Page 2 of Daghel

“Oh, it was a mistake, all right.” I sneer at them and then grin brightly. “But where are you going? You two said you wanted to play. Are you no longer interested now that you know that the game has changed?”

“W-we are fine, Anya,” he stutters, his face pale from fear and the icy cold that had descended upon the capital city. “We just want to go home.”

“Home,” I murmur disdainfully.

I have no home left. The city guard came just that morning to take my siblings to the children’s home, ripping them both from my arms. Said it would be better for them than living with a sister who was barely an adult and had no way to provide for them. I tip my head and sniff, dragging a sleeve over my nose. Perhaps they are right. They will have full stomachs and somewhere warm to sleep rather than huddling miserably beneath our blankets next to whatever sad excuse for a fire I can coax to life in the bitter cold.

And tonight—there is an evil wind tonight that whistles through the dome and sends a shiver through me. I haven’t even managed to scrape up enough coins to purchase a lump of coal to get through the longest, darkest night of the year. Yes, my siblings are better off where they are. I blink back my tears as I drag in a ragged breath and glance back down at the pair of boys in front of me. Although I know that they are probably nearing their twentieth birthdays, and are likely to have two years on me, they are still nothing but boys in my mind. Miserable, callow boys who deserve to be whipped. But I suddenly no longer havethe desire to be their punisher. I still have a short time before the coal merchant closes up for the night.

“Get out of here,” I growl. “But don’t let me catch you two coming anywhere near me again… Wait,” I snap, my eyes narrowing on them as the one starts to drag off the other. “Do you have any coin on you?”

I sigh in disappointment when he nervously shakes his head. Figures. I turn away to pick my way down the narrow alley.

“Looks like it’s going to be another cold night then,” I mutter to myself.

“Not necessarily,” a cultured, feminine voice says from my left.

I whirl toward it and squint when a soft winding sound and the sharp click of flint against metal startles me and a bright flame illuminates a woman’s cold, blue eyes. She smiles at me and then brings her cigarette to her lips. The flame of her cog-igniter to the tip of her cigarette, and a curl of smoke rises from the tip as she takes a drag on it. She blows out the smoke and studies me, a thoughtful smile painted on her face.

“What if I told you that you would never be cold again?”

A bark of laughter escapes me, and I cross my arms over my chest. “I would ask what your angle is.”

“No angle. I am merely intrigued and offering an… opportunity.” She glances leisurely around the alley before focusing on me again. “The streets are not a kind place, especially for a girl without protection and support of a family. How long do you think you will last before you take boys like them up on their offer to beg for a couple coppers for the few minutes that they spend rutting over you?”

I shrug but cannot ignore the way my stomach tightens anxiously.

“What is it to you? I can hold my own. Something will come up.”

“I’m sure,” she purrs as she moves away from the wall and steps toward me. “But we all have to eat. And stay warm when the winter gladly feasts and gnaws at our bones. No one can hold out against that misery for long, and I’ve seen many young women just as beautiful as you end up in the opium dens in vain attempts to escape the drudgery of their existence, allowing any dirty cock to take them against the wall for the coins that will pay for their addiction.”

My throat works as I swallow. “What exactly are you offering?”

“Just freedom.” She tips her head as she considers me. “You have something special—an iron will to survive that I would hate to see turned on you to consume you from the inside out. All the while, you allow yourself to die a little more inside with the passage of time.” She takes another drag on her cigarette and gestures at me with it. “You have the makings to survive, however, with just a little help to point you in the right direction.”

“And you think you can help me?” I’m skeptical, to say the least.

Her smile returns and she nods. “Helping you will be easier than helping most. You have the strength to do what needs to be done to secure your own future. All I need to do is bathe you and make you look presentable, and men of means will line up to pay for your time. I will even invest money in getting you properly educated because once that happens, doors will open for you that you have never imagined as gentlemen flock to your side.”

My lip curls as a wave of disgust turns my gut. “Despite all your fancy talk, you mean to make me a whore.”

“I mean to make you a courtesan,” she snaps, and I can tell that I’ve offended her. “A courtesan is no mere street girl selling herself on the corner. You can have your choice of clients and enjoy a life of luxury. The most important step I will teach you—how to attract a benefactor. A smart courtesan can see herself comfortably married to one of her admirers, where you will never have to worry about where your next meal comes from. But more importantly, you will never suffer the cold again.”

I mean to tell her off, to take her fancy courtesan title and fuck straight off to hell, but I pause at those last words. For as long as I can remember, I have been cold when the winter came, after suffering with the heat all summer.

“You are certain I will never be cold?” I whisper.

Her smile widens, and she loops her arm with mine, dragging me to her side. “Never again, my dear girl. Now, tell me, what is your name?”

“Anya,” I reply in a bit of a daze.

She tuts softly and shakes her head. “A courtesan needs a name far grander.” She thinks for a moment as we walk together down the alley, the sound of our footsteps echoing faintly. “How about… Anastasia?”

I whisper the name to myself. It doesn’t feel like me. It feels like I’m pulling on a stranger’s skin and masquerading as her. And yet it makes me feel a little more comfortable with the situation. As long as I can be Anastasia, I think I can distance myself from all of this. Anastasia is the courtesan entertaining the gentlemen. I give a jerky nod and she squeezes my arm.

“Good girl. Now let me take you home, introduce you to the other girls, and get you fed. A hot meal will do you good, and tomorrow we will begin.”

“And who are you?”

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