3. Chapter Three

The madam was an intense woman.

She was taller than Kalia"s average frame, towering at least six inches over her. Her expression always looked pinched, as though she were smelling a fillet of recently rotten fish. She wore her hair in a slicked bun, a single strand never out of place, and owned only the continent"s finest silk dresses.

Kalia knew those silk dresses came directly from the sun-soaked marketplace in Sha"Hadra. As a child, she had seen them lying on the wooden counters and had run her hands along the smooth fabric, wishing that, one day, she would be rich enough to wear one.

While Kalia knew that dream wasn"t worth dwelling on, she still worked to ensure that she would have enough money to walk the shop-lined alleys of her hometown.

As if that wasn"t enough, the madam had also never given Kalia her name, only allowing anyone in her employ to address her as madam or ma"am, never anything else. Kalia had never even heard the madam say her actual name aloud, and, as a girl, she wondered if the madam"s name was indeed just madam.

"Cranford Reed is a—" the madam had begun to say, her eyes narrowing into a glare that seemed to pierce through Kalia"s soul.

"Disgusting brute?" Kalia offered as a response. She crossed her arms over her chest, the only defense she had. "He beat Mintie nearly to death and—"

"You thought it was in the best interest of my business to put hornets under the mattress of the room he happens to prefer?" The madam sneered, her sharp eyes sinking to scrutinize every inch of Kalia. "Like some desert filth vigilante?"

Kalia clamped her lips shut, returning the madam"s glare with one of her own. She had been in the madam"s office one too many times before and never for anything good. The dark wooden walls, complimented by crimson drapes that matched the ones in the brothel, held Kalia like a prison cell. The air was smoky, thanks to the thick plume of jasmine incense burning in the corner, and the iron-framed window on the opposite wall overlooked the grimy and unkempt streets of Mistral"s Bay.

Even rooted in place, Kalia could see the faces of the homeless huddled tightly to the stone walls of the alley, grimacing against the devastating winds that used the city"s corridors like a tunnel.

"You"re quite lucky I haven"t forgotten your talent yet, Kalia. You make me money, that"s good. But you are never immune to being turned into the palace guards at the first sniff that you are becoming a nuisance to me."

Kalia couldn"t help but notice the smirk that lifted her lips, the same smirk that tightened the corners of the madam"s eyes. "I make you good money is an understatement," she bit out with a harsh laugh. "If I remember, your bordello was on the verge of collapsing under the weight of the coin you owed to the palace. And I was the one who—"

The madam crossed the small room in three strides, her heeled boots tapping against the marble floor, and slapped Kalia hard enough that her head whipped to the side. Kalia gritted her teeth but refused to lift her hand to assess the swelling that she could feel along her jaw. The madam reached out, fingering the ends of Kalia"s long, dark waves.

"You should be more mindful when you speak to me," the madam said, her voice soft and nurturing despite the warning. "And you should remember who saved who."

A memory roared to the forefront of Kalia"s mind, one that began with a stolen loaf of bread and ended with her wrist being held down by a guard in Sha"Hadra as he lifted a cutlass high above her. Kalia shook her head but couldn"t help the wince of pain that clouded her expression. The madam"s lips curled in a triumphant grin.

"I knew we would agree." She withdrew her hand from Kalia"s hair, letting her hand fall to her side. She stepped away, walking toward the window, where she paused to look at the gaslamp-lit streets. "I reflect on that day quite often, Kalia. I remember a little girl, starved and beaten. A devastatingly beautiful little girl, might I add, who had lost her mother seven years before. Such a tragedy." The madam turned to glance at Kalia over her shoulder. "One that we should never forget is your fault."

Grief clenched in Kalia"s belly, but she only lifted her chin higher, refusing to give in. It would only satisfy the madam.

"Nothing to say now, hmm?" The madam goaded her further, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. She looked back to the street, the glow from the lamps below bathing her face in gold. "You would be out there, you know, selling your body in a back alley for a scrap of meat or a stein of fion." She lifted a hand to tap a knuckle on the glass. "A single copper from a sailor to suck his disgusting dick dry before he went back out to sea. I saved you from that future, and this is how you thank me?"

The tension rose in the room, prickling the hair on the back of Kalia"s neck.

