The Bitter Ends

The Bitter Ends

By: Malachi Stevens

Book Three of the Two Orphans Series

1

Lupretia created The Nine. She was alone since Xarl had left with the twenty. Her first son, Vaschon was a restless sort and when he reached adulthood, he felt he needed a purpose. The Grimm was now over a hundred thousand and far too many for her to keep eyes upon since Xarl departed. The duty of the Nine was to govern over the tribes as she governed over us.

Vaschon needed loyalty, and he desired the brute, Titus. The mother found his attraction to him disturbing, allowing him to keep his man, but she made it a point to recruit more than beasts that beckoned to him. First, she found a devout in Dmitri, and a loyal man named Marcellus. Later came Kalishny, a Grimm good with words to keep the power-hungry chieftains in line.

Vinjamin was next, a pretty face that the mother wanted. Along with Darmund, a poisoner, useful to dissenters who like to gather in mobs. Unexpectedly, she chose Zayne, a lunatic who loved to torture when the mother was in a foul mood. The last was I, a lad who came from a planter.

His father gifted her years ago with the hedge that guarded Loreto, and her gift to him was to take his second son as one of her Nine. I still recall when she came to call on me, so infatuated, and when I touched her flesh; It was love.

The Journal of Peregrine Haldock

The Valet

“Tell me your story again,” Vallance repeated.

“I came to Lonoke when my father borrowed silver for passage to send me along with my cousin Roland. He was a pewter smith, and I served as his valet.”

“Where did you live in Nuhr?”

“In Cold Harbor. I left when I was fourteen when Lord Gober took up arms against the rebels. There was no work, no future for a girl in a land that had one rebellion after the next. We took a ship to Elbe and bought passage on another ship to Lonoke.”

“How did you come by your last employer, Peregrine Haldock?” Vallance asked again, his inquiry was more aggravating to her each time he asked.

“My cousin was in debt to a usurer, and they sent their goons to collect the silver that was due. I came from an errand he sent me to do, and he was being beaten by these men." she paused in thought, and then continued.

"I drew steel, and they laughed, but not for long. I cut one across the hand and another got a poke in the upper arm. I sent them running, and a merchant had observed this. That merchant was Peregrine Haldock, and he paid my cousin’s debt for me to serve him.”

“How did you learn to fight?” The question made her roll her eyes as Vallance scolded her.

“Nuhr is famous for shield maidens. I learned the bow and the art of blades at age nine from a minor lord’s castellan in Oatmont, a village outside Cold Harbor.”

Vallance nodded in approval as she rehearsed this over and over with him for weeks. He had trimmed her hair some, styled it to appear more Nuhrish, and he made her wear a dress that annoyed her. Vallance had been in charge of getting them back to Breeston, and he did it with much ease to Camille’s surprise.

The ruse was easy for her to remember. She would be a valet and protectorate to someone different. A woman who played a courtesan to the wealthy in Lonoke. Her new companion, a doppelgänger planted in the strumpethouses years ago had the reputation of being a remarkable lover.

The Guild invited the courtesan, and Peregrine thought it would be a perfect cover. When she first met the courtesan, the woman was rude. She did not like that Camille was pretty.

“This valet would be a distraction to her visitors while she conducted business in her new quarters on Old Street.” She remarked in a facetious tone.

The doppelgänger went by Claire; she had taken the courtesan’s place when she was a simple streetwalker along the dockside houses. She enhanced the woman’s appearance, made herself a stellar reputation in a pillow house in Lonoke, and soon the word got out to the Guild nobles.

Her false flesh was a woman from Ethelly, a half-breed mixed of Nuhrish blood with skin the colour of honey. Claire had blonde hair, streaked in gold strands with hazel eyes of yellowish green. Camille noticed freckles along her cheeks that enhanced her looks, with ample breasts and hips that the cretins here seem to lose themselves over.

“She needs to soften her tone, learn to giggle, and act stupid,” Claire says as they are sitting in the parlour of her apartment. A high coin dwelling that the Guild had secured for her on Old Street when they arrived.

“It isn’t necessary, the best thing is for her to say nothing, scowl at your suitors which she is proficient at,” Vallance tells her. “Camille’s task is to watch this man, he is a curiosity to Peregrine.”

Vallance was short for a Grimm, so he had the ruse of a Triad man. He looked like the typical male with black curls and eyes with pox-marked brown skin while wearing drab hemp wares with no shoes. He accompanied her to resume Peregrine’s task of investigating the Mist.

“Who is” this man” to the master?” Claire asked in a jape.

“He is nobody, a lad he had grown fond of, who helped us get back to Lonoke.” Camile interrupted, the woman had no reason to be aware of anything more. She wasn’t sure how loyal she was to Peregrine anyway, and the master warned her to tell nobody about Edmund. Thankfully, she didn’t know much about him, anyway. A lord’s ward from Hayston, but why was he in Breeston she did not understand.

Peregrine never told her about his discoveries on the blood she collected from him. Her master was curt and told her to only focus on her task.

