The nights were always the worst. Men flocked in by the dozen because they were lonely. They wanted somebody else to keep them warm and treat them like a lord.

Alyce hid the cloak Darius had given her behind her tiny wooden cot. She only ever used the cot when her services weren't needed. The crisp garlins she'd received were stashed safely out of reach in a hole in Drylliad's castle wall. The coins were too clean to be kept in the den. The den was always smokey and always filled with sin.

She hugged herself and rubbed her arms to keep out the bone-biting cold. There was no way she could use the new cloak and not lose it. The other girls in the den were ruthless to each other. Whoever was the den master's favorite received gifts and was treated like a legitimate human being rather than scum like the others. Alyce smiled at her bare feet. Tomorrow she would see Darius. He would ask her to spend the night with him, but he had given her a cloak, and that was enough.

Her wiry dark hair hung like a shadow from her head. Alyce began to pick her fingers through it. She always reminded herself how lucky she was that she'd been able to keep her hair. Many of the other girls who'd come to the den were already so desperate for money that they'd sheared off their locks and their dignity with it. The room, it was more of a closet, where Alyce slept gave her the privacy to find a shred of happiness. Girls like her weren't allowed to smile. Girls like her didn't deserve kindness from anybody.

But suddenly, a young man equivalent to an angel gave her money without asking for her to bed with him. He'd given so freely. He'd smiled at her. Alyce found herself smiling too.

Darius had given her enough to leave. If she sold the cloak and kept the garlins she'd already been given, she could buy a room at an inn and beg to become a bar maid. She would leave in the young hours of the morning. Darius did not need to talk to her again. Alyce's mere presence would poison his reputation. It was settled. The inn just outside of Drylliad was always looking for more bar maids, or at least that's what several clients claimed. The saints were freeing Alyce from her little hell.

Somebody pounded at Alyce's door. The den master no doubt.

"I'm sorry," Alyce whispered as she stood and opened the tiny closet door.

Outside was not the den master, somebody much worse stood outside. The den master's current favorite; a sly fox. Madam sneered at Alyce, her face the shade of yellowing milk and her lips as red as the blood of a plague victim. "Get up girl."

"Yes, Madam."

"A new girl comes looking for work, you are to help her, and by the end of the night, we will have another whore dragging in garlins."

"Yes, Madam."

Alyce kept her eyes down as she followed Madam through the den. Incense was already burning even though sunset was still at least an hour away. Stolen luxuries decorated the den, allowing for the clients to believe that where they were was a place of wealth. Alyce didn't like the constantly lit sconces. They reminded her of her home. Alyce reminded herself that she had no home. There was nothing for her save for the den.

And then she remembered the cloak and garlins.

She had a future.

"What is your name girl?" Madam croaked at the second young girl before her. Alyce pressed the back of her hand to her mouth as she coughed waiting for the girl's answer.

The girl inhaled. She had pride where there was none. Her black curls sprung gracefully. Alyce wondered what she had been before she came to the den looking for work. Perhaps a Lord's daughter fallen upon hard times. Not even the noble could run from debts. The girl lifted her chin, "I am Saren, my father said that I would find work here."

"Yes, you will find work. From now on, you are to go by Sar," Madam frowned. "Alyce will show you around the den. You will be bartered off before the night is over. You will have your money."

Bartered off. Bought and sold like property. Saren's stoic posture dropped the second she realized that she was to be treated as cattle for the rest of her life, which- if she lasted as long as the others- wouldn't last for longer than four years at most. Something stirred in Alyce's heart. She told herself that her heart was confused, but Alyce knew what she was feeling. The emotion had been dead for so long she didn't know she could still feel anymore.

"Come with me," Alyce said quietly. "I will show you where you are to stay."

"Who are you?" Saren asked as she followed through the den.

"I am Alyce."

"Why are you here Alyce? I came here because I couldn't bear to see my sisters suffer, my father was injured in a skirmish with the pirates from Avenia. I receive more money here than I would as a barmaid."

"But as a barmaid, you would have yourself."

"What do you mean?"

Alyce gestured to the wooden cots in the very back room, Saren would stay in the cot at the very end farthest from the fire, as did all new girls. The closet Alyce slept in came because she'd toiled away for nearly three years. Alyce coughed into her hand and grabbed her crimson skirts. "When you become like me, you are owned by everyone. I am nothing without Madam and the den master."

"I don't mind becoming nothing if it keeps my sisters comfortable."

Comfortable.

How long had it been since Alyce was truly comfortable?

"Alyce?"

"Yes?"

"Will you be my friend here? Can you call me by my true name? I can't forget who I am."

A friend. Alyce didn't have very many of those. She'd long since forgotten who she was.

"Yes, I will be your friend, Saren."

Alyce had made two friends in less than a day.

Perhaps the saints did remember all.