Her Fate is Sealed: Target of the Vengeful Beast King

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.