Page 2 of The Bartered Soul

Before I make my way down to the main salon, I stop in at one of the girl’s rooms. Knocking softly, I push the door open to check on Carina — although she’s confided that her given name is Lily — and drift to her bedside.

“How are you feeling today?” I ask. My hand brushes lightly over her arm as she reclines on the bed recovering from a miscarriage.

She smiles politely at me, and I take that as my answer. My hand skims her forehead to feel for fever before I shift to the table in her room, withdrawing a packet of herbs. I mix a tisane for the pain and to soothe her ragged nerves.

She didn’t want the babe, but that doesn’t change the distress she must feel in her body and heart. She is much younger than I, barely more than a child herself, and I curse the false King and his religion for making this girl’s choices harder than they already were.

The door closes softly behind me as I continue down the main staircase, and my bare feet sink into the thick carpet at the bottom — black, woven with silver stars. I nod to Jacob, one of the large men who watch over us for protection, as I do every evening. He rarely speaks to us, but returns the gesture, bowing his bald head to me. The velvet chairs in the main salon are beginning to fill with customers and girls flutter at their elbows like the gulls at the docks flocking to fishermen’s boats. The flirtatious giggles from the girls blend with the deeper murmurs from customers and the music from the piano player in the corner.

Madame Celeste reclines against the bar, drink already in hand. In the years I’ve been with her, I’ve never actually seen her take a sip. She prefers to always maintain a clear head in case of unruly patrons, but I understand her reasoning — one must keep up appearances.

Tonight she is resplendent in a gold gown that hugs her ample curves, a matching crown of rays on her auburn head like she is the Sun itself. I meet her gaze, and she grants me a smile that’s as artificial as her hair color before I scan the men lounging throughout the room.

This early in the night the clientele consists of regulars — merchants, nobles, and other men of means who stop in a few times a week for refreshments and conversation with their favorite girls. Some of them will go upstairs, but many seem to be content with a round ass on their lap while they sip on Celeste’s finest whiskeys and wines. They tip the girls handsomely, so no one complains. It’s easy money, even if Celeste takes a cut.

Despite being a thorn in my side, I can’t fault Celeste. She is usually fair with us, even if we do have to follow her ridiculous rules, and she takes a smaller cut than most of the other brothel owners along the row. It’s part of the reason I selected this house. That, and the fact that Celeste allows me to use my healing knowledge to help the other women when I can.

Joining her at the bar, I request the same drink I order every night — a single glass of sparkling wine. I won’t allow myself more — like Celeste, I also prefer to keep a firm grip on my faculties, but one drink at the beginning of the night takes the edge off.

“Good evening, Madame,” I smirk to my boss, toying with the stem of the glass the bartender passes me.

“Andromeda,” Celeste answers as her hazel eyes scan the light dusting of gold on my skin in the candlelight. “You look… festive tonight.”

“I always try to look my best, Madame,” I reply coyly, fluttering my lashes in mock flirtation.

Celeste knows I hold most of the men who pass through the doors of the House of Starlight in contempt, and any flirtation I exhibit in this salon is just another disguise to smother memories of my past. She also knows that I cling tight to the Old Ways. Hell, she might still do so as well. She has never reprimanded me for it, even though, according to the King, she has every right to have me beaten, or worse, for doing so. From what I’ve gathered she’s only a few years older than I am, and as much as I hate to admit it, she feels like a kindred spirit.

At twenty-seven, I am the oldest of the merchandise at Madame Celeste’s House of Starlight. I hide my age well. My skin is still milky and smooth due to spending most of my time under the moonlight in service of the Goddess, instead of laboring in the sun or caring for a family.

Some of my fellow girls haven’t been so lucky, turning to this life in desperation, but the men here don’t seem to care. Most of them are so drunk by the time they reach the rooms upstairs that they can barely remember where to stick their cock, let alone notice a few perceived imperfections.

As I sip my wine, I turn to scan the salon for tonight’s prey. I prefer inexperienced boys with too much money to spend or older gentlemen with refined tastes. They are usually malleable enough for me to seek my own pleasure in honor of the Goddess while lightening their purses in the process.

The rougher visitors, men fresh from long voyages or soldiers from King Dargan’s regiments, rarely make it past my threshold. Celeste decided that forcing me to allow such visitors wasn’t worth the laundry fees she incurred the first few weeks of my residence — bloodstains, courtesy of the dagger I keep under my mattress, are much harder to remove.

A lonely young man sitting at the corner of the bar snags my attention, and I raise my brow when his gaze meets mine. As I prowl toward him, a hush falls over the salon, as if the air has been sucked from the room on the chill breeze that blows in with the new arrival. With my back to the entry door, I can’t see the newcomer, but I already know who has stepped into the room.

Captain William Lennox has arrived.

Shifting my long hair, I sneak a glance to confirm my suspicion and see him settling in at the same booth he has reserved every night for the last week. His hateful eyes sweep the salon and its patrons.

Celeste has already crossed the room to greet him, a bright smile on her face at the thought of him emptying his pockets into her hands. He keeps minimal candles around his table, making his unnaturally black hair almost blend into the midnight sky painted on the wall behind him. Shadows caress the hollows of his sharp cheeks and strong jawline.

I swallow my distaste for the pirate lord and rumored flesh trader, returning my focus to the innocent blond in front of me — the polar opposite of the man in the booth across the room. As I continue around the corner of the golden-edged bar, I feel the Captain’s dark gaze prickling between my shoulder blades, the same as I have every night he’s held court here. I take a deep breath and smile at the young man sitting in front of me, refusing to look back at the sinister creature.

* * *

It only takes a short conversation with my potential customer before he allows me to guide him upstairs to my room.

“Is this your first time?” I ask as the door shuts behind us. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the boy has stopped just inside the door, eyes glancing between me and the bed. The blush on his face is more of an answer than the small bob of his head, but I smile just the same.

His pale skin trembles under my hands as he returns my caresses with gentle, awkward touches. I guide him in the ways of women and it takes less time for him to come than it did to talk him into accompanying me upstairs in the first place.

“Is this enough?” The boy palms several coins as he buttons his breeches, redressing after our quick escapade. The heavy coins clink together as he drops them into my hand, and he blushes before scurrying from the room.

Standing at the washbasin in the corner of the room, I wipe the evidence of our joining from my skin in anticipation of my next visitor. My thoughts drift away from the walls surrounding me as I replenish the water in the ewer, the motions methodical and mindless, landing instead on the moonlit ceremony so many years ago; the night I lost my own innocence in dedication to the Goddess. A smile ghosts across my lips before a quick rap at the door startles me back to the present. My heart races at the sound; no one approaches my door at night.

Customers are required to stay in the main salon unless they are accompanied by one of the girls. Otherwise, someone will ring the bell to request us. Maybe it’s just the blond boy coming back for something. I cast my eyes around the room, looking for anything he could have forgotten when the knock comes again, this time louder. Confusion leaks into my expression as I crack open the door, and then step back, surprised to see Madame Celeste herself standing in the hallway.

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