Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 80

Flea Bottom was far from pleasant. The foul stench that hung in the air could turn the stomach of anyone unaccustomed to it, a mix of rot, smoke, and something worse. The streets were so overcrowded it was nearly impossible to avoid colliding with passersby at every step.

"Stay close." Aenyra whispered over her shoulder to Jace.

He nodded quickly, clutching the hem of her cloak as if his life depended on it, desperate not to lose her in the throng. But the press of bodies surged against him, and in an instant, someone shoved past. His grip slipped. He staggered, heart pounding, and panic clawed at his chest as the tide of strangers closed in around him.

Faces turned his way, annoyed and curious eyes flicking over him as if they already knew he didn't belong or were made he was in there way.

Then a hand seized his, steady and firm.

"What did I tell you?" Aenyra's voice cut through his dispair as she pulled him back to her side. "This place is easy to get lost in, and the people are unforgiving. Especially if they learn who you are."

"I'm sorry." Jace muttered, relief flooding him at the sight of her. He squeezed her hand, clinging to the grounding presence of his sister as she guided him forward through the chaos.

After weaving through the crowded streets for what felt like an eternity, they reached the quieter stretch of the Streets of Silk. With fewer people around, Aenyra finally loosened her grip on his hand, though her voice stayed sharp when she whispered again, "Alright, this time actually stay close."

They passed one brothel after another, each more enticing than the last, perfumed air spilling from open doors, laughter and moans drifting into the street. Lanterns swayed, casting everything in warm, inviting colors, but Aenyra kept her hood low and her pace steady.

She halted suddenly in front of a smaller, more elegant establishment. Its doors were shut tight, as if the place were closed, but even here the faint perfume lingered. Just as she paused, the doors swung open, and a group of men spilled out into the street, drunk and laughing, swapping stories of their pleasures inside.

Aenyra and Jace slipped in behind them. At once, they were struck by the heavy, intoxicating air. The scent of sweat and perfume mingled thickly, pressing against them as they took in the scene. Every corner was filled with bodies entwined in passion, the sound of gasps and laughter wrapping around them until it was impossible to tell where one ended and another began.

Although Aenyra was no stranger to the pleasures of intimacy, it had been far too long since she had felt such sensations for herself. The sight before her stirred an ache she longed to rekindle with Aemond, a heat that curled low in her belly as the cries and laughter of passion echoed around her. She forced her eyes forward, steadying her breath, though she could feel Jacaerys's discomfort trailing behind her like a shadow. Still, she pressed on, unwilling to let the moans and the writhing bodies Sway her from her purpose.

A naked woman sauntered past, her steps languid, hips swaying with the ease of one well-used to the trade. Aenyra reached for her.

"Excuse me," she called, her voice even despite the heat clawing at her skin. "Can you direct me to Lady Mysaria—or, as some call her, White Worm?"

The woman halted, bleary-eyed, her tangled hair a nest of curls, skin mottled with purplish-red bites scattered across her chest and neck. Her lips were swollen, glistening as if freshly kissed raw. Without a word, she raised a trembling finger toward the stairwell, then drifted off again into the haze.

Aenyra and Jace ascended, each step muffled against the worn wood until they reached a single closed door.

Aenyra knocked softly, yet firmly enough to command notice. For a moment, silence lingered. Then she eased the door open, the hinges groaning as though reluctant to reveal what lay inside.