Fang sat on the couch facing the hearth, staring at the flames as she tried to process what had just become of her life. Hand over her mouth Fang bit back the hard, sick feeling in her chest. What am I supposed to do now? Fang clenched her other hand in her lap, but she could barely feel it beneath the overwhelming cold consuming her limbs. Even sitting in front of the fire, the numbness of shock threatened to freeze her to her core. If I'd just learned how to read Drass-
"Fang...?" Valen's voice broke through the fog, startling her. Fang's hand jerked and she gasped; the prince, standing behind the couch, stepped back to give her space. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."
"It's all right." Fang shook her head, rubbing her fingers along her jaw, "I was... I was thinking. What is it?" Should I even be speaking to him like that?
"I've asked one of the lady consorts if you can borrow some of her daughter's clothes until I have some made for you. She said she'll bring them as soon as she gets them together."
That surprised her. "That's... incredibly generous, but-"
"Yena's daughter is only six," Valen told her, "it'll be a few years before she can wear them. I'm taking you to my robe-master in the morning to have you measured, I'll have Arban make a full wardrobe for you, leggings and robes, gowns, everything the lady consorts have. Arban makes all of my robes so everything you have will be the right size."
Fang blinked, but she nodded. A whole wardrobe? Valen's clothes were exceedingly handsome, the fit flattering and the fabric sumptuous. Everything Fang had ever worn had been someone else's castoffs, new clothes had always cost so much more than used and because she was so petite, anything that was too large she had to cut down. Thinking about the grey and red robe from last night, Fang tried to imagine having multiple pieces like it and couldn't quite wrap her mind around it. Still, she needed to acknowledge the kindness. "Right, of course. I appreciate it." When she didn't sense or hear that Valen had left, she twisted around and found him standing - or rather, looming behind the couch with a bleak, low expression. "What's wrong?"
Valen dropped his chin and cast his gaze to the floor, his shaggy hair tumbling forward and obscuring his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Fang. This wasn't how it was supposed to turn out. When I said I wanted to talk to you last night I was going to ask if I could see you again, but I didn't mean it like this. Never like this." He looked so miserable and resigned Fang wondered how often he'd gone up against his sibling and lost, despite being in the right.
"It's not your fault, you did the best you could."
The Prince shook his head. "It would be one thing if you'd agreed to something like this on your own, but this isn't fair. It isn't fair, it's not right and I'm not going to roll over and take it just because my father thinks it's best for the Empire." When he turned to her, his orange eyes blazed with that iron core she'd noticed earlier when he'd argued with his father. The fierceness, this sudden shift from misery to righteous anger struck Fang as something that had been smoldering for a long time. "I'm going to fight this. I'll take it up with my father's counselors and look for a way to set you free. I swear it on my hearts," he thumped himself in the middle of his chest with his fist.
"Um..." While she appreciated the sentiment, Fang wondered if this was wise. "Is that... something you can do?"
"I can try, at the very least I can find something to use as my argument. I don't like the idea of owning someone, it makes my stomach turn." He fell silent, staring at the flames again, and Fang looked as well. She watched the flames lick over chunks of wood and listened to it pop. "I should probably say," he said in a softer, less angry voice, "that it might take some time. I still have to do the other things my father wants. If I don't, he might decide to do something worse than make me keep you... like a prisoner," he added with a growl and his upper lip curled, showing the tips of ivory teeth. He sighed and scratched at the back of his head. The motion ruffled his short, unruly hair and it tumbled about. "But at least I have some clothes coming for you, and I thought tomorrow I'd take you to start picking out your personal things."
Fang nodded, though at the moment she had no idea where to start. She had a vague idea of what a concubine was – more than a girlfriend, less than a wife – but common sense told her it was more complicated than that. She couldn't begin to imagine the things a concubine might be expected to have and use, though she assumed she'd need things like makeup and jewelry, lacquer for her nails, perfumes and the Flame knew what else. Being a concubine would be an improvement, but the circumstances were horrific. She might never-
Fang's stomach gave a loud, insistent groan. Her hands went to her belly, the familiar gnawing ache below her breastbone reminding her that the last thing she'd eaten had been a flavorless protein cake that left a film on her teeth. When had that been, sometime yesterday? Her cheeks flamed hot and Fang pinched her eyes shut. Just kill me now.
