Sanre Du Lore looked like a normal town. High walls sat on the edge of a river, covered in white plaster. A gate sat in the middle of the wall, the doors open to welcome travelers. A wooden drawbridge spanned the water to meet the dirt road on which the group traveled since early in the afternoon.
The muscles in Claire’s shoulders ached, stiff from practice and the comforting sleep the great outdoors had to offer. As predicted, Aeron was upset about the sword and had barely said a word to any of them— especially Farron, who’d walked ahead of the group as usual. She guessed Aeron really could hold a grudge. As expected, Bren had been the first to apologize for his actions and for the ruin of the sword. He even offered to replace it. Which Aeron gladly accepted, a little too quickly.
Farron was the first to cross the drawbridge over the river, followed by Aeron. Her stomach tensed as she approached the bridge. The river drifted peacefully underneath. However, it wasn’t a fear of bridges that made her uneasy. Bren had seemed surprised that she would want to stop at this town and she was nervous to find out why.
“Wait, Miss Claire.” Bren held out his arm in front of her before she could step onto the bridge. “We have a tradition in Lendon. Before we enter another country, we must first say goodbye to our own.”
Claire looked up at the General. “What do you mean?”
Bren spun around to face the empty road behind them. “We leave the country by stepping backwards into the new one. That way, we don’t offend the land or his majesty and have good fortune on our return.”
She studied his face. He was serious. No matter how silly it seemed, she’d heard of stranger traditions. Who was she to judge? So, she spun around to face the empty road as well, hoping the two elves weren’t watching.
“Like this.” Bren bowed in the direction of the road. “This is farewell, but not goodbye. Please grant me good fortune upon my return.” He glanced down at her and waited for her to say something.
“And me as well,” was all she could come up with at the moment. She felt silly enough curtsying to an empty stretch of road.
Bren stepped backwards and Claire did as well. She closed her eyes and hoped against all hope Aeron didn’t see what they were doing. She walked backwards, taking slow, even steps, not wanting to fall into the river below. That was a whole different fear all in its own.
“Bren? How far do we have to walk backwards?” she asked but was replied with only silence. “General?”
Her back bumped into something and her eyes flew open.
“Mon lainí, I really hope that you have not gone crazy already.”
She tilted her head back to see Aeron with a worried look on his face, then back down to find Bren still on the drawbridge, doubled over in silent laughter. She crossed her arms as Bren straightened up to join her and the elf.
“I’m afraid Miss Claire is as gullible as you say, Aeron.” His eyes glittered with amusement as he fought to control his smile.
“So it seems,” Aeron agreed from behind her.
Claire sighed loud enough so the others could hear it. Even Bren was starting in on the teasing now. And here she had believed he was a gentleman. Aeron planted his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him.
“We only tease because we are fond of you. Even Mr. Grumpy over there.” He motioned with his head to Farron standing across the street with crossed arms. “Now come, let me show you the wonders of Sanre.” Aeron spun on his heel, grabbed Claire’s hand, and planted it on his arm as he began to walk down the street.
“Have you been here before?” she asked. She didn’t think he was allowed to leave the forest. Unless this was where he came all those years ago on his little excursion.
“Unfortunately, no.” Aeron feigned sadness. “That is why I must take full advantage while we are here.” He glanced over his shoulder and leaned in close. “I will keep your prince busy while you go seek out that contact.”
Claire calmed a bit. She’d almost forgotten why they came to Sanre. Farron had mentioned that he had a friend here that could help her in her search for her mother, but would he still follow through? They weren’t exactly on the best of terms at the moment.
The streets of Sanre Du Lore weren’t as lively as Lendon’s. No market stalls stood along the main street. The mobs of people and farmers were absent as well, which left the dirt road devoid of life, save for a few scattered people wandering about. According to Bren, Sanre sat right on the border to the Lendonian Kingdom and was famous for the nightlife it offered. Gambling and prostitution were just a hop, skip, and a bridge away.
The buildings were modest with clean lines and white plastered walls. Colorful signs swung out in front of them, the windows blocked-out or shuttered on most. She counted three gambling holes and two brothels: all conveniently placed on the main road into town. Sanre sure didn’t disappoint.
They came to a crossroads, filled with the most people she’d seen so far. Taverns lined the street, their patrons spilling out into the road, the loud music from each blending together into an incoherent mash. Claire swallowed hard. What had she gotten herself into? And what kind of friend did Farron have here? She couldn’t imagine him loafing about in such a place. Or maybe there was a hidden side to the elf. She glanced over at him. His arms were crossed, his face an unreadable mask. Maybe he really was a night worker. There were surely plenty of perverts in this town that would pay for even his company. She smiled at the thought.
“Well, General.” Aeron spun around to face Bren. “I believe you owe me a sword.”
Claire peered at Bren, her chest tight, afraid to see his reaction. Aeron didn’t have to be so direct.
Bren’s eyes went wide but he recovered with his dazzling smile. “Of course.”
Aeron put an arm around the General’s shoulders and squeezed tight. “Do not worry, my lady. I will show him a good time!”
A pang of worry hit Claire. His idea of a good time was a little unsettling. Especially in a town like this one.