"I stopped that guard from cutting off your hand when you were too afraid to summon your magic, even though I had seen you do it with the baker in the marketplace. I took you from Sha"Hadra, where other children had beaten you and were nearly too sick to carry on, and gave you a place here in my brothel. I helped you hone your talent into something that could bring me unimaginable wealth. And this is how you thank me?"

A jingle followed a heavy thunk, and Kalia glanced down, her mouth drying when she saw her coin-filled purse on the floor between them. No, no, no, no. She couldn"t breathe; her lungs refused to draw in any air.

"I know all about your stash," the madam continued, her lips pressed into a tight, white line. "You can thank the maids for finding it for me. Did you truly think you could buy your freedom from me? Did you think I wouldn"t notice my safe"s missing coins or jewels? You are mine, Kalia."

If Kalia had a heart, it would have crumbled to the ground next to that bag of coins. Instead, she further reinforced that wall around it and steeled it in place so that nothing would escape. She couldn"t allow anything to escape.

The madam grabbed the lash from where it hung next to the window and whirled around, striking Kalia in the arm with the tarred leather strips. Kalia let out an involuntary shriek as the skin split open, blood bubbling to the surface. The madam reeled back and came down with the lash again, this time catching Kalia on the shoulder. The dress tore, revealing a welt that puckered near her collarbone. Kalia didn"t make another sound, stoking the madam"s fury. She reeled back again and again, bringing the lash down on Kalia"s back, chest, and legs. And she didn"t stop until Kalia"s red, satin dress was hanging from her body in ribbons, blood dripping onto the marble floor beneath them.

"Get out of my sight," the madam hissed, dropping the lash to the floor with a clunk. "And get Mintie in here to clean up this mess. I don"t want to look at it a second longer."

Kalia"s throat burned with the lump that formed there as she limped to the door, wrapping her tattered hand around the knob. Despite her fresh injuries, ones that opened her already scarred back from the madam"s previous lashings, the onslaught of tears was for her hard-earned well of coins. Money she had saved for years was taken from her in the blink of an eye.

There would be no end, and she would be here until her dying day. The madam made damn sure of that. The ladies of the bordello may come and go, but Kalia Salam would remain, battered and broken by the sands of time.

The cool air of Mistral"s Bay felt good against the swollen welts on Kalia"s skin. It had taken her only a moment to change her dress before she headed into the alleys, her familiar dagger strapped tightly to her waist. The one thing the maid had yet to find. Gutting her sounded like the right option. It would cost her life, but the executioner"s block was looking more inviting every day.

The path Kalia took was grimy. The cracks in the stone were filled with waste from humans and horses alike, and the smell was sour enough to turn even the strongest of stomachs.

And it was nothing like Sha"Hadra, where the various spices wafted from the barrels, subtly mixing with the scents of drying leather and freshly pressed oils. Gods, she missed the sandy streets, the mud-bricked houses, and the view of the sun rising over the dunes. She would scramble to the rooftop of whatever building she slept in that night, eager to set her chin on her knees and watch as the navy sky turned blood-red, then orange, before finally splitting into bright blue, the rays spilling onto the golden sand far beyond the city walls.

She yearned to return to the desert city, where the people would smile at her, the culture was wonderful, and she could visit her mother"s grave marker whenever she felt the urge. She hadn"t returned to Sha"Hadra since she had been loaded into the madam"s carriage, grateful to the woman for being kind enough to step in front of the guard and pay for a baked pastry she had been dying to try for years.

But now…the capital city was a foul pit of dark, winding alleys, spilled waste flung from the windows above, and the king"s gleaming white palace seated high on the hill overlooking it all. The only place of reprieve was a beach just before the bustling port, but that space could get crowded with those seeking similar respite. Even then, the smells of old fish from the docks and garbage from the anchored ships cracked any resolve lingering there.

Kalia passed a beggar on the corner, the man wrapped in a thin, ragged blanket, his lips chapped and bleeding from the unrelenting wind. He held a stein in his hand, which Kalia was sure would be filled with fion before the night"s end, but she gave him a single copper coin anyway. He nodded in thanks as she walked on, turning onto the next street, where an unencumbered view of the palace"s white dome rose above the tops of the trees.

