Aurelia is a Courtesan, not an Assassin. Her world is turned upside down, however, when she kills a high-ranking Senator in self defense. Given his status, and the political power his family wields, Aurelia knows she will be executed without a trial...
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Countdown: 4 Days, 1 hour, 4 deaths
Aurelia awakens, sweat-slick and sour-breathed, heart racing from a half-remembered nightmare.
For a moment, she forgets where she is, and the unbearable warmth at her side causes every muscle in her body to seize, tense, spasm, before the memories of the night before wash over her.
A quick look outside the window confirms that Glascoast is still tucked firmly in the embrace of night, stars brightly gleaming in the black velvet of the sky.
Kaol slumbers on, oblivious to her waking, a heat-box in the muggy warmth of summer, his head pillowed on his umber arm, lightly snoring, the sheets tangled about his strong, short legs.
A wave of something washes over her, as she looks at him. She pointedly wrenches her gaze away, too tired and hung-over to contemplate what it means.
She blindly fumbles for her thin, linen dress in the dark, and then uses her poisoned hair stick to twist her sweat-damp hair off the nape of her neck. She will never be without it again.
She slips from the room as quietly as she can, carefully picking her steps along the creaky floorboards. It speaks more to the amount of alcohol they'd consumed the night before and less to her stealth that Kaol does not stir.
The sound of women's laughter coming from behind the door of the main hall lets her know that the working girls have not yet left for the night. Aurelia winces and creeps past that door as quietly as possible, not wanting to draw the attention of any of Joe's girls.
As she does, she can see traces of light creeping out behind the door to the kitchen, indicating that Joe is likely already up and moving as well. She skirts past it on silent soles.
Instead, she finds the exterior door to the small, cramped, back lot, walled in on all sides. The door clatters a little too loudly as it swings closed, and Aurelia winces at the noise. When she doesn't hear anything from within, however, she forces herself to relax.
On an exhale, she slides down the wall to sit onto the porch steps, going boneless as a squid. Her back and shoulders press against the cement wall- miraculously cool despite the moist, muggy heat of early morning. She sits, tucked into the corner of the building, and wills her mind to stop its ceaseless turning as she watches the sky slowly lighten.
As fingers of gold reach up from the ocean to paint the clouds with their yellow light, she hears the door behind her swing open.
Instinctively, she presses backwards, like a clownfish into an anemone, although common sense tells her that the shadows are no longer deep enough to hide her from sight. In her steadily improving peripheral vision, she makes out a familiar, rotund form.
She turns her head to find a thick, glass mug of brown liquid extended in her direction. She takes it from Joe's hand with a nod of thanks and a small, forced twitch of her lips.