“I would hate to leave Miss Claire all by herself,” Bren said as he glanced at Farron.
“Oh, no!” Claire chimed in. She waved her hands in the air in front of her as if to brush away his concern. “I’ll be quite fine! I’ll just wander around a bit and find a suitable inn. Besides, I have a guard.” She glanced at Farron, who seemed to be ignoring them. She knew what the General’s real concern was, but the idea was just too ridiculous.
“Alright, my lady, we shall see you later. Try not to have too much fun!” Aeron grinned before he turned to the General. “So tell me, Bren, have you ever gambled before?”
Claire crossed her arms as she watched the two disappear down the street. Bren glanced unsurely back at her with Aeron’s arm still planted firmly around his shoulders. She hoped they didn’t have too much fun by themselves; she sure wouldn’t. She glanced at her quiet companion. They hadn’t spoken a word to each other since yesterday after his little scuffle with the General.
Awkward tension set in as she looked out at the crowded street. Would he actually follow through on his word?
“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”
Farron’s voice made her jump. The mention of food made her stomach growl. She’d forgotten that she’d only eaten a light meal earlier in the day.
“I suppose I am as well. What do you suggest?” She turned to the elf.
“How ‘bout some local cuisine? I know a place.” He looked at her sideways.
Anything would be better than what they’ve been eating. “Lead the way.”
He held a hand out to her and she looked up at him, eyebrow raised high.
“It’s not a good idea for a woman to wander the streets alone in this town.”
Claire put her hands on her hips. “I think I’ll pass.”
“Fine.” Farron shrugged and took off down the street in the opposite direction that Aeron and Bren had gone.
This was going to be fun. She glanced one last time down the tavern riddl
ed street, hoping Aeron wasn’t really going to show Bren a good time. Then she hurried after Farron, who was already several paces away, almost lost in the crowd, but at least he wasn’t hard to find.
“Hey, Miss, what’s the hurry?” A hand caught her by the arm suddenly, pulled her back and spun her around. A man wound an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him, his breath reeking of alcohol and other unsavory things. Bald of hair and round of belly, he surely wasn’t a catch, which could explain his presence in such a town.
“To get away from you of course,” she said curtly. She had never been too fond of dealing with drunks. Alcohol gave even the shyest of men confidence. Most of it unwelcome.
“That’s not very nice of ya,” he slurred and leaned in closer.
“It’s not nice of you to commandeer a lady, either.” She began to pry his arm away from her waist but his grip tightened.
“What’s the big hurry?” He smiled, exposing browned teeth. “We could have some fun.”
Hardly likely, she thought, but decided not to share it. Making the man angry would only worsen the situation. “Please, sir, remove your hands.”
“And let you get away? I don’t think so.”
“What makes you think I would want to go anywhere with you?”
“A tiny little thing like you shouldn’t be wanderin’ around here alone, didn’t anyone tell you that?”
Unfortunately, they had. “I believe I can take care of myself, sir.”
“I wouldn’t even charge ya—”
“Is this how your mother raised you?” she shot at him.
The man’s expression faltered a bit.
“I would hate to think that this is the way that you would woo a lady, kind sir.” She kept her voice even and summoned up a glare that would have made her mother proud. “I am not a lady for hire, and even if I were, I’d think she’d receive a certain amount of respect, or at least warning before you so ungratefully seized her. You should be glad that this town offers such services, because that may be the only way you could get a woman. Now if you would, please remove your hands before I bury my dagger in your belly.”
The man’s hands grew slack and she used the opportunity to push away.
“And for future reference, I want you to remember this. I’m sure women in your path will thank me.” With that, she spun around to look for her silver-haired companion.
Farron stood off to the side, waiting, with a mixture of surprise and amusement on his face. When she drew nearer, he stretched his hand out.
“Come on then,” she caved, snatching up his hand before she dragged him away through the crowd. She didn’t know where she was going, but anywhere was good if it was away from that drunken lard.
He tugged her to a stop in front of a two-story building. The sign out front read Tillie’s Tavern. A boisterous crowd cheered inside, the music drifted out into the street through the open doors. She transferred her grip to his arm. Holding his hand just felt awkward.
“Is this it?” She wasn’t impressed.
“Well, it was here. I think.” His eyebrows gathered in concentration. He spun around and looked further down the street. “Or maybe there.”
He took off down the street and she struggled to keep her grip on his arm. This time he stopped in front of Miranda’s Haven. The atmosphere seemed quieter than the previous one. A glass window provided a glimpse to the building’s innards. Small tables were scattered about most of the room with a bar along the back wall.
“Ah, here it is.” Farron gazed through the window, his eyes far away, as if remembering a fond past.
Claire wondered if Tillie or Miranda were real people, muses honored with the name of a tavern. She dropped her hand from Farron’s arm and followed him in through a pair of swinging doors. More of a restaurant than a bar, music was absent from the space. Instead, it was filled with the constant hum of people and the help. Much of the light came from the window facing the street, supplemented by oil lamps on the walls and simple candlelit chandeliers from above.
People around the room glanced at them as they entered, but didn’t seem to give them too much thought. Perhaps they got more elves here in Sanre? In this type of town, he probably wasn’t the strangest thing they’d ever seen.
