Leaning back, I tried genuinely to look at Baevera without hate or judgment. Diplomatically, if nothing else. It was hard, but I tried.

Yes, she was beautiful. Even I could admit that much.

Thick, wild hair like burnished copper poured down her back. Just like autumn fire under the lights.

High cheekbones. Elegant jawline. A nose, pointed and shaped gracefully.

And those damned eyes...

Green like a storm-drenched forest in the middle of spring.

Even the ink design meant to obscure her identity enhanced her features.

Then, there was her body.

Lush curves obviously sculpted by a prideful god who wanted the world to stop and notice his handiwork. Legs long and toned, the kind that begged to be seen in heels.

Yes, I could obviously see why those moneybags were already salivating. But all that was surface.

Inside, Baevera Eldareth was all darkness. A spoiled, vindictive, evil bully wrapped in deceptive charm and poise. A venomous snake in a beautiful shell.

If only they knew her as I did, they would not touch her. Not even to poke her with a pole while standing ten miles away.

If she were on fire, they would feed the flames, piling the tinder high just to watch her scream as she burned.

Baevera Eldareth was the devil's incarnate; only her wickedness made hell itself look merciful.

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention.

Baron James approached, his lean silhouette swaying as he tipped an imaginary hat toward me. "Master of Merchants."

"Baron," I acknowledged with a nod. "Enjoying the show?" I motioned to the stage. "Your girl, Moira, seems to be setting the room on fire tonight."

Moira was once the infamous Blue Mask, one of Jolan Koll's ten. Though no one knew that but me. She was also a succubus, and Baron James was obsessed with her.

"Oh, yes, she is. But tonight, my eyes are on someone else." The baron grinned, flushed. "The new girl. I tried to book her, but Sesora told me you were handling her personally."

"I am."

He blinked, surprised.

Understandable. I rarely interfered directly. The brothel ran like all my other businesses. Independently, efficiently, with a chain of command I trusted to function without my presence.

"Well, I want her tonight." He reached into his cloak and then dropped three gold coins onto the table. "There. Standard rate."

Three gold coins.

That was the fixed hourly rate for the other nine courtesans I personally hired five years ago. A high-end pleasure maiden usually charged 70 silver coins for three hours. That is still 130 silver coins short of a single gold piece.

Three gold coins were an absurd price to pay for a whore for one hour of her time; most noblemen balked at paying a single gold coin even for a night. But then again, all luxury comes at a high cost.

By that metric, Baevera Eldareth should be priced at 20 silver coins, tops.

Yet, I said, "Five gold coins." The words were leaving my mouth before I could stop them.

"What the fuck?" the baron sputtered, then barked a laugh. "That is ridiculous, Cel'theren. What is so special about this one?"

Beats me. I merely shrugged, folding my arms across my chest. "Guess you will have to find out, Baron."

"Well, color me intrigued." He pulled out two more coins and set them beside the others. "But if she ends up not being worth it, I am getting a two-coin refund."

"Deal."

Footsteps echoed up the stairs, and another VIP emerged.

A Merchant Lord, though I could not for the life of me remember his trade. Something about spices? Or rare metals? I did not care enough to place it.

"I want the new girl too," he said. "Right after James."

The baron explained the rate. The merchant arched a brow, visibly intrigued, then calmly added his own five gold coins.

Interesting.

I tried not to judge them. Society needs its fair share of stupid, lust-blind men to keep the wheels of commerce turning.

"Shit, both of you already booked her?" another voice grunted behind them. "I rushed here, godsdamnit. Guess I will have to wait another night."

I side-eyed the male. Definitely nobility from the cut of his coat.

Technically, the house rule was that new courtesans only took two clients on their first night, no matter how much the females protested... which was a lot. The pleasure maidens love their coins. But rules were rules.

Then again, rule-makers are allowed to break them, right?

"She is open for more than two tonight," I said evenly. "Five gold coins."

What can I say? I am highly generous that way.

Word was, during Red Mask's time, she had averaged five, sometimes even seven clients a night. Far be it from me to deprive a lady of her favorite pastime.

The nobleman did not hesitate. He threw his five coins on the table and hurried after the other two, eager as a starving dog chasing a bone.

Left alone, I stared at the fifteen gold coins. Then separated six from nine.

