“What?” Mara’s hands tightened over her belly, and she recoiled, fearful Olessa would somehow rip her child from her then and there. “Madame Olessa, but I—”
“Want to raise it here? Or maybe you’d like to leave?” She raised a brow and motioned for the door. “You are not a prisoner here, although I wonder how long you would last with an infant in your arms in a city like Sollan these days.”
Mara’s jaw quivered. Olessa was right. Mara’s first memory was leaving the city. Since then, she had never returned. Sollan would eat her like an ancient titan come back to life, and then it would take her child.
“That’s right,” Olessa cooed, guessing her thoughts. “You have nowhere to go. You know nothing of Eloia or the many strange lands of Urum. This barge is your world, and I am its goddess. This goddess does not care for another mouth to feed, especially one that won’t turn a profit for years to come.”
“Is there no way? Is there nothing I could say or do to keep my child with me?”
Olessa’s features hardened. “Unless your infant pisses gold and shits diamonds, it’s off this barge as soon as it draws its first breath. You understand me? That is my word, and as you know by now I never break my word. You’ll watch iron rust and turn to dust before I reconsider.”
Mara grabbed her dress and wrung it in her fists. The babe within her kicked, its hand moving like a wave across her belly. “What will you do?”
“As if I have to tell you.” Olessa snorted and looked to the side. She rubbed her wrinkled hands on an armrest and puckered her lips. “But…I am not a cruel madame. The lesser pleasure barges on the Floatwaif, they would have tied stones to your ankles and tossed you to the coral sharks long ago. I am not them, this is the House of Sin and Silk.”
“Praise to the Six,” Mara whispered, her knuckles whitening.
“Indeed. As to your whelp, I have decided to show it a kindness undeserving of its station. Once you give birth, I’ll have it sent to the noble palaces in Sollan. Nobles pay good coin for well-fed infants. Raising them as servants from birth allows them to properly train them in the fine art of knee-bending and chin-dipping.”
“A servant? I—I never thought…” Mara’s gaze drifted to her belly.
Olessa cackled, her chortle twisting into Mara’s heart like witch’s nails. “What did you think this world would hold for your child, Mara? Did you think it would be some kind of mighty warrior, leading battalions to slay titans? Maybe a famed acolyte of the Six, performing their wonders throughout Urum to adoring crowds even as magic fades from our world with each passing generation? Or maybe you just want it to be happy, to live on a little farm outside Sollan and watch its kids grow old and have children of their own?”
Mara bit her lip. A tear slid down her cheek and splashed onto her knuckles. “I did not think, Madame Olessa.”
“Of course you didn’t. None of those things can ever be for that child, Mara. You are young and still bathe in your hopes and dreams, but one day, you will see that nothing can wash away the reek of our lot in life. Your child will be born a bastard to a faceless father and a moon maiden mother.
“Like you, it will not have a last name because it does not deserve one. Sending it to a noble to serve is a kindness children of the docks would gladly slit a throat for given half a chance. Pray you never see what that life is truly like.”
“Thank you, Madame Olessa, for showing me and my child such a blessing.”
Mara fought down the urge to leap into the sea and drown in salty sorrows. Friends were rare in the pleasure barge, and at times, she even hesitated before telling Gia something close to her heart. Having a child with her would have been different. She would love her son or daughter, and they would love her.
She could whisper secrets to them until the rising sun cast pale gold over the horizon and snuffed out all but the brightest stars. They would laugh at jokes no one knew but them, not caring how the other girls would roll their eyes and turn their backs. They would have each other, and nothing could ever break that bond between them. Nothing except the razor tongue and hard truths of Madame Olessa.
“Tell me,” Olessa said in a flat, cold voice, “that when the time comes, you will willingly give me the child.”
Mara lifted her chin. Olessa considered her with hard eyes.
“You want me to promise this now?”
Olessa nodded. She tucked a curl behind an ear weighed by gold and smiled coolly. “I’d rather not be forced to have this conversation again. If we come to an understanding now, that will make what happens after the birth so much easier on us both, don’t you think?”
