A mountain-sized corpse sprawled before Aj.

Proof it could be done.

Already Aj felt the difference;

subtle changes woven deep.

An unraveling.

When they all lay dead

would their verse die too?

Hassani sank into fighting stance, hand on hilt. "Who's there?"

A stringed instrument thrummed. Movement stirred in the shadows leading to the collapsed courtyard. "Merely a lost musician in search of his supper."

She snorted. "Strange how you became lost exactly where and when I did."

"Fate, perhaps." Movement at the gloom's edge. Long hair spilled into the light.

Her heart sped up. "You're the man from the statue."

"And you are a woman statuesque." Another thrum of the instrument.

"Who do you work for?" She relaxed slightly, but left her hand on her sword hilt. "Why are you here?"

He plucked a little ditty as he stepped fully into the light to look her over with free appraisal. She flushed and ran a self-conscious hand through her untidy hair.

"Successful artists seek patronage wherever it may arise. A picky musician's a hungry musician." He smiled. Her heart fluttered. "Who do you work for?"

A wary bit of her mind urged restraint on several levels, but her body felt differently. In her Inviolate training they'd warned of rare Lineages whose practitioners manipulated thoughts or feelings. A protective mantra drilled into her through a thousand repetitions began to repeat in her head.

Her uniform made his question obvious, but she answered anyway. "I am an Inviolate, agent of the Black Court."

"Ah, so your employment philosophy mirrors my own." He watched two colorful birds darting through a hole in the ceiling, chirping and wheeling about. "They wing a courtship dance, though both of them sing whereas I hear only my own music drifting between us."

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"I don't have many patrons, just the one." Maybe the mantra didn't work. Maybe she'd memorized it wrong. Maybe he simply looked at her as woman, not a brood mare and work beast. Whatever the reason, she wanted his lips on hers more than she could remember wanting anything else.

"The one?" He laughed and took a nonchalant step closer. She wavered between maintaining space or rushing to him. "Have you seen the face of whomever gave your orders? Who is the Black Court?"

"The Dynasty," she said automatically. "I serve the Dynasty."

He tilted his head. "If I love my family, would that mean I revere my mother, father, or siblings more? Who among them do I follow? Who do I question? If I could save only one, who would it be?"

"That's different. The Dynasty is-"

"A thousand Dynasts each more power-hungry and self-interested than the last and ten times as many Verser Lords and Ladies, generals, and bureaucrats. You must know of the Book's Chapters? The Ancients, the Fractious Fraction, the Isolates, and on and on? How could you not? Yet you treat the mysterious, anonymous Court as an individual with singular goal and purpose... curious." He took another step closer, watching her through a veil of hair. "You fascinate me."

Hassani recoiled, stumbling on rubble. His words plucked a string of nagging doubt growing increasingly taut ever since her promotion to Assessor. She struggled to regain her footing.

Her mind refused to assess him as threat against her body's ache for him. "For a musician, you know a surprising amount about Dynastic politics. A suspicious amount even. Who are you really?"

"Merely learning someone's name is an act of intimacy, isn't it? Converting stranger into acquaintance opens a door for them into your life. Are you sure you want to risk that?" He stepped yet closer. Hassani flushed and trembled at his proximity. Fighting the desire made it worse. How long had it been?

He didn't wait for her to answer. "I am Adonissian, humble servant to inspiration, a slave to its whims and desires. Would you gift me with your name that I might let my tongue touch upon it?"

When he moved forward to lean against a tilted beam beside her, she ducked under his arm to slip away. She felt lightheaded. His brazen, relentless pursuit left her hot and wet. She craved him in a way she'd craved few other things in her life. Her whole being urged giving in, letting herself have what was clearly meant to be.

Except a tiny voice in her head screaming in warning.

"You know so much about me already." She struggled to catch her breath, backing away to buy a moment to compose herself. "Surely you know of my marriage. Tell me about myself if you so wish to put your tongue to use in my service."

Adonissian's smile gleamed with a predatory edge as he advanced, oozing charm. His plucked tune tugged her memory. A dirty ballad she'd heard emanating from Broadcliff's brothel when she'd peeked in; curiously as child, guiltily as a young woman.

"I know your husband's an idiot, madman, or both to let you stray from his side."

A horrible image struck her like a slap: her husband and Avani curled together on the floor, soaked in his blood. She staggered in her slow retreat across the hall. A fallen beam rolled beneath her foot, stumbling her.

"And you, Hassani Jaxekin, are enchanting and strong, a tenacious whirlpool capturing me in its pull, drawing me irresistibly." He stopped, as if struggling to restrain himself. "I throw all my art and skill, body and soul at your feet. Use me as you will."

He knelt before her, hair falling in a cascade across his face. She groaned and took an involuntary step towards him. Her hand reached to touch him and she knew if she did it would be over. His hair tickled her fingers. A bead of perspiration slid down his forehead in the muggy humidity.

It all clicked together in an instant, desire turning to disgust between heartbeats.

She stepped back, hand returning to her sword. Despite her realization, she still craved him the way a woman dying of thirst might still crave poisoned well water.

"Well done, Adonissian. You do your anonymous employer great credit. That said, your aphrodisiac nature won't work any further. Phero."

He froze, head still bowed. She settled into her stance, gripped her sword, and spared a flickering glance to be sure they were still alone.

They weren't.

At least half-a-dozen figures had populated the shadows while he wooed her. She pretended not to notice, taking deep breaths and softening her gaze to expand her peripheral vision while she waited for the Phero to make his next move.