Peter Brett - The Skull Throne

But as Jessa watched the girl go, there was no anger in her aura. She was proud of the girl’s performance. It was likely no accident that Jax sent Rosal and not some other girl up with the tea.

Gared’s eyes followed Rosal, and as she passed through the curtain she gave a tiny wave that sent a shiver through his aura.

Leesha turned back to Jessa, taking her skirt in hand and dipping a curtsy. “Apologies, mistress. I was unkind.”

“Accepted,” Jessa said at once. “Now, mistress, would you like to discuss the real reason you’re here?”

Mistress Jessa’s office was richly appointed with thick carpet and heavy goldwood furniture. There were hundreds of books on her shelves—rare volumes, many of which Leesha had never seen. She had to resist the urge to begin paging through them.

“You may borrow any one,” Jessa said, “so long as you return it in person before asking for another.”

Leesha looked at her in surprise, and Jessa smiled. “We started ill, but I want very much for us to be friends, Leesha. Bruna never taught a fool, and Araine thinks the world of you. I’ve never claimed I could read a person better than those two.”

She smiled. “And any woman that could hold Thamos’ attention for more than a night has got to be special.”

Leesha had been about to smile in turn, but the words chilled her. Jessa was elegant and beautiful, and the mistress of the royal brothel. Had she slept with Thamos? Had any of the girls downstairs? Night, he might have had them all.

Jessa set out a cup and saucer, filling them from a silver tea service that was worth a fortune in metal-poor Angiers.

“The royal brothers visit often,” Jessa noted. “Rhinebeck and Mickael—even Shepherd Pether has never hesitated to doff his robes here. You’d never know that some of my girls were boys.” Leesha took the cup, willing her hand not to shake.

“But Thamos …” Jessa went on. “Thamos came only once, and never again since. That one always preferred to hunt on his own.”

“And what does that make me?” Leesha asked. “Prey?”

“In love, both partners can be prey,” Jessa said. “That’s what makes it so delicious.”

“Did you try to steal the recipe for liquid demonfire from Bruna?” Leesha asked.

If Jessa was surprised at her bluntness, there was no sign of it on her aura.

“Ay, I did,” Jessa said. “The woman was almost ninety, and after the prince was born, she spoke only of returning to the Hollow. I knew I would never see her again, and feared the secret would die with her.”

“Bruna never spoke of you,” Leesha said. “Not once, in all my years with her.”

Jessa gave a pained smile. “Ay. None could hold a grudge like Hag Bruna. But I loved her, for my part, and regret we parted ill. When she died, was it … quick?”

Leesha stared into her cup. “I wasn’t there. It was a flux that took her. Vika begged her not to go among the sick, told her that she was too weak …”

“But nothing could keep Bruna from her children when they were in need,” Jessa said.

“Ay,” Leesha agreed.

“Tried once or twice over the years to patch things up with Jizell,” Jessa said. “Not as often as I should have, but I was proud, and there was only silence in reply.”

“Jizell can be stubborn as Bruna,” Leesha said.

“And her apprentice?” Jessa asked.

“I have greater concerns than a failed theft, thirty-five years ago,” Leesha said. “There need be no ill between us.”

“Liquid demonfire isn’t even the great power it once was,” Jessa said. “This desert whore magic makes demonfire seem like flamesticks, I’m told.”

“ Hora magic,” Leesha corrected.

Jessa laughed. “That makes more sense! Though whore magic can change the course of duchies, as well.”

Leesha resisted the urge to stroke her belly, though Jessa no doubt knew her condition. “Indeed.”

“To business, then?” Jessa asked.

Leesha nodded. “What is your assessment of Rhinebeck’s condition?”

“He’s seedless,” Jessa said bluntly. “I’ve been saying it for twenty years, but Araine won’t hear it. She’s desperate for a cure that doesn’t exist.”

“What is your evidence for diagnosis?” Leesha asked.

“Apart from six wives over twenty years, none of them so much as stuttering her flow?” Jessa asked. “Not to mention my girls. Whatever the sand witch might say, I don’t give pomm tea to Rhinebeck’s favorites. Araine would have her son divorced and remarried in an instant if she thought it would secure his line. More than one graduated and proved so fertile her belly swelled just from sitting in a man’s lap and tickling his chin.”

It was nothing Leesha did not already know. “Is that all?”

“Of course not,” Jessa said. She produced a leather-bound ledger, handing it to Leesha, who immediately opened it and began paging through. The book listed all the tests Jessa had run, the herbs and cures she’d tried and the results, all inscribed with a neat hand using the meticulous methodology Bruna had taught.

“I’ve even had my girls stroke him into a glass so I could look at his seed in a lens chamber,” Jessa said. “He’s precious few tadpoles at all, and those swim in circles, bumping into each other like drunks at a reel.”

“I’d like a look myself,” Leesha said.

“To what end?” Jessa asked.

“There may be a blockage I can clear with surgery,” Leesha said.

Jessa shook her head. “Even if you had all the resources of the Age of Science, that’s delicate work, and assuming the duke will let you anywhere near his manhood with a knife.”

“Then I’ll resort to hora magic,” Leesha said. “I know a woman decades past her fertile years cured by it.”

“You think Rhinebeck will let you put a spell on him?” Jessa asked. “That’s asking for the hangman’s noose.”

“We’ll see,” Leesha said. “But for now, I’d just like to see his seed. Could you … ?”

“Acquire some for you?” Jessa laughed. “Of course. But you could get it yourself if you wished. Pregnant or not, Rhinebeck wouldn’t hesitate if given the chance to cuckold his brother.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Leesha said.

“You wouldn’t even need to lie with him,” Jessa said. “My girls have given him a taste for a woman’s hand. Won’t take you but a minute.”

Leesha breathed deeply, burying her revulsion at the thought. “Will you get it for me, or shall I ask the duchess?”

Jessa saw she had pressed too far. “I’ll have it sent to your chambers on ice as soon as I can procure it. Tonight, perhaps.”

There was a rap at the door, and Leesha jumped. She glanced at the clock. Nearly midnight.

It could be Rojer again, but Leesha thought it unlikely unless there was some emergency. Dare she hope it might be Thamos? Late-night visits had been the norm when they were together, and he had stared at her all through dinner. Leesha had pretended not to notice at first, but then she met his eyes, expecting him to look away in embarrassment.

But he hadn’t. His eyes held hers, and she could feel the heat in his stare. They had not spoken privately since that night on the road, but he was to head south in just two days, and there was too much still unsaid. He knew it, and so did she.

Wonda had been dozing on one of the chairs, but since Rojer’s surprise visit, she had refused to retire before Leesha. She shook herself, casting off sleep and straightening as she approached the door.