The morning sun touched the city of Eryndor. The stone streets were busy with carts, sellers, and children running between shops. But for Liora, the day felt heavy.
Last night, she had almost been caught. The memory of the guard's shout still rang in her head. If he had been faster, if she had slipped… her secret life could have ended.
Inside the Scarlet Pavilion, things were normal. Music played. Women laughed. Perfume filled the air. But under the bright colors, danger waited.
Mistress Ilyra, the owner of the Pavilion, called Liora to her chamber.
"Liora," she said, her sharp eyes watching. "A nobleman comes tonight. His name is Lord Velmor. He has silver on his tongue, and he likes power. You must please him. No mistakes."
Liora bowed, hiding her true feelings. Inside, her heart froze. She had heard the name. Darius Velmor. The cruel noble who broke lives like glass.
"Yes, Mistress," she said.
When she left the room, her steps were calm, but her mind was fire. Velmor… why here? Why me?
---
That evening, the Pavilion was filled with lights. Velvet curtains, wine cups, the soft sound of lutes. Liora entered the hall in her red silk dress, her fan in her hand. She walked with grace, her face a mask.
Darius Velmor stood tall near the center. Dark hair, sharp eyes, and a smile that did not reach his heart. His silver spear rested against the wall, like a silent threat.
When their eyes met, Liora felt danger. He looked at her the way a wolf looks at prey.
"You must be Liora," he said, his voice smooth. "They say you are the jewel of this house."
"And you must be Lord Velmor," Liora answered, bowing with care. Her voice was sweet, but her fingers pressed hard on her fan.
Velmor smiled. "Dance for me. I want to see if the jewel shines."
So she danced. Each step was light, each turn full of grace. But under her movements, she imagined cutting with her rapier, striking at shadows. Her dance was not only beauty—it was hidden strength.
When she finished, Velmor clapped once. His eyes shone with something dark.
"You are wasted here," he said softly. "I may have to take you from this place."
His words chilled her. She bowed again, hiding the storm inside.
---
Later that night, when most guests had gone, Liora slipped out to the back alley. She needed air. Her chest felt heavy after facing Velmor.
That was when she heard the sound—steel against steel.
She followed the noise and found a narrow street where two men fought. One was a drunk guard with a rusty blade. The other was a tall man with a long sword, moving with skill but no crest on his armor.
The guard cursed and swung, but the stranger turned the blow and struck the man down with the flat of his blade. He did not kill—only knocked the guard to the ground.
The fight ended. The stranger stood tall, breathing hard. His brown hair was messy, his armor scratched. His eyes looked tired, but strong.
Liora stepped closer. "You fight well," she said.
The man turned, surprised. "You should not be here. The streets are not safe at night."
"I know," she said, hiding her fan. "But I wanted to see."
He studied her a moment. "You are not just a courtesan, are you?"
Her heart stopped. Had he seen through her? She forced a smile. "And you are not just a beggar with a sword."
The man gave a small laugh. "Fair. My name is Kael. I once was a knight. Now… nothing. A knight with no banner."
"Liora," she said.
He nodded, then picked up his sword. "You should go back. The night holds wolves worse than drunk guards."
As he walked away, Liora felt something stir inside. A knight with no banner. A man broken by the world, but still standing. Perhaps fate had put him in her path.
---
The next day, Liora trained in secret in the Pavilion's garden. She used her fan and rapier, moving between roses and lanterns. Each step of her dance became a strike.
But her mind was troubled. Velmor's words. Kael's eyes. The weight of secrets.
I need to grow stronger, she thought. If Velmor takes me, if danger comes… I must be ready. I will not bend. I will not break.
That night, as she sat by the window of her chamber, she whispered to herself:
"This city thinks I am only silk and smiles. But one day, they will see the blade inside the velvet."
And far in the streets, Kael walked alone, thinking of the courtesan who spoke with courage. For the first time in many months, he felt a spark of hope.
The story of the courtesan and the broken knight had begun.