“Tell me more about Chalois…when I return in the morning. In truth, she was hungry for news of what lay in the outside world, not that she could ever leave, but it was nice to wonder, to dream.

“For a kiss I will tell you how I came to be here.” He grinned sideways.

Hessa leaned toward him once more, intrigued. “A deal then.”

His smile vanished, and his expression turned serious. Gunnar offered his mouth to her. She closed her eyes, worried that she would not do it right. Their lips touched, hot, soft, tender. It was not like the way the brothel women kissed. It was not like anything she had ever seen or experienced. Something about his closeness mesmerized her, as if he were made of dreams and magic. The kiss went on for some time-lips pressed to lips-and she hoped the other men could not see what she was doing.

When he pulled away, she whispered, “At dawn tomorrow you will tell me your story.”

“Come before dawn,” he said. “It’s a long story.”

She nodded then turned to leave. It was a strange encounter to say the least. As Hessa ascended the stairs out of the darkness, her mind raced. She had just kissed a man she felt attracted to. It wasn’t a kiss forced on her by some drunkard in the lounge by the pits where she often worked. It meant something, even if it was for the price of a story.

Hessa took her empty bags back to the kitchens. She tried to keep her thoughts on task, because there were still more chores to be done. Beds in the brothel needed to be turned down and the linens changed; privies needed to be freshened. But all the while as she went about her menial tasks, all she could think of was Gunnar’s fingers on her arm, or on her mouth. He looked like he could crush her if he wanted to, but his touch had been gentle.