A perky young woman with strawberry blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail approached them, and gave Farron the eyes, looking him up and down. Claire sighed, rolling her eyes. If only she knew. But it seemed awfully presumptuous of the girl. Claire was right there. Would it be so out of the realm to think that she and the elf could be together?
They were led to a sunken area by the window to a table with two chairs.
“My name’s Miranda.” She giggled and averted her eyes down.
Claire’s attention quickly turned to the young woman. Was this the muse? Her eyes narrowed as she studied her. Mother never would have named the tavern after her daughter. Some things were just so unfair.
“What can I getcha’ to drink?” Miranda eyed Claire nervously.
“I’ll have the Sanre Ale.” Farron beamed up at Miranda as he undid the straps to his weaponry and pack and set them down on the floor underneath the table.
“Just the same,” Claire snapped. He really had no shame.
Miranda hurried away to the bar.
“I think you frightened her.” Farron rested his chin on his hand. The smile faded from his face.
“Just trying to figure out if she’s the Miranda.” And she was growing tired of the girl’s obvious flirting. Not that she cared, but it seemed a bit disrespectful.
He raised an eyebrow and looked at her suspiciously. “I thought you didn’t like ales.”
She shrugged. “Why not try it? Maybe I’ll like this one.”
“I never met a tavern maid that didn’t enjoy a good brew every now and then. Are you sure that’s what you really are?”
“Of course!” she said the words almost as if she were proud of the fact. Which she hardly ever was. Or perhaps she really just couldn’t help but rise to the occasion. Especially if it was Farron that rose it. Why did he seem to have that effect on her? “Well, maybe not exactly,” she recovered in a softer tone.
His hand dropped to the table, limp as his attention focused on her.
“Mother never really let me serve. Not truly anyway. I mostly just stayed behind the bar, helped with the basic chores and things like that. She hired other girls to serve, no matter how many times I asked her to let me.”
“Consider yourself lucky then, Claire.”
She sighed. He didn’t need to tell her that. She really wasn’t even sure why she was telling him in the first place. Somehow, he had that effect on her as well. One moment she wanted to shout at him, the next she was pouring out her life story. “It was strange though. But I suppose she always was a little overprotective.”
“As mothers are wont to do.”
A candle in a clear glass globe burned in the center of the table. “So, what’s good, lady-killer?” she asked, changing the subject.
Farron smirked. His appreciation of Miranda’s attention had been obvious. “Well, you seem to like sweet stuff. How about their specialty?”
She glared up at the elf. “You better not be tricking me.”
“My lady, would I do that?”
Miranda arrived with the drinks before she could answer, set them on the table carefully and took the order. She gave Farron one last smile before she took off again.
“I almost feel sorry for her.” Claire took a sip of ale from the hefty wooden mug in front of her and screwed up her face. This one she didn’t much like either.
“My lady, I think you’ve got the wrong impression of me. I am much more charming than you think.” He leaned back in his chair.
She decided to ignore the statement. She’d believe it when she saw it. “So, did you spend a lot of time in this town?”
“Not too much.” He shrugged; the answer short and hardly helpful.
“Why are you so afrai
d to reveal anything about your past?”
“And what about you, my lady?” He leaned forward on his elbows.
Claire eased back from his imposing presence over the tiny table; her hands fell to her lap. “I think you have a good idea of what mine was like.”
“Why are you so curious about it?”
“I’m not.”
“Oh?” He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.
“I’m only curious because you try so hard to hide it.” She looked down at the table.
Farron rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Everyone has a few skeletons in their closet. Even you, I’m sure.”
The gesture made him seem almost normal. Coy even. Had she reached a soft spot? She grabbed her mug with both hands. Skeletons, he said…
“You want to hear something funny?” She took a sip from her drink, her eyes traced along the wood grain on the table. “I really was betrothed once.” She glanced up to see his reaction.
Farron leaned forward, a look of genuine surprise on his face. He waited silently for a moment for her to continue. When she didn’t he said, “I’m on the edge of my seat already, my lady.”
“Oh, so now you’re suddenly interested in my past?”
“Never said I wasn’t.”
She could feel heat rise to her cheeks. Miranda came with their food just in the nick of time. She set the plate in front of her, filled with noodles, chunks of meat and vegetables. The sweet smell made her stomach growl impatiently. She thanked Miranda and the girl was back on her way to another table.
“So, what happened?” Farron asked.
Claire picked up her fork and examined it. Two metal prongs were attached to a wooden handle. Sanre sure was weird. She began to poke at her food, regretting having dug up her past. Again.
“As I’ve said, an adopted bar maid isn’t all that appealing of a prospect, not appealing enough anyway. He disappeared about a month before the wedding. No explanation, no warning. He just left.” She stabbed a piece of meat with the odd fork a little forcefully, popped it in her mouth and began to chew; the sweetness tingled across her tongue with a slight salty aftertaste. It was good.
He was quiet for a moment and she looked away, unsure what to say next. She’d rather say nothing at all than talk about that sorry lout. The only thing she was glad about, was the fact that he’d gotten out before the centaurs attacked. Or maybe she wasn’t so glad…
“Ah—” he said softly. “Here, try some.” He pierced a small piece of meat with his fork and held it out to her.