Camille had no problems being a valet, she was close to that role with Peregrine. The only difference is that she had formed no bond with a woman before, and when Vallance left to go to the Butcher’s Wail it would be Claire and her.

The courtesan had much to put away; she was lucky Vallance remained because the woman came with six chests stuffed with fine gowns, false hairs, scented waters, and more jewelry than most lords. The apartment was furnished with well-crafted hardwoods to impress the courtesan as she settled in before taking visits from her new clients.

Camille’s quarters were more simple. A bed of white pine with a wool-stuffed mattress and a matching armoire for her new undyed gowns.

The room had no door; it was near the kitchens, behind the front parlour that was a sitting room with crafted benches padded in horsehair cushions, along with two matching ornate chairs with a centre table to entertain guests. A grey stone hearth was facing the furnishings and there were even tapestries along the plastered walls.

A second doorway went into a dining area where a small rough-hewn table and stools were in a nook, beside a small clay oven with a flat iron top for cooking.

Camille looked it over and knew they would only use it with company present. The courtesan would have the diet of a Grimm, eat raw foods and nuts, honey, and maybe some bread the barbarians favoured. Camille was putting together a list to search the ward for as Claire was calling her from up above.

The woman ordered her around, having her help put away her gowns after Vallance said his farewells to begin his task in the outer wards. Camille could hear the door close as the women pointed to put this here and put this over there. Camille dropped the gown on the mattress of her carved cherry wood canopy bed.

“What are you-”

“Listen, you snobby trollop. I am only your valet when you have those savage Guild men over. You put away your own wares. I have to go into the ward and get us supplies, so it may take a while.” Camille informs her.

“This will never work, you have the manners of a rodent,” Claire says in a rude bark. “How do you expect to be the servant when I am entertaining men?”

“I will bring the wine, make them some delicate fare if they have a hunger,” Camille growls. “You can tell them I’m a mute for all I care. The first one that tries to grope me will get his jaw broken and don’t think I won’t do something rash and make a body disappear.”

The courtesan had a glare of shock, then giggled. “That will be difficult, these are men that get what they want. You can’t kill a lord, Camille.” she laughs. “They will send us back before we begin.”

“That is my whole problem, you are too pretty to be a valet,” Claire adds. “I can dress like the peacock and you a pauper, but it will make no difference. You do not understand how this complicates things for me. These men fantasize about two women at once, especially about ravaging a poor girl, so what are we to do about you?”

“Excuse me, and I will stay in my quarters.”

“I am to serve them as well?” Beatrice looks aghast. “What if I am assaulted?”

“Then I will assault them,” Camille warns. “Go hire you a troll to wait on you, let her sleep up here beside you on the floor. There is plenty of room and the master sent plenty of gold.”

The woman stared at her coldly as she walked downstairs and out into the ward. Camille wore a cloak over her head, and she breathed deeply to find the bravery to walk alone among the savages. It relieved her to see that this area was much more civil; A pair of dockworkers even greeted her cordially while she stood frozen along the walk in front of their quarters.

“Welcome to Old Street.” a man greeted her with a wide smile, he appeared to be a merchant she thought. “I was unaware that anyone had taken residency here.”

“My master and I arrived today?” She did her best to smile back.

“Does she have a name?”

“What makes you think she is a woman?” she asked.

“This apartment has been owned by Lord Burwell for over a decade. He has moved in ladies ever since.” The man smiled at her and it made her feel like a fool.

“I am sorry about my ignorance,” she replied ashamed. “I am from Lonoke, my lady has sent me on an errand.”

The merchant was friendly, a furrier who specialized in hats and had wandering eyes that drifted down from her face as he was explaining to her how a nice white fox fur would enhance the colour of her eyes.

“I can’t afford such things,” Camille tells him, trying to be pleasant. Vallance had worked with her many hours on her tone.

“You should come by my place, it is that way.” he points down the street. “I think we could come to some arrangement.”

“I have to get these things for my master. She will get disappointed in me if I don’t hurry along.” Camille tells him, she then asks where a good merchant was for grains, trying to avoid getting annoyed.

“The ones with the green doors are for those wares. The commoners here can’t read so colours are on the doors to tell them what they are.” the merchant mentions. “My place will have a blue door if you change your mind. My neighbour sells nice gowns, you come by and I can get you a good price.”

Camille thanks him before he flirts anymore, she was being tested already, and it took all she had learned from Vallance not to slap the man.

She walked to the north side and observed the main square where a statue of some barbarian carrying a sword stood. Camille looked upon the Raines Bank as many passed by her to walk inside.

Two constables nodded, and both gave her an admiring glance when they passed. She could hear them laughing from a distance as she walked around the cobbled square. Her concentration broke as she noticed they erected a gallows where several men were hanging with yellow sashes tied to their ankles.

“A ghastly sight.” a man said standing next to her. He mentioned that they were dirty tossers and traitors who joined the Yellow Hand. She offered no reply, wondering which ward Edmund would dwell in, and abandoned the gawking onlooker to meander further down Old Street.

