “When we make love for the first time, I want it to be making love, Evangeline. For both of us.”

Then he was gone.

When she’d asked Anatol where the money had come from, he’d looked away from her and mumbled something about helping in the stables for pay. But she couldn’t remember him ever smelling of horse. Of course, he always bathed before he came to bed.

The thought of the bed had been what had finally driven her out of the room, down the stairs, and into the street, where the frigid-ness of the air stole her breath.

The first thing she’d done, heedless of the snow chilling her feet and legs, was walk past the steps of Belai. It was empty, the executions suspended due to the weather. Fingers curling around the cold bars in front, she breathed in clean air and closed her eyes, imagining that the snow covering the bloodstains, making everything look so fresh and clean, had also turned back time. Ignoring the sight of the guillotine that not even the pretty white snow could banish, she imagined all was as it had been before the revolt.

But of course, once she opened her eyes the illusion was shattered. Emotion tightened her throat and her face twisted as she tried to thrust it away like a bit of rotten fruit. The more she fought, the more it sank its claws into her. There was no getting rid of the grief and sorrow that seemed ever-present. It was only momentarily eclipsed by the confusion and lust that Anatol made her feel.

Turning away from the palace gates, she headed slowly and clumsily back into the city center, needing to find food for herself and Anatol before she returned to the room. After buying half a loaf of two-day-old bread—they were going to be eating a lot of bread in the coming days—she headed back to the boardinghouse. She’d wrapped her feet and legs as best she could with what was available, but cold had long since bitten into her flesh. Her nose was frozen and her thighs had gone numb.

Noticing that the alleys were clearer of snow because they were sheltered by the buildings, she headed down one to take a shortcut. She was so preoccupied by the cold that she didn’t notice the flicker of emotion in the alley that would’ve alerted her to another presence.

Not a good presence. Not positive emotion.

Something moved out of the corner of her eye and she turned her head to see a dark form unfold itself from the ground and stand like some great black monster. She came to a stop in the middle of the alley, thinking about retreating back the way she’d come. It was probably too late for that.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” The man’s dirty, bearded face spilt into a grotesque smile.

She glared at him, more angered than afraid, and tried to hasten past him.

He caught her by the upper arm before she got far. The bread fell from her hands and lodged in a small snowdrift. She wrenched away from him. “Leave me alone.”

He pushed her up against the wall of the building behind her, his forearm pinning her throat. “Do you hear that?” He said nothing for a moment to emphasize the silence. “That’s the sound of no one to help you. Seems you took the wrong alley, girl.”

This man was not like the three louts in the alley who’d thought she was a whore. Her magick tasted him on a deeper level. This man was a different animal than she’d ever encountered.

Evil. Evil through and through. There was something wrong with him. He didn’t see her as a person, he saw her as a thing. And he wanted to make that thing hurt.

He pulled at her clothing with his free hands, exposing too much skin to the cold air. Now she was afraid. She kicked out with all her strength, catching the man in the stomach. He flew backward, holding his gut, and she stood up, ready to fight him, though he was easily twice her size.

Realization slammed into her. Blessed Joshui, there was no way she could defeat this man. Her throat closed and her hands trembled. Panic.

Barely aware she was doing it, she reached out a thread of her power and felt his emotions. Thick, heavy—cloying—they wrapped a cloak of hate around her until her body seemed poisoned with it. The man would kill her, but first he’d rape her. She was nothing to him—an object to make scream and cry. Hurting her would make him happy for a little while. She’d wandered into a nightmare complete with a real monster.

The man stood up, swung a hand free to show her that he wasn’t injured, and smiled.

For the first time since her ordeal had started, Evangeline was absolutely and perfectly terrified. She cemented her numb feet on the icy cobblestone and prepared to fight. She wouldn’t go down without taking her pound of flesh from this beast.

Then a flicker of another emotional stream came to her from near the mouth of the alley. The person was troubled, worried, a bit regretful. Overall, however, this person was calm. She leapt on the opportunity, snatching the emotion from the monster in front of her and the unsuspecting individual walking down the street and exchanging it. She didn’t just take a little, she gouged into them both and traded every drop she could plunder.

It was her only hope and she was taking a huge risk. She’d just transferred all that anger and hatred into another vessel. The person could be just as bad—she couldn’t imagine anyone being worse—than the man in front of her. She might have just exchanged one problem for two.

The monster shook his head and took a step backward, touching his temple. He looked up at her with confusion on his face.

She bolted for the street, leaving her bread behind. Fabric-wrapped feet slipping on the ice, she reached the mouth of the alley, where she was immediately blocked by the person she’d transferred the anger and hatred into.

Staggering backward, she started to slip. A strong hand snaked out and grabbed her by the upper arm, steadying her. The man was big, his dark brows drawn together with the rage she’d placed in him. He was a just a little older than her. Dark brown eyes. Full mouth. This was the kind of man she’d avoid in an alley and she’d practically called him to her. Bad choice, Evangeline.