Page 64 of Heirs of the Cursed

Darcia closed her eyes again, feeling the warmth of her bed tuck her in. As sleep embraced her, she’d never know that, when she fell asleep and the storm came, Alasdair stayed with her to make sure she rested peacefully. Nor would she know that the thief she didn’t trust yet had invited into her home, would stroke her hair with extreme caution before jumping out the window and disappearing under the pouring rain.

20

Bellmare

Three bodies hung from the gallows in the square. The word ‘traitors’ had been carved into their exposed backs, and the ink markings of two tigers stained with blood revealed theiraffiliation with the rebels who had been working for years to overthrow the king.

Naithea had believed that people would hide in the safety of their homes, but that hadn’t been the case. Either way, she was relieved, for the clientele at the tavern had increased and, therefore, so had the brothel’s profits. The plan to steal in order to pay off her debt to Madame Dimond had also been a success.

Yet that night, the Grumpy Dwarf was so crowded that it was impossible to take turns stealing and distracting the soldiers.

She swept the tavern with her gaze, pausing over her sisters who hid their faces behind the ornate veils. Their mistress, unnerved by her new agreement with the Fiend, needed her hetairas to look dashing. And so she’d bought them new attires for the evening. Naithea hadn’t been surprised when she handed her a garnet-colored translucent dress that accentuated her best attributes and exposed every inch of her skin. It was part of the punishment she hadn’t yet been spared of.

Used to her exposed body, it was the thin mask that covered her face from the bridge of her nose and mouth that made her uncomfortable. It itched, but were she to raise a single hand toward the cloth, Madame Dimond would later on spank her for ruining everything. So Naithea resumed her movements above the circular platform she was in, dancing seductively to invite the drunk customers to her cold bed.

As if their souls called to each other, Naithea found Commander Ward standing at the side of the tavern with a tankard of ale in his hand, practically untouched. His dark blue eyes were focused on the citizens that walked in and out of the tavern, ignoring the hetairas that danced in front of him.

Ignore him,she ordered herself.

Three long weeks had passed since Ward had defended her from Madame Dimond’s punishments. Three weeks since he’dspat the word ‘whore’ for everyone to hear and know that was the only way he saw her kind.

Still, Naithea couldn’t help but keep her attention on the man each day as he left the camp they’d set in Pixies’ Forest and marched over the streets of Bellmare with soldiers at his heels in search of the princesses.

She was drawn to him, to the darkness he hid underneath the surface. But she didn’t give in, even when the tension that pulsed inside her with imperious need persisted.

The soldiers around Ward drank and played with the deck of cards a woman had painted for them as a sign of good faith. Their laughter filled the air, over the conversations of the other customers and the music to which the hetairas danced provocatively.

“I’ve seen many whores in Lên Rajya, but I must admit, none compare to the Bellmarians,” Soldier Edgerton declared, wrapping his arm around the waist of one of the hetairas. “Marvion, come. I’m sure you’d love to have a taste of her.”

The soldier shook his head. “Unlike you, Vylan, some of us are faithful to our wives.”

“It sucks to be you, my friend.”

“Speaking of beautiful whores . . .” Eames Cranner intervened and pointed toward Naithea. “Her exotic beauty and sharp tongue are about to reject Leo’s ass.”

The commander’s attention shifted from a group of men heading toward one of the dark, private rooms of the tavern to where Eames and the rest of the soldiers were now staring. His jaw tensed as he found Soldier Ramsdean making his way through the people and heading toward a particular woman.

Naithea danced and swayed her hips to the music of the harp, atop one of the eleven elevations where the hetairas remained until one of the customers claimed them for the night.

The attire that hung from her shoulders left little to the imagination, revealing much more than just her skin. It was transparent enough for him to glimpse her pink nipples against the fabric, the silky curve of her waist and her flat stomach until the only thing covering her center from hungry gazes was a thin underwear the same color as the dress.

Predatory jealousy seized Ward with a desire to cover her body from the eyes of his men and everyone else in the tavern.

“That woman could very well be my undoing,” one of the soldiers teased.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Soldier Edgerton whispered to the hetaira on his legs as he stroked her back. “Do you think your friend would like to join us?”

Caisen brushed her wild orange mane behind her ear and smiled. “I could ask her.”

Another soldier rolled his eyes. “Stop joking around, Vylan. You don’t have enough money to sleep with two of them. Much less the skill to satisfy them.”

The soldier threw one of his cards in his direction in response, causing Caisen to nearly fall to the ground. She managed to cling to Vylan’s neck before that happened.

“We should get out of here before one of my comrades steals you from my arms.”

“I take that as a defeat,” Eames said, stretching back in his seat and resting his arms on the backrest. “As soon as Leonel walks away from her, I’ll make a move.”

“Not so fast,” one of the soldiers stopped him. “Looks like young Leonel is doing better than we give him credit for.”

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