She noticed the first green door and walked through it. It was a small shop of open barrels filled with grains along with apples and nuts. The merchant was chattering to her while she looked. He looked shocked to have a customer, boasting he made most of his coin from renting rooms from the floors up above.

The people here dined on animal fat, gristle, and bones boiled with a little meat along with roots. Camille found their food atrocious and struggled to look at it when they dwelled in the Butcher’s Wail.

“What can I do you for miss?” the older balding merchant asked.

“I would like a dozen of your apples with a small sack of your flour, it is for my master and do you have any yeast? Honey, perhaps?” she asked with the small smile Vallance had made her practice. “Can you put a scoop of each nut you have in a sack as well?”

“I never sell it, the honey that is. The cost of a half-pint is a dozen silvers, too much for folks here. The other goods will run you six oaks.”

Camille handed the man the coin, taking him by surprise that she had such a sum. “You should be more careful, miss, even this street has pickpockets and will rob a woman, the wretches."

"I think the merchant near the brewery has honey. If you are interested, I have a lad that can come by each week to fetch your order. You pay him when he delivers and you won’t have any worries of thieves.”

Camille declined the man’s offer. It was better to not let anyone know where she lived. She needed no one knocking to peer inside their place or find out that two women lived all alone. It would tempt a rogue to rob them.

“It pleases me to have a customer. The lot is eating at the new inn on the end of the street. The man is like you, pale that is.” the merchant mentions. “He has the dockworkers spending all their coin on his foreign fancy ale,” he spat.

“I like to cook my meals. Thank you very much, sir.” Camille says to cut him off, leaving abruptly to end the merchants prodding questions.

She walks back to the courtesan’s apartment to drop off the sundries in the kitchens. Claire is brewing herself some tea, she greets her with an icy stare but keeps her remarks to herself. The woman sits in the front parlour in a green gown, sips her tea, and looks wounded as Camille is looking upon her from the kitchen doorway.

“I am sorry Claire for being blunt and discourteous to you. My temper hampers me sometimes, and I will need your help with my task.” Camille was doing her best to put warmth in her apology.

“You should be. I have been a doppelgänger for twenty years and have served our master faithfully, just as you have.” Claire says before taking a sip. “My mission is not some jape. I am to sleep with these men, pleasure them in indecent ways, and afterward read their dreams as they slumber. Master Peregrine wants to discover which one is funding this Yellow Hand.”

“And if you find out, who will kill him?” Camille asks.

“They are only interested in who, they couldn’t care less if he succeeds or not.”

“I apologize. I will do my best to aid you. Help me play the valet, a proper one and I will not let you down.” Camille stutters, finding it hard to ask for her help. Claire smiles at her then snickers.

“You don’t know how to start do you?” The courtesan asks giggling into a snort. “You have been training with Vallance for a month. I didn’t have my first assignment until my eighth year, the master has lost his wits to send you out here. Who is this man Camille that you are here to observe?”

Camille explains that the master had her mate with him. Peregrine told her it was all right to divulge that. Camille didn’t disclose the blood part, admitting that he was curious about the lad. She plays ignorant about why her task was to report what the man was doing and anything that seemed strange about him.

Claire rudely asks if the task was approved by the Nine, and Camille lies to her as Peregrine instructed, but the doppelganger’s face made Camille wary.

The courtesan didn’t press her; the trollop was afraid of her, and Camille was sure of that. Her standing with the master put her at an advantage in that neither she nor Vallance would try to cross her.

Peregrine’s ties to her were over a hundred years, and if she believed that one of them was reporting to Vaschon instead of the master. He would look the other way when she killed them, and for him, she would kill them without remorse.

“Are you in love with this man?” Claire asked in a mocking prod.

“I am not.” She held her breath and remained calm. That was the question Peregrine asked her over and over. It was easy to get angry and threaten him, but it was hard to stand here in front of another woman and lie to her.

The courtesan’s smile was a coy one. “I am happy we cleared the air,” she says while sipping her tea. The woman was beautiful Camille thought, elegant and dressed like a lord’s wife, skilled in the proper manners and her like a country dolt. “What do you know about him?” Claire asked.

“I remember that they had run-ins with this Yellow Hand months ago.”

“Then that is where you start. You listen and if a fool mentions this Yellow whatever, ask in ignorance you heard two Panheads had killed some a few months back." the woman suggested, smiling as if it was natural.

"How many men in Breeston have done that? Now I see why you are watching him. They could target him and if you can thwart it, then we can read one of these Brigands and get information.”

The curious courtesan gave her a crack to slip through as she agreed to that summation. “I wish I had brought honey, I should have stocked a few quarts,” Claire complains.

“I will find you some. We have the coin.” Camille replies to be friendly, exiting out the front door and taking more deep breaths outside to relieve her nerves. That woman will find me out. I have got to get better at lying.

This time she heads south while observing the traffic of the wagons as goods from the valley lands of Hayston were being emptied into the stores.

