Chapter 3
Three
The Bidding House stands like a monolith in the wealthiest neighborhood of Vale Row. It’s a white-stone manor covered with honeysuckle and crowned with a ruby-tiled roof. Sprawling and opulent, this is the only home I’ve ever known.
Magnolia trees on the trimmed lawn rustle their greetings as I click the front gate closed. To escape the rain, I dash down the brick walkway and up the entrance steps to the massive double doors.
The warm brass of the handle barely touches my fingertips before I notice something beneath it. An official scroll bearing the Alexandrian Royal Seal sits underneath the lever. I hesitate and look down the street. One on every door. They stand out like little flags, begging for investigation.
Hands shaking, I break the wax. My sharp, manicured fingernails dig into the heavy paper, ripping it accidentally, but I don’t care.
~Kingdom of Alexandria~
City of Alexandria
Announcement:
Tonight, marking the end of Summer-Set and the beginning of Ore Harvest, we behold the annual Bidding Ceremony, a tradition of the highest honor.
Time soon expires to place your wagers on which High Lords will bid on which Lady Courtesans.
Twenty-five debutantes, fresh from training at their academies, will perform for your pleasure.
The possibility of a new High Lady Courtesan this season makes the stakes riskier than before.
Everything shall be revealed on this auspicious eve.
May the Spirit Goddess bless your chances.
Warning:
By nightfall, place all bets with the Royal Secretary’s Office for official tax purposes. Any wagers without the proper seal are subject to fines or possible imprisonment in the dungeons.
Entering the marbled foyer, I clench the piece of parchment in my fist one last time before tossing the crumpled ball into the nearby fireplace. Typically, this room brims with Keepers waiting for Lady Courtesans, but tonight it sits empty.
Despite its name, the Bidding House is not where the Bidding Ceremony occurs.
Though our manor can boast small-to-medium parties—making an invitation all the more elusive—it’s not large enough to hold every member of the nobility, especially when you add traveling beast lords and ladies who are larger than the typical human.
Trying not to trip on my soaked skirts, I sprint up the grand staircase to reach the dormitories above. My boots squelch, making me cringe with each step.
Like always, this day affects every courtesan differently.
Some courtesans leave their doors open while they gossip with their fellows, giggling and enjoying themselves.
Their complexions shimmer with a luminescent radiance, a clear indication of their good mood.
But it isn’t always giddy behavior that peeks out from the dormitory chambers.
On the third floor, a courtesan with a faded glow stares into her mirror, edging her eyes with too much kohl liner and snapping at anyone who dares to interrupt her process.
Our glow, bestowed by the Spirit-Fae Cathedral, comes directly from the Rite of Allurement, which we drink after the ritual dance.
If we don’t take the potion from the priestess’s goblet, our skin loses its shine, and our wombs grow heavy and fertile.
This drink not only instills the gift of enticement but also protects us from untimely pregnancies.
I always make sure to swallow every last drop.
As I climb the last set of marble stairs, I quicken my pace past a closed door with sobbing behind it. The strength of my hearing is uncanny, but listening in on their problems isn’t what I want to do.
We know the role we’re born into. As the daughters of previous Lady Courtesans, we shouldn’t be surprised—not when we come from a lineage stretching a thousand years.
When we were children, we had no choice but to attend the courtesan academies designed for our education.
Named after our great city, there’s even one attached to the Bidding House.
Some academies are also scattered across the countryside, but they all provide the same training.
Like a sorority of sisters, we focus on the arts of dance, song, and conversation under the guidance of strict rules. And even stricter madames.
On the flip side, had we been born boys, we might’ve been arranged into a prestigious position within a warrior legion or naval fleet by a powerful father, because it’s common knowledge that courtesan sons are born with more skill, more strength, and more cunning due to the Rite’s infusion power.
Yet despite our exceptional beauty and charm, daughters are nary a thought to those who sired them.
Our role is never to be changed, no matter how badly we rebel against the rules that keep us pinned down. Especially not after the last time a Lady Courtesan broke free of her rank. It ended in disaster, nearly ruining the reign of King Xander Metalla III.
After his first wife’s death, the lonely monarch placed a bid on a courtesan named Lady Theodora.
Disregarding the Spirit-Fae Cathedral laws, they secretly married, to the shock of nobility and commonfolk alike.
Surprisingly, all seemed well for a while—that is, until she either died or disappeared without a trace.
Some say the king lost his powers the night she vanished, but that gossip is the treasonous sort. The sort that lands you in a dungeon.
And so, the Courtesan Queen reminds us why our fate is never to stray, and why any rules that had grown lax were tightened to an inflexible standard. These days, if a courtesan tried something similar, the priestesses would come for her—and she wouldn’t return.
My ears prickle in the corridor leading to my chambers. When I hear my name, I slow my footsteps to a trailing pace. The sound comes from the room next to mine.
“Oh! Who does Tabitha think she is?” Vennisa, my dormitory neighbor, asks vehemently. “Taking off all afternoon when she knows she has duties to perform.”
I freeze, listening. There is a mumbled response I can’t quite understand.
“But don’t worry—she won’t be High Lady Courtesan much longer. The Grand Chancellor has finally seen her true ways.”
