Page 29 of Heirs of the Cursed

“If Madame Dimond doesn’t have enough money to pay the Fiend, her anger will be the least of our problems.”

Jehanne swallowed loudly.

“So, what do you suggest?” Caisen asked.

Naithea pondered silently.

They needed a way to get the rest of the money before their situation got worse. She didn’t want to think about what would happen if the Fiend arrived at Bellmare, only to discover that he would leave empty-handed. The repercussions would then fall on them, and Naithea wasn’t about to let that happen.

“The streets leading to the harbor are usually crowded with people. Who says we can’t workoutsideof The Grumpy Dwarf?”

Kaenna looked at her with an incredulous expression. “Are you proposing that we sell our bodies outside the safety of the tavern?”

“There is much more an hetaira can do with her gifts,” Naithea assured and waited for her sisters to follow her train of thought.

Some of them gasped, understanding what she meant. The thought of selling her services had never crossed Naithea’s mind; she knew how dangerous it was, especially when night fell.

“Tell me it’s not what I’m thinking,” Regnera said.

“We can do this.”

“Thea, stealing is a crime!” her best friend scolded her. “A very serious one, in case you don’t remember.”

Tanea’s eyes widened and the young woman shivered in Jehanne’s arms. She’d lost her family in one of the fires that the soldiers had set under King Kirus’ orders in search of his privileged mistress years ago. And since then, fear had squeezed her heart until it held back every beat.

“Stealing? Have you lost your mind?” Baelisa then spoke.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“If we get caught, forget about Madame Dimond’s wrath.” Regnera shook her head. “The damned Royal Army will be after us. They’ll cut off our heads and display them all over the kingdom to prove we’re worthless.”

Anera folded her arms. “I like my head where it is.”

“Still, Naithea is right,” Larka spoke for the first time, surprising the rest. “We’re caught between the sword and the precipice. No path is safe, but we must choose the lesser evil if we wish to protect each other.” Her dark brown eyes rested on Naithea with determination. “I’m in.”

“So am I.” Faithe nodded. “What do you propose?”

“We’ve had years of training on how to seduce a man, and we’re the best in the kingdom. But we’ve been working individually all our lives, competing to please Madame Dimond,” Naithea said.

“We have to work as a team this time,” Jehanne finished for her.

“Precisely. Once the soldiers walk in the tavern, we’ll lock the doors. We’ll be sure to get their attention, distract them, and only when each of them has a woman on their arm will they go to the brothel. That way, the rest of us can do our job without fear of being caught.”

“Stealing . . .” Baelisa remarked again.

“As much as possible. I won’t allow them to enslave us any longer. It’s our freedom and we’re going to fight for it, whatever it takes.”

Some of the hetairas began to nod, looking at each other for a collective decision. Their hearts beat in unison, like a harmonious melody that had united them from the beginning and would sing for the rest of their lives, even after death. Naithea placed her hand palm up, prompting her sisters to join her.

“Together?” Larka dared to ask.

One by one, they held each other’s hands. A mixture of colors, pasts and hope. Eleven hands clasped each other, with the strength of the sisterhood that had kept them alive.

“Together.”

The rays of the sun that streamed from Naithea’s bedroom window warmed her head, highlighting the golden roots of her hair that were beginning to reveal their true color.

She’d only awoken a few moments ago, grateful that her day wouldn’t be overshadowed by endless duties besides those she had to fulfill during the night. Yet the sound of a trumpet, followed by screams, alerted her enough to pace to the window with a heavy heart beating inside her chest. In the streets, the citizens of Bellmare were being pushed out of their homes and stores with unrelenting brutality and toward the square, holding their children in panic.

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