Chapter 3

" H o!" the hooded man atop the box seat shouted. He whipped the reins, and the horses whinnied.

I raised a hand. "Please, wait! Are you certain this is the right?—"

Wooden wheels rattled over the cobblestones, the rhythmic thudding of hooves quickening as the carriage disappeared into the darkness between dockside warehouses.

"… right address?" I finished my sentence in a huff.

The prick didn't so much as glance back at me. I didn't know what I expected after he didn't greet me and hadn't answered any of my questions during the ride. Conversing with a comfort woman must've been beneath him.

"Pah," I spat my disdain into the salty breeze, glancing left and right.

I was alone—just me, the thrum of my pulse, and the lapping of waves against the wharf. Moonlit silhouettes of anchored ships swayed like giants in the distance, their sails like bound wings, tied tight against towering masts.

A tug pulled at my chest. I wondered if they'd ever been to Xar'vath, if they'd seen the infinite sands.

Imprisoned in the port, did they yearn for the freedom of the wide ocean, or did they long for a safe harbor?

I sighed. What was it I craved? Freedom or safety? Given the chance, would I follow the call of adventure across the Dreamless Sea? Would I finally get to see the desert as I had dreamed since I was a girl, or would I be too afraid?

Nights like these, when the wind carried a bite of cold landward, the abyss in my heart grew bottomless.

Why did I always feel like there was something missing? Like I belonged somewhere far away from here?

The gale slithered beneath my threadbare coat, scattering goose bumps up my spine. A thunderstorm was supposed to hit Hedonfel soon, and I hoped I wouldn't be stranded out here.

An hour's walk on sky-high heels to the Emporium of Desires sounded like a nightmare. These were sitting-pretty shoes , as Madam Iletha liked to call them, and my feet were already hurting from standing around dumbfounded.

I turned in a slow circle.

Gloomy warehouses surrounded me, flickering lanterns along their brick walls.

This was surely a strange location for a party.

I'd been told nothing, only that a special client had paid far beyond my usual meager fee to book me all the way till morning. Why would anyone pay extra for me? I was a nobody. Many other courtesans at the Emporium were far more popular. Far more skilled. Most of them offered much more exotic and titillating experiences than me. I always kept to the basics.

The hairs on the nape of my neck stood, and I glanced over my shoulder, pulling my coat tighter around myself.

What if this phantom client had something to do with the mysterious gifts?

My secret admirer visited at irregular intervals, but they always left my chamber in the same, confusing state:

The window wide open. On my vanity, a thornless rose in my favorite color, cobalt. Beside it, a box of sticky white nougat with nuts and candied fruit from that famous shop on the main street. I'd enjoyed them since I was a girl, and my father bought them as a treat for my birthday every year, but now they were far too expensive for me.

How in the Creators' names did this person know exactly what I liked?

I couldn't think of anyone who might've tattled because I never spoke about myself. It wasn't so much that I didn't want to, but past experiences showed me that people didn't care. I gave up trying. When I didn't have to work, I kept to myself, burying my nose in books.

A flush surged across my cheeks. If I was honest, I liked the roses. Even dried, they lifted my mood whenever I glanced at them, and such delight was a rare treat.

My possessions and joys were few. I owned some cosmetics, simple clothes, and a stack of tattered romance novels and poetry tomes I'd bought secondhand. Flowers were an indulgence I couldn't normally afford.

I kept them on my nightstand, even asked the madam to give me a vase to display them. Their scent lingered for days, and they brightened up my sparsely furnished room, sprinkling a dot of color into my otherwise dull lodgings. I couldn't bear to throw them out.

The other courtesans were impressed by someone entering my room on the second floor without being seen. Never mind the generous gifts. They didn't believe me when I said I felt watched when I strolled through town, called me wasteful when I admitted to discarding the nougat for fear of being poisoned.

But a few days ago, my stalker left something else for me instead of sweets: An old, scuffed music box.

There were four horned, porcelain figures inside, holding pretty little jewels, arms stretching to the sky as they spun around and around and around. I'd briefly considered prying the gems free to sell them, but they were so tiny, I doubted I would've gotten much for them. Stranger yet, when I thought of damaging the box like that, a part of me revolted so violently, my stomach churned with nausea.

And the melody was lovely, too. I'd gotten quite attached to it.

A smile snuck across my face as I hummed, my lips vibrating with cheerful notes.

The tune reminded me of a children's lullaby, and I could have sworn I'd heard it before, even the rhyme to go with it. Something about fire, water, earth, and air, but nobody I asked around the brothel had any idea what I was talking about.

Still, I couldn't get that melody out of my head. I'd found myself absentmindedly humming it while I brushed my hair before bed, took a bath, did chores—or really any time my mind wandered.

My heart pounded as I walked along the windowless warehouses. In the months since I started at the Emporium, no other booking had made me this nervous.

I was desperate when I came to Hedonfel, looking for work to pay off my deceased father's debt.

The greasy loan shark he owed had given me two weeks to come up with the full sum plus ridiculous interest, yet I didn't even know where my next meal would come from. Looking for cheap boarding, I stumbled across the Emporium, mistaking it for a rundown tavern. Madam Iletha—the middle-aged lady who ran the brothel—offered to pay my inherited debt if I agreed to work it off in her establishment.

I'd always enjoyed sex, no matter the gender of my partner. And being a courtesan was definitely better than ending up with my head removed from my body as my father's debtor so eloquently threatened.

In a heartbeat, I agreed.

Madam Iletha had her flaws, was short-tempered and opinionated, but she never forced any of her employees to take on suitors we didn't feel comfortable with. She let us work at our own pace, took care of us, fed us, and clothed us. She even paid for regular physical exams and for the barrier spells preventing unwanted pregnancies.