Claire eyed it suspiciously.
“Just try it,” he urged. “I don’t have a disease.”
She took the fork tentatively and bit the meat off. She chewed it slowly, surprised by the sweetness at first. Then heat started to grow in her mouth that soon overpowered the sweet taste. She quickly swallowed but the spicy hotness remained, so she grabbed her mug and gulped down the sour ale until it washed away the burn.
Farron laughed. “Not to your liking, I see.”
Claire glared at the elf. He’d done that on purpose. “You’ve just lost your sharing privileges, my friend.” She slid her plate closer to herself.
Farron quickly reached over, snatched a piece from her plate, and popped it in his mouth. “It’s good,” he said after chewing, nodding with approval.
“You’re so civilized,” she snapped.
“Likewise, my lady.” Farron grinned.
“Fine.” She took another bite. Irritation swelled up inside of her. “Tell me about this so called friend. When do we get to meet her?”
Farron chuckled. “We?”
“Of course. I’m coming along.”
“I don’t think so.” He looked down at his plate as he took another bite.
“And why not? They are doing the favor for me, essentially.” She twisted the fork hard in the noodles.
“I do not think the place is suitable for a lady of your standing.”
“So what do you expect me to do? Just sit by myself in an inn all night while you and the other two are out having a good time? Oh, no. You’re not getting off that easily.” She took a sip of ale and slammed the mug down on the table. “You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”
“I think my concern is whether you will like it.” He pointed his fork at her. “I don’t want to hear any complaining. And if you come, you will not, under any circumstances, tell Aeron or that prince of yours about my friend and what she does.”
Claire swallowed hard. He’d gotten so serious so quick. “Agreed.” Now she was even more curious.
“You know, if you were nicer to girls you wouldn’t have to pay.”
They stood outside a brothel called The Red Curtain and she dearly hoped the name didn’t have a double meaning. The two-storied white house was set back from the road. A small manicured garden stood out front, filled with flowers of all shapes and colors. A path of stepping-stones led up to the front porch, sprinkled with giggling couples that nuzzled each other in plain sight.
There really was no shame in this town.
The sun had set, leaving the city of sinful pleasures in its twilight glow. Fire torches lit the path to the dwelling. The house itself buzzed with energy. The windows in the front glowed crimson, the curtains illuminated from behind to block the actions inside from public view.
“Could this be where you worked previously?” Claire asked, feigning innocence.
Farron shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know— why don’t you ask Miranda?” He dug out a folded square of white cloth from inside his shirt.
Claire’s jaw dropped open in shock. “She didn’t!” She snatched the hankie from his hand. A bright red kiss mark decorated the corner of the white handkerchief trimmed with dainty lace. “When did she slip you this little treasure?” She held it out in front of her, dangling it between thumb and fore finger.
“When you went to watch the men at their game.” Farron smiled, pleased with himself.
Claire looked at the hankie considerately. She did have to admire the girl’s brazenness, at least. She’d only left the table— for a few moments at the most— to look over the shoulders of a group of men playing a lively game, betting copper coins and golden rings, shouting foreign words whenever one had a certain hand of the colorful cards. She still wasn’t sure how it was played.
“Face it, my lady. I’m more charming than you think.” He leaned in close and pointed his finger at her chest before he spun around and walked up the path to the house.
Claire was taken aback. But still not convinced. It would take more than another bar maiden to convince her otherwise. Though for some reason she was a little irked. “Hey, you forgot your hankie!” she shouted after him as she waved it in the air.
He just gestured a hand in the air in a dismissive manner without turning around. Fine, she’d just keep it for herself. She folded the dainty white cloth into a small square and tucked it inside her shirt, into her bosom. It was tough not having pockets.
She hurried after the elf who’d reached the porch already and tried not to look around at the couples scattered about. Farron opened the front door filled with an intricate stained glass window of purple and blue. He bowed and motioned for her to enter first. She curtsied back and entered.
Red carpet lined the enclosed hallway and a staircase climbing the right wall. The walls were white and decorated with paintings and tapestries featuring beautiful women in various states of undress. A chandelier filled with crystals glowed radiantly above them. A young woman stood behind a podium by the stairs, her bosom pushed up to her ears and waist cinched tight by a dark blue corseted dress. Long, curly black hair was pulled back into a messy up-do.
“Welcome, good sir. How may I help you this evening?” Scarlet lips curled into a smile below bright sapphire eyes. She leaned forward as a finger played with a ringlet of hair.
Farron strolled up to the desk. Claire rolled her eyes and wandered to a pair of doors to the left of the ent
rance. She peeked through the stained glass and caught glimpses of the raucous scene held within. Upbeat music hummed against the panes, begging for her to open the door and set it free. Small tables were scattered haphazardly about the room, accompanied by plush seats filled with cheering men. Claire craned her neck to see further into the room but the view was obscured by the door.
“Curious, my lady?” Farron hovered close behind her. His hand gripped the handle of one of the doors.
She glanced up at him; he wore that cocky grin she’d grown so fond of. He pushed open the door suddenly and she stumbled into the room. The noise hit her like a wall, shocking her senses.
