Marai, a young courtesan from the Street of Silk, learns to her horror she is the bastard daughter of Aegon II. Prince Aemond could help her...or he could be her greatest peril yet.
Contains sexual situations, strong language, and uncle/niece inces...
I did my duty each day as though practicing a dance. I could not look upon it in its entirety like a picture but was forced to leap and bow to the tune, willing myself not to stumble. The clients fondled me, and thinking of only of emptiness, I let them. The merry voice that chided them was not mine, the low hums of false pleasure were mere echoes, and the arms that returned their embraces belonged to someone else.
Aegon's Whelp. It was not real. A royal jape, a shadow, a lie. With passing time, it would die, as such figments did. If only I did not break.
xxxxx
It had only been a moon's turn since the King's visit, but Mysaria was pleased with my progress. Patrons with fat purses asked for me by name, and I could only hope they did not notice that my performance, careful and practiced as it was, never varied. I was growing talented, seductive, and best of all, she said, interesting, but the praise felt strangely hollow.
"Is the sun up?" I stumbled from the bedchamber, clutching my head.
Yes, it is. I winced at the ferocity of its rays. Ser Corwin had been with me three nights running, and he delighted in plying me with hippocras and strange sweet liquors. His father was an upjumped wine merchant, given a lordship for his assistance in the war. Most recent nobles decried the trades of their sires, but Ser Corwin had little shame about that or anything else. I didn't like drinking unknown substances, but my refusals were met with laughter. I felt lucky to wake up with merely a fearsome headache, and luckier to remember nothing of the bedding.
"Good morrow, Marai!" My mother had not been so cheerful since the war commenced. Her face bloomed with color, and she chatted with an easy humor I only faintly remembered.
She herded me to the kitchen, where the cook had laid kettles of hot mint tea and fresh honeyed cakes. Mysaria took care of us, in her own way. I basked in the glow of the stove while my mother chattered.
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The sunlight was gentler here and a slim birch in the window sent a wave of dappled shadows over the wall. It was so like my childhood. Ignoring the pulsing soreness between my thighs, the headache, and the haunting doubts, I let myself sink into the warmth of it all.
"I've been speaking to Mysaria," Alla said, almost bashful. She turned a cake in her fingers.
"She's unhappy," I said. Aegon had been extremely taken with Tansy, who had blushed like a new bride the following morning. Mysaria expected him back within the fortnight, and when he failed to return, we all felt her fury. It was only when she learned he had left for Oldtown that she had calmed somewhat, working her frustration out over her accounts and ledgers.
"But not with you," she said, half singing.
"Oh?" I answered, looking down into my cup and watching the tiny leaves spiral.
