William sat in a velvet-cushioned chair, a goblet of wine idle in his hand, the rim never touching his lips.
The sweet perfume of incense and spiced oils clung heavily to the air, mingling with the distant laughter of courtesans and the lazy plucking of a flute.
Yet none of it reached him. His gaze kept straying, sharp and restless, to the doorway through which Leah had just vanished. Every flicker of his eyes betrayed the battle inside him—anxiety clawing at his chest, anger simmering in his veins.
Around him, the small moans of lewd men pleasuring themselves and ramming into women could be heard from the background.
His fingers tightened around the cup until the dark wine trembled dangerously at the rim. Still he did not drink. He sat there consumed, a storm brewing in his eyes.
Madame Olana eased herself into the seat beside him, her movements smooth. She clutched her half-emptied cup of wine lazily.
Her eyes, followed William's distant stare. She saw it—the way his gaze kept dragging back to the door Leah had slipped through and the way his jaw tightened as if holding back words too dangerous to speak aloud.
Olana tilted her cup, letting the wine roll lazily within, but her attention remained fixed on him.
She leaned in slightly, her voice carrying that practiced sweetness meant to soothe any man's unrest.
"Troubled one," she purred softly, "do you require any service tonight?'
But the question barely hung in the air before he dismissed her with a sharp wave of his hand, his eyes never leaving the door. His irritation was so palpable she almost drew back, yet what followed made her breath hitch.
Slowly, deliberately, he lifted his hands to the hood shadowing his face and pushed it back. The lamplight fell across his features, and in an instant recognition struck her. The scar along his brow, the sharp lines of his jaw—she knew this man.
"William!"
The half-drunk cup of wine thudded against the table as she set it down with trembling haste.
A gasp escaped her lips before she could swallow it. This was no stranger—this was one of her long-standing patrons, a man whose presence had always demanded attention. And now, seeing him cloaked in anger, she still couldn't understand the storm that had been sitting at her side.
He used to be one of her regular wealthy customers; lately he hardly came by.
William shot her a deadly glare; she wasn't supposed to call out his name. He has warned her about this multiple times.
Olana understood his gaze; she swallowed hard and then glanced around. No one was paying attention to their conversation. They couldn't have heard her say his name.
"Apologies… I was simply taken by surprise."
She sprang to her feet, the hem of her gown rustling against the velvet cushions. Instinct drove her hand upward, ready to clap and summon her girls to give her customer the honor and attention he deserved.
But before the sound could break the air, his hand lifted—calm, effortless, and commandingly, signifying her to stop.
Madame Olana froze mid-motion, her breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she lowered her hand, eyes never leaving his scar-marked face.
"You should have made it known to me you were coming; all my best concubines have been booked."
"Do I look like I seek pleasure, Olana?" He called out her name in a dreaded tone, even though she was older than him.
Olana was in her early forties; she used make-up to cover up the slightest wrinkles on her face, just to look attractive.
Still, she was naturally beautiful; she aged like fine wine. Obsidian almond-shaped eyes and long dark hair, sharp brows outlined perfectly, and her jawbones… flawless.
"You come to my pleasure house looking like a spy, and you refuse to tell me what bothers you?"
She said, instinctively taking her seat next to him.
His gaze finally tore from the door and rested on her, sharp and unyielding. His voice came low, edged with a quiet authority that sent cold shivers.
"Have you ever heard of the name Johanna before?"
William said, sidestepping her question. He plucked the cup of wine from the table in front of him and slowly brought it to his lips.
Olana was silent, searching through her head… The name was familiar. Her mind scrambled, chasing threads of memory through the haze of wine she had drank.
Then it came to her. The memory flickered sharp and sudden.
"She is the second queen dowager of Decreash. A dreaded, conniving woman, whispers have it…."
"That's enough!
William said in a calm but firm tone, putting the cup of wine down.
"Johanna is my mother." He added.
Olana scoffed, then began to laugh wholeheartedly; she thought it was a joke. But her face soon began to pale when she saw the seriousness etched on William's face.
She stopped laughing; this wasn't a joke.
She blinked her lashes twice; her hand immediately flew to her mouth as she gasped in astonishment. If Johanna was his mother, that meant.
"The prince?!
Olana muttered, her lips quivering.
It all suddenly made sense—why he wouldn't let her say his name. Olana's eyes widened. All this time, a prince has been visiting her pleasure house, and she had no idea!
How could such important information slip from her reach?
William sighed and then pinched the bridge of his nose.
"The lady that walked in draped in a black cloak—what did she ask of you?" He questioned.
Madame Olana had long lost her composure, but she managed to feign a smile.
"It is private; I cannot discuss the matters of customers."
She said professionally.
"Mother will have my head for this… when she finds out I brought Leah to a pleasure house."
William muttered under his breath in frustration.
Suddenly a voice pierced the air, coming from the inner room…the sound of sexual moans.
William's ears twitched; even among the clusters of moans echoing from the different rooms in the building, he was still able to hear Leah's voice.
His eyes darkened.
"Leah?"
Of course!
What else will a lonely lady be doing in a pleasure house?
"Tell me what that lady wanted." He said, turning to Olana.
"But…" she still wanted to protest.
"Now!
