“If you"re gonna do the cloak-and-dagger routine, you might consider a darker alley,” he told her.
“What concern of yours is that?” she snapped. “Besides, dark alleys are spooky.”
He could see the fine, classic lines of her face, the perfect nose, the luscious lips. “They don"t find dead dames in bright alleys.”
“Precisely my point, Doukas,” she snarled, mispronouncing his name like a homophobic slur. “I"ve a special assignment for you. One which has the bouquet of a fine Metaxa.”
He immediately went on high alert. As exalted as it was rare, Metaxa was a distilled blend of brandy, spices, and wine from Pelopone VI. Nearly no one except the Imperial Family could afford it. Nearly no one but the Imperials drank it. He knew what she meant but he didn"t say it: Orders from the Palace.
“Yo
