Rose Belladonna wanted the crown, and the crown lived past that gate. The kingdom's most scandalous pleasure festival crowned one queen each year, and Rose meant to reign. But the gatekeeper blocked the entrance with a thick arm. He held up his palm and waited. "Sponsor's token," he said. "No token, no entry. Everyone pays their way in." Rose had no token. She had no coin either, and no clothes. She never wore them. She hated the way fabric hid what a body could offer. She stood bare and calm while the line behind her whispered. The gatekeeper looked her over and shrugged. "Skin's cheap here, girl. Half the crowd's naked. Come back with a sponsor." Rose stepped out of the line. She would not beg, and she would not leave. A sponsor gave tokens. So she needed to find one and make that person want to spend it on her. A silver-haired elf leaned against a post near the gate, watching the whole exchange. She wore a wine-red dress slit high on one thigh. Gold cuffs ringed her wrists. Her violet eyes tracked Rose the way a cat tracks a moth. This was Sylara Moonwhisper, and half the festival knew her name. She sponsored newcomers, but only ones who amused her. "You didn't flinch," Sylara said. She pushed off the post and circled Rose slowly. "He tried to shame you and you just walked away. I like that." "Shame is a leash," Rose said. "I don't wear those either." Sylara laughed, low and pleased. She reached into a fold of her dress and drew out a small bottle. Jewel-red liquid swirled inside it, lit with tiny gold flecks. A silver heart wrapped the neck. "A lust potion," she said. "One drop turns a cold room warm. I was saving it for tonight." She held it between two fingers, just out of reach. "I could give you my token. But I want to see what you'd do with a thing like this. The queen isn't the prettiest girl here. She's the one who owns the room." Rose took the bottle. She did not thank her. She turned and walked back to the gate, past the waiting line, and stopped before the gatekeeper. She uncorked the bottle. She let one drop fall onto her wrist and held it up beneath his nose. His face went slack. His breath caught. The whispering line pressed forward, drawn without knowing why. Sylara pressed her token into Rose's free hand. The gatekeeper stepped aside before he could think to stop himself. "Go on," he said, hoarse. "Go on, then." Rose walked through. She was inside now, holding a bottle that bent people toward her and a sponsor who expected a show. Every eye in the festival would soon turn her way. That was exactly what a rival queen would notice first, and someone already wore the crown Rose had come to take.