We all heard horrible tales from other pleasure houses, yet the madam didn't tolerate violence toward her courtesans. In a way, ending up in the Emporium of all places was a smidgen of luck among my misfortunes.

And frankly, I'd jumped at the chance to meet this wealthy new client. If the first rendezvous went well, they might become a regular, and returning customers were what I needed most.

The past weeks hadn't been good for business. Everyone who came to see me on a semi-frequent basis had vanished into thin air. At first, I thought they had enough of me, but no one had seen them around town, not even the tavern owners or shopkeepers.

A sour taste laid on my tongue as I remembered the rumors.

Ella is cursed. Everyone who touches her disappears .

I didn't believe in such childish nonsense, and I sure as Hells didn't feel cursed. But like so often, gossip spread faster than the pox. Soon, nobody dared to book me, and I spent my nights languishing in the brothel parlor, staring at the wall.

I squared my shoulders. Tonight would prove once and for all that those rumors were nothing to worry about. I'd find new clients, starting with whatever idiot was paying through the nose for my company this eve.

I squinted at the walls of the nearest building, looking for a sign indicating festivities or?—

A side door swung open, and a cone of light blinded me.

I let out an embarrassing squeal. Tripping, my heel caught between the cobblestones, and I twisted, tilted. Fell. Pain surged through my rear as I hit the ground, but that wasn't the worst part.

All I could think of was how annoyed Madam Iletha would be.

I didn't need another client's complaint about my clumsiness. I didn't need another lecture telling me I was too brash and unpleasant and inelegant.

"Do you need help?" a gentle voice called out in perfect Elvish, and I lifted my gaze. It belonged to a human woman dressed in a long black gown, layered with a lace-embroidered, wine-red apron. Long, brown curls bouncing, the maid hurried out the door toward me, followed by a gaggle of four other women—Humans and Elves—in the same uniforms. Each one looked more worried than the next.

She extended a hand to me, and my cheeks burned as I accepted it, scrambling to a stand, one foot bare on the ground. My lost shoe was still stuck, heel lodged between the stones. Another maid tugged it free and set it down in front of me, holding firm until I slipped into it.

"Are you injured?" the curly-haired maid asked, head tilting. Her eyes snapped down, likely to the ruined heel, thin, dark leather peeling off in ugly shreds.

My heart sank. I'd bought those shoes last week, and it had taken me months to save up enough of my tiny allowance. The madam kept most of the meager sum I earned, leaving me with a handful of coin for personal needs.

"Thank you. I'm … fine," I lied, my smile quivering as I forced myself to meet the first maid's honey-colored gaze.

I had never been so embarrassed in my entire life.

"Blue eyes, light brown hair to the chin, a wispy fringe … You're Ella!" she exclaimed and took my hand. "The comfort woman from the Emporium of Desires."

I offered a stiff nod, cringing.

"That drawing in the brothel's catalog doesn't do your beauty justice! I'm sorry I didn't recognize you immediately. Come, these streets aren't suited to a lady," she said and tugged me along to the door, chattering away. The maid didn't look older than twenty-five, but she had the calm confidence and friendly patience of a woman far beyond her years.

"I apologize that I wasn't waiting for you when you arrived," she added. "The musicians complained about the stage setting and their nagging delayed me. Your accident is entirely my fault. We'll replace your shoes, of course."

I blinked, stunned by her politeness. Such kindness and generosity … Who would treat a cheap courtesan with this much respect? Why would they fuss over me ?

She smiled at me as we entered a side room, the other maids' boots thudding loudly on rough wooden floors as they followed us. Once upon a time, it must have been a guard post for the warehouse, but now, it looked more akin to a chaotic boutique. Or a fashionable thief's lair.

The space was crammed, candlelight streaming from a brass chandelier. A bathtub took up the middle of the chamber, the scent of milk and roses drifting from the foamy, steaming water. A vanity—littered with little bottles and jars—stood between crates stacked along the back wall. Wooden racks were lined up in front of the boxes, bending under the weight of priceless, lavish garments made from the finest silks, furs, velvets, and gossamer.

The woman gave my hand an almost motherly pat before letting go. "I'm Emily, the head maid. If you have any questions or concerns, please ask. Me and the other maids are responsible for getting you ready."

I looked down at myself.

What the Hells was she insinuating?

"Get me ready?" I asked, trying to keep the irritation from my voice. "It would be generous if you replaced my shoes, but I already put on my best dress, and I assure you, I bathed earlier."

Emily smiled again, no malice in the easy curve of her lips. "I apologize if my suggestion came across as offensive. You smell and look delightful, but my employer insists that you receive treatment befitting a special, beautiful woman such as yourself. You are to relax before the festivities begin. Let us pamper you, please?"

My jaw dropped as my rising temper faded.

At my silence, the ghost of a frown flitted across Emily's forehead. "If you're uncomfortable, I could ask my employer to change the arrangements?—"

"No, no! Absolutely not," I cut in, the corners of my mouth tugging up. "I'm just surprised, I guess. This isn't usually the welcome I receive when I visit a client, but it sounds … nice, actually."

"Then let's get started," Emily said, her eyes shining with enthusiasm as she clapped twice.

The maids whirled around me. One untied my coat and slipped it from my shoulders, another helping me out of my shoes while a third had already undone the lacing of my dress.

Did all this seem too good to be true? Sure.

But did I want to turn down a bit of kindness and luxury? No. Both were in short supply, rarer even than gold.

The tight knots in my stomach loosened. For the first time since I entered the carriage, I wasn't plain anxious. I was excited.

Tonight had been off to a horrible start, but things were looking up.