A stage framed by red curtains stood at the end of the room with a line of women standing upon it. They held their colorful skirts up and kicked their legs high into the air to expose bright undergarments for all the world and lecherous eyes to see. Claire’s eyes went wide. They didn’t have this type of entertainment where she was from. Not that she frequented these types of places.
Farron placed a hand on her back and led her across the room to the bar. She plopped down onto a stool, her back to the bar so she could watch the show. She couldn’t help but feel cheerful as the energy of the room surged through her. Farron stood next to her with an amused expression as he shook his head. Claire elbowed him in the side and he leaned in closer.
“So this is the type of place you like?” she shouted into his ear to be heard above the music.
He simply raised an eyebrow and looked at her out of the corner of his eye.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in!”
Claire and Farron spun around in unison. A middle-aged woman approached them, the double doors behind her swung wide open. A golden corset tamed her wild curves and a full skirt swished around her legs. A burgundy wrap decorated her shoulders, giving her look a more sophisticated touch. Dark chestnut hair streaked with silver was pulled back into a loose bun away from a delicate face that could have stopped men in their tracks in her younger days. Two younger women dressed in a similar fashion flanked her.
“Fran!” Farron exclaimed, holding his arms outstretched as he approached the woman.
When he got close enough, Fran slapped Farron across the face, causing several patrons to turn. Claire was stunned; although she had a feeling he’d deserved that. His happy expression turned to one of shock and confusion. Fran said something to the elf that Claire couldn’t hear and they both glanced in her direction. Fran brushed past Farron and strode over to her, her hips swinging as she walked. Claire froze on the barstool, her back straightened stiff as a board.
“And what do we have here?” Fran looked her up and down.
Claire’s breath caught in her throat as the sudden realization hit her like a ton of bricks: the woman’s manner and the way she carried herself were strikingly similar to her mother’s. The blood drained from her face and Fran gave her a curious look.
“I need to speak with you.” Farron clamped a hand down on Fran’s shoulder.
The older woman spun around to face him. “You’ve got a lot of explainin’ to do.” She shoved past him and headed toward the double doors she’d entered.
“Will you be alright here by yourself?” Farron turned to Claire and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Yes.” She forced a smile up at him. It would probably be for the best if the two worked out their problems before Claire stuck her nose in.
Farron took one last glance at her before he disappeared through the doors after Fran. Claire’s shoulders slumped as soon as he was out of sight. She didn’t know why she had choked up like that. Her mother’s image had hit her so unexpectedly she didn’t know how to react. Of course that woman wasn’t her mother— not even close.
So that was Farron’s friend. Claire wondered what their connection was, and tried to picture the elf spending time in the saloon along with all the other cheering men. Somehow the image just didn’t work. She shook her head at the thought and decided to lose herself in the performance. Their colorful skirts were truly hypnotizing. Perhaps she could learn a thing or two from these women.
Eventually, the music died down and Claire clapped along with all the men as the performers bowed and took their leave. Then music started up on a lower note and the women from before came out again to mingle with the men. Claire turned around on the stool and leaned her arms on the bar. She gave a quick glance around before she started to undo her hair from the braid and ran her fingers through it.
“Are you here alone, little Miss?” A young man with blonde hair cropped close to his head slid into the seat next to her with an oversized mug in his hands and an obvious buzz already setting in.
Well, that didn’t take long. Claire turned to face the young man, crossed her legs and smiled. She didn’t see the harm in playing along for the time being. She was used to it, being a bar maid and all. “It seems that I am.”
“And why would such a pretty lady like yourself be all alone in a place like this?” He leaned in closer to her, close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath.
Ugh. But at least he wasn’t sloshing about or grabbing her un-provoked. “I’d hardly think I am as pretty as all these other women.” She motioned to the room around her.
“That’s where you’d be wrong.” He gave her a surprisingly charming smile, with dimples that reminded her of her long-lost fiancé. “You’d best be careful in these parts, an innocent girl like you, all by herself. Someone is bound to try and take advantage of you.”
It was a little late for that speech. “But not you, of course?” Claire leaned in closer to him to test out her feminine wiles. She’d seen the other women do it. Perhaps it could work for her as well— even without such an ample bosom.
“In a place like this, I think I am more likely to be taken advantage of!”
A prospect he should have been well aware of before he’d entered such an establishment. But she smiled anyway.
One of the dancing-skirt women came up then, and threw her arms around his neck. She shot a glare in Claire’s direction. “Billy, why did you leave me?”
Claire leaned back, her arm resting on the bar next to her. And so it ends.
“Miss Claire,” said a soft voice next to her. She glanced over to see one of the young women that had accompanied Fran earlier. Claire sat up straighter. “Madame Fran wishes to see you.”
“Oh, alright,” she replied in an equally soft voice. She glanced back at Billy. He seemed a little disappointed. So, Claire dug the handkerchief out from her shirt as smooth as she could manage and kissed it before handing it to the young man. The woman hugging him glowered at her as she hopped down from the bar stool. That felt good. She knew she could find a use for that thing.
