Orelia didn’t have siblings, but Teegan was like a sister to her, and she couldn’t imagine being forced to leave her behind. She gently squeezed Millie’s fingers. “I’m so sorry. I bet you miss her.”
Millie’s lips curled into a half smile. “I do. It’s cruel, but it’s the way of the world.”
A solemn moment of understanding passed between them. It was the way of the world. But that didn’t make it right.
“The girls here are lucky to have you,” Millie said, wiping away a tear.
Guilt swept through Orelia like a ravenous wind. People needed her here. Their lives depended on her service. How dare she want to leave just to see what else the world had to offer.
She set her selfish dream aside and let her light shine. She healed the rest of Millie’s cuts until her skin returned to its smooth texture. The marks were gone, but she knew the memories never would be.
Orelia called on one of the jars, grabbed it out of the air, and handed it to Millie. “I noticed you were in pain when you sat downearlier. This cream is safe to use on any part of your body, and it will help speed along your recovery. It works for tears and small cuts.”
Millie popped the cork and breathed in the chamomile-scented ointment. “Well, it doesn’t smell like poison, so I trust you.”
She couldn’t tell if it was a joke, or if Millie expected a trick. With the life she must have already lived at such a young age, Orelia imagined every decision the human made was thoroughly analyzed to stay alive. A luxury Orelia often overlooked as witches’ bodies naturally healed themselves and could withstand most poisons.
Feeling a pang of pity, Orelia fished out a candy from a pouch she kept in her skirt pocket. “I know it’s silly, but I like to give these out. It’s just a piece of homemade caramel.” A poor consolation prize to the horrors the girls had to suffer, but it was all she could offer.
Millie took the sweet treat and gave it a sniff before popping it into her mouth. “Thank you.” She tucked a long strand of her straight blonde hair behind her ear and fixed the belt around her waist holding the sage fabric to her body. “Teegan was right. You are nice.”
Orelia beamed internally at the praise, but she couldn’t find it in her to smile while looking at the too young, too thin, too sweet girl she was sending back into the dragon’s den. Her eyes went to Millie’s freshly healed arm as the girl headed for the door.
“It will get easier, you know,” Orelia called out.
Millie paused, gripping the door frame. “Easier to deal with fae, or violent men in general?”
Better the girl knew now about what to expect working for Beron.“Easier to accept the hand you’ve been dealt.”
Millie gave a grim nod of understanding. Her eyes dimmed as she slipped out of the room on bare feet and returned to work.
Orelia sent a prayer up to Santh—the God of Protection—asking him to watch over Millie. She begged him not to let this kind of life turn the human into a walking void like the girls whose empty laughter could be heard through the walls of their prison.
Beron’s gruff voice sounded down the hall. “I don’t have another girl to spare. Handle them yourself until someone is free. Rae should be done soon.”
This was her opportunity. Orelia hurried to catch him. “Beron, can I speak with you?”
He side-eyed her as she fell into stride. The grump of a man avoided talking to her whenever possible, and her job stability seemed to teeter on the edge of whichever mood he was in that day. “What is it?” he rasped.
Dim trulights hovered near the ceiling, poorly guiding their way through the narrow hall that perpetually smelled of mold. Still a more pleasant aroma than the unwashed man beside her. “I heard you got some girls from the Pony.”
Beron stroked his thick mustache. “Aye.”
The hall spilled out into the main room where people filled the space in varied stages of dress. Pleasure girls lounged on tattered furniture with eager lips pressed to their bodies, some with eyes lost to the drink, others languid from whichever drug they chose to partake in to dull their glum reality. The earthy incense hadn’t ever been enough to quell the potency of sex and sweat wafting through the smoky air. The incense clung to the walls, the furniture,her clothes, her hair. The patchouli fragrance was a part of her and everyone else here, lingering like the ever-present threat of violence disguised in the sensual sounds.
Maroon tapestries cloaked the gray walls, and trulights were substituted for sporadically placed candles. Dark. Gloomy. Windowless. The perfect place to forget what time it was so patrons would spend more money thinking the sun had yet to rise and that it may have been time to go home.
Teegan lifted a hand in greeting from a chaise in the far corner where she sat perched atop a dwarf’s lap, his thick, tattooed arm wrapped around her waist. Orelia gave her a tight smile and followed Beron down the adjacent hall and into his office.
She shut the door behind them, and the nightly chatter became distant murmurs.
With a groan, Beron plopped into his chair, the stitches in the seat straining. He began rifling through the papers on his desk, ignoring her, as was customary.
Orelia fumbled her fingers in her skirt as she gathered the courage to ask him her question.Be assertive. You can do this.
She lifted her chin and stopped fidgeting. “I was wondering if you would be able to pay me now. It’s been two days since you said you would.”
If Beron could afford Pony girls, he could certainly afford her measly salary.