The wagons are escorted by the militia as the streets were littered with horse droppings as a small grouping passes back up the northern road while Camille walks in front of the brewery. She meanders past more wagons coming in from the south entrance, noticing another green door, and enters.

“How may I assist you, madame.” the man inside says, scurrying toward her after a long stare. “Can I help you find something?”

“Do you have honey? A gentleman mentioned that a merchant around here sold some?” She smiled and the man looked at her with a fool’s gape. He stood there fumbling his words as he happened to have a pint in a small chest under his counter.

“I hate to tell you this, but it will be twenty oaks.” he was older, beaming at her with a brown smile. “I know it is expensive, it’s a luxury to own this. I have beet sugar, it is cheaper, and I can let it go for nine.” the man was apologizing profusely.

She gave the man a gold falcon and his hand shook when it touched hers. “Thank you,” she said, being pleasant. Vallance told her a soft voice goes a long way with a savage man.

“It is my pleasure.” The man was all questions. He wanted to know where she lived and what she did. When he found out she was a servant, he asked her how much someone paid her and offered her a job.

“That is fine, I am happy where I am at. My master likes honey.”

“I bet he does.” the merchant smiles as he tries to straighten himself up while pushing out his chest. “The Nuhrish man at the old pillow house buys it. I have had this honey for over a year hoping to sell it and it nearly broke me.”

“I never thought a Nuhrish man could own anything, sorry, it is hard being foreign here,” Camille mentions as she takes the glass bottle from him.

“You must have not been here long, everyone knows the rolling dandy. He is a ward of Argyle Parson’s, the lad is half my age and has the whole ward turned upside down." the merchant shakes his head in jealousy.

"The whole dock eats there and sips that fancy ale.” the merchant says in ire then spits on his floor. “I shouldn’t complain about the coin he gives me, except he has stolen four of my tenants.”

“Edmund Parsons?” she asks in ignorance.

“You know him? You don’t work for him, do you? Oh, I should watch my tongue. He has a bunch of pretty women working there.”

Camille frowns coldly and the merchant winces, begging her pardon for his ill words. She thanks him in a curt tone then leaves as she walks further down wondering where he may be.

Her cloak is tight around her as the winter winds are making a presence in the city, midday she thought while peering around, so she stopped a lad and asked him where the place was that a Nuhrish man boards and owns a tavern.

The lad had a small slip of parchment in his hand and looked at her like she was the dumbest person in Breeston. “That is my lord. He owns this place” he says pointing to a large dwelling. “And I have to run an errand for him, excuse me miss.” the lad says as he runs off in haste.

“Your lord?” She thinks to herself and looks at what the lad had pointed at. What a place it was. The building was one of the largest in Breeston, only a few along the square were bigger.

The stone was white with a faint pink that seemed to cover it like a spider’s web. Someone carved the block in different patterns that gave it the appeal of a lord’s manse. She watched people come in and out and she thought the lad had told her wrong.

Camille walked closer and there were tables along the walk and then she saw him, sitting with a one-armed man, and when she got a better look at him it was Julius.

He looked dreadful to her; she wondered what tragedy had befallen him, but when she glanced back at Edmund, she had a fluttering rush through her spine into her stomach, a shiver, and Camille stood frozen with her cloak pulled down tighter over her head down to the top of her eyes.

They were smoking pipes and laughing like fools, dressed in nice cloaks and wools, wearing stupid hats with goons standing behind them like they were a pair of rich lordlings without a care in the world.

The two were sipping wine and looking about; she saw his face peer her way as she looked down and waited, gawking back as he was sipping on a goblet unaware she was there.

Camille had chills upon her and she was nervous. What is this? She was afraid, and she got startled as the lad she talked with earlier returned and startled her.

“You see it there, that is my lord’s place. They look out for me and I do whatever they tell me, fetch pails and feed the frookuhs. I go up on the roofs and water the plants. You need a job, he needs another tavern girl and you sure are pretty.”

“Am I?” she asks. The lad was a rambling thing in hemp wares and clean, he was chubby with a full belly, no wonder he was happy.

“I know Lord Julius would approve. He is in charge of the house, but Lord Edmund runs the rest. The girls fancy him most.” the boy says giggling at her.

She had a streak of anger run through her. “Bugger off lad before your lord tosses you back to the wards.” The kid gave her a mean glare and ran off.

Camille shook her head, turning back and hustling, cursing to herself and entering her quarters as Claire was sitting along a bench and reading a book.

“You found honey!” She was so excited. “It must have cost a fortune.”

Camille stood there and then the shakes came upon her. “What is wrong my lady?” the courtesan noticed.

“Nothing.” she bit back.

“You found him didn’t you?” Claire asks aghast. “You are crying, girl.”

“It’s nothing, an outburst of emotion,” Camille replies, trying to compose herself. “Peregrine told me-.”

“You are way past that.” Claire interrupted, wiping away her tears. “You need a goblet of wine, we have plenty in the kitchens. You get yourself flush and lie down, and we will discuss this later.”

