A Whisper of Night

5.1 || LORELEI 🌊

           

"Are you sure?" the man said. His teeth glittered like the coins in his palm as he dropped one into Lorelei's outstretched hand. "You're worth more than a silver."

Lorelei laughed. "You look like you need the coin more than I do," she said lightly, pulling a silk robe over her naked body. "The brothel feeds me porridge and the men feed me love. What else do I need?"

"You're very eloquent," he said, his eyes roving over her.

And you're very drunk. "You flatter me."

"What's your name? Perhaps I could take you as a wife."

"Laura," she said. Her voice hardened. "And I don't mean to be any man's wife. Ever."

The second part was the only truth she'd told the entire night.

"You don't have a last name?"

"No." The lie was as smooth as silk.

"I swear - I've seen your face somewhere - "

She only laughed and wrapped her roughspun brown cloak around herself. The door creaked shut behind her as she left.

The night air, crisp and cool, sliced through the haze in her head. It was a relief to be out of the Sapphire Swan, despite the brothel's reputation as one of the better establishments in the city.

Her customer had been an amateur. He'd looked nervous as he'd entered, as if his friends had forced him through the door. And he was more observant than he seemed, even with wine clouding his wits.

It doesn't matter. Tomorrow, he'll just have a fanciful story of how his first woman was a Princess-Lorelei-lookalike. Nobody will believe him.

She turned a corner, her hand tight around the knife in her pocket. Although this part of the city was supposed to be safe, the turmoil between the New and Reformed Faiths had unsettled the entire kingdom.

The castle appeared around another corner. Silently, she snuck around the front gates of the wall and darted to the sloping ridge behind the castle, where she clambered down into the outer complex of the keep.

She always used the small western door for her escapades - no servants slept there, yet there were always plenty of spare clothes for her to steal. She fumbled briefly for a hairpin, forced the door open, and crept inside.

The castle was silent.

She hung up the cloak, set the shoes where she'd found them, and crept barefoot through the kitchens. She didn't dare leave a cloak or slippers by the servants' clothes when she left the castle, for fear that they'd recognize them.

She could hear her father as she passed the Great Hall. He was no doubt arguing with his council about the Lion Queen's demands; just last night, Queen Lleona had demanded Glion's men against the Lady of Valchtnallan. Apparently, the lady had banished her own brother and rudely rejected Lleona's ambassadors.

According to the smallfolk, Lady Astnorden had also managed to hatch a hydra. But that was taking things too far, Lorelei thought, a story most likely spun from the mouth of a winebottle.

This Lady Astnorden has so much nerve for her age. Too much. How old is she now? Sixteen, seventeen? She can't be older than me.

"I agree with His Majesty," one of the council members was saying, his voice drifting through the open doors of the Great Hall. "We cannot afford to send troops to the Lion Queen when our own kingdom is ripping itself apart."

"I haven't made a stance yet," she heard her father say dryly. "I've just brought up a few points. You forget that the Queen has my son. She could kill him if I refused...."