<Hey ! > She grumbles. <That is not how you treat a lady . >

<I’ll start treating you like a lady when you act like one . >

She raises her hand, ready to smack him across the face. <How dare you ! > He stops her wrist from keeping contact with his face.

<This is what I mean. If you ’re going to survive in The Sands, you and I have to get along . > Dammit, he was right. If she tried anything around his group of thieves, assassins, whatever they were—she would likely perish at their blade.

<Okay, but you better behave yourself. I’ll be mad if you try anything funny . >

Cordelia’s overwhelmed with nerves when they walk up to the tall, double red doors. This was it, her moment of truth. If anyone recognized her, she was dead. If they didn’ t, that meant she was really out of Wellspring territory. She grips the thief’s warm arm as they approach.

<You don’t need to grip my arm so hard . > The thief whispers.

She stays quiet, embarrassment rushing through her cheeks. He didn’t need to bring attention to it—was he trying to make her awkward?

The greeter stares at the two ( seemingly  mismatched) pair, which Cordelia could understand. The thief is dressed in a stark half-open vest, while she wore a heavy cloak and (now soiled) day dress. She smiles, attempting her best casual expression, but it doesn’t seem to work on the man. His skeptical look strikes fear into her gut.

“Your names  please ?”

He speaks in Weltish—which means the thief wouldn’t be able to understand him.

“Deely Uldurway , and Alex Yonderlust .” It was the best she could do on such short notice. She didn't know the thief's name, and she didn't care to.

The tall, lean man raises a speculative brow. “Listen, whatever business the two of you have here is none of mine. I ask that the two of you don’t steal, or maim any guests. Be respectful.” He holds out a finger. “Or we will throw you out.” He holds out his hand, which was easy enough to understand in any language. The man wanted money.

She tells the thief to hand over some shillings. He does.

The two step into the foyer, the space is suspiciously decked in red curtains, and dismal lighting. She was expecting a classier environment, but given what the thief had said about the place, she shouldn’t have been too surprised about what she saw. Suspicious groans cross her ears—blushing when she realizes why.

<Where did you bring me ? > She whispers under her breath.

<Listen, we’re going to the ballroom—just ignore the noises you’re hearing . > He guides her away from the right corridor. If her instincts were right  … god, she couldn’t bear to think about it.

Within the left wing was a grand ballroom, with a mix between finely dressed patrons and peasants. Cordelia was surprised to see the social classes get along so well—it would have never happened in Wellspring. The closest anyone could have gotten to royalty was if you were a knight—and if you were a knight—you could marry a princess. It’s what happened to her mother and father, after all (and she hoped that one day the same would happen to her, but it seemed her mother had different plans). Her father had come from nothing, and, he had always kept his humanity despite the power he weld . She had to remember that. At this moment, she wasn’t above these people. She was one of them .

<What do you think ? >

<It’s  … something . > She raises her finger to the edge of her lips. <Who did you say the owners were again ? >

<The Lockes . >

<And how did you come to know this house ? >

<Through legal means, if that’s what you’re concerned about. I assure you, I’ve done nothing illegal—or at least within these walls . > He appears to frown. <Now if you’d pardon me, I’m going straight to the buffet. Saving your skin back there has made me ravenous . > He takes a handful of her rear—how dare he be so crude, especially in public!

She would slap him, but he swiftly makes his leave before she gets the chance to do so. To her relief, no one had noticed the man's rudeness—or if they did—didn’t seem to care. He shouldn’t have been so handsy with her in the first place—yet the atmosphere was conducive to handsy behaviour as she can see from the people around her —kissing and groping each other. Disgusting.

Her stomach softly growls as she watches the thief hover near the buffet. The way he was digging through the grub was repulsive, but it wasn’t something she hadn’t seen before. She couldn’t get used to his awful table manners. Cordelia approaches the end table, where two small cobs of corn catch her eye. She had it before on their travels and was the only kind of  peasant food she could stomach. She digs in, eating it quickly. The sooner she satisfied her hunger, the sooner she could pick the corn out of her teeth.

Thirty minutes pass and the crowd is called to rows of two. Men on one side, and ladies on the other. Cordelia ensured her hair was tied in a low bun to hide its unkemptness. She smiles when she hears she soft hums of the violin and cello play in the background as a tall, well-dressed man greets her. His blond locks frame his face handsomely , and Cordelia can’t help but  smile at him.