She did what the courtesan suggested, lying down upon the meagre bed, and thoughts were stirring upon her. It was racing in fantasies and the wine had a potency as she had never been a drinker. The tingling soothed her as she stretched out; she smiled, and she didn’t rehearse it.

Camille discovered that she had fallen asleep, an action she rarely did. The god’s blood in her kept her body from fatigue, and rest was for the lesser breeds, and the savages needed hours.

She had joined the courtesan back in the parlour as she had a fire in the hearth, eating nuts with a dollop of the honey that Camille had bought earlier. She peered out the window and the sun was falling as she cursed herself for sleeping so late.

“You look better Camille, the wine appears to have helped, it is from Ethelly and has served me for years since I first discovered it. I do not mean to pry, but I hope that I can soothe some of what you have gone through today.”

She began her story of becoming a doppelgänger. Claire discovered that they train the female Grimm to be prostitutes. The Nine informed her it worked best for information, disappointing her that this was the only way offered to gather information.

Claire laughed during her training, the arrogance of her male instructors had given her in preparations of the art. They were clumsy lovers, eager to copulate with her, and never understood a woman at all. She had asked Camille who instructed her, surely not Peregrine as she laughed while Camille sat in silence embarrassed.

Claire began in Ethelly, partnered with a man like Vallance. He would pay for a girl, and he would incapacitate her with a tonic, and slip her out the windows of the pleasure houses.

She would read the strumpet’s thoughts and her partner would have sex with her, and since he was his charge, she could not complain.

They had found a girl, a unique one with dark skin and blonde hair. A rare thing in Ethelly and they kept her for a fortnight until she had all her thoughts within her.

Her partner killed the prostitute, made her corpse disappear, and then he beat Claire so she could stumble to the constables and declare someone took her. The woman worked her way into the pillow houses, and the madame cleaned her up to work the mattresses. She told Camille of her first, a fat disgusting pig of a man and the experience was horrible.

Claire laughed about her second, an attractive younger man who lost his seed after he finally got inside her. He had cried immediately because he had been saving his coppers for weeks, cursing in tears while being led out the door with little satisfaction.

Camille blushed as Claire boasted about an older man who was a tender lover and gave her the gift of ecstasy for the first time. The courtesan smiled looking back, but she said as the days went by it was a routine.

It was a sailor who had paid for her an entire night that enlightened her. The man knew his way around a woman, and she had lost her wits more than she could count as the man ravaged her in pleasure.

Claire could not get him out of his mind. She would think of him when others were on top of her, and then he returned and he chose her again. The man had brought her back to those pleasures, quivering as the man was the most patient of lovers and exhausted her in adoration.

Her new lover made bold promises, leaving back out to the seas, then returning and pleasuring her. He was all she could think about. She had strange thoughts in her head. Hoping that he would buy her freedom and take her off to be his wife.

“Thank the mother he never asked. I was in love and that foolish hope would have gotten me killed.”

“I need not be reminded of that folly,” Camille says, sipping on the pungent tea that Claire enjoyed so much. “I am not in love with him.” she protested but Claire continued.

“The man came back and my heart was fluttering. He came and kissed my hand, then walked to another, a new dark skin woman with blonde hair like the ruse I was wearing. It devastated me and I found out that all he fancied was my look. He had grown tired of me when another girl he fancied appeared.”

Camille pitied her as sorrow gripped Claire. She watched a tear form in her eyes as she continued. “I was so humiliated and laid like a dead fish when a patron, an old, unattractive man was having his way with me that night.

My lack of performance appalled the man, and he raised a ruckus pulling a dirk on me. He was wealthy, and the madam dealt with him, thankfully saving my life.”

“A lame whore is a dead whore, they told me.” she sighed. “The madame took pity on me, she was a good woman and she consoled me, but she was stern as well,” Claire remarked while setting her cup down.

“Never fall in love with these men, I was told. No matter the situation, or the next time you will feed the pigs, do not forget that.” Claire mentions with a sad look on her face while staring at her. “It was the best advice I had ever gotten.”

“How did you get past it?” Camille asked embarrassed.

The courtesan giggled at that. She informed Camille that the madame did her one more favour, having her bathed and pampered while the other girls blindfolded her and pleasured her in ways that only a woman knew.

Claire glanced at Camille with a stare that made her uncomfortable, she looked away from her as the courtesan laughed slightly.

“I remember looking for the first time at Peregrine, he still is the most beautiful man I have ever laid eyes on. The gift of beauty the god’s blood gives.” Claire continues.

“I am low-bred and have most men falling for me. One could only imagine what you look like without your falsehood. You wear the Nuhrish girl well, and it leaves a woman like me with devious thoughts.”

“I am not here to amuse you like some conquest.” Camille snaps at her. “I have confided in you, don’t play your games with me.”

Camille knew the woman had heard the stories about her.

The only Grimm woman who was beyond a half-breed, only a chieftains heir reached that purity, and it was this fascination from others, she had put up with her entire life.

