After I wrapped things up with Falk, I made my way over to a nearby tavern where a familiar buxom, raven-haired woman was tending to the bar. As I entered, the woman narrowed her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. She was in her late thirties, maybe early forties at most—and vivacious as ever.
“And just who do you think you are, strolling in here like you own the damn place? We don’t offer discounts to men in uniform, you know—we charge them extra.”
“You’re looking rather stunning today, Roshana. Is that a new dress, or do you just make everything look that good? Oh, and hello to you, too.”
As per usual, she cracked under the compliments and dropped the act.
“Hey there, handsome. You want the usual?”
“Please,” I answered with a smile.
My “usual” here was whatever Roshana had on deck as this week’s lunch special, often delivered with a fat stack of intercepted missives and stolen notes from her little songbirds. Roshana’s tavern doubled as a pleasure den for those with deep connections and even deeper pockets. It wasn’t as if sex work was illegal in Sophrosyne, but it was so heavily regulated and taxed in the city that it was… hard to come by, to say the least. In the grand scheme of things, that was probably for the best, given the amount of minors who lived on campus at the Studium.
Within minutes, Roshana slid a plate of sausages, boiled cabbage, and potatoes in front of me, alongside a healthy helping of the barmaid’s cleavage and a few scraps of parchment.
“Afraid I don’t have much else for you, K. You’re back so soon. Miss me, did you?”
“Always do,” I purred, plucking an envelope that I knew Roshana had intentionally left in her bosom. That woman was insatiable.
“Can I get you anything else? Ale, whiskey, cider? Another round between the sheets?”
“Nah,” I replied. “Tempting as that may be, I can’t stay much longer, Ro. A bit tied up today.”
“Mmm, I do like that in a man,” she replied, her smoky voice thick with innuendo. “Are you sure you can’t come back to see me this evening? You know I’ll make it worth your while, Captain.”
“Afraid not, beautiful. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of other hearts to break.”
“A bold claim coming from you, Vistarii,” she laughed. “But you know, the new girl, Sadie—you might like a tangle or two with that one if you’re craving fresh blood. I’ll even give you a discount.”
As the barmaid waggled her eyebrows at me suggestively, I tried not to grimace. While I held the courtesans of Sophrosyne with the utmost regard, I never quite understood the appeal of paying for sex. It was probably an ego thing. I wanted my sexual partners to want my cock more than my Lyra.
“Tsk. Roshana, Roshana. You know me better than that. If I want fresh blood, I’ll go on the hunt for it myself.”
I tossed her a wicked grin and a wink before brushing off my thighs and leaving a handful of extra Lyra on the counter for my meal. I tried not to wince as I stood—my lower back was absolutely killing me.
I really needed to stop falling asleep at that damned desk.
Chapter Seven
Arken
I expected the arcane brand to hurt more than it did.
According to the sailors I had befriended on the ship, tattoos in general were supposed to hurt like Hel. Many of them had artwork that had been needled into their skin with ink, and had grimaced when I asked about the experience of receiving such marks.
This was no ordinary tattoo, though.
Upon receiving unanimous approval from the Convocation to be granted entry into Sophrosyne and the Studium, the Speaker had beckoned me forward, asking me to extend my dominant hand.
The aether behind her eyes flared brighter when she murmured an incantation in the Elder tongue, running a singlefingertip over the inside of my wrist in such a way that almost felt intimate.
“This will serve as your key to the city and the Studium, young Lightbearer,” Elura had explained, her melodic voice soothing as a flash of sharp pain hit. Within an instant, the pain was gone.
One by one, the circles began to appear, overlapping in red, carving out the space for themselves just beneath the skin. There were no needles, no ink, no physical act whatsoever placing this sigil. It simply appeared, by the sheer will of the Elders before me. I could feel the depth of the arcana the Speaker was using as the symbol was created—binding, ancient, and powerful beyond words or understanding.
“It will allow you to pass through our wards safely, and it will prove your status as a Conduit anywhere in the world. Whether you remain here for just a few quarters, or for many years to come, those who carry the Seed of Creation are always welcome in Sophrosyne.”
I watched in wonder as the tattoo began to glow with the quicksilver sheen of pure aether.