Chapter 1

"COME IN, ESTRELLA," Lady Genevieve's voice chimes from the other side of the ornate mahogany door before I can even lift my hand to knock.

With a resigned sigh, I push open the door and step inside, letting it swing closed behind me. "Can you ever just pretend you don't smell me coming?"

She inhales as her glowing red eyes drift closed. "I can't. You smell mesmerizing as usual... like dessert and raw divine energy," she purrs, tucking a lock of her shiny black hair behind her ear. I know she's doing it on purpose to bother me.

I work hard to hide my grimace. While I have a healthy respect for Lady Genevieve, I still don't like her kind or the weird things they do. For instance, the way they pick up smells like animals creeps me out. Sure, she's the one who trained me and watches over me much in the way a mother would. Still, she's a Vampire, and Vampires surrendered first to the powerful demigod King Nephus. Then they fought alongside him, bringing everyone else to their knees.

I'll admit, Lady Genevieve is different—she's as moral as her kind can be. She prefers to drink animal blood and wears her distaste for the Royal Court plainly. But when it comes down to it, she still does what they say. She keeps me and my fellow Witches prisoner, whoring us out to wealthy, lecherous, bloodthirsty men.

"You wanted to speak to me?" I sink into the blood red velvet chair in front of her desk, sliding down with my knees open and head resting on my hand.

Her eyes narrow at my relaxed posture, but she refrains from admonishing me. I raise an eyebrow because I know this means something is up. The only time Lady Genevieve bites her tongue around me is when she's about to deliver news I won't like. With movements so graceful she may as well be floating, she rounds the desk and sits on its edge. She's close enough to where I can choke on her expensive floral perfume.

She squares her shoulders. I purse my lips at her oddly defensive posture. This must be really bad news, because she's already prepared to fight me. "The King is entertaining his Royal Court tomorrow, and has requested only my best girls to attend."

"Why does he want a bunch of slutty Witches there?" The King has never ever requested a Courtesan for him, or the stupid lavish parties he throws practically every weekend for his brown-nosers. Lucky me, my twentieth-floor window overlooks the city with a view of his golden glittering palace. I get to watch the luxury cars approaching his estate, and the palace stays lit up throughout the night until the early morning.

The members of his Court, however, regularly request us, sometimes different girls multiple times a day. The King though? Never. I suppose he thought himself too good to pay for the company of lowly Witches.

She averts her gaze. "They're celebrating capturing the final Coven of Witches and–"

It feels like a shard of glass catches in my throat. "He wants to show off our subjugation."

The image of my moms bleeding from their necks slips into the forefront of my mind. I'd seen the Vampire invaders tear through their skin with their teeth. So badly I wish I could forget watching their eyes dim as their souls slipped from their body. Yet, when I close my eyes to sleep, it's all I can see.

After three years, you'd think the nightmares would go away. I'm afraid they never will.

King Nephus spent years on a mission to "unify" Supernaturals. He wanted us all living amongst one another under one rule–his, of course. And if we resisted? Death.

It's not a foreign concept. King Nephus is a Demigod. The gods created Supernaturals when they mingled with humans. So, of course, they ruled over us. Eventually, groups grew and branched off into their own lands. They created their own societies to live and govern their own kind, and the gods happily allowed it. They kept their titles as our rulers, but never intervened in our affairs.

Then, something changed. Maybe King Nephus got bored, as many immortals do. After living so long, how does one pass the time? But one minute things were normal, the next he decides he wants to do things differently.

At first, he moved diplomatically. He brought awareness of his cause by making promises a prosperous utopia if we all agreed to come together once again under his rule. A few fell for it—the first being Vampires—but once he saw everyone wouldn't agree, his tactics shifted towards violence. He raised an army with their help and invaded everyone who refused to surrender.

Then he separated the Supernatural Realm into six distinct territories run by whoever kissed his ass the most.

Witches flew under the radar for seven peaceful years despite the war raging around us. We lived in our own communes, surrounded by our preferred elements. Fire Witches love warm sunny areas, while Water Witches enjoy being near rivers. Earth Witches like the deep forest, and Air Witches enjoy living anywhere with a pleasant breeze.

I always thought he left us alone so long because we were harmless—a bunch of women doing their little magick tricks in random places.

Then I learned the real reasoning: King Nephus is a cunning man. He bid his time until he had the technology and resources to decimate us. He waited because while completely peace loving and harmless, Witches were always the most powerful opponent.

So, one day his army attacked, just like that. While we had our power over the elements, they had more numbers. Taken by surprise, we never had a chance. They killed so many of us. The rest became indentured servants, not trusted with freedom because we rebelled until the very end.

They placed us into the different territories regardless of our elements. They assigned us jobs to work until we paid off the debts for our "crimes."

They moved me to the Ash territory—sometimes called the City of Ash—coincidentally the same territory that houses the King's Palace along with the wealthiest people.

And lucky me, I'm a fucking "Courtesan," having to smile and nod to the very people I hate. The rich assholes who funded the end of our freedom. It's no coincidence most of the Witches' jobs involve serving men in some capacity--cooks, servants, maids, and courtesans.