Camille was a mistake, a twin not planned and unimportant. She was the only high-bred female in Grimm history to survive. She owed her life to Peregrine and was reminded about it from everyone, except her master who never put that burden upon her.

“You need to not wait, Camille. You need to run into him while he is on an errand. A chance encounter, how romantic it will be.” Claire smiles while pouring herself another tea. “You say little, he will do all the work for you.”

The courtesan then approaches her and runs her hands through her hair instructing Camille to pay attention. “You smile a little and act ashamed about your last meeting. Admit with a tear, you were under duress from your wicked old master.

If he is like any man, he will be obligated to save you. The barbarian male always falls for a wounded woman, an attractive one like you will have him in knots.”

“I don’t want to deceive him.”

Claire laughs at her and she gets embarrassed. “You have already done that, that is all the tools you have to work with. You are a Grimm, he has never seen our kind.”

The courtesan reaches toward her face but Camille makes it known to quit playing her games. “This is all you need, those sad green eyes you have.” she pushes her face into a smile. “Watch me and learn.” she pouts her lips and smiles a meek pitiful smile, panting and glaring at her in a mope.

“I don’t have words, Edmund. It shames me, standing here looking upon you.” her eyes well a bit, and she feigned a sob. “It overwhelms me to see you again, Edmund.” she exhales as if something was giving her hope.

“You have never left my thoughts,” a lone tear falls down her cheek. “Forgive me, I must go.” she then titters. “He will trip over his feet to comfort you.”

“You can borrow some of my rose water, he will smell that on you and grasp your hand. If he tightens his grip, you are his and he will believe your lie,” she adds. “You try to flirt but be firm, not to dishonour yourself.”

“He will feel guilty for having his way with you before and take his time courting you. You can lead him, make him visit you properly and when you are ready, give him a sample.” the courtesan smiled coyly at her.

“A kiss with a bit of tongue, then maybe you pull his head to your breast. You give him a morsel but hold back on the lovemaking until he looks like he may think his pursuits are for nothing. Then you let him have his way, but you drive the coach.”

“You are a scheming woman.” Camille looks at her in disdain.

“I can teach you. I can show you how to please him with your tongue.” Claire says while touching her knee. “If it helps, maybe I can pleasure you.”

“Shut your mouth, whore!” Camille blushed, and it angered her.

Claire laughed again, she even had that rehearsed, a slight giggle that made her breasts shake as she held fine linen to her face. “Let’s practice more, then you can go do your duty.”

The courtesan was in her element working with her, showing her many ways to converse with Edmund after she planned to bump into him.

She would try to embarrass Camille, making her blush like an utter fool. Hours had passed until the morning arrived. Camille had seen enough and decided that she had her confidence bolstered enough.

Claire kissed her lightly on the cheek to encourage her before she left. She did not like the woman’s mocking flirts.

Camille walked toward the inn, it seemed to take much longer this time as she was struggling to find courage. She pretended to be a patron to some neighbouring stores but kept her eyes glancing over at the inn.

The time had passed; she had run out of places, grown tired of flirts, and the snooty looks by the keepers who had hoped she would spend coin there. I should go in there and face him, just do my best even though both Vallance and Claire warned me not to. It had to appear like a coincidence.

She walked to a nearby tavern and chose to dine by a window, many approached offering assistance as if someone lost her or she was too stupid to be by herself. While finishing a heel of bread along with an apple, she almost missed him walking up Old Street with a lad in tow.

Camille rose while another offered his help to walk her home. She ignored the drab young dockworker, and when he reached out to insist she slapped him and told him to bollocks off.

The surrounding patrons laughed out in amusement as she dashed from the tavern. Camille didn’t want to appear in a desperate pursuit of Edmund, and as he passed the southern wagons, it relieved her when he paused, conversing with a merchant who was giving him pleasantries.

With her head down, Camille grew confident as she decided that this was the place and time.

“Where do you think you are going?” a voice startled her, and she turned.

It was Harwin, and the big brute was in his armour looking like a lost lummox searching for a battlefield. She backed away and tried to find an alley but he cut her off. “You leave him alone. Why are you stalking him?”

“I am not. I didn’t even see him.”

“You are still a poor liar. Where is Peregrine? We are having words.”

He reaches for her shoulder, but she pushes his hand away and slaps him. The lummox was startled at first, grabbing her wrists, and they struggled as he pushed her down an alley away from the traffic. She kicks him under the knee, wishing she had on boots as pain shoots through her foot wearing the feminine shoes that Vallance had bought for her.

“Damn you are strong.” the cretin shouts as she pulls her wrists free. She hits him in the nose, sends a knee to his groin, and then another strike with her palm into the cartilage between his nostrils, and he winces from the pain. It only angers him, and the brute slaps her hard in the face, the force sending her into a mud-brick wall.

Harwin grabs her from behind, but she elbows him across the chin, kicks him in the side of his knee, and then jabs his nose once more. The man is rugged and eats the pain while they are grappling as he tries to control her wrists with more vigour.

He can’t believe her stamina, cursing her loudly, but being bred with the god’s blood enhances her, and she nearly matches his strength.

