“Thank you,” I murmur, distracted by the finely patterned wallpaper and the thick rug beneath my battered slippers.
Legayle takes me into a large room with a square tiled bath, big enough for several people to fit comfortably. There are benches beneath the water, and fragrant steam rises from the glimmering surface.
“Everything off, dear,” says Legayle. “Let me see what we’re working with.”
I unlace the corset and let it fall, then divest myself of the short skirts. Legayle makes me remove the ribbons laced up my arms as well, and the slippers, and my earrings. She stuffs everything into a bag, “for burning,” she adds cheerfully. “Lift your arms, dear, and stand with your legs apart. Good, good—such nice breasts, well-balanced. Hands and wrists are delicate, if a bit rough. Buttocks firm and smooth, legs well-shaped. A good neck—a little thick, but no matter. Lovely features.” She pries up my lip to inspect my teeth, then clucks her tongue. “Some decay, but the healer will fix that.”
Legayle bends over, inspecting my feet with her one good eye. “We’ll need to tend those toenails and calluses. And we’ll do a full-body hair removal, except for your head, of course.” She chuckles. “The treatment is magical, and permanent. An import from Thannira.”
The sailors on the docks don’t usually mind a little body hair on their women, but I suppose here, in a house of fine courtesans, fashions are different. I won’t mind not having to shave again.
“You called, Legayle?” An olive-skinned woman with gray hair stands in the doorway, eyeing my naked form with cool appraisal.
“This is Risa.” Legayle gestures to me. “She needs healing. Her teeth must be repaired, and I noticed some sores, a bit of a rash.”
“I know what to look for. Lie down, girl.”
I obey, stretching out on the cold tiles. The healer kneels beside me, her hands outstretched, her brow slightly furrowed with concentration. Threads of yellow light unspool from her fingers and descend to my skin, soaking into my body. A sensation of warmth travels from my face to my toes.
For months now, I’ve noticed disturbing changes in my body—rashes, lumps, sores, itchiness, and pain when I relieved myself. Servicing my clients has been more painful, too, and I’ve had bleeding when it wasn’t my monthly time. Orgul didn’t seem to care when I mentioned it. He only said, “If it gets worse, you’ll pay for a healer out of your wages,” knowing perfectly well that I couldn’t afford one. Well... I could have, I suppose—but at the expense of my escape fund. I’ve been waiting, hoping the symptoms would go away, worrying over them daily when they didn’t.
The relief of finally being purged of every last bit of illness or dysfunction—the knowledge that the work is being done for free by a skilled healer—it’s enough to bring tears to my eyes.
The healer notices and frowns. “Does it hurt? It shouldn’t.”
“No,” I whisper. “I just—thank you.”
Her frown relaxes. “You’re welcome, child.” She withdraws her hands with a satisfied nod. “There. You’re in perfect health.”
“Now for a good wash, to keep it that way,” says Legayle. “Into the bath you go, dearie! I’ll fetch the hair removal treatment.”
Two hours later I’m cleaner than I can ever remember being. My body is hairless from chin to toes, my skin soothed with a fragrant lotion, my calluses filed away. My hair has been treated with at least three different serums and oils, and it smells as delicious as I feel. I’m still naked, but I’m sitting on a padded stool in a dressing room now, while Zadi finishes applying my makeup under Legayle’s direction.
“I would let you rest,” says Legayle, surveying me with a smile, “but the masters told me you were to begin your training at once, this very night.”
“It’s all right,” I tell her. “I’m used to staying up at night and sleeping by day.”
“Aren’t we all,” murmurs Zadi, delicately combing my eyebrows into place. “There now. You look less like a dock-drooler and more like one of us. Have you decided on her wardrobe yet, Legayle?”
“Something simple,” she answers. “I was thinking white, with lace appliques and gauzy layers. Ethereal, virginal.”
“I can see it.” He nods, stepping back to survey his handiwork. “She has that look, doesn’t she? Despite all the cocks she has choked on, she looks fucking innocent. Just a hint of mystery and mayhem in the eyes, with that red hair. Godsdamnit, I think I actually like her.”
I’m used to people talking around me and over me, but if I’m going to play the role of a courtesan, I should start acting like one, and that means asserting myself.
“She isn’t quite sure how she feels about you,” I say dryly.
“Saucy thing.” Zadi reaches out and grabs my breast, cupping the underside, hefting the weight of the flesh before squeezing lightly. “Mm. Perfection. Get her into an outfit, Legayle, and I’ll take her to see Bess.”
3
I’m used to being touched and taken whenever those around me feel like it. At The Winking Siren, I wasn’t allowed underthings except ugly practical ones to use during my bleeding; so I’m surprised to receive a pair of panties from Legayle. They’re pale pink, edged with ruffled lace and lined with the softest fabric I’ve ever touched—like rose petals brushing against my center.
The dress I’m wearing has more coverage than I’m used to as well. My breasts are encased in cups of satin and white netting, while lace and white ribbons adorn the rest of the bodice. Layers of white tulle decorated with lace appliques cover my arms and drape my legs, flowing all the way to the floor. Diamond chandelier earrings twinkle from my earlobes.
When Legayle turns me to face the long mirror in the dressing room, I can hardly breathe.
I look like a princess. Which makes sense, because the clients of The Royal Orchid demand the very best. In addition to the wealthy, illustrious men of Knockaine itself, the Orchid serves rich merchants, traveling princes, roguish lords, wandering dukes, even errant kings on their way to kiss the asses of potential allies.
I can scarcely believe I’m here. I’m to learn the ways of a courtesan in the house I’ve dreamed of ever since I first heard about it. My inner turmoil veers from tremulous gratitude to petrified fear, from thrilling happiness to sickening dread as I remember what I must do if I want to stay.
I’m not a beloved parrot on a gilded perch. I’m a tattered gull, clinging to the rigging with determined claws, buffeted by the gusts of an oncoming storm.
Zadi catches my fingers in his and pulls my hand over his shoulder as he saunters out of the dressing room and down the hall. I didn’t care for the way he touched my breast earlier, as if he thinks me scum to be handled however he likes. For some reason I expected something better or different from the inhabitants of this house.
It doesn’t matter. Once I secure my place here, I’ll make them respect me.
Zadi pauses outside a door inlaid with a glossy mosaic of a nude queen placing her toes on the bared neck of a knight. He points to a small inset rectangle in the doorframe. “When this tile is slid up, the room is not in use. When it’s down, there’s a client being entertained. All the rooms have them. A courtesan need only brush their hand over it as they lead a client inside.”