Page 16 of Heirs of the Cursed

“Was it that bad?” Baelisa asked with an amused laugh.

“Believe me, it was,” Naithea replied dishonestly.

“At least he paid you well, didn’t he?” Sundi inquired.

“I would if it was Ausra who was sucking my balls,” Jehanne replied, earning a punch on the arm from Naithea. “What’s with that name, anyway?”

She shrugged. “I like it.”

It was much more than just a preference. The word meant ‘sunrise’ in saagrati, the ancient language of the dryadalis, and it was the reason Naithea awoke with longing and excitement to behold the beautiful colors that lit up the sky before her life darkened for the rest of the day.

They walked out the brothel, the cold rays of the autumn sun greeting them.

“So, how much did you earn?” Sundi insisted in a low voice so that the citizens wouldn’t hear her.

For some reason, she always asked about her earnings, as if Naithea making more vramnias than her worried her. Their work was an explicit competition: the more money they made in the night, the more comforts were handed to them during the day. Madame Dimond had orchestrated that dispute, wanting to turn the sisterhood they had into enmity to see who was her favorite.

Yet she hadn’t succeeded.

“Twenty vramnias.”

“Twenty vramnias of what?” Baelisa asked.

Naithea sighed softly. “Gold.”

“By the Triad . . .”

“That’s my girl!” Jehanne congratulated her, linking arms with her. “Madame Dimond will be very pleased. She might give you a night off after all!”

That was another reason why they worked so hard to please their madam. If one of her hetairas accomplished the seemingly impossible, she’d promise them a night off from work to do whatever they wished. Some of them spent their nights sleeping with men they did desire. Others visited their families, from whom they stayed away for the rest of the year so as not to bring dishonor to their homes.

Naithea had no lovers, no family and no home.

All she wanted to do was lie on the damp sand of the shores and gaze at the glitter of the stars above her head, wishing they could guide her back home. She didn’t know where that was anymore, but she was sure the answer was up there, next to the three goddesses she prayed to daily.

Still, there were far more important things to do, like finding out the rest of the story Leonel Ramsdean had kept to himself. Naithea had absorbed her power before she could take the soldier’s soul and leave a corpse in its place. She knew it had been the right thing to do, but a part of her wished she hadn’t stopped until she got the information she didn’t know she was looking for.

“Je, may I speak with you?” Naithea asked slyly, looking away from their two friends. “Alone?”

“I thought I made it clear that I would no longer practice kissing with you,” Jehanne joked, rolling her amber eyes.

She would have laughed if it wasn’t so urgent.

The hetairas used to sleep with each other and practice their seductive moves for suggestions and sometimes corrections. Jehanne and Naithea were no exception. Their relationship hadn’t changed as had some of the hetairas, who had fallen in love and were trying to pay for their freedom to leave Bellmare for good.

But Madame Dimond would never let her go. She was her main source of income, her most prized trophy. One would thinkthat training a hetaira wasn’t a difficult thing, yet it had taken years of lessons for her to become the woman she was now.

Naithea took Jehanne by the arm and dragged her back to the brothel. It was getting harder and harder to find privacy. Since the business had expanded, they no longer slept on the floor huddled next to each other; still, their personal chambers were small.

The corridors were crowded with their friends, who combed their hair and covered every inch of their skin in oils that would make them look smooth and beautiful. They all gave them a quick wave when they saw them pass by, but Naithea kept walking with a troubled mind.

Upon arriving at their bedroom, she found Caisen and Larka lying on one of the beds, laughing loudly at some anecdote from the night before while the latter was trying to braid Caisen’s striking orange hair to no avail.

“Thea, fix this?” Caisen pleaded.

Yet Naithea only said, “Out, please.”

Her friends looked at each other, and then to Jehanne, who simply shrugged as confused as they were. They retreated without even taking their robes to cover their half-naked bodies, and Naithea thanked them in a whisper before closing the door.

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