Her aggression surprised him. Harwin adjusts his position, pushing her into the wall, and tries to grab her under her neck.

Camille is quick and drops under his lumbering arms and spins him into the wall unbalanced and tries to run out into the street. She curses as he is nimble for his size, grasping her by the cloak from behind and it catches her off balance when he pulls her towards him. Camille lifts her arms, slipping out of her sleeves, and then strikes him with a fist across his jaw.

“Wench!” he yells at her. They are both in the street with fists balled like mad sailors as they both look for Edmund, who had walked elsewhere. “Now what?” the lummox screams. “You want to fight until the constables arrive and arrest us. That will not go well for both of us.”

“If you don’t mind getting it handed to you by a woman, cretin.” she cursed him.

“I will not beat a woman but will get us arrested though. The people are looking at us, take me to Peregrine.”

“He is not my master anymore.”

“Liar. You better take me to him or I am coming your way.” Harwin growls to her as laughter surrounds them from the many onlookers.

She relents and tells him in a huff to follow her. He tries to push her, and she turns to yell back at him. “Don’t you run off. I am a constable and we will find you.”

He had her, and she cursed herself to get into such a compromise. Camille kept walking as they were near Claire’s dwelling. “What are you getting at? What are you up to? Peregrine would not-.”

“I told you, idiot, that he is not my master, another is,” she screams aloud.

Harwin nudges her toward the door and she pivots, striking him again, then in a haste, shoves her knee to his groin again as he catches her leg between his thighs and tries to restrain her. Camille frees her hands, slapping his jaw hard as Harwin cinches her hair.

“What is the meaning of this!” Claire shouts in the doorway. “Unhand my valet, you ignorant goon!”

Harwin stops and she rings his jaw again as he bites his lip hard from the strike. He curses at her as they are both howling insults like drunken soldiers at one another.

“Stop it, the both of you before they call the tossers.”

“Sorry, ma’am, I am a tosser.” Harwin collects himself. “We have a history, the unpleasant type. I am looking for her master, no need to concern you about this.”

“Camille is mine now, her master let her go. Unhand that woman and get out of the street.” Claire says while pointing at them to go inside.

Camille enters enraged as Harwin follows. Claire suggests he sits as she then looks at her, insisting she brings her and their guest tea.

She then pulls her chair close to his, close enough for him to straighten himself up while gawking like a fool at her.

“Is there a problem Camille?” she asks. “Go fetch the tea.”

The blunt command agitates Camille as she storms into the small kitchen and puts on a kettle, grumbling loud while Claire apologizes for her rough candour as Harwin remarks she has the courtesy of a boar hog. Claire snickers and defends her while she is steaming as the kettle boils over.

The courtesan flirts with him with that giggle of hers, compliments him, and goes into a tale of how unpleasant her journey has been so far, feigning grief as the dolt pities her.

Then the cretin asked Claire why she would hire such a dismal woman as Camille scowled at him while bringing the tea on a pewter platter.

She watches as the courtesan flirts, touching him along the shoulder, smiling slyly, and informing him she got Camille as a gift from one of her smitten regulars.

Her face showed him a warm smile as she tussled her shiny blonde hair, bewitching the fool into a loss for words.

“Did she tell you about her old twisted master?” Harwin asks as they glare at one another in hatred when she hands him a cup.

“Oh, why, no she hasn’t,” Claire replies dumbfounded, her reaction peeved Camille. “Surely, she will confide with me later.” She then turned the subject on him as he could not keep his eyes off her breasts, squeezed tight between a corset under a fine blue gown.

Claire complimented the idiot on being a constable and inquired about his unusual name which he modestly said he was a ward of Argyle Parsons, one of the richest men in the Triad.

“You must like being the soldier to toil away for hardly any coin.” The inquiry embarrassed him as she touched him by the hand. “I am a courtesan to the Guild, known through Lonoke as the Ethelly Peach, have you ever had a juicy peach?”

Her profession along with her lucid flirts had turned his face as red as his hair.

“I am here to entertain the lords from the Guild, being paid well for what I do.” Claire’s eyes had met his, and the cretin was at a loss for words. He almost looked tainted, but she didn’t know the Grimm art, it didn’t matter anyway, he was hers at the moment.

“You are a lordling? I assume that you will visit me as well for a night of entertainment?” she pouted her lips in a sly smile that almost made Camille laugh.

“I am not a rich man, orphaned, and it is a touchy story.”

“That is because you are an idiot and only qualify for menial labour, a brute who got the poor parts of his father’s seed.” Camille blurts out that gets a harsh rebuke from Claire.

“This man is our guest. I will not tolerate insults.” she then smiles at Harwin. “What a shame. I have had my share of lords and they are pudgy, lack stamina, and leave a woman like me longing for a man with vigour.” the strumpet then smiled as he looked at her in a stupor.

“You look like the type I have been waiting for, all those times I needed to be finished properly.”