She could see the gardened walls from where she stood, large torches burning brightly against the star-speckled night sky. The brilliance of the white looked sorely out of place amongst the dingy, brick buildings that made up the city—a not-so-subtle reminder of where the king stood in relation to his people. The intricate iron gates rarely opened these days, but Kalia knew from passing them on her weekly walks that a carved white fountain to match the palace stood in the center of an ornately decorated courtyard. The opulence was sickening.

The only times Kalia had ever seen the king leave the confines of his palace were to attend executions of highly sought-after criminals...most of them pirates. And he always appeared youthful and glowing every time she had seen him in the last fifteen years. He hadn"t seemed to age, not in the nearly two decades she had been in the capital city.

A woman bumped into Kalia"s shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts. The woman mumbled an apology as she pressed on, her hood pulled tightly over her head and her chin tucked against her chest. It was dangerous to be in the city alone as a woman; the guards would do nothing to stop an attack, but Kalia was out on urgent business.

She walked further down the street, her sandals slapping against the stone, mudding the tips of her toes, until she came across a wooden sign labeled Nectar of the Woods Apothecary. The sign knocked against the glass panes of the fogged window, and as Kalia pushed the door open, a bell above tinkled to signal her arrival.

The apothecary was one of the city"s smaller ones, meaning it was frequented less than the others. But the owner was an expert at mixing healing salves and pain potions, something the other shopkeepers could only dream of doing. He also never positioned himself as something he wasn"t, as many others pretended to read divination cards or would give you a premonition for the right price.

Magic was strictly outlawed in the continent, from the villages surrounding Sha"Hadra to the islands littering the coast. If you were caught, the penalty was death. But that didn"t stop the underground users from practicing, though it certainly gave Kalia thought when she was wielding her power outside of the bordello. She had seen an underground user or two get carted off in the last few years, regardless of whether they could perform magic.

Most couldn"t, and those who could did not dare tout it publicly.

But the apothecaries were different. All of them only created what could be grown from the earth, and while this could be considered a simpler form of magic, Kalia had heard the king was afraid of a revolt if he made them illegal. So, here they stayed.

Nectar of the Woods Apothecarywas lined from floor to ceiling with wooden shelves, each neatly displaying glass jars with assortments of roots, dried herbs, powders, and spices. Drawers filled some of the spaces, all meticulously labeled with symbols Kalia couldn"t read, and bundles of herbs hung from the rafters of the ceiling, every so often sprinkling the floor with leaves that released from the stalks. Behind the narrow counter stood a small table, just wide enough for one chair, where a pestle and mortar were placed prominently in the middle, a half-filled jar nestled beside it.

It was one of the only places in the city where the smell of waste from the streets didn"t seep under the door, and Kalia had often found herself wandering here as a child, the owner taking pity over her fresh bruises and welts.

"I wondered when you would grace my doorstep again," a soft voice floated from the shadows of the shop. An older man stepped from behind a curtained doorframe, his wispy gray hair matted against the crown of his head. "It has been quite a few days since—" He paused, and despite half of his face still being cast in darkness, Kalia could feel his gaze roaming her body. "Again, Kalia?"

Kalia followed the woodgrain pattern on the counter, tracing the tips of her fingers along the grooves. "There was a customer, Pete, one who—"

"There is always a customer, my darling. That doesn"t mean you always need to involve yourself." A sigh escaped the man"s thin lips as he hobbled toward the nearest wall and plucked jars from the shelves above his head. "But I would just be beating a dead siren if I repeated it, so I will make you the salve and pray to the gods that you heal quickly."

"Thank you, Pete," Kalia replied, roving her eyes along the man"s knobby knees and hunched back. It had become more pronounced in the last three years, and her chest tightened at the thought of him aging. "How is Marta these days?"

"Marta," Pete grunted as he turned to set the armful of jars on the counter, where they softly clinked together. He began to uncork the tops, his thickened knuckles struggling to grip the lids, and Kalia reached forward to help him despite the glare she knew he would send her. She ignored it when it came. "Marta is proving to be a further thorn in my side than I anticipated."

