It was raining again. At least it was a little warmer now, which meant they were finally rid of the damn sleet that had plagued them all winter.

  She hurried through the dusky streets of Bridgewater on her way to Violet Delights, her cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders. The narrow streets were almost deserted – in this weather, most people stayed indoors. Only a few late traders were hastily packing up their stalls.

  She way still pondering the same questions she had already pondered for days – the gardener, the black cat, Vyxara's persistent silence about them...

  "You're brooding again," Vyxara remarked with amusement. "You'd better concentrate on your path. There's an Emberwarden patrol just disappeared around the corner that you completely overlooked."

  Valentina nodded imperceptibly and, greeting Gretta, slipped through her store into the secret back entrance of Violet Delights. The familiar scent of violets and dark musk greeted her as she went straight to the dressing room to get ready.

  "Lily!" Madame Dolorosa's voice sounded unusually tense. "One moment, please."

  The elegantly dressed brothel owner beckoned her into her private dressing room. Valentina followed her, wondering what could be so urgent.

  "Close the door," Madame Dolorosa instructed her. Her narrow face looked serious. "We have a... delicate situation."

  "What happened?"

  "Violet has got a fever. A high fever. She definitely won't be able to work tonight."

  "That's unfortunate," Valentina said carefully. "I hope she gets better soon. But surely that's not the reason for this secrecy?"

  "No." Madame Dolorosa sighed softly. "The problem is that she had a very important regular customer today. A client for whom discretion is absolutely essential." She paused meaningfully. "The Illuminator asked for her."

  Valentina felt her blood freeze in her veins. This was exactly what she had been waiting for these last months. Even if the prospect was not necessarily pleasant.

  "At last!" purred Vyxara.

  "Illuminator Eastwald is coming here?" For Madame Dolorosa, of course, she had to act ignorant.

  "Regularly," confirmed Madame Dolorosa. "Violet usually takes care of him. She knows his preferences, his special wishes. But today..." She shook her head. "I need someone I can trust absolutely. Someone who understands how delicate this situation is."

  "And you were thinking of me?"

  "You are discreet. Intelligent. And you understand the importance of secrets." Madame Dolorosa leaned forward. "But let me make one thing absolutely clear: you must not talk to anyone – and I do mean anyone – about his visits here. Not even with the other girls. Understood?"

  The harshness in her voice surprised Valentina. "Of course."

  "He comes in through the same entrance as you girls. His identity must be protected at all costs. He has... very specific preferences. Very detailed role-play requirements."

  "He probably wants to be punished ," giggled Vyxara. "We know that kind of customer well enough."

  "What kind of requirements?" asked Valentina.

  "He'll explain that to you himself." Madame Dolorosa poured two glasses of wine and handed one to Valentina. "The important thing is to play along. No matter what he asks. He pays very well for his... extras. So you'll make a lot more money tonight."

  Valentina sipped the heavy red wine. Her heart beat faster at the thought of the possibilities here. If she gave her best, really exhausted him... maybe, hopefully, she could coax some information out of him.

  "Probe carefully ," warned Vyxara. "He may be a hypocrite, but he's still dangerous."

  "He'll be here in an hour," said Madame Dolorosa and stood up. "Get yourself ready. And remember – absolute discretion."

  When Valentina prepared herself a little later, she felt equal parts fear and anticipation. She checked for the third time that her illusion artifact was sitting correctly, smoothed her dress and arranged her hair.

  "Take it easy," Vyxara muttered. "Whatever he wants, at his core, he's just another horndog. You have experience enough with that."

  A soft knock on the door announced Gretta. "He's here," she whispered through the crack in the door. "Madame Dolorosa has sent word for you to come to the Red Room."

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  Valentina took a deep breath and checked her reflection one last time. The blonde, elegant Lily looked back at her – a perfect illusion.

  Time to give the Illuminator a very special performance.

  ~

  When Valentina entered the Red Room, she saw his gaunt figure against the heavy velvet curtains. He was not wearing his robe, but simple yet well-cut clothes made of expensive black fabric.

  When he turned towards her, Valentina took a closer look at him. His ascetic face was deeply wrinkled, but his grey eyes were clear and intelligent. His greying hair was cut short, his body wiry and his posture straight. The burn scars on his face, which gave him such a fearsome appearance in daylight, were barely visible in the dim light of the Essence lamps.

