Nira rose, her body heavy.

Where was she? A tiny room covered in dark, discolored stone walls. A rough mattress under her and another one against the far wall. Random clutter around her. A dim lamp flickering on the ground.

This was not Hanbur. This was not her home. She noticed a dark banded tattoo circled her left wrist. Both wrists. Ankles as well. Slave markings.

Slowly.

Slowly, it started to come back to her.

Her life. The hell she lived in now. And her one silver problem.

She looked around for a sign of how long she had been out for, but her room gave her no way of telling. A perfect prison.

It might have been her mind playing tricks, but recently, memories of her past seemed to be a little weaker and a little harder to recall. If that was true, then there would soon come a day that her past would finally wither away, and she would learn to live life without it. That would be the day she stopped being Nira.

She walked out her room, and saw that the Courtesan Quarters’ main door was open. That meant it must be at least midday. The guard on duty now was Alwin Gerlach of the Ger family. Nira didn’t know much about the Ger family, but she knew that Alwin was the only guard nice to the women. He gave them leftovers from the kitchen after every big event and belongings thrown out by the royals. In fact, Alwin was the one who gave Nira her blanket. He was one of the few people inside the castle walls that treated them like humans.

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There weren’t enough king’s guests to use up all the partners, so most were out doing their assigned work. The few that remained were the ones enjoying their last hours of freedom before another bleak night.

Nira saw two women, slightly older than herself, chatting on boxes near the water drain, a small channel of water in the ground which provided all the water for the Courtesan Quarters. She couldn’t make out their conversation, but judging by their hunched postures and low voices, it was probably the usual gossip. Another woman, even older than the first two, read a book. Nira wished she could read. Her mother could, and growing up, she read to Nira before bed every night. It would be nice to be able to visit those stories once again.

The women weren’t actually trapped in the musty dwelling. In fact, during this time, they were free to roam the public areas of the castle. Though there wasn’t much to explore, Nira still took a walk on days like this. Anything to get out of this dreary environment. However today, she didn’t mind it. The stale air that filled the room fed Nira’s dolor, and like a leech feeding off its host, it had grown and grown, gaining in size and strength. Still, Nira didn’t mind it since it filled the void left by the hope and promise of yesterday. The melancholy made her whole. It completed her. It had become just another part of her, like the arms and legs she carried. This part was the one that was scared to leave the room and scared to face the world, for the world was so big and threatening, and her room so small and comforting. Nothing could hurt her in here, while everything could out there.

“Fresh air does the body good,” her mother’s voice echoed.

It used to be that everytime Nira became somber or bitter, her mother took her for a walk around town. They didn’t get much done or go on any adventures, and sometimes, they didn’t even talk, but it always seemed to help. Somehow.

“If everything is lost, what else can I lose?” she thought.

So, dragging her arms and legs and sorrow, she went for a stroll.