She chanced a glance at the courtesans, who were shocked and still, hands on each other, hands on him. Nara shifted his weight but didn’t speak. Offered him two? I haven’t offered him any. I tried to stop him.

‘Holy lord?’ she said carefully.

‘Where are the rest?’

‘L-lord?’ What rest? Two was the limit. He’d never had more than two.

‘The rest,’ he roared.

The courtesans yelped and then giggled, shocked, at the Great Octave’s humiliation. They thought they’d have a story to tell the others in the morning. They thought they’d still be alive.

‘More,’ Xac bellowed as he put a hand around each man’s neck and dragged them to him as if to suckle. ‘Bring me more. More, you fucking bitch, more!’

Enet fell to her face in worship to let his ire wash over her, but he ripped off her headdress and hauled her upright by her hair. ‘As the great Singer commands,’ she gasped, clinging to his arm for balance. The courtesans weren’t giggling any more; the courtesans were afraid.

He tossed her down as if she were a corn doll and pulled one of the youths into his lap. His hand disappeared around his back for the stone knife hidden in his belt. Enet centred herself and returned to kneeling, ignoring her ruined hair, the stinging in her scalp. She put her hands in her lap and waited to be summoned into blood and death and orgasm.

‘I. Said. More,’ the Singer growled and she finally understood. He wanted more and he wanted them now. Seven days, and more than two. The Singer’s bloodlust was a starving jaguar and it had claws and teeth firmly fixed in his spirit.

The song pulsed and raged and the courtesan in the Singer’s lap was chasing the gold sparkles in his skin with his lips and tongue, moaning artfully. The Singer brought hand and knife from behind his back and met Enet’s eyes. He pointed the blade at her. ‘More.’

Enet bowed and rose, because there was no other choice, and walked from the source with her mind whirling. Despite everything, she looked back with concern. The first man would die, surprised, too late to struggle, but the other … The second one was always the most dangerous for the Singer, half-sated with death as he was. Enet herself had been forced to step in a time or two to stop a slave with nothing to lose from attempting to kill his lord. Nara met her eyes and hefted his club; despite everything, he would do his duty.

Enet turned into the corridor that would take her to the courtesans’ rooms and found herself face to face with Councillor Yana. The old eagle stood straight and proud and very, very cold. Shame flushed her and she forced it away. ‘Councillor,’ she murmured, ‘watch over him while I am gone.’