Judith hesitated. Zoe had changed her tack too quickly for Judith’s liking. Nor did she like the sound of the “more congenial work” Zoe indicated she would find her. The idea of doing any work at all in a brothel filled her with horror. However there was no point in alienating Zoe—not yet.

“My thanks.” Judith lowered herself on to one of the satin cushions and gave a cautious smile. The whites of Zoe’s eyes gleamed across at her.

“Try this.” Zoe proffered a goblet brimming with an amber liquid. “’Tis a blend of fruit juices that I do not believe you have in your country. I think you will enjoy it.”

Judith tasted it warily. The juice was sweet and tangy, slightly thick, with a hint of bitterness. “’Tis very pleasant,” she admitted, “very refreshing.”

Zoe’s red lips smiled at Judith over the rim of her cup. “Perhaps now you would be good enough to tell me a little about yourself,” she suggested, easing her plump body deeper into the cushions.

Judith was staring in fascination at the intricate pattern engraved on her gilt goblet. She wrenched her eyes back to meet those of her companion.

“Your former life sounds most interesting,” Zoe said, encouragingly.

Judith groped for the words. How could she begin to explain to this strange woman what life as an outlaw in Mandeville Chase had been like? How could this pampered, sensual woman begin to comprehend the motives of someone who would have chosen the life of a beggar rather than submit tamely to a tyrant lord? She sipped at her drink.

Zoe was still smiling. There was something about that smile—it was hard to respond to it. Judith did not like Zoe, for all her smiles. She looked instead at the mother-of-pearl inlay on the table. The pink and blue shells shimmered in the lamp light.

“Well?” Zoe prompted.

“Oh. Oh, aye.” Judith mumbled.

Zoe’s smile froze, her face was very dark. Painted nails clutched at her goblet like the talons of a bird of prey closing on its victim.

The pinks and blues on the table swirled together. It made Judith dizzy to look at it. They must have skilled craftsmen indeed to make such beautiful things—so complicated…

The metal goblet slipped from Judith’s grasp. There was a dull clank and it rolled across the tiles. The juice fanned out slowly across the floor.

Judith opened her mouth to apologise for her clumsiness. No words came out. She was slipping sideways, falling down, down into the satiny, soft cushions. She tried to move her limbs, but could not. She was trapped in a silken web, caught fast, a fly trussed up in a spider’s larder.

“Stupid, stupid,” she muttered thickly, struggling to resist the drowsiness creeping up on her. “Prisoner in a pearly palace.” Her eyelids felt weighed down, her eyes were closing. She couldn’t even fling an angry glance at Zoe, to show her she knew she had been betrayed by the drink.

But Judith could at least resist in her mind. They could not take away her will. They could chain her body with their foul potions, but they would never, never chain her mind.

Zoe rose with a fluid grace and pinched Judith’s cheek.

Judith did not move.

For a moment Zoe stared down at the slight figure sprawled across the silks. Zoe’s swarthy, painted face showed no emotion, but the yellow lamp light glistened on a tear-track running down one flawless cheek. “Forgive me, my dear,” she whispered. “’Tis always worse for those with a will. Once I thought as you. But now I am theirs, mind and body. Mind and body.”

She woke to hear a low whispering close by. Even as she strained to hear it, the muttering ceased. It was replaced by the unmistakable chink of coins being counted out on to a hard surface. She swallowed. She knew what that meant. She wriggled her fingers experimentally and sought mastery of her limbs. Another faint murmur spurred her efforts. Silks swished across marble tiles. A door clicked shut. She made out the scraping of a bolt being shot home. She’d been left with one of Balduk’s patrons, and she’d only the strength of a kitten to help her resist.

Judith waited, eyes shut fast, every nerve stretched to the limit. The silence was so absolute it was unnatural. At length, hoping against hope she’d been granted a reprieve, she forced her eyelids open.

She found herself lying on a couch in a pool of light. The rest of the chamber was black as sin. She could see no one else. The light was provided by two wall sconces, and a flickering oil lamp on the table in front of her. A brass ewer winked out from amid a host of ceramic dishes all overflowing with food. She licked her lips and frowned. She was so thirsty. Dared she drink?