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in
calling someone by their station in the household, let alone what
was amusing about it. “If that is her place, then there’s no point
in garnishing the truth.”
    The priest shrugged. “Well, I suppose not,
though calling Marissa a whore might be a bit harsh.”
    Aurelia blinked. “Is that not what she
is?”
    The priest fired a sidelong glance in
Aurelia’s direction. He coughed behind his hand. “Technically, I
wouldn’t know precisely what happens in Baird’s bed,” he said
archly. “She does do the interiors of every Beauforte Resort,
though I have to say that I don’t think she’s overly talented.” He
sniffed with obvious disdain. “I suppose anyone could make their
own conclusions from that.”
    “ Does the interiors?”
Aurelia echoed.
    The priest waved to the hall below as they
reached the landing. “She buys stuff, picks colors, chooses
furnishings, wall paper, lamps, flooring tiles. You know, she does
interior design.”
    It seemed ridiculous to make up a new name
for a practice as old as time. Obviously, the pleasures Marissa
gave Bard in bed loosened his purse strings - and her position as
his mistress granted her a household position similar to a
wife.
    Aurelia levelled a knowing glance at the
priest as they mounted the stairs. “She spends his coin.”
    That man’s lips quirked at her terse
summary. “Yes. In a way, yes, that’s what she does.” The priest
gestured to the lavish room behind them. “She bought all that. And
all this.” He threw open the carved wooden doors at the summit.
    The doors swung inward silently despite
their obvious weight and a long hallway hung with glistening
crystals was revealed. Countless doors marched on either side of
the corridor, following one after the other as far as Aurelia could
see.
    The tapestry cast on the floor here was
crimson, crisscrossed with a rope pattern worked in shades of gold.
It gleamed with the luster of silk, was as thick as a cushion, and
stretched on seemingly forever. Aurelia could not even imagine how
long it would have taken to weave, let alone how many women would
have to lend their hands to the task.
    It was shocking to think of walking on such
a work, but the priest strode across it without a second thought.
He paused before the fourth door on the left side of the
corridor.
    “ And this.” The priest slid
a thin square into a slot above the door handle. Aurelia saw
something red flash, then he pulled back the square into his hand,
as though he would conceal it from her. He opened the
door.
    It was a ritual, obviously, a protective
spell.
    But now, the priest had disappeared inside
and left her behind. Aurelia took the two longest steps she could
manage - on her tiptoes - across the magnificent tapestry to reach
the narrow strip of wood flooring revealed on the far side. She
sidled along the wood, careful not to step on the tapestry again,
and peeked through the door that the priest held open.
    And was amazed by the magnificence of the
furnishings. The room was ornamented in a deep and pleasing
sapphire hue, the bed hung with heavy tapestries, the floor thick
with rugs.
    “ King Bard’s chambers,”
Aurelia whispered, certain that this luxury could be for no one
else.
    It was shockingly intimate to look upon his
private chambers. Aurelia was certain the king would have words for
the priest, had he guessed that she was here.
    Perhaps it was the fact that this was a
stolen view that made a heat unfurl in Aurelia’s stomach as she
eyed the great bed. It was so easy to imagine Bard sleeping
there.
    Nude.
    On his back, as all warriors slept, one hand
flung out across the pallet. His broad chest would be tanned
golden, the dark hair that adorned it slightly curly. Aurelia’s
toes curled at the vivid image she had of him. He would smile that
provocative half-smile when he awakened and his eyes would glitter
that dangerous sea green.
    And his strong fingers would rest on the hip
of his whore, who curled by his side in a most