Claire followed the attendant girl, dressed in a simple beige and gold gown with a full skirt. Her brown hair was pulled back into a modest bun. She led her out the double doors, back into the entrance hall she’d been in before, past the front desk, and down the dark hallway, going deeper into the building. The girl stopped in front of another pair of double doors, the windows covered with red curtains from the inside. At least she knew where the brothel got its name, hopefully. The girl opened the door and entered.
The parlor within was quieter and much more intimate than the last room. Purple walls were dotted with oil lamp sconces. The air hung heavy with the sweet smell of incense. Plush couches and chairs littered the room with tables in between to hold up candle lamps, their shades splashing colorful pools of light across the room. Girls wandered around the room as they carried drinks in long stemmed glasses and attended to a few select men on the couches and chairs. Now this was what she’d pictured a brothel to look like.
Madame Fran sat in a booth along the left wall. A flute of light wine sat on the table in front of her, her face illuminated by a candle in a glass globe. The attendant girl led Claire to the table and curtsied before taking her leave. The elf was curiously missing.
“Sit down, Miss Claire.” Fran’s voi
ce was low and rich.
Claire slipped into the seat across from the Madame, her chest taut with nervousness. What was going on? Why did she want to see her alone? The Madame slipped a monocle out from her bosom attached to a delicate gold chain, held it up to her right eye, and looked Claire up and down.
Claire sat unmoving in her seat as her eyes studied Fran back. Why was she being examined like that?
“Definitely not his usual type.” Fran slipped the monocle back into her bosom.
Claire relaxed a little. “I’m afraid to disappoint you, but we don’t exactly have that sort of relationship.”
“No?” Fran perked up. “Is there something wrong with my little Farron?”
Claire fought hard not to laugh at the last part.
“Come on. Spit it out.”
“Honestly, Madame, I think he needs an attitude adjustment.”
Madame Fran burst out laughing, a full hearty sound that turned men’s heads. “He can be quite stubborn at times.”
Claire smiled. “I feel bad for the woman who captures his heart.”
Fran glanced sideways at her. “He seems to be quite fond of you, my dear.” She took a sip from the glass of wine. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you yet.” She glanced out into the room.
Claire leaned over and followed her gaze to a group of chairs hidden around the corner deeper into the room. Farron sat in one of the plush seats with two women sitting on the arms of the chair. She met his piercing gaze for a moment before she quickly looked away. Heat flushed to her cheeks as she turned back to the Madame.
“I assure you it’s not for the reason you think, Madame.” He was most likely keeping an eye on her as usual; to make sure she didn’t reveal something she wasn’t supposed to.
“Whatever you say, my dear.” Madame Fran smirked and took another sip of the light colored wine. “Just be gentle with him. I suspect he’s still nursing a broken heart.”
Claire’s eyes widened. So her made up tale hadn’t been so far from the truth after all. She’d have to interrogate him about it later, even though she doubted she’d get an answer.
“I’m a lady of class, my dear. Not just anybody can stroll off the street into my establishment. I may run a brothel, but I do have some standards.”
Why was she telling her this? “Do you believe in selling love?”
“Oh, I hardly think it’s love I’m selling. Not even you can be that naïve.”
Claire crossed her arms. “Why are you telling me this?” she decided to ask the question out loud.
“Because I want you to believe that I am a woman of character. I care for my girls as if they were my own. I believe in returning favors and repaying debts. I want you to know that what you ask of me, I will try my best to do it, in the hope that you may someday do the same for me. I’m an honorable woman in an un-honorable position.”
Claire let her arms relax to her sides. She was not one to judge usually, but maybe she had judged this woman a little unfairly. Even if she wasn’t aware of it.
“This world is not kind to women,” Madame Fran said. “There are not many ways a woman can earn a living. At least not respectfully.”
“I know,” Claire agreed, looking down at her hands.
“Do you?”
“My mother, she owned a tavern. It may not have been the same line of work, but in the eyes of many, it was no more respectful.”
Madame laughed. “Then you know of the troubles, the looks, the whispers. They are but a small price to pay for freedom.”
Claire gave a slight nod. She wouldn’t exactly call it freedom. Not truly. But she didn’t see the point in arguing with the woman.
“Farron has done much for me in the past.” She looked at Claire and raised an eyebrow. “And I owe him a great deal of debt. But instead, he brings you to me. You say that you mean nothing to him, I would say otherwise. I just hope this time he knows what he is getting into.” She looked somewhat disappointed. “I’m a lady of my word, my dear. What can I do for you?”
Claire took a deep breath, searching for a way to begin. “Well, you see…” Her voice was soft and unsure. Her eyes examined the red tablecloth a little too closely as she touched her mother’s bracelet on her left wrist under the table. “I’m looking for someone. Farron said that you may be able to help me.” She looked back up at the Madame. “My town, Stockton, was attacked a few weeks ago, and ever since then I haven’t been able to find any survivors. The person I’m most worried about is my mother. She’s the only person I have in this world.”
Fran nodded and was quiet for a moment before she said, “I’ll see what I can do, child.”
Relief swept through her and up to her face to leave a smile in its wake. “Thank you.” She undid her mother’s bracelet and slipped it off her wrist. “Her name is Marion Tanith, and I would like you to give her this if you find her. So she knows that I’m alright.” She set the bracelet on the table.