“I…I don’t know…”
Olessa sucked in a breath, her anger lifting her brow. “Mara. Promise me now, you’ll give the child to me. Do not fight me on this. You are no prisoner here, but if you do not agree to this, I will not let you stay. I’ll have a strong boy drop you at the docks before sunrise, and then you’ll see what happens to a moon maiden when she’s plucked from the sky and buried in the sewage of that city.”
“No, no,” Mara pleaded, “I can’t survive there.”
The very thought of being marooned in the vast, teeming maze of streets and towers sent her heart clawing up her throat. Sollan was danger. Sollan was darkness. Olessa kept her safe on the barge. Mara knew that world, and if she stayed in it, Olessa would keep her from the wicked children of the docks and their long knives.
“Well?” Her madame arched a brow. “You know what you must do if you wish to stay.”
Mara placed her hands gently on her belly. She felt the life inside her, the ball of warmth and hopes and dreams, a child who would grow that she would never know.
You have my heart
, she told her child.
I will love you until the end of my days. When you cry, think of me to dry your tears. When you smile, know I will smile with you. When you dream, know I will dream of you. I love you, I love you, I love you
.
Mara lifted her chin. A strange calmness washed over her body. Her tears disappeared. Her aches and pains and bruises faded. “I promise, Madame Olessa, that you may take my child once it’s born. I will not fight you because I know I cannot give it the life it needs.”
Olessa clapped her hands and smiled. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Now get out. Oh, be a dear and send a strong boy in to clean that broken wine glass.”
Mara nodded. She tottered from Olessa’s room, her aches and pains slowly creeping back into her bones.
The first paper lanterns of Harvest Festival drifted from the docks as the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon. The rectangular lanterns would drift on the glassy waters of the city’s bay until they reached the Floatwaif where the heat of their flames and the ocean breeze combined to pluck them from the waves and pull them toward their starry brethren.
Mara never lit a lantern of her own. Olessa never allowed it, even though her madame always lit one herself. One day, Mara wanted to light a lantern. Maybe she would for her child once it was born. Once Olessa took it from her to a life that would never intersect with hers.
“Each one is a prayer for the Burning Mother,” Gia said, tucking her legs to her chest.
“May she bring another plentiful harvest this coming year,” Mara murmured.
“And a year of healthy…” Gia’s voice faded. She looked to her knees, her cheeks flushing red. It was an innocent mistake, the phrase she nearly muttered. All muttered it on Harvest Festival. All prayed for it on that night.
“…Babies,” Mara finished. “It’s okay, Gia. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”
Ever since her talk with Madame Olessa, Mara had meticulously avoided the subject of her child. Gia eventually gave up her friendly prodding and hid her worries behind a warm smile. Mara wasn’t sure if she would ever tell her friend the truth until the deed was done and her child gone. By then, every moon maiden and strong boy would know the truth and it wouldn’t matter anyway.
The first paper lanterns reached the bobbing mess of the Floatwaif barges. The lanterns lifted from the calm waters, floating in an ever-rising wave toward the titan skeleton proudly facing the horizon.
Cheers erupted from the shore and quickly spread to Floatwaif. Drums beat a merry rhythm. Sea and shore came alive with leaping, dancing peoples of all shapes and sizes. Ferry boats unmoored from Sollan’s docks and disturbed the glassy waters, their pointed prows aimed like arrows for the heart of the House of Sin and Silk.
Gia stood and smoothed her shimmering sheer dress. “And Harvest Festival begins. Is my collar polished?”
Mara stood with a little help from her friend. So long had she worn her own brass-plated collar, she often forgot it hung around her neck.
She licked her thumb and rubbed a speck of grease from Gia’s collar. “There. It looks like it’s never been worn before.”
“You know I envy you, Mara.”
Mara furrowed her brow and paused her polishing. “Envy me? Did you take a dose of glimmer?”
“No,” Gia said with a laugh. “But you’ll be cooking in the kitchen while I’ll be serving the whims of drunk fools. Sometimes, I just wish I…I just wish I had my body back.”
“I can’t remember a time when it was mine.” Mara looked to her belly. “I’ve been Olessa’s slave since my youngest days. As soon as I was old enough, she had me taking patrons so she could turn a profit. Now, I share my body with my child and wonder if tomorrow Olessa will grow tired of the expense and throw me to the sharks.”
