She kept the paper under her mattress. Every few nights, she took it out, puzzling over it. Wondering if it was some kind of code.

A few days later, when Nyx clearly hadn’t turned Rhea in, the courtesan passed the mercenary another note.

The key to the cypher.

It was a page from an ancient book of fables. On the left was an ink drawing of a woman in a long black dress peppered with stars. Her hair curled around her face. The moon shone above her head like a crown. The woman seemed peaceful, serene. Nyx traced the illustration with a fingertip, hours before the dawn on Tholos. The page spoke of the Goddess—the Maiden, the Mother, the Crone. Nyx had never heard of a goddess, only of the gods.

Rhea had scribbled on the page in red ink. She’d circled the letters of the alphabet and added a number above. It took Nyx hours, but eventually, she decoded the message.

It was a time and a place. Rhea wanted to meet tomorrow.

Nyx didn’t sleep for the rest of that night. What did she want? Would Nyx open the door to see Damocles, eyes bright with the knowledge that he’d caught a pretender in his midst? A disloyal soldier, fit for nothing but an honorless death, her cohort not even allowed to grieve her.

The next night, she went to the location: a room off of the Pleasure Garden with a discreet back entrance for those who didn’t wish to announce their arrival and exit.

Inside was what Nyx expected, though she’d never visited a courtesan. Rich colors, a comfortable bed, soft lighting. Flowers, a fountain in the corner. In another was a cage, its door open. A small red bird rested on Rhea’s finger, preening.

Nyx closed the door behind her.

“Am I being executed or not?” Nyx asked, not seeing the point in pleasantries.

The other woman looked like she was about to laugh. “That’s what you thought? And you still came?” A pause. “I’m glad you read my notes.”

“I burned them,” Nyx said. She’d hated to watch that moon goddess go up in flames.

“That was wise.” Rhea settled back against the pillows of the bed. The bird hopped to her shoulder.

“Is it real?” Nyx couldn’t help but ask. She hadn’t seen one like that, not in a color so vivid.

The little bird nuzzled Rhea’s cheek. “No, but it’s close enough.”

“Are you sure it doesn’t have a camera in it?” she asked.

The other woman’s smile faded. “The Pleasure Gardens are the least surveilled part of the palace for obvious reasons. This room, in particular, was designed for discretion with Damocles.”

“Don’t care. Turn that thing off.”