“But those are just rumors,” says the other female voice, softer and uncertain.
Vennisa counters, “He confessed it to me himself.” My heart sinks.
Vennisa is unbearable, but she wouldn’t lie about something like this.
She’s too particular about following rules.
It’s why her nasty attitude is so smug. “He’s fed up being her Keeper and says she isn’t the same as she was when he first started bidding on her.
” She clicks her tongue. “And after all he did to raise her up when everyone knows Tabitha’s a foundling. ”
I sprint into my chambers and slam the door, not wanting to hear anything else. Tossing the basket of novels and scandal sheets onto my bedspread, they tumble in a heap. My hands cover my ears as I rock back and forth in my squishy boots, trying to focus on the water between my toes.
My mind races with thoughts from the past. I know I shouldn’t react this way—I should be stronger—but the truth sends me over the edge.
No, I’m not the same.
It’s been ten years since I was a debutante. What’s changed is that I’m a full-grown woman who now understands the duplicitous nature of his controlling touch. Eyes closed tightly, I take deep, deep breaths, focusing on the air flowing in and out of my rising chest.
But Vennisa’s voice penetrates the paneled wall.
Through my hands.
Through my mind.
She continues like an unstoppable force, “Tabitha’s been lying to everyone about the state of their relationship. You’ll find she has a nasty temper and violent tendencies. And though he’s not much better, the Chancellor had much to say about it during our carriage ride yesterday.”
Usually, my sensitive hearing is an advantage when I’m eavesdropping on my Keeper or Madame Phyrne. Now it’s a curse plaguing my sanity.
A gasp escapes the other girl. “I did notice she’s not a very good High Lady Courtesan.
Ever since I arrived, her leadership has been terrible—she stays quiet and avoids everyone.
We don’t know her at all…” I recognize the second voice as one of the younger girls.
Only a month out of training, she’ll debut tonight.
Coils of shame unfurl in my stomach.
With my hands still over my ears, I mentally beg their voices to disappear.
I stumble backward, my spine hitting the wall farthest from Vennisa’s chambers. The panelling scrapes my clothing as I slide and collapse onto the shining wooden floorboards. My palms burn on impact as they slap down.
“The Chancellor corrected her, and then she assaulted him—”
The debutante gasps again. “She actually attacked her Keeper?”
“Stop,” I whisper, barely more than a breath—a prayer to the Spirit Goddess—as my eyes squeeze shut.
“I hate to spread gossip like this, but she only has herself to blame. It’s not my fault she couldn’t control herself—”
“STOP!” The force of the word tears out of me like a wave, burning the inside of my throat, erupting through every pore in my skin.
How could he go to her?
My chamber door swings open, hitting the wall with a great crash. I curse to myself, blink, and see stars in my vision.
With a huff of air and crossed arms, Vennisa stands in my gaping doorway, clad in a blue dressing gown.
Her glow emits a calm white aura, accentuating her pale-blonde tresses set in rag curlers.
A beautiful yet superior smirk marks her upturned face, and under thick, lowered lashes, her eyes narrow as she asks, “Dear me, are you quite unwell?”
A dozen other girls, in varying states of undress, fill the hall behind her, trying to get a good look at the unfolding scene. They glow with a thrumming curiosity.
With an effort, I spring to my feet, thinking of an excuse. I try to hide the hoarseness in my voice by murmuring, “I tripped on my gown… fell into the wall. I’ll be all right.”
Vennisa’s gaze rakes me over, head to foot, no doubt looking at my drenched form. I hope my unwiped tears blend with my rain-soaked face as my hair drips down my shoulders. There’s nothing I loathe more than someone else noticing my uncontrolled emotions.
For the benefit of the watching courtesans, she dips her words in sugar before practically purring, “You poor darling—it’s perfectly reasonable to be a bit… frazzled… in your situation. Is there something you might need? Perhaps some tea? I could send the maid to fetch it for you.”
She fakes a smile.
All at once, I see the two little girls we used to be when we lived and trained at Alexandria Academie before we moved into the Bidding House dormitories.
After so many years together, I know her. Duty, success, and rewards have always defined Vennisa. She’s driven to compete and achieve more because it’s just who she is.
I’m hanging on to my position by a thread, and the prize of having the oversized suite of chambers, the largest dress allowance, and unending attention is what she wants.
It wouldn’t matter who held the High Lady Courtesan title; she would still hate that person with every fiber of her being.
I try not to take it personally, but the callousness hurts when I think of all we have gone through together.
My jaw tightens, and heat rushes to my head, making my eardrums thump-thump with pressure. It takes everything in me not to dig my sharpened nails into her perfect face. “I need nothing from you,” I tell her, my eyes daring her to provoke me further.
I almost wish she would.
The courtesans erupt in whispers, their glows flickering on and off like twinkling lights. My head swims in circles as I hear every snippet, but I brace myself.
“Of course,” Vennisa finally responds. “We wouldn’t want to disturb you.
You’re going through so much.” She motions for the others to leave with a flick of her dainty wrist. “Time to return to preparations, ladies. Many of you still have much work to do.” She closes the door on me, just as she closed the door on our friendship long ago.