The King's Cursed Bride

Going Once, Going Twice

Author's Note: Okay, this chapter is pitifully short, BUT my next two chapters for you guys are extra long to make up for it ;)
P.S. Pay careful attention to today's chapter title. You'll get a hint as to what the next chapter title is.

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Never had something so light felt so heavy in her palm.

Carissa clenched the glass vial more tightly, lest her sweat-slickened hand caused it to slip from her grasp. She didn't dare sequester it elsewhere on her person. The streets were thick with pickpockets, and this tiny, pretty vial had cost her a year's worth of earnings.

Earnings she didn't have.

Just thinking of the extravagant cost made her chest squeeze and her head light. She'd been shaking all over when she'd agreed to the deal, from a potent mixture of pain, weariness, and fear. She'd known she might become a coward at the last moment, so she'd made the deal quickly.

The contents of this vial would save the boy's life. And destroy her own.

With how violently ill he'd grown over the night, Carissa knew she'd have to take drastic measures to save him. But she hadn't known they'd be this drastic.

If she didn't want to be tossed into the dungeons for her debt, she'd have to spend her remaining days working at whatever employment she could find.

Giggles tinkled from above, slowing Carissa's steps. On the side of the nighthouse was a wooden board, reading: Hiring Women.

She wasn't so delusional as to think they'd hire her as a nightwoman, but perhaps they could use someone to dump refuse or clean nooks and crannies. As far as she was aware, this was the only place in the city that offered employment. In truth, she was thankful she was too hideous to be a nightwoman, or else she'd be sorely tempted to sell what was left of herself.

She slipped past the men, deliriously happy due to alcohol, women, or both. Carissa kept her head bent, avoiding eye contact as her gut twisted. Her steps padded across sleek marble filmed with dirt. Sharp laughter burst across the room, its echo ricocheting.

"Woman!" Thick-boned fingers curled around her arm, their knuckles slathered in hair.

Pain sizzled beneath her skin. She gasped and tore away.

The man's brows slid low on his forehead, but when he glanced at her face, his expression went slack.

Carissa readjusted her hood before diving deeper into the crowd. The sweet smell of meat sauce and perfume barely veiled the stench of old sweat and grime. She dared another upward glance. Who was in charge of this hellhole? Who did she ask for employment?

A nightwoman had stretched her length of body across a settee. Though broad expanses of her moonlit-colored skin were on display, the men seemed to give her a wide berth.

Carissa swallowed thickly, approached, and slid her gaze to the side. "Excuse me?"

She felt the woman's dark gaze upon her. "Aren't you supposed to be cleaning up the mess one of the new girls made?"

Carissa knotted her fingers together, hoping it'd suppress her nausea. "I'm not a servant here. Not yet. But I could be."

Icy fingers drifted beneath her chin and turned her head. The woman's manicured nails pinched her skin. A smile bloomed across the woman's face. Carissa's eyes found it a lovely smile, but the rest of her reacted, strangely enough, with disgust: her stomach balling, her skin prickling, her breath shortening.