He could almost hear their footsteps growing nearer, the sound of their jeweled heels clicking against the flagstone. Perfume and laughter washed ahead of them like waves.
Then they saw him.
"Speak of the devil," murmured one of the women.
"The Lady's darling pet."
They approached, the rustle of fabric and perfume filling the air.
Jaenor straightened, schooling his features into a polite smile.
"My ladies," he said smoothly, bowing.
"You honor me with your attention."
He could tell, judging by their flushed expressions, they were all drunk. They didn't ask him why he was there or what he was doing.
Viviannah's gaze lingered. "Tell me, sweet boy—what does she see in you? I imagine it isn't conversation."
He met her eyes without flinching. "If I knew, my lady, I'd bottle it and sell it to every jealous man in the realm."
Their laughter was soft and wicked, curling through the air like smoke. Their gaze lingering on him, taking in his full frame.