  What surprised her most was the change in his demeanor. His usual stern, imperious manner had given way to a nervous energy. He moved like a predator that had been on a chain for too long and had finally been set free.

  "Ah," he said with slight disappointment in his voice. "So you're the replacement for the other one. How... unfortunate. I had hoped she would recover." He sighed theatrically. "Now I have to explain everything all over again."

  "I'm a quick learner," Valentina assured him gently.

  "We'll see about that." His voice sounded hoarse with suppressed excitement. "Has Madame Dolorosa explained to you that absolute discretion is required?"

  "Of course, sir." Valentina bowed her head humbly. His hands trembled slightly as he pulled a small, ornately decorated casket from the folds of his robe.

  "I have something... special." He opened the box with almost ceremonial care. Inside, nestled on red velvet, lay a single strand of black hair.

  "This strand," Eastwald whispered with awe, "belongs to Queen Beatrice herself."

  "That's fantastic," Vyxara cackled. "I wonder if we're dealing with one of the savviest perverts in the whole realm?"

  Valentina could barely keep her brows from rising. How, by all the flames of the Martyr, had he gotten hold of a lock of the queen's hair?

  "I'll put them in your artifact myself," he continued, stepping closer. "No one is allowed to touch it but me."

  His fingers were surprisingly deft as he opened the illusion artifact and carefully placed the strand. The familiar shiver of transformation ran through Valentina's body as she triggered the activation pattern.

  "Perfect," Eastwald breathed as he gazed at her with a feverish expression. "You fit a little better than the other one in terms of height."

  He stepped closer. "The most important rules first. You will call me 'my pious friend'. With exactly that humble undertone." He made an impatient gesture with his hand. "The other one – Violet – had it down perfectly after some practice."

  "My pious friend," Valentina repeated in her best imitation of courtly sophistication – if she was honest, she was trying to imitate Duchess Rosalind.

  "Yes, just like that." His eyes lit up. "And when I take you, you must ask forgiveness for your sins."

  "Of course." Valentina bowed her head slightly and curtseyed.

  Eastwald licked his lips. "We will commit the most nefarious sin against nature. You understand? The queen must not become pregnant, lest the king become aware of our affair."

  "I understand," Valentina said. "You mean an-"

  "Yes." He interrupted her and stepped even closer to her, his breathing quickening. "Exactly."

  "I must warn you," Valentina said cautiously. "I've never..."

  "Perfect!" His voice almost cracked with excitement. "That makes it even more realistic."

  Valentina flinched involuntarily. Eastwald noticed and his face darkened.

  "Pull yourself together, girl," he said harshly. "I've done this many times before. It won't hurt. Not very much, anyway."

  "Oh, I'm not worried," Valentina hastened to assure him, forcing herself to smile seductively. "I'm sure you know exactly what you're doing. I trust myself completely to your... guidance."

  "Very good ," Vyxara purred in her head. "Make him confident. The more relaxed he is, the more he'll reveal later."

  "Perfect." An almost feverish gleam came into his eyes. "It's important that you understand how sacred this moment is. The forbidden union between the queen and a man of the church..." He shuddered. "Symbolism of the deepest significance."

  He explained further details at a rapid pace. "You must be shocked at first when I suggest it. Indignant. 'But my pious friend,'" he imitated a female voice, "'that's against nature!' That's exactly how you have to say it."

  "And then?" Valentina asked gently.

  "Then I'll convince you. Explain to you that it's the only way. That we can never be together otherwise." His voice became hoarse. "You will reluctantly give in. Give up your virtue. For me."

  "He's definitely played that out a lot," commented Vyxara dryly.

  "During the act itself..." He took a deep breath. "You have to keep asking for forgiveness. 'Forgive me, Martyr'. With this... undertone of shame and lust."

  "I understand." Valentina bowed her head humbly. "And after that?"

  "Then you cry. Quietly. But with dignity! As befits a queen." A strange smile flitted across his face. "I will comfort you. Reassure you that the Martyr understands we had no choice. Do you understand that?"

  "Yes, my lord," Valentina said and curtseyed again.

  "Good, now stop curtsying you're a queen."