She had her hands in his and he was fidgeting. Camille noticed he had a huge bulge in the front of his breeches and looked away as Claire noticed.

The excited buffoon tried to hide his stiffening by crossing his legs. A giggle followed from the courtesan as the brute shook his cup until he put it down on the table.

“So tell me Sir Harwin, what is this history you are so in a fuss about?”

The brute told his story of their venture from Breeston, the long-winded tale lacked no polish as he explained Peregrine’s sad shape when they left, his recovery that was too remarkable, the squabbles they had along the way about the chest, and the skirmish in Faust.

“The healer bribed his way out, they released us in Lonoke like prisoners, and then I caught her later after she seduced my brother like a prostitute,” he tells her shaking his head in anger.

Claire laughed loudly at the remark, wanting to know when lovemaking became illegal, she replied in a jape.

Harwin told her about the claw marks on his back. “He must have been quite a lover, Camille. You need to share this with me in private.” she giggled which Camille found embarrassing.

“Please, tell Harwin your story, it should ease his mind.”

She went into her lie just like she rehearsed, but reliving the memory about the whole folly of the venture and all that came to her mind was her conversation with Peregrine.

Do you want to see him again? he asked, and she felt upset, trying to hold back tears, and then a wave of anguish struck her, sending her into an embarrassing sob.

“The attack, Edmund was blinded. He was so valiant and was almost killed by that rancorous powder. I was so fortunate that Peregrine pushed me away. It killed those men in such dreadful ways.” Camille looked to Harwin who was gaping at her in pity. “It is true, he bribed that captain and it ended up rotten for them.”

“Edmund was improving, and the master felt he wanted to make sure he was ok, but I wanted to feel relief in his recovery. I felt guilty. He was foolishly brave.” She explained with more tears welling in her eyes.

“He sent me because I infatuated Edmund, and the master knew that. His brother said I was beautiful in that stable, and I never heard such kind words.” She wasn’t having to tell that much of a lie, she whispers inward. “I wore a soft linen and removed it and we shared one another.”

“Camille, you never told me you were so damaged. In your state, I am afraid you could be a liability for me.” Claire remarks with her hands up in theatrics.

“Please madame, do not dismiss her. The healer was a wicked man, and she was loyal to him. She was dutiful and put in duress.” Harwin pleads, jumping to her defence like a gullible idiot. Camille looked at him shocked as the courtesan rose and thanked him for his integrity.

“I will give you another chance Camille, but if I see another instance like what I witnessed in the street, out you go,” Claire warns as Harwin praises her, bowing and kissing her hand. The lummox then asked for her pardons, he had to get back to his errands.

“Will you tell your brother?” Claire asks, and the mood went silent. Harwin stood still, looking at her with a grimace. Camille could tell he was still sour.

“I don’t want him hurt, he is doing well, and she speaks true. He is infatuated with that crude woman, probably the only woman he ever slept with, no matter how much he denies it.”

“She needs a training mate, I don’t want her sword hand getting slow,” Claire says in haste. “I didn’t want to hire her, she is too pretty for a valet. Do you think she is prettier than me?” Her vanity was putting him in an uncomfortable moment.

Harwin looks at Camille long with a mean glare. “The dress suits her. I know she is fair, but her manners turn me sour. You are more than beautiful.” he tells her. “I am not interested in spending time with her, we don’t mix well.”

“That is a shame, I will feel sad to see you go?” Claire sighs. “Is your brother the warrior? Maybe he can spar with Camille, she needs the company and you can come as well and entertain me,” she adds with a coy look, smiling while nudging him by the arm.

“I have to go, ma’am. It has been a pleasure.” Harwin replies with a slight blush then looks at Camille. “My lady,” he says kindly as he opens the door and leaves.

Claire looks out the window at him. “That is a man there. I hope he takes me up on that offer.”

“We don’t need him here, he is a cretin.”

“His brother is like him?” Claire asks her which makes her blush.

“A smaller version, but much kinder and wiser for a young age.”

She laughs at her in that annoying giggle.

“You lied down with a boy and made a man out of him, he will never forget his first.” she teased her. “You should thank me, when that cretin, as you call him, mentions this to your lover. He will come running.”

“This is not funny.”

“Sure it is.” she giggled again. “You saw that bulge in his pants. I noticed you looked away, but you admired it, I know I did.”

“You are immature,” Camille says as she goes to the kitchen to make her something to eat. Claire follows her, fawning over the lummox, and then laughs about Peregrine sending her out like a common strumpet.

Camille then gets heated and puts the courtesan up against the wall. “Who are you loyal to?” she screams at her.

Her reaction alarmed Claire as Camille presses a small dagger she had hidden in her gown to her cheek. She pleads that she serves Peregrine only; she wells tears from Camille’s malice, begging her to let her go.

“Say nothing about this to Peregrine or Vallance. You breathe a word about this discussion to anyone, and I will feed you your entrails. You got it, wench?” Camille says in a cruel tone.

“They say you are crazy,” Claire says while collecting herself. “Your ignorance will bollocks up this mission.”