His green eyes are dazzling.

“May I?” He holds out his hand as Cordelia takes it. He whisks her along the patterned tile floor, his stare consumes her. “ If I may be so bold, why is a beauty like yourself mixed up in a crowd of bandits and whores?

“I might say the same of you.” She cocks a brow. He was a sight for sore eyes.

“Ah, fair point, my lady. You see, it ’s my cousin who owns this establishment, so to speak. I told him that  I’d keep an eye on things while he was away. I’m Edward Locke.”

“Deely.” She doesn’t bother with a last name—no one seemed to believe her and she hardly assumed the man would notice.

“What a charming nickname—short for Cordelia, right?”

Her blue eyes widen as her mouth gapes open.

“Cordelia isn’t a very  common name, and the only Cordelia I heard of is the Princess of Wellspring—and I daresay that it’s a mighty coincidence that  she winds up missing—and yet I find you here, someone who looks exactly like her.”

“Oh, don’t be silly! I never heard of such a woman!” Her laugh is fake—her stomach churns in fear.

“There’s no need to worry, Your Majesty. Your secret is safe with me.  After all , you’re not the first member of royalty who has run off with a peasant, and I’ll doubt you’ll be the last.” He bows as the music stops playing, the thief soon approaching.

"I see I've outstayed my welcome, good day, princess."

<Who the hell is that man ? >

Cordelia’s heart hammers against his chest when the well dressed Locke leaves. God, she had to lure the thief out of the room, and quick. Cordelia leads him to the right wing, where the strange noises were coming from. She finds a door, and slams it shut. The thief looks at her in surprise and accepts her quick advance. Kissing him would be a fabulous distraction.

<Not that I mind, but what did that man say to you to act so brash ? >

<Nothing, he said nothing . > She breathes in between kisses.

<I know it wasn’t nothing, but it curled my blood to see you smiling at him like that—maybe I should thank him instead . > He lifts his hands underneath her skirts, the red hue of the room was influencing his sultry mood. The fear is soon replaced with joy as Cordelia mentally sighs in relief. If she could keep the thief occupied, he might not catch wind of what the man said. If she could keep him in this room for the time being…

He grabs the tie of her cape, letting the heavy fabric fall around her ankles. He grips her shoulders, guiding her onto the mattress—his warm lips venture down to her neck, the stubble of his chin tickles her exposed skin. A brief thought enters her mind. If she did allow him to  … show her the ways, he might opt to keep her alive, even if he found out she was the princess. God, that would be sinking farther and farther down a path that  she didn’t want to venture down. Until he feels his warm fingers against her hipbone. A joyous pang aches in her gut. It would be a right job to lure the man away from her now.

His words from before plague her mind—he did say that  he would be  gentle with her. Was she going to allow this?

<God, let me taste you, Deely. Don’t make me beg . >

<Fine. But you better be gentle, like you promised . >

He stares at her in disbelief. <Deely, I just  asked you to share my bed . >

<I didn’t mishear you . >

<But you said—>

<I know what I said. Don’t make me change my mind . >

She brushes her fingers through his hair as he kisses her, her heart swelling with joy. Being close to him had spurned a reunited vigour—one she could not quell. It was impulsive, her gut both screaming in delight and in fear. No, she was not a princess anymore. It didn’t matter—she would let herself melt into his embrace. She was going to embrace her new life as  … a commonplace whore—which she could handle if it meant it would keep her alive. As she lets out her next breath, she feels the fabric of her pantaloons slide down her legs. Excitement fills her chest—god—she was really going through with this.

Cordelia’s knees are parted, she can feel his warm stare at the innermost parts of her. She hides her face at first, refusing to show her embarrassment. The thief doesn’t pay mind, gliding his hand down her thigh. He lowers his head, devouring his lips among her spot; her cheeks tingling in delight. She twitches, her hands bracing along the edges of his head, her fingers dig into his hair as his hum tickles her.

<Why are you putting your mouth there? ! > She whimpers. Her mind is wiped blank as he proceeds, him keeping her at bay. He takes time, tasting every crevice that  she has to offer . She shudders, throwing her shoulders back. Every inch of her skin tingled with delight when his tongue played with her. Her fear melts away, a building mound of delight taking its place.

