Millicent laughed and proceeded to ignore her. Nox ascertained from the Madame’s utter lack of concern that the law wouldn’t bother getting involved, considering half of the constabulary frequented the Selkie.

Theo had been given no dignity in death.

Nox was a wreck. She paced the room, clutching her hands to her upper arms in an attempt to self-soothe. She was a barmaid at a brothel, this was true. A regular had fallen for her and paid to take her maidenhood, this was true. He had been inside her when he—

Her stomach roiled as her dinner bubbled up. Nox caught most of the acid and liquid in her hand as she spun for the chamber pot that the women kept in the rooms, should a patron be too tipsy to make it to the bathing room to piss. They’d made a number of contingencies for the disgusting tendencies of men. This pot was blissfully clean—goddess be praised—before she vomited the remaining contents of her stomach into it. Between the nightmarish events, the disgust with herself, and the texture of the half-digested food in her throat, her stomach churned again and again, forcing her to empty any last drop until she was left dry-heaving.

Her fingers clutched the cool edges of the chamber pot as her back continued to flex and convulse with the heaves.

She didn’t even remember the soft, ginger girl entering. Emily knelt at her side with a glass of water and a damp towel. Given Nox’s year behind the bar, Emily had eighteen months of experience with patrons under her belt or, rather, atop her. Emily pulled Nox’s hair away from her face, holding it as she finished dry-heaving. Her hands dropped from Nox’s hair only when the threat had passed.

“It gets easier,” Emily said, rubbing her back lightly in soft, circular motions.

“Has anyone ever died while inside you?” Nox spat into the pot, not lifting her eyes. She took a drink of the water, swirled it into her mouth, and spat again.

Emily kept her voice soft and compassionate, hands still moving in comforting circles. She smiled. “Me? No, I can’t say I’m so fortunate.”

Nox glared up at the gentle joke from where she clutched the pot.

Emily continued rubbing her back. She let her eyes drift toward the wall as she looked into a memory. “When I was first here,” she said, “a girl did tell me about an elderly gentleman who had dropped dead from the sight of her tits!” She smiled sadly, as it was one of their favorite stories to tell in their hellhole. “I do think she may have been embellishing, as he had been years overdue to go home to be with the goddess. His children were quite embarrassed to collect their father’s body from a brothel.”