The Fallen Princess

Fourteen

Steam curled out of the washroom like a beckoning ribbon as Zaria pushed the small wooden door open. The air inside was still heavy with warmth, scented faintly of lavender soap. Her skin glowed a soft rose from scrubbing, and her muscles felt loose, warm, and blissfully light after soaking in the deep metal tub.

For the first time in days, perhaps weeks, she felt like herself again. Clean. Untightened. “Would you like dinner brought up,” Callen called from across the room, “or would you prefer to go downstairs to the tavern?”

“I’d like to go to the tavern,” she replied softly, braiding her damp hair over one shoulder as she stepped fully inside. Small droplets from the ends traced cool paths down her back. “As you wish,” he said.

Callen lay stretched across the bed nearest the window. One arm propped behind his head, the other resting across his abdomen. The room had chilled noticeably now that the last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind the jagged mountains outside. Lanterns flickered alive, their warm glow casting gentle shadows that danced along carved stone walls.

He sat up with a slow roll of his shoulders. “Are you ready?” Zaria nodded and reached for her boots. “Do you think I can keep wearing pants once we reach your castle?” “No,” he answered immediately, not even pretending to consider it. She made a face. He grinned, thoroughly entertained, as she slipped past him and exited into the hallway.

If earlier had been lively, the tavern now felt alive... like a beast made of sound and light. The music was louder, the laughter bolder, the conversations overlapping into a bustling symphony. Fire crackled behind a massive iron grate. Mugs clanked. Boots thudded against wood.

Zaria walked straight into the heart of it, her eyes widening all over again. “Wait here,” Callen murmured, dipping his head low so that his voice brushed her pointed ear. His warm breath skimmed her skin.

She shivered; instantly, involuntarily. He noticed. Oh, he definitely noticed. A low laugh rumbled from his chest as he stepped past her and disappeared into the crowd. Zaria rubbed her ear, annoyed by her own body's betrayal, and waved him off dismissively. The moment he was out of sight, she resumed staring.

Everywhere she looked was something new: a bard tuning his lute; two dwarves arm-wrestling; a dark-haired woman perched on a counter, flirting outrageously with a trio of soldiers; a pair of dragon knights roaring with laughter over a spilled drink.

Zaria’s heart thudded in her chest with excitement. This world... messy, chaotic, fragrant and loud, felt intoxicating. A woman stepped directly into her line of sight. A stunning woman. Her eyes were bright yellow, like molten gold catching fire, and her smile unfurled slowly across her full lips as her gaze slid down Zaria’s frame.

“Well, aren’t you lovely,” she purred. Zaria blinked. “Can I help you?” “Oh, a pretty thing like you could help anybody,” the woman replied slyly, beginning to circle Zaria as though examining a prize. Her movements were graceful, predatory, alluring.

“I’m Amber,” she added, voice dripping honey. Zaria instinctively took a small step back, unsure. “Do you have a man?” Amber asked. Zaria shook her head, still not entirely sure what was being asked but certain the answer was no.

“Well,” Amber said briskly, gesturing around at the overflowing tavern, “we’re swamped tonight. We could use another body, especially one as attractive as yours. How would you like to make a little money?”

Money. Zaria paused. She had no coin. No belongings beyond her travel clothes. Her future was a massive, blank, terrifying page and earning even a small purse could give her options she desperately lacked.

All around her, women carried platters with ease, weaving through the crowd with practiced rhythm and laughter. They seemed competent, admired, free. It couldn’t be that difficult... Right?

“I’ve never done this before,” she admitted softly, “but I’m willing to try.” Amber’s smile sharpened with triumph. She clasped Zaria’s hand. “Come.” Zaria followed her through a narrow hallway into a back room lined with shelves of linens, baskets of clothing, and trunks filled with odds and ends.

“What’s your name?” Amber asked. “Zaria.” Amber’s smile stretched even wider. “What a unique name. It suits you.” She rummaged through a trunk and handed Zaria a folded bundle of fabric.

“What’s this?” Zaria asked warily. “Our signature look,” Amber said, already tugging at the hem of Zaria’s blouse. “The men seem to like it.” Before Zaria could question what that meant, Amber whipped her shirt over her head with surprising speed.

Zaria yelped and immediately covered her chest with both arms. Another beautiful woman burst into the room from the opposite door. Her dark hair curled wildly over her shoulders, and she radiated the exact kind of confidence Zaria had always admired.

“Amber! What are you doing? You have a patron waiting in Room 32.” Her gaze slid to Zaria. “Oh? Who’s this?” “This is Zaria,” Amber said, tugging impatiently at Zaria’s arms. “She said she was willing to work.” “She’s willing...? Oh, she definitely hasn’t done this before.” The second woman laughed, unbothered. Zaria’s cheeks burned.

“It doesn’t matter,” Amber said dismissively. “Men love the innocent look.” Zaria’s hands were pried away as Amber pressed a soft skirt into them. “Step in.” Zaria obeyed, her confusion growing by the second. Her heart hammered as the skirt slid up her legs. The other woman slipped out with a wink.

“Don’t mind her,” Amber murmured. “She’s just jealous.” “Jealous of what?” Zaria managed. Amber didn’t answer. She yanked the cords of a leather corset and pulled hard. Zaria’s breath vanished. Her ribs protested. Her spine straightened involuntarily.

“Amber... Amber... I can’t breathe...” “This won’t stay on long,” Amber said with a wicked smirk.

That did not comfort Zaria. Amber stepped back, her bright yellow eyes sweeping critically over Zaria’s frame.

“You look… really good, actually,” she said. She reached forward without warning and adjusted Zaria’s chest higher. Zaria squeaked again. “You’ll earn more coin that way,” Amber added.

Then she handed Zaria a pair of brown leather boots, snug around the calf.

“Do I look like a dragon?” Zaria asked, breathing shallowly from the corset. Amber smirked. “As much as you can, little elf.” She pointed to a basket. “Throw your clothes in there. I’ll show you the ropes.”

Zaria hesitated but she needed money. She needed options. She needed… something. Her clothes dropped into the basket. Amber seized her hand. “Let’s go.” Back Into the Fire

The tavern roared around them as they re-entered. The noise hit Zaria like a wave; music, shouting, laughter, clinking mugs. Amber moved quickly, weaving between tables with expert precision. Zaria stumbled after her, dizzy from sensory overload and the very tight corset preventing full breaths.

“The tables are numbered,” Amber explained, pointing at burned symbols etched into each corner of the long wooden tables. “Match the ticket to the number.” They passed the bar. Amber grabbed two heavy pitchers of ale, handing one to Zaria. The weight nearly dragged Zaria’s arm down.

“All these men are the King’s soldiers,” Amber continued. “Keep their cups full and they’ll pay.” Zaria blinked. “…Pay for the drinks?” Amber winked. “And once you’re full-up, someone will fetch you and escort you to the back.” Her smile broadened. Wicked. Knowing.

“Don’t worry… it won’t take long with this lot. Zaria froze. Her stomach dropped. Her pointed ears twitched in alarm. “…Escort me to the back for… what?”