Blood Heir (Blood Heir Trilogy, #1)(51)
Ana realized that while she had been staring in disgust at the pub before them, Ramson, too, had not moved. He stared up at the tavern, his outline rigid. With his mask on, he felt like a stranger rather than the young crime lord she had partnered with over the past week.
He turned to her, his quick hazel eyes finding hers. There was no humor to his tone as he said, “Welcome to the Playpen.” Ramson’s voice took on a new layer of urgency as he repeated, “Stay close to me.”
Ana did her best as they stepped through the polished mahogany doors. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she began to make out the silhouettes of women splayed on love seats or slouched over bars, crooning words in their patrons’ ears. Candles flickered in magenta casings, casting a seductive hue around the interior of the tavern.
Were all the girls here Affinites? How many had been brought here from a foreign land with the promise of opportunity, and became indentured to this vile place?
Ramson wound his way through a maze of curved archways with beaded curtains until, at last, they reached a foyer with another set of mahogany doors. Two women were perched on a red settee, both wearing black masks with feline features and very little else. Their eyes drifted to Ramson.
One stood, smiling, and sashayed over. Ana noticed that she had whiskers painted on her cheeks, and even a fake tail attached to her backside. “If you’re looking for a show, mesyr, I can give you one.” Her voice was a purr as she ran a hand down Ramson’s shoulder.
“I’d hate to miss that,” Ramson said. “But I’m quite certain the show I seek tonight lies beyond those doors.”
“Hmm,” the cat-masked courtesan hummed thoughtfully. “Well, perhaps I’ll have my share of you another night, then. You may proceed.”
Ana loosed a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. She stepped forward, eager to leave this eerie room.
“Wait.”
The second woman on the settee had spoken. Unlike the first, her voice was sharp, and her eyes pierced like daggers as she rose to her feet. They were trained on Ana.
With a growing sense of dread, Ana watched her approach. She sensed Ramson stiffening in front of her. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the first courtesan take a step back.
“What business have you?” The second woman stopped several paces from Ana. Her eyes pinned Ana like a butterfly on a corkboard. Ana’s mind began speeding through all the possible answers to her question. Was it a riddle? Was there a right answer—a code—that she was supposed to give, and that Ramson had neglected to tell her? Or was there another, more sinister reason for that question?
Dread settled in her stomach when the first woman retreated to her companion’s side, raising her hands toward them in a defensive stance. Two small steel blades appeared out of nowhere, hovering above her shoulders, poised to strike. Affinite, Ana realized, and she reached out for her own bonds.
The second woman snarled, and Ana felt a strange, cold pressure on her Affinity: familiar, yet not as strong as the wall-like blockade that the yaeger had pressed on her at the Winter Market in Kyrov. Ana stifled a gasp. The woman was a yaeger.
They had been discovered.
Ana’s thoughts scrambled. Instinctively, she grasped for her Affinity, preparing for the rush of blood and power that would flow through her.
A voice interrupted her. “Deities, how thoughtless of me.” Ramson sighed. In a flash, he positioned himself by her side, his hand gripping her waist as he yanked her against him. “She’s mine.”
Ana tried to tear away from his grasp, but Ramson gave her a light squeeze. A warning—a signal. Let me handle this. She stopped struggling.
“Show your contract,” the yaeger growled. The pressure on Ana’s Affinity did not yield.
Contract, Ana thought, swallowing and trying to steady her racing heart. Of course. Ramson had given her papers back at the hotel, and told her to keep them on her—as a precaution.
With shaking fingers, she took them out and handed them to the yaeger.
“Hmm,” the woman purred, displeasure seeping into her features. She gave the papers a cursory scan, then shrugged and tossed them aside. Ana watched them flutter to the floor. “No.”
“No?” Ramson repeated, but Ana’s temper flared at the sight of the yaeger’s nonchalance, the way she had so casually discarded Ana’s papers. Those papers, Ana now knew, could mean the difference between life and death for an Affinite.
“Why not?” she demanded. “I showed you my papers!”
“Your papers are necessary to prove your status.” The yaeger’s eyes flashed. “But we are not obliged to let you enter, witch.”
The insult struck her harder that it ever had, coming from the mouth of one who should have been on the same side as her. Why? Ana wanted to ask. Why do you do this?
But she knew why: the same reason that yaeger back at Kyrov’s Vyntr’makt had fought against her. If I am not the hunter, then I become the hunted.
Ramson seemed to reach a decision. “You have the authority on these decisions?” The arrogance and disgruntlement had vanished from his tone, leaving only cold calculation.
The yaeger lifted her chin. “Yes.”
“Then you’d do well to remember your place.” Ramson let go of Ana and strode over to the two women, his steps lithe and powerful. His back was to Ana, but what the two women saw had them widening their kohl-rimmed eyes and staring up at Ramson with fear plainly written on their faces.