I finger the Suppressor on my wrist—a metal bracelet clamped into my skin. All Witches now wear one, and once it's on, there's no way for us to remove it. I tried until I bled. It sinks into our skin and subdues our powers so we can't use our magick to its fullest extent. Once an experienced Fire Witch, it takes effort just to light a candle.

Lady Genevieve's words cut through my inner reflections. "I've summoned you here because we need to discuss your conduct."

I cock my head. "Do we?" I ask, rounding my eyes in innocence, something Lady Genevieve taught me, so it never works on her. Once she gives me a disbelieving raise of her thin black eyebrow, my eyes narrow. "Because I'm not going."

She jabs a finger towards me. "You have no choice. This is important, and your behavior is a direct reflection of me. If you botch this, it's my ass on the line."

"Then send someone else!" I argue. "How is it fair for us to entertain at a party that celebrates our downfall?"

If it's so important, why would she send  me  the one Courtesan here that openly hates what she does? I'm proud the other girls can power through it, but I can't. I rarely accept jobs, and would rather chew glass than respond to any of the Sponsor requests sitting unopened on my desk.

Lady Genevieve sighs and runs a hand through her hair to pull it from her face. "Life isn't fair, Estrella." Centuries of exhaustion spill into her words. "The King requested my best girls, and you are my number one earner. You get the most proposals for Sponsors, and the most requests for your entertainment. Whether you like it or not, you're well known by The Court, and they'll be delighted to see you in attendance. You could even get sponsored by the King himself, and get out of here. Why don't you want that?"

They made buying our freedom with money impossible on purpose. No girl could ever pay that amount of money back in a lifetime. So, for Lady Genevieve, since freedom is so hard to buy, our goal is to be sponsored by a wealthy member of the Royal Court or one of their colleagues. This means never having to work again and living a life of luxury. However, this also means having to cater to someone for the rest of your life. I don't want that. I don't want to be tied to someone who makes me fucking miserable.

"Because I'll never belong to a man," I say, folding my arms over my chest. "I'd rather die."

Lady Genevieve pushes away from the desk and kneels before me. Her eyes level with mine. "Listen," she practically pleads. "I know you're not happy with the state of things. I know you hate the King and his Court, but I've done everything in my power to treat you, all of you, as best as possible. You know how other House Mothers treat their Courtesans…"

I sigh, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. The worst part is that she's right. I live in a cushy penthouse, with good food, nice clothes, and she's nice to us even though Vampires and Witches have their own feuds. Others aren't so lucky. I've heard stories of horrible living conditions, emotional abuse, forced crash diets, and more. Lady Genevieve gave us a safe space after all our trauma. She taught us how to get what we want from these men without having to fuck or feed. She allows us to consent to or reject anything and anyone. To a point. There was a time where she had to finally force me to accept my first client.

"You Witches aren't the only ones suffering under this regime." She fingers the necklace around her neck, two gold rings looped into a chain. "I lost the only woman I ever loved. All because she wouldn't give in to the advances of a member of the Court. A man named Miklaus had her killed."

Her eyes flicker back to mine, shiny with the beginnings of tears. To live centuries and finally find someone you want to spend eternity with, only for them to be ripped away, must be more pain than I can fathom.

Losing my moms crushed me, but Witches have always understood the concept of Death. She takes us when She's ready. Vampires live forever, and so do their relationships on the rare chance they find one.

I don't want to admit it, but she's right. We're all suffering under this regime in some way. Being insubordinate out of principle will only spread that suffering.

"If this goes well, the positive attention could be good for us all. More funding and more clients means better conditions for us here. That's why I need you to go, and you need to have face time with the King."

"Me?" I ask, eyes wide. "Why me?" I have so many other people I can be shmoozing instead. I'd much rather keep my head down, not draw much attention, and hopefully be able to slip out and be in bed before it gets too late. A girl does need her beauty sleep.

Lady Genevieve leans in closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. "Because, Estrella, you have a certain... fire about you that I know he'll find enchanting. You're not like the others. You question, you challenge, and you don't conform easily. The King is used to the usual sycophantic behavior. You, on the other hand, might just catch his attention in a way no one else can. If you can do that, you'll make not only this House look good, but all Witches. Maybe you could sway him to go a little easier on the newly capture Witches?"

Of course, she knows my soft spot for fellow Witches, and how to use it.

She takes my hand with one of hers. It's not cold, but a weird temperature like slipping into a bath of lukewarm water. I lift my head towards the ceiling and groan.

"Fine" I say through clenched teeth. From what I've seen, catching the attention of the King—a man who conquers and destroys for fun—is not a good thing. "But I want something in return."

Her expression sours, though she still looks gorgeous with long blond hair, pale skin, and her pouty lips painted their signature red colors. She's always wearing tight red dresses and sky high heels. She's a bombshell.

"Name it."

"I want three days vacation. No clients, and every meal delivered to my room. One of those days needs to be a full on spa day - I'm talking massage, manicure, pedicure..."

"Gods, you're a pain in my ass you know that? You're the only girl I'd ever let act like this." She rolls her eyes. "Deal."

I shake her off and rise from my seat, waving a casual hand as I walk towards the door. The fireplace ignites, the wood slowly catching fire. It grows faster than a natural fire would, dancing and crackling, filling the office with warmth. "I'll try to be on my best behavior."

"Try? But Estrell–" She starts to argue, but I'm already out the door.