Page 56 of Cursed By Gold

At last, we step through the looming oak doors and out into the temperate spring night, the light illuminating Scarlet's striking presence in crisp detail. The dark blossom of bruising stands out in vivid relief against her fair complexion, the line of her jaw set in a defiant tilt.

A sleek, black town carriage awaits with its doors flung open in readiness, the driver eyeing our progress with polite disinterest. I turn back to Scarlet, gesturing for her to precede me up the carriage steps. For a fleeting instant, our gazes lock, a strange frisson seeming to shiver through the air between us.

"I feel I must reiterate my disgust over the treatment to which you were so unjustly subjected, Lady Scarlet," I murmur, holding her eyes with a weighted look. "No woman should suffer such degradation at the hands of her sworn protector. You have my deepest apologies that my presence brought you into the path of such indignity."

Her teeth sink into her full lower lip, worrying the tender flesh as she ponders my statement. At last, she seems to reach some internal decision, shoulders squaring beneath the thin straps of her gown.

"With respect, Your Majesty...you should reserve that censure for the true offender," she states, her tone hardening to adamant steel. "I am no shrinking blossom, easily cowed or abused. What you witnessed was but a temporary setback towards a cause I still endeavor to see realized."

That fierce, blazing look in her eyes sears straight into my soul, igniting answering embers of determination and...something farmore primal that I dare not give name to. Here, bathed in moonlight and the faint glow of the carriage lamps, she appears well and truly formidable rather than fragile - a being of incandescent strength and conviction despite her evident trials.

Perhaps it's that undeniable force of presence that proves my undoing in that singular instant. Or maybe it's simply been far too long since I've glimpsed such vibrant, unapologetic intensity from one of my own subjects. But whatever the impetus, the words slip free before I can grab hold of my treacherous impulses.

"You are...captivating, my lady." The hushed utterance seems to reverberate through the stillness like shattering crystal. My jaw goes rigid, bracing for the inevitable censure over such an unforgivable breach of propriety. Particularly after having just been the audience to her mistreatment at the hands of another.

But Scarlet meets my gaze head-on, her expression revealing not outrage, but somber acceptance of the raw truth laid bare between us. "I somehow doubt Your Majesty is given to such...untoward flattery without underlying motive," she murmurs, watching me carefully through her lashes.

Her words slice through my conscience with unerring precision, every instinct screaming to cover my careless indiscretion with the usual dismissive prevarications. To preserve the pristine distance I've cultivated between myself and my subjects for fear of the horrors my accursed touch could inflict.

And yet, something in her guileless stare seems to strip away even those most ingrained defenses, leaving me raw and mercilessly, recklessly honest.

"You aren’t wrong," I admit in a rough tone, the compunction to lay my soul bare feeling very much like wrenching open a barely-healed wound. "I have not been afforded the luxury of...indulgence without intent in longer than I care to admit.”

Her lips part around an indrawn breath, whether in surprise or outrage I cannot say. Pressing my advantage while I still can, I close the remaining distance between us in two long strides, utterly heedless of the impropriety of such an overt advance.

I lean in close and speak in a low, intimate tone while looking into her eyes. "I'm not gonna lie to you and say sweet nothings, Scarlet. You've...captivated me in a way I didn't expect. I can't say if you meant to or not. But just know, I won't forget the fire I saw in you tonight anytime soon."

Her eyes widen fractionally at my emboldened admission. For a handful of suspended heartbeats, the night seems to still around us, the scented air crackling with some indescribable, perilous energy I have not felt in...longer than I dare recall.

At last, her tongue darts out to wet her lips in a gesture of unconscious invitation that sends a molten shock of yearning lancing through my entranced senses.

"Be careful with such words, Your Majesty," she cautions in a low, throaty tone rife with thinly veiled warning. "One would not wish for such indulgences to be...misinterpreted on false premises."

The inference hangs unvoiced between us, searing and unmistakable - a portent of entanglements yet unknown that could prove disastrous if mishandled.

Yet I cannot heed that voice of carefully cultivated restraint urging me back from this precipice. Some reckless part of me longs to careen over the edge into those perilous depths, drawn by the promise of true connection after so many years of deprivation.

"I assure you my regard is not lightly bestowed," I murmur, spearing her with an intent look that leaves no room for misapprehension. "Nor shall its implications escape me, however unanticipated they may have been. But fate does lovea bit of...inadvertent meddling to set events askew from time to time, does it not?"

A daring smirk curves my lips as I drink in the picture she makes, bruised yet unbowed despite her circumstance. Beneath the gauzy layers of her gown, the flickering lamplight of the carriage sculpts every lush curve and dip of her form, fanning embers of desire I'd thought long since banked.

Scarlet’s gaze lands on my face. I can feel her calculating. But no words escape her lips. The carriage jostles as it runs over a loose cobblestone and she winces. It takes everything in me to not reach out and help her. Her pained eyes meet mine for a moment, and then turn away. I wish the gods were kind. I both wish and desperately hope that she is the thief who attempted to steal the crown. But if that were true, it could be both of our condemnation.

The Prisoner

Remme

It's nearing midnight by the time I've settled arrangements for a discreet physician to attend Scarlet and ensure she's not too gravely injured. Despite her outward bravado earlier, that disturbing encounter left little doubt as to the severity of the mistreatment she endures. My insides twist with a potent mixture of residual fury and impotent concern.

She could have ended that engagement to the pathetic excuse for a man - should have, by all propriety. Yet her evasive responses imply she dare not, for reasons I cannot yet fathom. But I'm fast developing an interest in unraveling whatever unsavory obligations tether her to such a man. If nothing else, her own family should be helping her with this situation. An interest which, if I'm being painfully honest with myself, extends well beyond the bounds of mere curiosity or subjects' welfare.

I shake off my thoughts about Scarlet and head towards the dungeons. Daydreaming won't help me figure out if this thief is part of that secret guild. Plus, the next trial is only a couplenights away. Giving Scarlet a break to recover could help her in the challenges ahead.

The heavy iron doors groan as the guards push them open, leading me into the dank prison tunnels underneath the palace. Flickering torchlight casts creepy shadows along the damp stone walls, like bony fingers reaching out. An eerie feeling hangs in the air down here - you can sense all the tormented souls who suffered in these halls over the years

At the far end, angry shouts and the meaty impacts of fist on flesh echo from behind the thick oaken door leading to the interrogation chamber. I feel a muscle tick in my jaw as the unmistakable sounds of brutality filter through, setting my senses on edge. A dungeon guard meets me on the other side, fist raised for another blow as he looms over the slumped figure strapped to the rack.

"A moment, Karrack," I interject before he can deliver the impending strike.

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