The Golden Lily (Bloodlines, #2)

by Richelle Mead

“So. What do you think of our girl’s ensemble tonight? Pretty amazing, huh? Like Cinderella. Or maybe a Greek Cinderella.” “There’s really not much about it that’s truly Greek,” said Brayden. I winced. I knew he didn’t mean to be insensitive, but his words stung a little. “The dress is historically inaccurate. I mean it’s a very nice dress, but the jewelry’s anachronistic, and the fabric’s nothing that ancient Greek women would have had. Certainly not that color either.” “What about those other Greek women?” asked Adrian. “The flashy smart ones.” His forehead wrinkled, as though it were taking every ounce of his brain to come up with the word he wanted. And, to my astonishment, he did. “The hetaerae.” I honestly hadn’t believed he’d retained anything from our conversation in San Diego. I tried not to smile. “The hetaerae?” Brayden was even more astonished than I was. He gave me a scrutinizing look. “Yes… yes. I suppose—if such materials were hypothetically possible in that era—that this is something you’d expect to see find on a hetaera instead of the average Greek matron.” “And they were prostitutes, right?” asked Adrian. “These hetaerae?” “Some were,” agreed Brayden. “Not all. I think the usual term is courtesan.” Adrian was completely deadpan. “So. You’re saying my sister’s dressed like a prostitute.” Brayden eyed my dress. “Well, yes, if we’re still speaking in hypothetical—”

again adrian being a menace