Radjerd groans, bemoaning his friend. His smiling face was the last thing he wanted to see. The cocky bastard was sitting in a chair near the door, leaning his arms on the back. He tilts his chin forward, no doubted roaring to hear what had transpired last night. Much to Alteus’ disappointment, he wasn’t going to find out.

<I’m curious, how did you find such a beauty in Wellspring? Moreover, how on earth did you get her to marry you?>

<I’ve made an honest woman out of her, nothing to it.>

<I see… Despite your unstable career—she’s either desperate to escape from her home, or, is in the family way.> He raises a playful brow. <Or is it both?>

<She wanted to escape from her overbearing parents—I assure you, it’s not the latter.> He shakes his head dismissively.

<It’ll happen sooner than you think—it took no time with my wife.>

Radjerd frowns, eager to change the subject. <I didn’t expect to be lectured so early …or whatever the time may be. What do you want?>

<It’s not a matter of what I might want, old friend, but the story you told me about Deel doesn’t add up. There’s no way that you and she found love spontaneously. Tell me what happened, I might be able to help.>

<I don’t think you can.> The thief narrows his eyes as he looks at the wooden tile. <I don’t think this is something anyone can help me fix.>

<What do you mean Radjerd, you’re worrying me.>

<She—was a robbery gone wrong—horribly wrong.>

<I see, you stole her belongings, then she fell in love with you?> He chuckles.

Radjerd winces, Not realizing how close Alteus was to the truth. Except for the falling in love part—Deely made it clear he wasn't her ideal mate.

<Your silence says it all. I don’t know if you’re aware of the story of my wife and I, but it’s a similar tale.> His laugh is oddly infectious. <But I didn’t think you’d marry anyone until you had accumulated more wealth.>

<Things happen.> He sighs. <Deel agreed to help me make an honest living. Since I am of little income, she proposed that she get a job at your establishment, while I searched for honest work downtown.>

<I do hope she wanted to become a dancer, my dear friend. If I learned that you forced that precious girl into this trade—I will teach you a lesson. I’m not interested in exploiting women for their husbands’ personal gain. And…> Alteus looks Radjerd up and down slowly. <You’d do just fine on the stage. We’d have to shave you up first of course—I like smooth dancers on my stage.>

<I’m not a dancer—never have, never will be.> He sticks his chin up, a trait he had taken from Deely herself. <Deel wanted to be self-sufficient—she wouldn’t let me provide alone.>

<Your wife is the sole reason you’ll have food on your plate. What would your ma say?> The dark-haired man chuckles.

<I’m positive that you didn’t wake me up just to take jabs at my marriage. What did you want to talk about?>

Alteus leans back as he folds his arms. <No luck on capturing the princess then… When I heard that she went missing, I thought it had been you succeeding in your mission. Call me disappointed that isn’t the case.>

Radjerd grumbles, reminded of his failure. <She’s a bloody princess, the whole damn town of Wellspring would have kept an eye on her.>

<Considering that the girl’s still missing, I’m betting that the Deltaeans got their hands on her. I suppose we’ll be without a Queen yet again. That’s not going to bode well for King Douchebag.> His brown eyes narrow. <Or for you and Freydis. It’s a shame you didn’t find your lady until after the mission. Then you could provide her with a proper home.>

Radjerd’s nerves spike. How long would it be before someone called them out on their charade? It was clear that Alteus didn’t know what the princess looked like. If he found out Radjerd was risking his friend’s establishment like this… His stomach drops. If Alteus was put at risk because of his lie—no, that wouldn’t happen. No one would think the Princess of Wellspring to dance upon the stages of Shastican’s Delight.

<I just hope that they don’t torture the girl, you know what kind of reputation they have.>

<I’m well aware.> Radjerd folds his arms. They were cold, hard killers who would torture their victims—and wanted Radjerd to join their ranks. Of course the thief refused—he and Freydis had killed when the price is right—but their victims were taken fast, and clean. This wasn’t the line of work either wanted to pursue—but Radjerd’s talent was well versed here. He never had to lay a hand on his victims—mostly. He still wasn’t in full control of his gift—which is where Freydis came in. She would finish the job…

Guilt fills his gut, he didn’t want to betray his oldest friend. But, he couldn’t let her kill Deely—there had to be another way. He could only stall progress for so long… He’s made up his mind—as soon as Deely had made them enough money, they would leave posthaste. He knew it would be a matter of time before Freydis would catch a whiff of their trail.

***

Cordelia enters the bath-house, freeing her hair from the braid she had slept in. Her hair had to in the best condition each day—not that Cordelia was upset by this—it was a regular tradition at home to have a daily bath. Her maids would find it tiresome that she wanted her hair washed daily, but she preferred it that way. She didn’t like the feeling of when her scalp became oily.