"Ashes," Valen exclaimed, "I forgot your breakfast!" Fang listened to his footsteps as he trotted away, opening her eyes when she heard the sound of glass clinking. Valen rummaged inside a cabinet set into the stone wall, its doors opening to a lit, cooled chamber where bottles gleamed and a row of paper-wrapped packages lined the bottom shelf. He took one and and came back to Fang, holding it out. "I'm so sorry, I promised you breakfast but... Well, it doesn't matter anymore. Here," he said as he handed it to her. "Will this be enough?"
Fang unwrapped the parcel and stared at its contents. Enough? she wanted to laugh, but her shaky hands might drop the paper's precious cargo. This is more than I eat in days! A round of thick Drass flatbread, made from a hearty brown grain and baked over a live flame so that it developed a crispy crust and just a touch of char, folded around seared slices of dark red meat – not that cheap, bland factory stuff but real meat streaked with fat and drizzled with an oily green sauce flecked with bits of herbs. Strips of red and yellow vegetables layered between the folds of meat and gave the sandwich color. Meat, bread, vegetables...this is real food! Fang's stomach gave a lusty rumble. She looked up at Valen, her eyes huge. "Are... are you sure I can have this?"
"Am I...sure?" Valen cocked his head. "What do you mean? Of course you can."
Fang shook her head, "I can't just take it-"
Kneeling before her, Valen wrapped her hands around the sandwich. "Yes, you can. And you will," he smiled at her, his orange eyes concerned and kind. "It's bad enough my brother tricked you, I'm not about to let you starve."
It was just too much - he was being so kind to her, after everything that had happened. Fang pulled one hand free and covered her face, tears flowing. She felt Valen's hands leave hers, then come back with a soft piece of silk with the Drassian seal embroidered in the corner. He pushed the kerchief into her hand and Fang held it to her eyes. "I'm sorry," she sniffled, "I'm so st-stupid-"
"No you're not, I am. I should've known Tias would do something cruel like this, I should've asked Ben if she sent you instead of falling straight into bed the moment I saw you. I wasn't as suspicious as I should've been, and because of that you're stuck here."
Fang wiped her eyes and nose. She still held the sandwich in her lap, and Valen nudged her hand. She sniffed again and nodded. Unwrapping the paper again she saw how the bread had soaked up a good deal of the sauce and the juices from the meat, and tucked in between strips of meat and vegetables there were white curds of soft cheese. Valen rose and sat beside her, watching to make sure she actually took a bite, and when she did Fang let loose a completely involuntary moan of transcendent bliss as the meat touched her tongue. The cheese melted in her mouth, and when she swallowed she sighed "It's so good!" and began to cry again. The oily green sauce, bright and tart-fresh, cut through the red meat's richness and soaked the crusty bread soft, and some of the meat's juice dripped down her chin. She went to wipe it away, but Valen was faster. He swiped it off with a finger and grinned.
"Better?"
Fang could only nod and eat, realizing just how hungry she was, but she wouldn't be able to finish the sandwich and soon re-wrapped the half she hadn't touched. "Thank you, but I can't-"
"Too much?"
"A little."
"That's all right," Valen took it and set it aside, "don't make yourself sick. Can I get you something to drink?"
She was thirsty after that thick, hearty bread and rich meat. "If it's no trouble-"
"Not at all." He rose and went behind the couch, back to the cabinet. She watched him rummage through the shelves for a glass and wondered why he bothered. Something had changed in the last few moments, though Fang couldn't quite say what it was - this was the Drass she had met last night, soft of voice and gentle in his movements, unaffected by the storm of confusion swirling just under the surface about the circumstances. How is he so calm? Then again Valen was a prince, what did he have to worry about?
Valen leaned over the back of the couch and offered her a glass of a pale orange liquid. "It's not very strong but it might help settle your nerves."
Fang ducked her head but took the glass. "Sorry, Your Grace, it's just that so much-"
"Just Valen, please. And don't apologize, you didn't do anything wrong."
