Free Jeweled by Anya Bast

almost protective gesture. “What do you want, Lilya?”
    Evangeline took her in—from her classy, expensive heeled boots to her fur-lined coat to her perfectly coiffed hair. Her makeup was minimal, her accent educated. Her glossy dark hair hung in voluptuous, artful curls around her shoulders. This was a courtesan from the Temple of Dreams. It was the only way a woman dressed so richly could travel these streets right now, middle class or not.
    The woman smiled and dropped her hand. “That’s smart. I wouldn’t say my intentions are completely innocent, so maybe you shouldn’t trust me. All the same, you’re hungry, aren’t you? Cold? You look like you could use a warm fire about now. In need of shelter?”
    Neither of them replied.
    “I’ll take that as a yes.” Lilya turned and walked toward the street. “Come with me if you’d like to eat and maybe I can find you somewhere safe to lay your head tonight. All I desire is a few moments of your time, during which I can provide you both with options.” She glanced over her shoulder and offered an annoyingly confident smile. “You could both use some options right now, couldn’t you?”
    Evangeline turned to look at Anatol. He stared at the back of the retreating woman, his jaw locked and his blue eyes intense. “Anatol? What do you think?”
    He glanced at her. “We go with her, but not too far. We need to be careful. Keep your eyes open and stay aware.”
    She agreed.
    They followed the woman to a nearby cook shop, where the scent of fresh baked bread and meat pies made Evangeline’s stomach forget its earlier revulsion and remember it hadn’t been filled by anything of consequence in over a day.
    Lilya guided them to a table near the kitchen and gestured for them to sit down. Evangeline couldn’t see the harm, so she sat, soaking up the heat from the fire in the hearth and letting it sink into her frigid limbs.
    Anatol hesitated a moment longer, eyeing Lilya with a glittering and suspicious gaze. Lilya peeled her gloves off, set them on the table, and stared up at him with a challenge in her eyes. “You remind me of me many years ago, after I’d lost everything. Sit.”
    He sat.
    The waiter came to the table, dislike of the two poorly dressed patrons clear on his face. He eyed them. “I don’t think—”
    Lilya held up a hand, cutting off his sentence. “These are friends of mine.” Her voice was steel.
    “Very well.” The server’s shoulders slumped in defeat.
    Lilya ordered. “A baked chicken, boiled potatoes, whatever vegetables you have in season, and a bowl of steamed rice, please. Enough for two. Oh, and three glasses of wine.” The server retreated to the kitchen.
    “You’re doing this to make us grateful to you,” leveled Anatol from his seat across from Lilya. “Why?”
    “How do you know I’m not simply a helpful person, giving aid to those who need it?”
    “You’re from the Temple of Dreams,” Evangeline countered.
    Lilya’s face went from surprise to slyness. “I see I’m not the only one with the power of keen observation.”
    “Your position is secure,” Evangeline continued. “Why would you care about us? We’re perfect strangers and have no power. We can do nothing for you.”
    Lilya’s face took on an expression of pity. “Do you really think the only reason to help another is for personal gain?”
    Evangeline’s shoulders straightened. “It’s how the world works.”
    Lilya shook her head. “Not my world. Tell me your names.”
    Anatol seemed to relax a little even as Evangeline’s anxiety racheted upward. He leaned back in his chair. “My name is Anatol and this is Evangeline. I don’t need to tell you where we came from or what our circumstances are because you’ve already figured all that out.”
    Lilya leaned toward him and whispered, “You’re nobles hiding out from the raid on the palace.”
    Anatol hesitated. “No, we’re J’Edaeii.”
    Evangeline leaned forward and gave an alarmed