Knowing my luck and the ridiculousness of the price, I would likely be refunding at least some of them.

I did the same for her last two bookings.

Let the night begin.

***

LADY BAEVERA

"He did what?" I snapped, filled with anger and horror.

"He booked you five clients," Sesora repeated, blinking at me. Even she looked baffled. "That is unusual for a first night. None of the others could get him to do that. How did you convince him?"

My fists clenched at my sides. "That cunning monster..."

Fury burned through me like acid. But it was brief, dying just as quickly.

In its place came cold, empty resignation. My shoulders dropped. My body sagged.

What was the point? I was tired. I was so, so tired.

This night would happen whether I fought or begged. Whether I screamed or prayed. So, I said nothing more.

Turning away from the head courtesan, I stepped into the hallway leading to the client receiving chambers.

At the end, above a door carved in gilded lettering, was my name: "Vera."

I entered the room and closed the door behind me without looking back. It was quiet, clean, and perfumed.

To the left, a tall mirror reflected my figure. To the right, folded neatly on a side table, was the change of clothes I was expected to wear for each client, and afterwards.

This was happening. This was really happening.

Coldness spread through my chest. Not fear, not anymore. Just defiance and a strange sense of calm.

I rose, stepped to the mirror, and removed the lace garment piece by piece until I stood naked.

Then the door opened, and my first customer stepped in.

LORD REVANDREL

In the solitude of my private quarters, my body thrummed with sexual satisfaction, my bloodlust sated.

After bathing and changing into fresh black robes, I approached the old shelf tucked in the corner and withdrew the Moonmirror.

A magical relic that was beautifully ancient and deceptively delicate. Its surface shimmered faintly even in rest.

I carried it to its mount beside the chamber's wall. A position that allowed me to view it clearly, whether I was working at my desk or lounging in bed.

The Moonmirror was one of the most expensive things I had ever purchased. A rare, nearly extinct relic from the Yurellian age. I rarely put it to use.

Pouring the sacred water that came with it into a shallow ceremonial bowl, I dipped the mooncloth in and wiped away the fine layer of dust that had settled on the mirror's surface.

Then, I pressed both palms against the glass and whispered the activation words: "Aikan'zarr elst vele'."

The mirror flickered once... then rippled like liquid mercury before stabilizing. A scene came into view, a real-time image of one of the brothel rooms.

Baevera Eldareth and her first client.

They had already begun. Or, rather, he had.

Baevera lay beneath him like a corpse. Heavy-lidded, desire-filled eyes watching him as he worked himself into a frenzy.

The Moonmirror had no sound, but it did not need any. The image was clear enough.

I folded my arms and leaned back slightly, watching and observing. Supervising the performance of the female who was supposed to be my most lucrative asset.

The Baron looked like he was experiencing divine bliss, his face slack with pleasure as time bled by.

Then, the two exchanged words. He spoke gently to her, and she smiled at him, saying something in return.

I snorted. Fucking pretentious Eldareth.

For someone who had screamed and kicked and pleaded, she certainly looked like she was enjoying herself now she thought no one was watching.

Baevera had always been such a whore. When we were younger, there were always males orbiting her, worshipping her, doing her bidding, and praising her like a goddess.

Memories stirred unexpectedly. As unwanted as a knock past midnight. Uninvited like fleas at a feast.

"M-Make them s-s-stop, Bae... please..."

The stuttering voice was mine. Younger and frantic.

A sharp pain pierced through my skull, and I staggered back, grabbing my head.

"He has always been so weak. So dumb and spineless," a male voice said, laughing. "I do not know how your family puts up with him and that whore of a mother."

"My family is a saint, Yesta," Baevera's familiar voice answered, holding annoyance. "They are my father's worst mistake. Shut up and have fun, Evan."

In the present, I snarled. My knees buckled, my eyes squeezing shut as my skull screamed.

My younger self flashed behind my eyes again, naked and trembling. Tied to a tree, tears falling down my face as I begged.

Mean, young males, at least a hundred year older than I was, circled me. Laughing and mocking me, the lit torches in their hands taunting me with fire.

I dug my finger into my head, trying to hold it together, to keep those memories away. No, no no no no we don't do that anymore, remember? I locked them up for good!