Marta was Pete"s old cat. She was missing patches of fur, had only three legs, and had, at some point, burnt half of her whiskers off as she lay near the hearth in the back room. Pete had her for the entirety of the fifteen years Kalia had been coming to see him, and though the cat was cranky and only preferred the company of Pete, Kalia always liked to ask about her.

"When is Marta not a thorn in your side?" Kalia teased as Pete hobbled to the table to retrieve the pestle and mortar before hobbling back to the counter.

"When are you both not a thorn in my side?" Pete retorted as he pinched the powders and herbs from the various jars into the mortar. He never seemed to measure or look at a recipe, but somehow, he always knew how much of each to use.

The apothecary was the only place Kalia found peace, and even after all of these years, she loved to watch him work. He glanced up for a moment, staring at the deepest gouge mark—the one that split open the top of her left shoulder. He grunted as he turned to pluck one more jar from the shelf, thumb it open, and pour the liquid into the mortar. Then, he picked up the pestle and began to grind everything together.

"It was Mintie this time," Kalia continued, watching Pete"s brows pinched together. "Cranford Reed was the one who beat her."

"Cranford Reed." A single drop of sweat worked its way down his temple, settling in the fuzz of his mustache. "Cranford Reed was a foul child, and he turned into an equally foul man."

"That"s what I told the madam when she asked about the hornets."

"Hornets?" Pete lifted his eyes to connect with hers before he shook his head. "You have a dangerous mind, Kalia Salam, one that I fear to be on the wrong side of." He paused to grab a pitcher of water from under the counter, pouring enough into the mortar to thin the paste. "How is Mintie, then? Would she be the one you sent into my shop a few weeks ago?"

"Yes, she was."

"For someone who claims not to want friends, you certainly go out of your way to protect the women in that bordello."

Kalia froze, the nail of her pinky finger wedging into the groove of the wood. "There"s a difference."

Pete was quiet for a moment before he finally said, "Just getting to know them won"t—"

"People have a way of betraying you if you know them well enough," Kalia interjected with a finality that, she hoped, would further deter Pete.

It didn"t.

"You"ve been off the streets of Sha"Hadra for fifteen years, my darling," he replied softly, glancing up at her with enough kindness that it tugged at her heart.

"People are the same everywhere, Pete. It doesn"t matter if they"re here or in Sha"Hadra." Kalia didn"t have the strength to mention what else the madam had done.

Pete sighed, shaking his head. "How is sweet Mintie? I trust she"s feeling better?"

Kalia seized on the subject change. "Better enough to go back to work, though the madam still required her to finish the night bloodied and broken, so I doubt she would have done any less."

Pete"s lips thinned into a tight line as he worked the pestle even harder. "I was never a fan of the madam, you know this well. I still don"t understand why you wouldn"t be my apprentice. I"ve requested it many times from you."

Kalia sighed as Pete picked up an empty jar and scraped the salve into it. "She would never let me go. I make her too much money." She knew that even more now.

"Ah, yes. Your magic. It certainly would be a shame if her bordello went under. How many undesirable men would go to other areas of town when their ships were docked in the harbor?"

Pete was the only other person in the capital to know of Kalia"s talents, having guessed what she was the moment she attempted to use them to steal a salve in her early days in the city. A Voyant, that"s what he had whispered to her. A person who could project visions into other people"s minds or steal those visions from their minds entirely. Pete had kept her secret for fifteen years; he was the only one she still trusted.

That trust had managed to wane in recent months through no fault of his own. Kalia couldn"t quite bring herself to admit to him how much money the madam had stolen from her. She didn"t want him to know how much she had access to, just in case he betrayed her, just as the maid had. She would need to start from scratch, and soon.

"Probably the same number of men who come across your apothecary in need of herbs for rope burns and seasickness."

Pete grunted again as he pushed a cork into the top of the jar, sealing the fresh salve inside. He took her hand, pressing the jar into her palm. "You may be right, my darling, but I would give up the coin from the men in the port to see you to safety. Now, how about we not stoke the anger of the madam for the next week or so, hmm? I need to restock my Melaleuca alternifolia. Between you and Mintie, I"m afraid I"ve used it all."

Kalia closed her fingers around the jar and sent him a small smile. "I"ll do my best."

"And that is all I know that I can ask for."