Fran jumped in her seat and a hand went up to her chest, a shocked expression on her face. “Child, where did you get that?” Her voice was breathy.
Claire tensed, puzzled by her reaction. “It was my mother’s.”
The Madame laughed, but this time it was a haunting sound that sent chills along Claire’s skin. She had no idea what had spooked her. It was just a bracelet.
“You have no idea what this is, do you?” Fran eyed the bracelet suspiciously.
Claire shook her head. Apparently she didn’t.
Fran glanced at Farron as a grin formed on her ruby stained lips. “What did you get yourself into this time?” she muttered more to herself.
“May I ask, Madame, what—”
“I’ll help you, my dear,” she said as she turned back to Claire. “But you can keep that— thing.” She motioned with her hand with a shooing motion.
Claire snatched the bracelet up and slipped it back onto her wrist. What was going on here? Although she was glad for the help, she wondered what the bracelet meant to the Madame. She didn’t know too much about it herself. Mother never told her anything about it, only saying it was a relic from her past. What kind of past was that exactly? She swallowed hard at the thought. Was there something Mother hadn’t told her?
“If you have any questions about that bracelet, I suggest you ask Farron about it.”
Claire’s eyes widened and her gaze snapped to the elf across the room. Had he known all this time? Why didn’t he say anything about it? “Tell me, Madame. How exactly do you know our lovely elf friend?” She looked back at Fran with narrowed eyes.
“I’m afraid that’s not my story to tell, my dear,” she said before taking a sip of wine.
“She’s right.” Farron appeared beside the table, quiet as ever.
Claire glared up at him. What kind of secrets was he keeping? “So it seems.”
“The hour grows late, Madame,” Farron said.
She guessed the meeting was over.
“Please visit again soon. And try not to give me another shock.” She held her hand out to him. Farron took it and laid a light kiss on the back of it.
“Thank you, Fran. I owe you one,” he said softly.
Claire’s stomach sank. She didn’t like the idea of him going into debt for her sake. “Thank you, Madame,” she uttered.
“Don’t mention it, child. Just take care of my dear Farron for me.” She beamed up at the elf and he smiled back.
Ugh. Claire slid out of the booth and curtsied to the Madame. “I’ll try my best.”
Farron put a hand on her back and started to lead her to the double doors. As soon as they reached the hallway and out of sight of the Madame, Claire marched toward the door to the outside world. She needed some fresh air. She stepped out onto the porch and made her way down the path through the little garden out front, not stopping until she was on the other side of the fancy little front gate. She tilted her face up to the star filled sky and took a long, deep breath. The muscles in her shoulders trembled from the mixture of irri
tation and confusion swirling inside of her. She didn’t know whether to be happy or angry.
“I thought you would be happy, my lady,” Farron said when he joined her out on the dark street.
“I am, thank you,” she replied and stepped away from him. She had the sudden urge to hit him.
His eyes narrowed. “What happened back there?”
She opened her mouth to say something but stopped. Bringing up the bracelet now wouldn’t do her any good. She needed to sort things out first. “Nothing. Just don’t feel like you have to go out of your way to help me. I don’t like being in debt to people.” She turned and started to walk down the street.
Farron grabbed her arm suddenly and spun her back around. He leaned in close, his grip on her wrist tight, and put a hand under her chin to tilt her face up to look at him.
“And what is so bad about being in debt to me, my lady?” he asked in a low voice, his eyes studying her carefully.
Heat rushed to her cheeks as her pulse began to quicken. What was she supposed to say to that? She was already in debt to him and it was not like she wasn’t grateful for his help or what he’d done for her. She just felt like she was sinking too far into this whole mess. The more they helped her, the more she felt like she had to help them in return.
“Just…” she tried, her voice faltering a little. “Just how far are you sticking your neck out for me?” It was him after all, that pushed for it, the side tracking, the trips to Lendon and Sanre. The whole idea of helping her to find her mother in the first place. And it was because of that that the General got involved. Something she herself didn’t quite mind at all. But it also meant, the debt she owed the elf was greater than she’d thought. Why was he helping her so much with his own skin on the line? What was in it for him?
“It’s not…” Farron straightened up and released her. He took a breath, his face softening a little. “This is the last I can do to help you, Claire.”
“What?” It caught her off guard. “What do you mean?”
“We can’t take any more detours, not even to help find your mother. I’m sorry.”
She was stunned for a moment, her mind trying to catch up. Then she was angry all over again, at him, even though she knew that wasn’t fair. “You promised!”
“I didn’t,” he said, calm but stern. Final. “I convinced him to help. And we did. I never said that we would find her. We can’t afford any more delays. Not now. Not with the General with us.”
Her vision spun, she was so furious, her hands shaking. How could they do this to her? It was the reason she’d volunteered to go on their whole mission in the first place. They had a deal, didn’t they?
“What about after?” she asked, her voice calmer, searching for what little hope she had left. She took a deep breath. “Will they help me after?”
“I don’t know. I guess that would depend on what you are…” he said. “To them. What you can do for them.”
