The Hybrid Luna birthright

Chapter 13

Rashi’s POV

I stumbled through the back entrance of the Blue Lantern House, holding the heavy cloak Madam Lysca had given me as if it were a shield against the world that wanted me dead. I found myself in a bustling corridor that smelled of expensive oils, far removed from the cold stone scent of the castle I had just fled.

When I knocked, a hefty tall man opened the door. “Who are you?” he asked, looking at me as if I was filth.

“I'm here to see Melyn, I was sent by Madam Lysca.”

He scanned me from head to toe. “Follow me!” His baritone voice yelled. I followed until we reached a large dressing room where a woman I assumed to be Madam Melyn was pacing back and forth in front of a line of beautiful girls.

"I need someone who knows the difference between a trade tariff and a peace treaty," Melyn shouted, throwing her hands up in frustration. "The client is high-profile, he specifically requested someone intelligent who can discuss politics and commerce, not just someone who knows how to flutter her eyelashes."

The girls looked at each other with blank expressions, clearly terrified of the angry woman and completely lost regarding her request.

"Well?" Melyn demanded, stopping in front of a girl with fiery red hair. "Can you discuss the southern grain imports?"

"I... I can dance," the girl stammered, looking at her feet.

"Useless," Melyn hissed, moving to the next one. "What about you? Can you hold a conversation about the pack’s economy without giggling?"

"I am good at listening," another girl offered weakly.

"Listening is not enough tonight," Melyn groaned, rubbing her temples as if she were fighting a migraine. "Is there not one of you who has opened a book in the last year?"

I stood in the shadows of the doorframe, listening to her desperation. I needed a place to hide, and Lysca had told me to do whatever this woman said. If she needed someone to talk about politics, I could do that because I had spent my childhood loving politics and reading every book I could find to understand it.

"I can do it," I announced, stepping into the light.

Melyn spun around, taking in my disheveled appearance and the servant's cloak wrapped around my shoulders.

"And who are you?" she questioned, looking me up and down with skepticism.

"I was sent by Madam Lysca," I replied, keeping my voice steady despite the fear churning in my stomach. "From the castle."

Melyn’s expression shifted instantly from annoyance to understanding. "Ah, the girl who broke the perfume."

I flinched at the mention of my crime, but I nodded. "She said you would help me."

"I can help you if you can help me," Melyn stated, walking closer to inspect me. "Do you really know about politics and commerce, or are you just trying to secure a bed for the night?"

"I read the council records in the library when I was supposed to be dusting," I lied slightly, though I had read enough history to fake it. "I can hold a conversation."

"She has a spark," Melyn muttered to herself, grabbing my chin and turning my face to the light. "And under all that grime, she is stunning."

"I am ready to work," I assured her, assuming she meant cleaning or serving drinks to these high-profile guests. "I am a hard worker, Madam."

"Good," Melyn decided, clapping her hands. "Come with me immediately because the client is waiting, and he is not a man who likes to be kept on hold."

She grabbed my wrist and pulled me down a hallway, bypassing the other girls who looked relieved to be dismissed. We entered a private room filled with racks of silk gowns and tables covered in paints and powders.

"Strip," Melyn ordered, pulling a gown of shimmering midnight blue from a rack.

"Here?" I asked, hesitating.

"We do not have time for modesty," she snapped, tossing the dress onto a chair. "The client wants intelligent and mysterious, so we are going to give him a goddess."

I quickly removed my servant's dress, confused by the extravagance of the dress she wanted me to wear. It was sheer and delicate, far too fine for a maid, but I assumed this was just the uniform for a high-end establishment.

Melyn worked fast, applying powders to my face to hide the bruises from the castle and accentuating my eyes with dark liner. She brushed my hair until it shone, arranging it over my shoulders to hide the marks on my neck.

"You look like royalty," she commented, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

I looked in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back. I looked powerful, beautiful, and nothing like the frightened servant who had scrubbed floors only hours ago.

"Now, listen to me," Melyn instructed as she led me back into the hallway. "This client is special; he does not want noise. He wants to talk. You listen, you respond intelligently, and you keep him entertained. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Madam," I replied, thinking that entertaining a guest with conversation was a small price to pay for safety from the Luna.

We walked until we reached a heavy wooden door at the end of a quiet corridor. Melyn paused, smoothing a stray hair from my forehead.

"He is inside," she whispered. "Do not disappoint me."

She pushed the door open and ushered me inside.

The room was dimly lit, smelling of expensive tobacco. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the plush furniture. A man sat in a high-backed velvet armchair with his back to me, holding a glass of amber liquid in his hand.

"Here she is, my lord," Melyn announced, her voice dripped with professional charm. "The perfect one I told you about. She is intelligent, discreet, and very eager to meet you."

The man stood up slowly, placing his glass on the small table beside him. He turned around, the firelight caught the sharp angle of his jaw and the familiar, intense eyes that had haunted my dreams since the night of the ceremony.

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart stopped beating for a terrifying second. It wasn't just a random nobleman or a wealthy merchant seeking company.

"Brail?" I gasped, the name slipped from my lips before I could stop it.

He looked at me confused. I stood there paralyzed, trapped in a room with the son of the woman who wanted to kill me, dressed like a courtesan, and realizing too late that I had just walked straight back into the lion's den.