Cordelia promises herself she would behave—she was in no mood for any dastardly conclusions. She enters the room, stripping as she was instructed to do before. She parts her hair in front of her breasts for comfort, still not used to the idea of being exposed to over ten sets of eyes. Approaching the water, she closes her eyes, easing her body into the warm, heated water. She shivers in pleasure, the water easing her muscles Her hair darkens as it hits the water, flowing around her like a mermaid in a fairy-tale book. Unfortunately, her peace doesn’t last long as a curious girl with fiery red hair interrupts her peace and quiet.

<I’m Lissa.> The red-haired girl smiles Cordelia notes this isn’t the same red-haired woman she met yesterday. Her dark brown eyes seem to uncomfortably stare at her chest. <Are all Weltan girls this small?>

<Pardon me!?> Cordelia covers herself with her arms.

<No, I meant no offense. It’s just—well—a little unusual.>

<I’ll have you know I’m an adequate size, thank you very much.> Cordelia grumbles, sticking her chin high up in the air. <Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to bathe in peace.>

<I’m so sorry, that came out all wrong!> She splashes about, her nervous energy annoying Cordelia. <What I meant to say is that it’s unusual for our group, our costumes suit women with bigger assets.> She raises her breasts, squishing them together. <Like this, see?>

Cordelia winces, still getting used to the outgoing nature of this culture. <I get it!>

<Lissa, don’t tease the new one.> A new voice enters the fray, much to Cordelia’s surprise. <If she chose to give us her services, then it’s best that we don’t make her feel inadequate. She’s beautiful just the way she is.> Now Cordelia recognizes the melodic tone. It’s the woman from the reception counter—god, was she really joining them in the bath? Cordelia winces as she can hear the telltale splash of the woman entering the bath.

<Just ignore them, they’re just being gossipy as usual. It’ll pass when the next wind hits.> Her laugh is melodic. <Or they’re jealous. Your husband is quite handsome, well, as handsome as you are beautiful.>

<Melandra, don’t flirt with her. The poor Weltan probably will pass out from embarrassment, before her work has just begun.> Another voice echoes.

<It’s not flirting. I’m just being polite, is all. Nothing wrong with showing courtesy to a lovely woman.> She raises her eyebrows in intrigue. Now I have to say, Radjerd Laurius is quite a handsome man, but he can also be a slippery one. He didn’t force you to marry him, did he?>

<No, not at all. It was just …love at first sight—the rarest of circumstances.> Cordelia nervously chuckles.

<Well, whatever your reasons, I can’t judge you. Sometimes having a strong man around makes life less threatening, after all.> She giggles.

<That’s not exactly—> Cordelia stops herself from indulging too much. She didn’t want to let on to these women that she was hiding from her notorious killer, Freydis. It was a bloody good thing that the thief came up with what he did. Or, she’d be in hot water. <Rather, we just have a need to keep each other around.>

<For saying that it was love at first sight, you’re rather vague.>

<Lissa! Leave the poor girl alone. It’s hardly worth giving her a hard time over, don’t you think? ‘Specially when it’s none of your beeswax. Besides, Deel needs to be relaxed if we’re going to teach her all we know. Her first show will be in a week.>

<That long? I was ready to be stage born the next day of training.>

<She’s Weltish.> The splash of water hits the ears of Cordelia as she listens to the counter-girl talk. <She’s hardly ready to understand our customs and curiosities.>

<Maybe not, but we’re going to ensure we make my husband proud.>

Wait, Melandra the counter-girl was his wife?

<You look surprised, dear.> She laughs. <I’ve taken it that he told you about me.>

<He didn’t mention that you worked here. What about your daughter?>

<My daughter is fine.> She laughs, giving her the side-eye. <My ma’s been doing her a lot of good—feeds her better than I can. And before you assume it’s because of our money, no, dear. We’re more than capable, but my ma’s a better cook than I could ever could be.>

<No, it’s not that—you look really good—for just—well, you know what I’m trying to say.> A crimson blush stains her face. She looked amazing for having a baby. It’s one of the things her mother complained about, that having a child ruined her figure. Cordelia didn’t understand why, she was as thin as a post. Her mother had no ounce of fat on her bones.

<I understand—and thank you.> She smiles. <Don’t worry your head over such trivialities, dear. If you want to know my secret, it’s keeping fit, regardless of excuses. My profession deems it, so it comes natural to me.>

<Of course.> Cordelia blurts out.

<I’m not the only one who has a child to support, either. Most of our dancers come from respectable families. I understand to you Weltans that it’s not the noble way of life—not that I’m signaling you out—but I don’t want you judging our type simply because your culture doesn’t understand us.>

<I wasn’t.>

<Glad to hear it.> She pats Cordelia’s shoulder. <Finish up, and then we’ll pick a nice lovely outfit for you. A deep red or royal purple would serve your complexion perfectly, and your hair will be dazzled with jewels. No one need know of your petite-ness.>

Great, now this woman was having a stab at her. Just because she didn’t have big old balloons sewn to her chest didn’t mean she was flat chested. She could cup both with each hand and there was still breast to spare.

<Don’t look so put out—we’ll have you trained and ready to dance within the week—all will be well.>

Cordelia nods. Dancing? How hard could that possibly be?