<Stop! I’m about to have a stroke ! >

He pulls away, a slight grin on his face. <Keep an open mind, Deely . > He purrs against her.

Cordelia wants to trust him, but the feeling that was taking over her body, an overwhelming sense of pressure was building in her gut—it scares her. He doesn’t listen. She tenses, letting out a high pitch squeal, turning into a loud, gratuitous moan. He tastes her gently to soothe the impact, the shock of her experience leaving her skin pulsing from exposure. He takes a breath, easing himself to look at the woman he had satisfied.

<Now that’s what I was referring to . > He grins as he strokes her moist cheek.

<What ? > She gasps, her mind numb from the delights she had been exposed to. <That couldn’t have been it . >

<We aim to please our women first, then ourselves . > He whispers, his warm hands pulling her thighs towards his hips. <It’s no fun unless we both feel good. I promise I won’t be rough . > His eyes glisten as he strokes himself against her.

She winces as the pressure builds between her legs—his warmth gently sliding within her. She lets out a sharp yelp. He whispers for her to relax, but the pressure was too much! He tries again, forcing his weight against the pressure. It stings, but, stops almost as quickly. The thief looks pained, but it appears he enjoys himself as he smiles down upon her. His lips quiver when they lock eyes, he grasps his hands into her hair, pulling her forward into a warm kiss. She can hardly focus; both sensations overwhelm her being. His movements are gentle, yet firm when he secures her mouth upon his. God, if he kept up like this, she would scream.

He overtakes her as he takes hold of her hips, losing himself in his movements. Cordelia screams in delight—her body now warm with tingling anticipation. All sense of reason is drowned out as he grips her tightly, breathing heavily in her ear. His gasp is loud, final, as he takes care not to crush her under his weight. Sliding out of her, he lies beside her in relaxation.

The thief was right—what she had experienced, it was glorious. It was nothing like her mother had said. It was the complete opposite!

<You never told me it would be this nice . > She sighs, the urge to snuggle against him was prominent.

<Would you have listened ? > He wipes the sweat from his brow. <But I’m not interested in arguing with you. I want to enjoy this . >

He pulls her closer, untying the back of her day dress.

She slaps his hands away, the confusion on his face clear.

<I didn’t say you could undress me ! > She turns away in disapproval.

<But I—>

<No but ’s about it. I said no. Now tie me back up . >

The thief’s drawn-out sigh isn’t lost on her. It was the only amount of modesty she could save for herself—despite the actions that had passed between them. The fabric tightens against her waist as he loops the bow back into its’ original form.

<I don’t see why you need to be so touchy. Not after what we’ve shared . >

<You’re not seeing me naked, and that’s final . > She felt hot beneath her clothes, but it was the one piece of dignity she had left. If she had to use her body to save her identity from him, so be it, but he wouldn’t get the chance to see her exposed. However, that didn’t stop her from gazing at his chiselled, defined form. God, how different he looked out of those disgusting rags. Her gut tightens in yearning.

<I hardly think it’s fair that  you get to ogle me, yet I have to imagine what’s underneath your dress . >

<I’m not ogling . > She slaps the air. <Besides, I say you got a lot more than what you deserved . >

<You are ogling . > He slyly grins. <Next time, I want to see all of you . >

<There isn’t going to be a next time . > God, that was a lie  and she knew it. The things he did with his tongue, she could never forget.

<You’re a terrible liar . > He sits up, exposing even more of himself. God, why did he have to look so delicious? It's maddening…

<I’m not lying. Don’t let your overactive imagination fool you . >

<If you say so . > His wide smile tells her he doesn’t believe a word she says. <Now, are you going to sleep in that thing ? >

<I’ll strip to my shift, but that’s it . > Cordelia stands up, untying the bow that kept her dress attached to her waist. She undoes the ties on her back, allowing the dress to slide down to her ankles. She wears a cream-coloured undergarment—a shift that reached her mid-thigh. It was fine to sleep in when she was in her own bed, but in the company of a man—it was far too revealing. Yet, he was displayed —admirably—right before her eyes. He waves her over, securing his strong arms around her waist as he leans her on his chest.

<Now, doesn’t that feel better ? > He hums, his mood relaxes as he pulls the silk linen cover over them.

Cordelia didn't want to admit it, but he was right.

She feels exceptionally relaxed.