She wanted to scream. To cry. She felt used and betrayed. A prisoner. An object. What she wanted didn’t matter. Not to them. She should have found a way to stay in Lendon. At least then she would have had a better chance of finding her mother.
“I tried, Claire,” he said, his voice soft, apologetic. “But it’s my word against a king’s.”
She just stared at him, unbelieving. What could she say?
“Miss Claire?” Bren’s voice suddenly cut through the air.
Claire jumped a little, startled. She tried her best to gather herself up before the General could see something was wrong, taking another deep breath to calm her nerves. It was all a little too much.
The elf glared past her, unhappy about their new visitor. Aeron joined Bren as they walked in their direction from down the street.
“Farron, you should not take women to a brothel.” Aeron stepped up beside Claire. “Even I would not do that.” He turned to her. “I hope you were not traumatized, mon lainí.”
She forced a smiled at him, not wanting Aeron or Bren to catch on to what just happened. It would do no good to confront Aeron about it now. Or at all, for that matter. Like the other elf, he was just following orders. How could she expect them to disobey their king for her? “Of course not.”
“Miss Claire, I was worried about you.” Bren took her hand in his and looked past her at Farron, his eyes narrowing a bit.
“I’m fine, Bren.” She took her hand from him. All she wanted at the moment was a nice hot bath and a plush bed. Her mind was already reeling. Sleep sounded good as well. Really good.
Bren snatched her hand up again and turned to drag her along with him down the street.
“Wait, Bren!” Claire struggled to keep up with his hurried pace. It didn’t seem like him to just grab her like that without saying a word. His grip on her hand was tight and firm. He turned and she barreled into him.
“Miss Claire,” Bren said. He gripped her shoulders tight and drew her in close. “If you’re going to have an affair, at least do it with someone a little bit more respectable.” He bent down and pressed his lips against hers.
Claire’s eyes went wide, her body stiffened. Sudden and forceful, the kiss was definitely not what she had imagined it would be. Although she had thought of every scenario possible, somehow a dark, vacant street in front of a brothel had escaped that list. But, there was no point in wasting it. So, she closed her eyes and relaxed her body as she gave in to the kiss.
Bren dropped his hands from her shoulders, wound them around her waist and pulled her in close against him. His lips grew soft against hers as she traced her hands up his chest to rest lightly on either side of his face. Bren drew back slowly, his face hovering inches from her.
“I’m sorry, Miss Claire,” he said, his voice breathy and low. “I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t even stop to consider your feelings.”
She flushed and drew him down for another kiss. Only this time a lot more gentle. Her hands wound their way around his neck, standing on her tiptoes to do so. Her stomach tied itself in knots as a wave of heat washed over her. It was a wholly welcome distraction to the stressful evening and she wanted to take full advantage of it before the General changed his mind. After a few blissful moments, she drew back from him and gazed at his lips, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.
“The only thing you should be sorry about is the location, General.” Her heart and mind still tried to catch up to the current situation.
Bren looked around him as if he suddenly realized where he was. He loosened his hold on her and backed up a step. Claire’s hands fell limply to her side.
“Yes, I see.” He ran his fingers through his hair and looked down at the ground. “How about a bath, Miss Claire?”
Claire’s eyes widened. Surely he didn’t mean what she thought. “Although I’m flattered, it is a bit too soon, General,” she said, her hand went up to her chest in mock surprise.
He waved his hands in front of him in a frantic manner. “No, no. What I meant was I found an inn earlier…”
“General!” Claire gasped. His sudden bashfulness surprised her and she couldn’t just let him get away without having a little bit of fun. “I’m not that kind of girl.” She put her hands on her hips.
“Miss Claire, that’s not what I meant either!” He sighed heavily in frustration.
Claire gave him a playful punch on the arm. “Consider it vengeance for earlier.”
The anguish melted from his face. “Of course, Miss Claire.”
“And a bath sounds wonderful.” She took his arm in her hands and beamed up at him. “Lead the way, General.”
The inn was nestled snugly between two taverns bursting with life at the peak of their business for the night. So much for sleep, although she didn’t know how much she would have gotten otherwise. Bren’s actions overrode much of her thoughts. His kiss still burned on her lips. It was nice to be distracted.
Quiet and tavern-less, the lobby resembled the brothel, minus the women. Thankfully. The town probably ha
d enough taverns and other types of entertainment in order to make the inn successful without the need for a bar. Claire reveled in the surprising quietness.
Bren led her up the stairs and to the end of the hallway and handed her a brass key attached to a ribbon.
“Sleep well, Miss Claire.” He took her hand in his and bent to lay a soft kiss against her skin.
The simple action sent shivers down her spine. Yep, no sleep tonight. “You too, Bren.” She grasped the key tightly in her hand against her chest.
She watched as he disappeared around the corner down another hall and collapsed against the door. She turned around and pressed her forehead against the smooth wood. It was all just too much. With a deep breath, she inserted the key into the door.
White walls greeted her. Red sheets covered the bed with matching curtains that framed a large square window. She stopped in the doorway. Maybe this had been a brothel, at one point at least. She shrugged and began to search the room for a robe, desperate for a bath and some sleep. She wondered briefly what had happened to the elves but brushed the thought aside. They were big boys. Surely they could take care of themselves.