Shadow Phantoms - H.P. Mallory Page 0,60
far apart, nose too large and teeth not large enough. But where Gregory’s eyes were kind, Darius’ always have the mean, rangy look of a feral cat. And he has the temper to match. He’s also shorter and thinner than his father ever was.
“You’re dancing in the back room tonight,” Darius informs me, flicking the closet door open to reveal the small selection of gowns he’s procured for my act.
All are made of silky or sheer fabrics and would easily cost a year of my wages. They’ve more than paid for Darius’ tavern in the last few years. More accurately, I have more than paid for this tavern. After all, it’s my body men are flocking to see.
“Please.” The ragged entreaty is all I can force from my shaking lips.
He knows what I’m asking for.
Darius has kept it from me for three days. He can’t honestly expect me to dance while my stomach tosses like a ship at sea. I need a bump if I’m going to be able to make it on stage sometime tonight.
I can read the answer on his face before he ever opens his mouth. That hateful smirk tics up a few degrees; he’s clearly enjoying my distress. It’s a rare treat for him to hear me beg like this. The last time he got the satisfaction, I literally came crawling back on hands and knees, begging for another dose.
Hopefully I won’t have to do that again this morning.
He toys with the small, leather pouch at his waist, jiggling it in my direction as a taunt before flipping the material of his coat over his front to hide it from view.
“You’ll get it when you’ve earned it, slag.” Then he chuckles as he sneers down at me. “A group of merchants are selling their wares along Gendar Street for the next fortnight before moving north. At least half of ‘em will be downstairs tonight. You please them and then I’ll give you that bump you’re so desperate for.” His lips curl into a viper’s grin, dripping insincerity like cloying venom. “And if you please me tonight, I’ll give you another.”
With his toe, he nudges a bowl across the floor, and a portion of my daily slop oozes over one corner and onto the hardwood. For just an instant, I imagine scooping the bowl off the floor and grinding his nose into the congealed mass of tasteless slop. Let him feel the indignity of being fed and put through his paces like a fucking show pony.
But my fingers only perform an ineffectual flex at my side, instead of the suicidally stupid action I’ve just contemplated. This place isn’t palatial, my role is demeaning, my jailer is an arrogant prick, but I’m under no illusions. I’m better off here than I would be on the streets. That’s the only reason I’ve stayed as long as I have. Because, as shitty as this life is, it’s still better than being homeless in Ascor. I’ll put up with Darius until I can squirrel away enough gold pieces to buy myself a way out of Ascor and a way in to some other city. Any other city, where my face isn’t instantly recognizable as the salacious Snow White.
Darius selects a gauzy, multi-hued dress and tosses it lightly on the bed we share. I stare at it, mouth popping open in indignant surprise. I’ve worn this dress only once before, performing for Prince Achmed, who hailed from a place far, far away. A place called Agrabah in the Anoka Desert. The prince painted a hazy picture of Agrabah while I danced for him that night, dropping each layer of my gauzy drapings, one by one, until I lay mostly bare before him on stage. On the rare occasions I’ve dreamed of escaping, I’ve thought about traveling to Agrabah to find the prince again.
“The Dance of the Seven Veils?” I breathe, too tired to summon true outrage. “You can’t be serious.”
Damn Darius to the blackest regions of the nether realm! I’ve only done this dance once in front of an audience and that was a long time ago. Now he expects me to do it again without any practice, with barely a cup full of oats in my stomach and the fatigue of withdrawal threatening to drag me sideways to the floor? I’ll make a fool of myself and then Darius will punish me for it later.
Darius worms a hand into his coat and dips one finger lightly into the pouch at his