"Take a left onto Rowan Street and turn right at the lilies…" I repeat to myself. Victorine's note is clutched in my hand. I consider triple-checking it, but I'm sure I have her elegant handwriting etched into my mind. It's just that the instructions don't make sense.
Lilies? It's the middle of winter.
I'm beginning to wonder if I misunderstood something when I see it. Halfway down the road, nestled between a shopfront and a double-storied building, is an archway made from stone. As I get closer, I see that the stonework has been carefully carved in a long garland of lilies.
Aha.
There's a tangible shift in the air as I pass beneath the arch. The bustling sounds of the streets fade into quiet. I glance back, just to make sure it wasn't a portal, but I can still see the road behind me. It must be some kind of magic.
A path of flat, circular stones lies ahead. Taking a deep breath, I step forward.
The alley is like nothing else in the city. The walls are made from tall planks of wood painted a deep crimson. A lantern hangs over the path every few feet, illuminating my way forward. I follow the path around a corner and into a forest of tall, thin trees.
Am I even in Lastonia anymore?
With the noises of the city gone and no other buildings visible above the fence or through the trees beside the path, it feels like I've somehow wandered right out of the city and into a noble's garden.
I'm just starting to wonder if I'm even allowed to be here when the hint of soft music floats through the air. I go around the corner and the trees part, revealing a courtyard of white stones that leads to the most extravagant building I've ever seen.
Four floors, each with their own wrap-around outdoor balconies, rise into the sky. The building is crafted from huge pieces of dark wood and etched with golden adornments. Stained glass lanterns hang from every eave and nook, basking the building in rainbow light to the point that it looks otherworldly.
It's so extravagant that it takes my breath away—even the Temple of Illustria can't compare. A building this neat and glamorous doesn't look like what I would expect a pleasure house to look like, but then again, I certainly haven't been to any. If it wasn't for the large golden plaque with the words 'The Sapphic Satyr' making it undeniable this is the right place, I'd probably turn tail and run.
I swallow. My sweat is clammy against the paper in my hand.
This is it. Am I really ready?
The past four months have been bliss. Sure, the hours of service can be long, and sweeping the long floors of the temple is exhausting, but I've been free. In the halls of Illustria I don't have to maneuver through a girlfriend's mood swings or pretend to not be hurt by someone telling me I'm terrible in bed.
But that's exactly why I'm doing this—I want a future of blissful purity.
I clench my fists and take a deep breath through my nose. Before I overthink my way out of it, I march up to the front door.
There are two people standing at attention on both sides of the open doorway. They both seem to be women, but the heavy leather jerkins and long spears in their hands make me think they're probably not courtesans.
The one on the left—a lionfolk lady with red paint beneath her eyes—gives me a cursory glance. She extends her unarmed hand toward the doorway in what I assume is a welcome.
I nod my head and step inside.
The entry room is as elegant as the outside, just on a smaller scale. A half-circle desk is escorted on both sides by large porcelain posts overflowing with greenery and exotic flowers. Two streams of water trickle down from the ceiling, disappearing into mist before they reach the floor.
There's also a warm scent in the air—I'm quite used to incense, but this blend is different from the mix we burn at the temple. The temple incense hangs in a cloud, cleansing the room and all those who enter. This incense is so light that it teases my nose; it's almost as if it's drawing me in to take another breath and catch the scent. When I do, I note the light scent of something crisp and floral, but with a deeper undertone of something more sensual. Wood? Musk? It's so complex that I can't tell, but I do know that I like it.
A tall dogfolk woman is waiting behind the desk. Her golden hair is done up in a neat bun that's held in place with an assortment of hairpins; each one with a crystal droplet at the end. The crystals jump and sparkle as her ears perk up.
"Welcome!" She leans over the desk with a warm smile. Her eyes are a light brown, without the subtle depth of Victorine's. "Do you have a reservation?"
A reservation? You need to call ahead to sleep here? Sheesh, Victorine wasn't joking—this really is classy.
"Sorry, I don't think so. Do I need to make one?"
"Not necessarily." Her fluffy tail swishes behind her as she leans forward. "What's your name, love?"
"Lex. Lex Tinders."
"A pleasure, Lex," she says. She reaches for something on the desk and I hear the soft rustle of paper. "Ah, here you are—there's a note. You're from the Illustria Temple, yes?"
"That's the one."
"I visited your temple once, it's absolutely lovely." There's the quick scratch of a pen behind the desk. "We're happy to have you here. Since this is your first visit, we'll just need you to check in with Mistress Arlin before we proceed. She helps new clients get settled. Is that alright?"
"Fine by me." There's no reason not to—if anything, I'll snap at the chance to delay what's about to come.
Still, I'm determined. If spending a few nights sleeping with the courtesans at this pleasure house will ensure my future at the temple, I'm going to stick it out.
"Great!" the dogfolk woman says with a beaming smile. "Follow me."
She sweeps around the desk, holding up the curtain.
I take a deep breath and follow her.