"Right..." The glass cooled her palms, and the wine smelled fruity and floral. It was a pretty color, a translucent pinkish orange like a sunset on snow. Taking a taste Fang discovered that it fizzed on her tongue as well, and the tart sweetness reminded her of fruit preserved in honey. "Oh!" She took another sip, savoring the champagne-like bubbles that tickled her nose. "Thank you, Your... Valen." Fang buried her embarrassment in another drink. Having something to do, even if it was just holding a drink, helped ease the trembling in her hands and the bright flavor lifted her spirits. Valen came and sat beside her again, though this time he seemed a bit more reserved. It took him a moment to arrange his fine robes and get his tail out of the way and when he looked up again he looked away just as quickly. "You're, um... you're welcome."
Fang sensed the awkwardness. Now that she'd eaten, the tension behind her eyes and the ache in her stomach had eased and the worst of the horror from that morning had dissipated. There was still the business of getting used to the idea that she'd be staying here now, and while the idea of living inside of a mountain was claustrophobic at least the room she now occupied was warm, dry and probably one of the safest places she'd ever been. At least, safe in that there were literal guards posted all over the place and the people who lived and worked here seemed comfortable. But as a silence spun out between her and the prince, Fang pitched around for something to talk about. "So... what now? Do we just wait?"
The prince shrugged. "I guess, nothing like this has ever happened before. My father will need time to think about what to do, and if he's going to yell at Tias more he's not going to call me to watch. Though the Flame knows I'd love to see it..." He swirled his glass and watched the bubbles dance. "I've never seen him get angry with Tias before, that was the terrifying thing."
"Is that because he's the oldest?"
"Naturally." The corner of Valen's mouth turned down in a sneer, and he gave her a sour look Fang knew wasn't really meant for her. Well then, no love lost between those two. The prince continued, "I've never seen Tias so scared, and it's about damn time!" He took another drink. "He's been a bully for as long as I can remember, and nothing's ever come of it until now. I think you being human helped," Valen tossed a glance her way, "otherwise he might've gotten away with it like he always does."
"You stood up for me though," Fang said, "if you hadn't told the Emperor he tricked me I don't know what would've happened."
Valen turned to her, his ears standing up. "I had to, I couldn't let him put the blame on you, not when you didn't do anything wrong."
"I signed something I couldn't read."
"No one in their right mind would've thought he'd do that," Valen countered. "I know I said I should've expected him to do something cruel, but I never would have thought he'd commit the equivalent of a war crime to torment me – that was stupid even for him. Though he was right about one thing: our father could just sign off on the deed and you'd be a free woman and it'd be like it never happened. That's probably what he was thinking when he drew it up." He sat back and studied his drink, thoughtful. "But..." he trailed off.
"But I'm human," Fang finished for him, "and there's a chance I'll run off and tell the Fed what Tias did, which could start a war." That's what it really comes down to, isn't it? Fang swallowed hard, but nodded. Shit. This was worse than she'd thought - not only was she entangled with a prince, now the potential of conflict between the Federation and the Empire hung over her head. I should've learned to read Drass, she chastened herself, not for the first time. But the classes were as much as a month's rent, and the materials were a week's worth of meals. The time she would have spent learning to read the squiggly vertical calligraphy would be better spent working whether it was at a factory or on her back; lessons wouldn't pay the bills, buy food or clothes or keep a roof over her head. But they might have kept her out of more trouble, and Fang knew all about trouble.
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As you can likely tell, this story has a lot to do with sex work and a woman who turns to sex work because of poverty. Personally, I have more of an issue with the society that disenfranchises people to the point where they have to resort to sex work to survive, and not sex work itself. I believe that sex work is work - when the person working is doing so of their own free will. Choosing to trade your body's labor for wages is the same whether you're working in construction, playing a sport, performing a burlesque or a pole routine, and the stigma associated with the latter should not exist.
Therefore, this story is something of a critique of patriarchy, power, capitalism and the stigma against sex work, particularly women in sex work. It's still a sci-fi romance, but I've always treated science fiction as a vessel for exploring sensitive topics in a controlled space. One of my final papers in college was about science fiction as a "smokescreen" for delicate, controversial and taboo subjects, and my stories continue to move on this track.
For more information on reducing stigma and to find out how you can help decriminalize sex work and support sex workers, I encourage you to start at https://harmreduction.org/issues/sex-work/ and https://harmreduction.org/issues/sex-work/overview/