To live by one’s wits alone is a perilous path to tread. Better those wits be augmented by a curvaceous frame and a come-hither glance. Better yet if they’re further accompanied by a marksman’s eye and the insurance of leaden parcels. Evangelia had utilised this trio of boons for as long as she could remember, trying to find purchase in a slippery existence spent dwelling on the fringes.

In her embrace of the oldest profession she had stumbled upon many secrets, let slip from the breathless mouths of desperate paramours who were wont to unburden their conscience as well as their purses. She placed and framed these snippets of confessional lore, tucked deep into the recesses of the one place that was truly hers- a febrile mind with a penchant for puzzles.

When the General succumbed to her wiles and made her his bride, she knew she had found a fellow conspirator with which she could finally pursue these snatches of peril and promise.