She had to stoop a little to speak into the mic. A hundred yellow and red eyes glared back at her, none of them particularly welcoming. This was far more nerve wracking than performing at the club back home. At least there the patrons were actually expecting to be serenaded by some green eyed weirdo. Scanning the crowd, she found Beatrice, locked eyes with her, and silently vowed to poison her food one day. She sighed and the sound echoed through the microphone, out through the speakers, and over the crowd much louder than she anticipated.

She pushed play and held the phone close to the mic hoping it would be able to pick up the music. The crowd got quiet, each imp straining to hear. Unfortunately, Hell's Coming With Me started low. So between the volume and the janky sound system Isobel might as well have been singing a cappella. No one was impressed.

Luckily, the jug band on stage with her could hear the phone's speakers and caught on to the tune. Taking pity on her, they started to accompany as best they could. They did a good job, obviously seasoned professionals. And though she did stumble over a few words at first, by the time she was singing 'black magic preacher' most of the crowd was on board. The imps started clapping along in rhythm with the music. And as the song came to an end there was a hearty applause and a couple of gun shots from the back. No one hooped and hollered louder than Beatrice, herself, who screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Yes, Izzy! That's my girl! Yahoo, Izzy!"

Isobel leaned close to the microphone with a sweet smile and said, "that's not my name."

The crowd, most of which must have been drunk by then anyway, applauded again.

She stepped back from the mic, gave a little curtsy, and pivoted on her heel to make a beeline for the prince. He was sitting in his chair, politely clapping, and making amused hoots. She was five steps away and put on her most charming smile. Then suddenly Wally Wackford with his stupid mustache and giant hat was in her face.

"A wonderful performance, by the lovely Izzy. Everyone, give it up for her!" He had her by the elbow and screamed his cartoonish southern drawl out to the crowd. He started to escort her back toward the edge of the stage, while she tried to protest.

"You know, if I could just," she tried to wiggle out of his grip, but his little grasping fingers were a lot stronger than one would expect. "I just wanted…"

Wally practically shoved her off the stage and back into the throng. Another performer was coming up. A tall imp with spurs and guitar ready to sing a cowboy ballad.

"Shit," Isobel thumped her fist against her thigh in frustration. He was right there, she was so close. Unfortunately, though she tried multiple times, Beatrice refused to let her out of her sight the rest of the night and she was not able to get close to the prince again. He was constantly surrounded by others, especially when the lights went out and he used his magic to open a portal in the sky.

Isobel watched along with all the awestruck imps as a huge red moon sailed over them. She wondered if that portal connected to the living world. Was she this close to it and still not able to reach?

The ride back to the farm was a long one. She had failed to speak with Prince Stolas, and did not know when she would get another opportunity like this. Maybe at the next Harvest Moon Festival, but that would be a whole year away.

She sat miserable and sulking as the wagon rolled one way and then the other. At least Eustis was able to sell the hogs so she didn't have to share the space or deal with the smell. She hugged her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them listening to the creaking of the wheels.

"Hey," Beatrice said as she leaned back from her seat. "That singing you did was pretty good. Seems like you knew what you were doing."

"Like I said, used to do it a lot back in Pride." Lord, how she wished she was back there.

"So, be honest, were you really invited to perform at the Lust Gala?"

"I wasn't lying," Isobel said. "Sent them music and everything. I was just supposed to show up, you know. Honestly, I kind of forgot all about it. My, uh,… well, he didn't think it was such a great idea. So I…" She trailed off, pushing back the emotions that always came up when she thought about him.

Beatrice jumped down from her seat and landed rather un-gracefully. Isobel couldn't tell if it was her age or if she had had one too many drinks at the festival.

"Let's say, hypothetically," Beatrice sat cross legged in front of Isobel. "Let's say we take you to Lust, get you to the show, you, uh… you think you could get us front row seats?"

Isobel's head perked up.

"I don't know about that," she said and Beatrice's expression soured. "But I bet I could get you backstage." The tiny woman lit up again.

"Really?" she asked, excited.

"Sure, I'll say you're my entourage." The little imp laughed and clapped her small hands together in delight. "But, you know, I can't exactly go like this." Isobel looked down at her ragged and tattered appearance. She would at the very least need a bath.

"You leave it to me." She could practically see the gears working in Beatrice's brain.

"You do know," Isobel had always been honest with her two small slave masters and was compelled to be so again. "The minute we get there, I'm going to escape."

"Honey, you get me backstage and a couple of good seats and I'll hold the door open for you."

Two weeks and three train rides later Isobel followed Beatrice and Eustis through a crowd surrounded on all sides by shades of purple and pink neon lights flashing XXX. Close to the center of the Lust Ring a large amphitheater had been erected. It had the appearance of a circus tent perched atop a Roman Colosseum.

The three walked up to the stage door where two Chippendale looking imps, clipboards in hand, checked the names of all coming and going. As Isobel stepped up with her two little companions flanking her, the Chippendales couldn't help but look her up and down. She didn't blame them.

It wasn't just a bath Beatrice had provided. She also bought Isobel a truly hideous dress. It was blue with white lace constructed with the sole purpose of square dancing. It was somehow both conservative and slutty at the same time, with too many layers of tulle that scratched at her legs and that she had to push down to get through doorways.

Isobel had originally refused to wear it, but then Beatrice threatened to not take her to Lust. Both Beatrice and Eustis kept doing that all week. Wash the dishes, or we won't take you to Lust, Izzy. Make sure you muck out the stalls, or we won't take you to Lust, Izzy. Stop your complaining, or no Lust Ring for you, Izzy.

Every time they did this Isobel's blood would boil and she would make another vow that one day, she would be sure to kill them both. For now she just smiled and gave the doormen her name.

Dubiously they searched and couldn't hide their shocked expressions when they found her name listed as an entertainer. With a shrug of the shoulders and a half hearted apology, they opened the stage door.

As they walked in Beatrice clasped on to Isobel's arm and squealed.

"Oh, Izzy! It's really happening."

Isobel picked her up and placed her on her shoulder so Beatrice could get a better look.

"Seriously," Isobel said as her eyes noted all the different exit doors and escape routes. "You call me that again, and I'm going to knock you the fuck out."

Beatrice just gave her a pat on the head.