Gia laughed and leaned back. She tossed a dark braid behind her shoulder and glanced toward the horizon. “I think you would like freedom if you ever got the taste of it. It’s sweet like honey, but strong like saltwater gin. You’d be worse than a glimmer fiend on it because you’d never want to let it go, and if you did, there would always be a cold pit of longing for it in your heart.”
“Why do you think that?”
Gia smiled and pinched Mara’s chin. “Because I see a fire in your eyes I don’t often see in others. Even the girls who knew freedom for years before debts, desperation, or a slaver’s whip brought them to the House of Sin and Silk often lack the spark of freedom. But it’s there inside you. It’s why your body fought the ebon orchid, and it’s why you are the only one to show kindness even in a place like this where every girl plots her sister’s downfall. Never let that fire burn out. I feel like one day, it will free you.”
“What was it like?” Mara asked. “The world beyond the barge, what do you remember of it?”
Her friend’s eyes lit up, her inky orbs glittering with the light of the lanterns slowly drifting overhead. “Oh, Mara, the world beyond the barge is like nothing you’ve ever seen and even greater than anything you could imagine! One day, we’ll both leave this rotting ship, and I’ll take you to the eastern kingdoms. Blail and Hine are beautiful beyond words. They put even the king’s palace to shame.”
“Do they worship the Six in Blail and Hine?”
“Of course.” Gia turned to the ocean and held her arms tight against her chest. The barest breeze kissed her gauzy dress, its shimmering folds fluttering in the wind. “In the wider world, every city of worth has a titan standing guard. Some even more than one. I remember a time when I was across the sea in a city called Silph with my father. It was the summer before the slavers killed him…”
Gia relaxed her arms and opened her palms toward the sea. “We came upon a priestess of the Burning Mother performing magics no words can truly describe. Her eyes were like two suns, her hands weaving patterns of flames that could burn through solid stone.”
“It sounds beautiful. And frightening.”
“Things are only truly beautiful if they frighten you a little. As I watched that priestess, I knew then that my life’s dream was to be a someone like her, to serve the Burning Mother and spread her wisdom throughout Urum.”
Silence settled over them. Lanterns filled the air from the shoreline to the titan. They drifted over the skeleton’s broad shoulders and through its massive ribs, painting the bones with the warmest gold.
Even in the beauty of the moment, Mara couldn’t help but pity Gia. Instead of a maiden of the Burning Mother, she had become a maiden of the moon, chained to the earth by a cheap brass collar.
“Gia, I—”
“
Shh
…” Gia spun around and pressed a finger to Mara’s lips. “We cannot regret where we are. We can only look to where we want to be. I want to be on the steps of the Mother’s temple. I know in my heart that one day I will be there, and when I finally make it to the steps, everything I do will be for her. I will finally have my body back.”
“And I’ll do what I can to help you.”
Her friend smiled and clasped Mara’s wrists. “Will you help me with something now?”
“You know I will. What do you need?”
“Turn to the Sapphire Sea. Close your eyes.”
“Gia…”
Gia faced the ocean and closed her eyes. “Please, Mara, just do this with me.”
Slowly, Mara turned to the horizon and took a deep, calming breath. Salt spray wet her lips. The breeze caressed her neck like a patron who truly loved her. The low din of revelry gave her a sense of being a blissfully small part of something much greater.
“We are prisoners here despite what our madame says,” Gia said, “but not even Madame Olessa and her brass collars can chain your spirit. I find when I am calm and close my eyes, my spirit takes flight, and I am beggar and noble, moon maiden and patron, coral shark and bay gull. Then, in the small quiet before my next patron arrives, I am truly unchained.”
A smile inched up Mara’s cheeks. Already, she smelled the cooking fires of the Floatwaif. They carried the rich scents of fried shrimp, coral shark stew, and soft fin bass that was the staple of their diet.
Yet Mara sensed more than just food and cooking fires. In her mind, she saw the people of the Floatwaif, their smiles and laughs, their stories, their hopes, and even their fears.
“She made me promise to give the child to her,” Mara finally said. She opened her eyes and looked at Gia. “And I did.”