William shrilled, bringing out a bag of coins; he threw it at her. She smiled, then held on to the bag of coins as if her life depended on it.
"She wanted three best men who could pleasure her sexually." Olana lets the cat out of the bag instantly.
"Three best men."
William repeated the words in a mocking tone.
"This ends now."
He abruptly rose from the chair, his cloak shifted with his movement, and with long strides he made for the inner rooms.
Olana's heart jolted. Panic seized her as she rushed to his side, her hand darting out to brush against his sleeve.
"Your Highness—please," she whispered urgently, her voice breaking into a nervous laugh, as though to soften the plea.
"Customers are not to be disturbed. You know the rules of this house—my house."
"That lady is my sister!"
William barked, his voice thunderous enough to cut through the music and laughter beyond the curtains. His words slammed into Olana; she was stunned, her painted composure slipping like a shattered mask.
"Oh!" The sound escaped her in a breathless gasp, thin and helpless. Her fingers loosened from his sleeve, falling uselessly to her side.
She could only watch as he stormed inside; she thought she was going to have a panic attack.
The prince and the princess in her pleasure house? What a lucky day!
William allowed his eyes to dart from curtain to curtain, restless and sharp, searching for the one face that burned in his mind. The perfumed haze was thicker here, cloying, heavy with wine and sweat.
The low hum of laughter was drowned out by the sharper sounds—the muffled gasps and the rhythm of moans spilling from behind veils of purple curtains.
With big strides he walked up to a veiled room and pushed the curtain aside only to find strangers tangled in silk sheets.
He shut the curtain back before walking to another, then another—every sight feeding his anger rather than quenching it. His jaw clenched, his scarred brow furrowed, and still his eyes moved ceaselessly, hunting through the dim light for the room Leah was in.
Leah was settled back on a bed, her legs spread wide, men servicing her needs.
A man knelt between her legs, nuzzling the neatly trimmed mound at the apex of her thighs. He licked a slow stripe up her slit, making her gasp and clench the sheets.
Another man had his mouth on her breasts, rolling and tugging at her sensitive nipples until they were hard little peaks.
They were stroking and teasing all her intimate places. Leah felt herself growing hotter, more desperate for more as their touches stoked the flames of her arousal higher.
The man at her breast took the hardened nub into his mouth, suckling hungrily as the other two men continued their ministration.
Leah's hips bucked as the man between her legs thrust two thick fingers into her dripping core. She was so wet already, he could easily pump them in and out without resistance.
His tongue found her clit, and he slammed it with his thrusts, making her writhe and moan wantonly.
A sharp cry tore from Leah's throat, her pussy clenching rhythmically around the invading digits as ecstasy coursed through her.
Suddenly, a figure barged into the room.
Leah was still drowned in her world of ecstasy, eyes shut, lost in pleasure.
But she felt the overwhelming presence of someone in the room; her eyes slowly fluttered open.
When she saw who it was, her breath caught in her throat.
"Brother…!" The word barely formed as she scrambled upright, clutching at the bedsheets to cover herself.
Her face flushed with a mixture of shock and embarrassment, her hands trembling as she held the fabric tight against her chest.
William's jaw tightened as he realized he had just seen what he wasn't supposed to.
With a sharp breath, he turned his face away, unable to meet her exposed form. Shutting his eyes at the same time, the feeling of rage diffused.
"Get dressed and meet me outside."
He said, but Leah's face was red with surging anger.
"How dare you?!
She screamed; the men servicing her had long paused, standing aside.
"I will go nowhere; just get lost!
She said, and William massaged his temples; he felt a headache coming. He couldn't turn to look at Leah, or else he would have dragged her out himself.
Just then Madame Olana appeared at the doorway, with a guilty expression masked on her face.
"Get her out of here, and if she ever walks through the door of the pleasure house, I will have your head hanged on a spike." He said in a threatening manner, shifting his attention to Olana.
Her eyes twitched…hanged on a spike?
Die in misery? No way?
She watched as he strolled out of the room, leaving the atmosphere tense.
"You have to leave…now." Olana said dryly, turning to Leah, her face cold. Never has she been disrespected like this before.
"What? But I paid for this…" Leah wanted to protest.
"You will get your money back…in full. Not a dim will be missing; please leave!
Olana said, and Leah went numb for a moment before slowly dragging herself out of the bed. She dressed up and walked out of the room; she couldn't believe what just happened. It all looked too devastating to be real.
Leah staggered out of the pleasure house, her steps unsteady, her body moving as though pulled by invisible strings. She looked lifeless, like a walking corpse.
She wanted the ground to just open and swallow her.
William stood by a corner in front of the pleasure house. He stood in the cool night air, waiting—his cloak drawn tight, his expression unreadable beneath the shadows of the hood.
When she emerged, his chest tightened, but she did not look at him. Not once.
She brushed past him, her gaze fixed on the cobblestones ahead, her pace slow yet deliberate.
He reached out to speak, to stop her; his hand gripped her wrist, and Leah suddenly jerked to life.
Her eyes darkened, and she swiftly turned around and struck William across his face. His head snapped from the impact of the slap, the sound echoing in the air. He had barely recovered from it when she struck him across his other cheek….
Slam!