Desire's Haven was one of the most prominent brothels on the east coast of Brookcrest. However it is not the desirable won that made it famous, but the rumors about a mannfae who possessed the abilities of a skin weaver. A rare prowess to heal any ailnts not even the greatest weavers could achieve.
Isadora found herself seated in the company of n. This was always the hardest part of her job but it was mostly between who she had to attend to. This ti, Dashwell insisted she stayed in the enclave with the Jarlas.
The table howled with laughter and talks between n.
The feeling of lingering stares from the other custors who ca to seek pleasure caused Isadora unease.
Maybe their stares were because of her clothes? It was ant to fit the position she'd co to offer.
The dress was too big for her lean body, and the sleeves were too fat which made her arms uncomfortable. Big round earrings that made her ears hurt and a tight scarf used to pin her hair on top of her head.
Isadora's hands clenched so hard that her nails dug into her skin, feeling the sting was the only thing keeping her grounded, sane enough to forget the fact she was displayed like a sheep for slaughter.
"Have a drink, mannfae"
Isadora brought her eyes to one of the Jarla, a young man who introduced himself earlier as Bryndor but didn't give his father's na. Father's na was an identity not to be shared carelessly and he was wise to do so.
Isadora eyed the drink but made no attempts to take the cup from the young lord fearing Dashwell might have a say later. Rather, she rely observed his features looking for any sign or reason for him to co seek her out but there was nothing.
'Is it a wound in a place I cannot see?' she thought, perplexed.
Along with the rest of the Jarlas seated at the table, all were cheerful in their drink celebration and the maidens that sat on their laps. They didn't look like they needed any dical attention. They were all as fit as Bicorns.
"What is your curiosity, mannfae?" Bryndor asked, noting the girl observing each of them for sothing that could not be seen.
Isadora gulped, casting a look around the busy area in search of Serena but she was in the middle of entertaining her guest and was preoccupied.
"Don't worry, girl, speak to "
She brought her eyes back to his, pondering if she should communicate or not.
"I order you to speak, mannfae!" Bryndor's command jolted her to open her mouth.
"F-Forgive , milord," Isadora forced out. "I'm not allowed to speak with anyone,"
This was Dashwell's first order when she was sold to him, she had never spoken to anyone aside from Serena who entertained it.
"I can see why" Bryndor grinned wider, suddenly imrsed. "Your voice is like the finest tunes known to Faekin" he praised.
Isadora's cheeks got warm from his complint.
"Let see it," he suddenly demanded.
With hesitation, she asked. "S-See what, milord?"
"What makes you impure," he said louder and caught the attention of others at the table.
Isadora's nerves spiked with all eyes on her, but that didn't stop her from obeying to avoid consequences. Slowly, she pulled the strand of her hair covering her ears, to expose them.
"So grotesque!" Bryndor declared in revulsion and mumbles filled the table.
Isadora's ears were normal—a significance to her impure blood. Fae ears were ant to be pointed and distinguished but hers never took shape.
A round of laughter filled the table, as they talked and implied at her, mumbling to themselves about her condition.
Isadora kept her eyes on the table not concerned about their mockery but in need to do her business and retire for the night. She got this each ti her patrons demanded to see them and it was always the response of awe, fright, or disgust.
This would be over soon when she knew her patient, bidding the ti she would go to her room. That tower was where her peace lay for 14 winters.
Suddenly a sensation found the back of her neck, like soone was breathing down on it. Confused, she turned but no one was behind her.
The strange feeling didn't cease so her eyes scanned the room in search of what caused her unease.
"Mannfae"
She brought her eyes back to Bryndor, the sensation didn't stop but she chose to ignore it after not finding the source.
"You know why I've co across the seas for you?"
Isadora shook her head in a no.
With a smirk on his lips, he leaned to her until their faces were inches apart.
"Soone as rare as you... fetch a greater value," he said.
"Did you not co because of so ailnts, milord?" Isadora asked.
He laughed and said, "I did not co all this way just to glimpse and leave. I ca to take you"
Isadora's lips parted in shock. It all made sense why the Jarlas would co all this way for soone like her.
He eyed her in a way that made Isadora uncomfortable, a look that held promises. "I'm looking forward to great uses for you"
Unable to contain her fright, she sat up abruptly in an attempt to flee not caring about the consequences anymore. But Dashwell blocked her with his fat fra.
"Now my precious, you're not done entertaining the guests. It'll be rude of you to leave don't you think?"
Isadora shook her head in a silent plea but Dashwell wasn't soone to plead with. He took her by the arm and dragged her back to the table of the laughing n, mocking her attempts to flee.
Isadora's lips quivered uncontrollably as Dashwell forced her to sit back down in the center of attention, her heavy breathing uneven, her nails digging her palm until she could feel the blood coating them.
"Do not fret" Bryndor spoke, taking her chin to force her eyes on his. "You're certainly worth the gold, you should be grateful I spend a fortune for a thing like you"
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