Orelia knelt in front of her. “Unfortunately, I have to heal wounds there all the time. I’ll only touch you where I need to.”
“I trust you.” Tara huffed. “I know I don’t really know you, but you have a good aura about you, and it really fucking stings.”
The three of them laughed. Humor wasn’t often found in a brothel, but it helped numb the reality, even if only for a moment.
“Thank you. I like you guys too,” Orelia said, sharing in their smiles.
Tara slid her dress aside and spread her legs. Orelia inspected a tear on the posterior side of her labia, red with irritation and a bit of blood. She tenderly cupped the injured area of her genitals.
Tara grimaced, but her face relaxed as the healing light shined.
There was no shame or embarrassment between any of them. Orelia worked clinically and always made sure to tell the girls what she was doing before she did it. When she was done, she removed her hand and covered the girl back up with her dress.
“Gods, that feels so much better. I can’t thank you enough.Wecan’t thank you enough,” Tara said, motioning to Arielle, who smiled her agreement.
“It’s the least I could do.” Orelia made her way to the basin and began pumping water. She washed her hands, then dried them on the soft towel hanging over the rim, thankful to be of use to someone again.
“Why do those marks show up on your fingers when you do that?” Arielle asked, leaning against the wall.
“Truthfully, I don’t know. From everything I’ve read on witches, it just kind of happens when we heal.” Orelia was beginning to think she didn’t actually know much about her own kind. The witch who’d sold her the necklace certainly wasn’t what she’d expected, shattering her idea of what she thought it meant to have been Marked.
“I’m jealous,” Arielle said. “I hate being human. Nothing interesting happens to us.”
An easy camaraderie fell between them as the pleasure girls asked Orelia a few questions about life as a witch, and Orelia inquired about what it was like to live in Ricaboro.
“Maybe I can get Maren in here if she isn’t busy,” Tara said after she finished showing Orelia the ruby bracelet one of her repeatcustomers had recently bought her. “But one of us will need to get back before Doyle notices.”
Arielle stood by the mirror, working on untangling a few strands of her hair. “She was in the garden last time I saw her.”
Tara left the room saying she was going to look for Maren.
“How did you manage to avoid the brothel in Minro?” Arielle asked. “With your beauty and living in such a small place, I imagine the thought must have been tempting. Hard to find good work elsewhere as a woman.”
Orelia sat on the edge of the bed, fiddling with the setting of the emerald on her necklace. Arielle was right. Non-magically gifted women had fewer options to earn a living. It was either working in the kitchens washing dishes, scrubbing floors, doing hard labor at the docks, or the brothel.
“The only thing that saved me was being a witch. If I had been human . . .” Her voice trailed off. “I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
Arielle nodded solemnly. It wasn’t fair that men like Doyle and Beron preyed on the weaker species, but nothing about the world was fair.
“If I had enough money to buy out your contracts and free all of you from this place I would in a heartbeat,” Orelia said. “Just as I would do for my girls back home.”
Magic was powerful, but it was money that kept the world turning. She only hoped with her being gone that Beron would pay the others a little more now that he had one less woman in his employ.
Arielle let out an awkward chuckle. “Some women, and some of the men, love it here. I can’t understand why. They say it’s theirhome, but home isn’t a cruel place, no matter how beautiful the setting.” Her eyes traveled along the walls of her cage, then fell to the floor. “They’re stronger than me, I suppose.”
Orelia rose from the bed and gently gripped Arielle’s shoulders, pulling the girl’s glossy eyes to hers. “Youarestrong, Arielle. All of you are. Don’t ever let anyone tell you any different. Not Doyle. Not a patron. Not anyone.”
Her eyes went misty the longer the two women looked at another. One finally free, and one a slave to the desires of others. Orelia embraced Arielle in a tight hug. “You’re so much stronger than you realize. Don’t let this place crush your beautiful spirit.”
The door swung open, revealing an angry man standing on the threshold. “Arielle, why aren’t you out on the floor? And who—” His eyes narrowed on Orelia. “Who in the hells are you? My guards didn’t let you in.”
All warmth drained from inside her. “I’m a customer,” Orelia said, too unsure, too unconvincingly.
The man stormed toward her with the two male batalins on his heels. “I have eyes all over this place, girl. You’re not a customer, and you’re not one of my fillies, so who are you?”
Her palms began to sweat. “I . . .”
Arielle put herself between them. “She’s a friend, Doyle. She just stopped by to say ‘hi’.”
