The fate of the entire kingdom lies in the hands of the masters of the game. And they are all women.
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When Ellise St. Vincent takes on a role she never asked for, she is forced to use her cunning wit to be one step ahead of the game, all the wh...
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1815
Artemis was built to ignore social norms. Its owners—friends who were once just members of a small book club—were adamant about cementing their place in society.
After its controversial opening, it slowly built its own reputation, gaining the interest of women who were bored with the life designed for them by men. And in just a few years, the first ever club for ladies eventually gained the respect and acceptance it strived for from the same people they wanted to serve: the women.
As more news about the place spread, wives and daughters suddenly wanted a place that rivaled the famous gentleman's clubs in the city of Coulway. A place where they could gamble, drink, and, in last night's case, murder one of their own.
The woman in the green cloak walked over the mound of shoveled snow and up the steps. With gloved hands, she showed her golden brooch to the Royal Watcher guarding the double doors of the club. Her breath was visible as she spoke, her voice cold as the winter morning. "Belcourt Soldier."
The man studied the insignia on the brooch: two swords crossed with the word Soldier below, and Belcourt above. With a curt nod, he let her in.
The place was dimly lit, devoid of what would have been a warm, welcoming scene of ladies in dresses and steaming teacups.
The club only had one corridor for the rooms, as she was told. However, it circled around the open courtyard in the middle and ended at the room she had to reach.
She checked the doors as she passed.
Hestia. Demeter.
She made another turn.
Aphrodite. Athena.
Gabrielle had never set foot in this place before, but she could imagine the place if its patrons were present. Fire would crackle in the giant fireplace of the open parlor floor while soft chatters and laughter would float through the elegant corridors.
And there would be no men.
But not today, because at the end of the last corridor stood two men.
Gabrielle stopped, knowing the name of the room before she could even check.
Eris.
"We've been waiting," the Royal Watcher said when he saw her. "Are you alone?"
"Yes," she replied, entering the room when they stepped aside. Then she stopped with a frown. "What are you doing here?"
In the middle of the room, wearing a dark coat, stood the one person she least expected. Rider Fairborne, Earl of Keene, was a member of the Royal Circus. They did not handle domestic cases unless...
Her eyes slanted to the scene not far away from the man.
"She's a foreign national," Fairborne said, approaching her. "I was called."
Gabrielle tore her eyes off the woman on the floor and looked around. The room was in total chaos. Chairs had lost their legs, shards of glass scattered in one corner. At another sat a mountain of torn fabrics, and close to it were several ruined books, some of its pages strewn around. "I don't understand."
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