Yesta, the cruelest of them, finished his smoke and sauntered toward me, the carved bone pipe swinging between his fingers.

The instinct to run burned in the younger me. He thrashed against the ropes, but he could not escape. He was so afraid of Yesta.

In the present, my feet stumbled backward. "Fuck." I shook my head violently, trying to shake the recollections away.

But it kept flashing, and flashing. The taunts, the abuse, and their sick laughter. Until it came together to form a full picture and I was suddenly catapulted back into the past.

"Baevera... p-p-please," I tried so hard to speak through my stutter. They got worse when I was terrified. "M-M-Make it s-stop." She could stop them. They were her friends. They listened to her.

Baevera tore her lips away from her boyfriend long enough to glare at me. "Stop calling me."

Yesta held the pipe over the fire until it glowed red-hot, then stalked toward me like a predator. Smiling like one. Pointing the pipe like a weapon.

I screamed, begged, shouting louder in hopes someone outside the woods might hear. No one did. No one ever did.

The others laughed, scattered around, drunk on the thrill of it.

As Yesta brought the searing pipe closer, panic consumed me. I called her the one thing I was never supposed to.

"S-sister! No, no, sister help!!"

"Do not call me that, you moron!" she shrieked angrily. "I am not and will never be your sister! You retarded little fool, with your choked-up tongue that cannot say a word without tangling all over them, how dare you call me your sister!? What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"You know what is funny?" Jaze, another friend of theirs, laughed. "The fact that this dullard is an Eldareth. Bae has a moronic brother."

"He and his whore of a mother will NEVER be a part of our family, you son of a bitch!" Baevera shot back.

Yesta pressed the burning pipe to my chest, dragging it slowly down. Then came the burn. Sssssss...

I screamed so loud as the pain exploded across my skin, spreading through every nerve, through every inch of my body. "BAE-BAEVERA HELP!!"

"The spineless piece of shit keeps calling you, Bae." Another jeering laughter. "When will he get it through that dumb skull of his that you do not give a fuck about how we play with him?"

My chest scorched, my belly hurts so bad, as Yesta kept trailing that smoke pipe...

One of the males cleared his throat, "Uhmm, Yesta, wait, you are taking it too far, do not burn his junk-"

A pain that was soooo bad, so excruciating, it cannot be described rose in my groin. And I screamed so loud even the birds in the trees took flight.

My eyes rolled back into my head, and the world faded around me.

•

My eyes popped open.

I was alone. Collapsed on the floor of my private chambers, sweat pouring off me. My chest heaved as if every breath might be my last. Ukrae, I could barely breathe.

My heart also thudded too loud in my ears. I fucking shook from the strength of that memory. Almost like the millennial was watched away and it was happening right now.

The Moonmirror was black now, its glow gone. How long had passed? How long was I dragged back there?

Gods. I ran a shaking hand over my face, squeezing my eyes shut until stars pricked the darkness, but the memory stayed. Everything was still too goddamn clear, dammit.

I slammed the back of my head against the wall, pain splintering through my skull. Not enough. Not nearly enough.

So I drove it back, again and again, until all I could breathe, all I could feel, was the present agony. I slapped my face once, twice, again and again, until I lost count.

Slowly, the ghost of the past receded. The memory dulled, leaving only the battering I was inflicting on my skull and cheek.

Ah, the oldest trick in the book still works like magic, I see. Using present pain to smother past ones.

Not wanting to take any chances, I allowed time slipped away as I continued my assault on myself. Thud, thud, thud of my head against the wall, and the sharp smack, smack, smack of my palm on my cheek.

I even went as far as making music. Thud, smack, thud, smack, balancing the rhythm out.

And only when I was in such blinding physical pain that I just know everything else had gone away, only then did I stop.

I was right. My inside had gone still, the memories hidden way beneath the pain. The fist crushing my chest had finally eased.

I assessed myself. My cheek was swollen, throbbing a mean one, and my head continued to drum on its own with a giant headache, but at least the whirling inside had quieted. Definitely worth it.

The back of my neck felt wet and I knew I must have split something open. But that was fine. It was nothing that would not heal.

It'd been centuries since the flashes came this strong, Leaning my head back on the wall, I exhaled deeply and closed my eyes in the darkness.

Fucking Baevera Eldareth.

I should have ended her the moment she stepped back into my life.