Page 64 of Cursed By Gold

My breath catches in my throat as realization washes over me. That technique...that audacious, fluid strike - it's the same I witnessed the night the Bodian crown was nearly stolen. The same skill that allowed the thief to evade capture and slip away like a wraith into the night.

Is it mere coincidence? Or has Rose been the mastermind behind the kingdom's security breaches all along, methodically honing her skills for this grand performance? Is she part of the thieves guild I’m hunting as well? Is Scarlet connected to that as well? It can’t be a mere coincidence that she just channeled the god of thieves magic. I felt it as did everyone else in here. Rarely does a god interfere with mortal events, but when they do, they never do it subtly.

The notion that my own personal fixation may have blinded me to her possible connection to the thieves guild is sobering. While part of me recoils at the idea of Scarlet allying herself with such nefarious elements, I cannot discount the damning weight of evidence piling up - her flagrant disdain for authority, her remarkable skills at infiltration and subterfuge, and now this disturbing display of channeling forces beyond mortal ability from a picky god. All the pieces align in an almost inescapable pattern of guilt.

And yet...the part of me that thrills at her indomitable spirit, the fiery defiance kindled behind those eyes, cannot reconcile itself with condemning her so readily. There is an honesty, a raw authenticity about Scarlet that transcends the shadowed realms of deception and larceny. A part of her soul shines with the brilliant, uncompromising light of a bonfire piercing through the veil of deepest night. To extinguish that would be a tragedy beyond reckoning, an act from which I may never recover.

With an almost physical effort of will, I force my thoughts away from such perilous meanderings. There will be time enough to unravel this riddle and stake my heart upon the truth - whatever form it may ultimately take. For now, I am the implacable arbiter of these trials, and I must play that role flawlessly if I have any hope of claiming the prize that so consumes my every waking moment.

The rest of the day's events pass by in a blur of strained focus, my gaze constantly tracking Rose for any further anomalies amid the flurry of illusions and deceptions unfolding in the arena. Though she acquits herself admirably, I cannot shake the lingering suspicion first sparked by that peculiar shadow-play, that seemingly sentient aura which clung to her for those few, fleeting moments.

When at last the final gong reverberates through the arena to signal the day's end, I waste no time in rising from my viewing box and hurrying from the stifling confines. Affecting an aura of regal dignity, I nonetheless keep my strides brisk and purposeful, gradually allowing the courtly facade to slough away with each echoing footfall on the marble corridors.

Soon enough, I find myself standing before the door to the arena's auxiliary infirmary wing. A pair of armored guards snap to attention as I approach, leveling their pikes in crisp salutes. I wave them aside brusquely.

"Leave us," I growl in a tone that brokered no argument. "And ensure I am not disturbed unless the arena itself is burning down."

The men exchange a confused look but know better than to defy a direct order from their liege. With rigid bows, they retreat back up the corridor to take up positions flanking the intersection, their clanking footfalls fading into silence.

I let out a slow exhalation, feeling some of the weight sloughing from my shoulders the further I move from prying eyes and wagging tongues.

Pushing open the heavy oak door, I step into the dimly lit chamber to find Scarlet lying unconscious on a cot, her torso and limbs thickly wrapped in linen bandages. An elderly physician mutters beneath his breath while preparing a dressing tray of unguents, but he barely reacts to my entrance beyond a deferential nod of acknowledgment.

One way or another, Scarlet's role in all this will soon reach its end. Either she will prove innocent of any involvement with the thieves guild I've vowed to extinguish, finally laying my obsession to rest...or else that uncompromising spirit will flare brilliantly one last time before I am forced to snuff out its radiant pyre, forever damning a piece of my own humanity in the process.

As I approach the cot and gaze down upon Scarlet's peaceful features, I reach out to gently brush an errant lock of golden hair from her brow. My throat tightens imperceptibly as the fingertips of my golden gloves ghost across her pale skin, and I feel a phantom ache blossom somewhere deep within my soul. I so desperately wish to touch her directly, but a part of me knows that will never be.

"What secrets do you harbor?" I murmur, the barest of whispers as if giving voice to my yearning may somehow break this fragile spell. "And once they are out in the open, what cruelties will I be forced to bear in turn?"

Unconsciousness has smoothed the lines of defiance from Scarlet's features, leaving her looking almost vulnerably young in repose. It's all too easy to be lulled into seeing her as the innocent she may never have truly been, a beguiling fantasy to quell the tumult of my doubts. But I know better than to blindly entertain such indulgent delusions any longer.

One way or another, I tell myself as I finally turn away from that cot, the truth will be dragged into the unforgiving light soon enough. Should it prove my darkest fears true and Scarlet stands revealed as irredeemably entwined with the black-hearted guilds...then so be it. I will burn away that tangled web of treachery and deception by whatever means remain, no matter how deeply it leaves me scorched and hollowed in the process.

It's the only path left to me now. The sole flicker of hope still smoldering in the ashes of my existence.

No matter how dearly it may cost me, I cannot - I won't - allow that light to be extinguished before its secrets are finally, painfully laid bare

The Gift

Scarlet

Everything hurts. I don’t want to wake up. But nature calls and it has almost become more painful than the rest of my body. Slowly I crack my eyes open to find that I am wrapped from head to toe. I attempt to lift one arm and moan in pain. This isn’t going to work.

“It’s about time you woke up,” a familiar voice says out of my view.

I turn my head towards the voice, surprised that that actually didn’t hurt beyond the pounding headache, to find Rose leaning back in a chair, her feet propped up on a table in front of her.

“What the hells are you doing here?” I ask.

“Some parties were concerned about your well being. In fact, quite a few were,” she responds with a sweep of her hand.

Somehow I had missed the pile of items beside her.

“Those are mine?”

“Yep! Some are a mix of people who saw you breaking your fiances gift and thought to reward it. Others, sent healing aidsand potions. Not that you’ve needed them. You’ve been closely monitored by the royal physician.”

My brain took a few moments to process what she was saying. “Wait, how do you know what’s in the boxes?”

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