Page 22 of The Shadow of Breninsol
“Dunno. She was the sweetest. The sweetest.” The grieving man mumbled into his ale.
One thing was for sure: he would not find her at the bottom of his drink.
“She can’t be Missing,” Wilfred repeated in a sad voice as he stroked the necklace on the bar table.
Eleanor was done listening to this man bemoaning his lover. It was all the information she’d get from him now. She moved along the bar from her dark corner, getting as close to Wilfred as she could without raising attention, and her hands faltered as she found the money to pay. The necklace glinted in the candlelight, revealing it wasn’t a simple piece of cheap jewellery as she’d thought.
A droplet-shaped, pure blue stone with an intricate silver pattern woven around it, resembling clouds in a silver line flicking below the pointed tip. She felt herself leaning in and wanting to touch it, to discover if the Air would form in the stone. That deep, dark recess which she always kept tightly locked and hidden began to stir within her. Eleanor drew in aragged breath, at the unexpectedness of her own reaction and impulse and astonishment flew over her.
“That’d be half-sterling, please,” Fen said with a large smile.
Even if Eleanor hadn’t been feigning muteness, tonight she wouldn’t have been able to speak. She hadn’t seen a symbol like that in years, decades, maybe even longer. Not since the Purge, when her kind had been hunted to extinction.
“Love?” Fen asked. Her accent for this word was good, it was a commonly heard word especially in this part of Breninsol, where the “o” was replaced with a “u”.
Eleanor fumbled for her coins and slapped her money onto the bar. She needed to leave before she said or did something that could get her killed.
Chapter Nine
The Sol King
The word "grand" felt wholly insufficient to capture the immensity and dazzling beauty of the ballroom where Eleanor paused, a second glass of sparkling wine in her hand, taking in the scene around her. As the jewelled courtiers danced, talked, and laughed, they filled the space, but Eleanor knew it would become cavernous as soon as the party palace’s doors closed for the night. Eleanor hated how the building served as undeniable proof of the king's reign, showcasing his line’s unwavering might, and the opulent wealth they commanded over the kingdom. Nonetheless, she stood in conflicting admiration oftheroom; she hadn’t done the space justice when recalling the sheer size or opulence for Lauressa. The chandeliers were so large they reminded her of the distant Harrow Mountains that were covered in the ice and snow. The pure marble and gold made her eyes burn, but it wasn’t something she could tear her eyes away from. What also caught her eye was the massive golden throne, gleaming under the soft light, perched atop the ornate dais. Eleanor was trying to steer clear of thatthingas much as she could, by staying on the periphery of the ballroom and maintaining as much of a distance as she could, without looking obvious.
Eleanor felt fortunate for the king’s absence so far, yet she knew her Fateful Stars only lasted for so long, and tonight, she felt the Fateful Stars would end.
There were new details that struck her since her previous visits. Not only did nobles openly leer at courtesans, but they also clustered conspicuously, keeping their circles tightly together. A familiar tension filled the air, reminiscent of her first night here, but unlike the previous night’s drunken episode within the interconnected rooms, when her gaze lingered, she realised it was the courtier’s eyes that she now noticed. From the few stares that she’d met, she realised they looked…tired, some of them looking worn out. Eleanor could only guess that perhaps they’d been told their favourite outfit was no longer in fashion now or that something as equally as frivolous had happened.
Madam Grace hadn’t taken the current fashion or colour into much consideration for her courtesan’s new dresses. They hadn’t cared, being grateful for something new to wear. The designs were the same, with strips of plain gauzy fabric that revealed necklines, stomachs, sides, backs, and thighs, but the colours were fresher. The fabric felt softer. And there were no holes that needed a quick repair or a clever knot. Eleanor was especially grateful that these dresses didn’t have a faint whiffof sex clinging to them, nor did they have any questionably stiff crusty sections. Of course, the Petals had to remain with their assigned colours: purples, pinks, and whites. That left the remaining dresses for herself, Veronica, and Lucy. They’d both chosen from the brighter dresses—a yellow and an orange, to snare a lord’s attention with the eye-catching colours—while Eleanor had picked a dark violet dress.
The orchestra paused, so soft moans travelled to those on the ballroom floor. Eleanor glanced towards the balcony above where the drapes were open, exposing the Favours within, but thankfully not their actions. She hadn’t drunk enough to witness that kind of performance yet.
To count the Favours above, Eleanor walked to various positions around the ballroom with her sweet wine, her best count of them was thirteen in total. The number alone identified who they belonged to. The king. The groans were undoubtedly his fault and, recoiling at the thought, Eleanor threw back her wine. She needed another glass to get through this exhibition.
Even though Eleanor was closer than ever before to the king, she was relieved that he chose not to descend to the ballroom floor. She didn’t care if he stayed up there all night. She had hoped she could get through this whole experience and be nowhere near the man. Eleanor dragged her attention from the groaning balcony to the ballroom, where the courtesans were mingling with the lords. The Petals had two lords between them while the Moonlight House courtesans, who were not to be outdone, had four of the younger-looking lords. Eschewing the ballroom clamour, Veronica was engaged in deep conversation with a lord who looked to be her own age. Eleanor couldn’t see Lucy, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a lord’s attention.
As Eleanor was considering if she could finish this glass before she reached the next server, the music changed to a slow melody, stopping everyone in their tracks. All chattering ceased and thedancers stopped in the middle of the ballroom floor. No one moved and, much to Eleanor’s annoyance, even the servants stopped circulating the room.
The ballroom fell eerily still as everyone turned towards the balcony where a golden man stood with his arms outstretched, looking down at them all. Eleanor tried to tear her gaze from the blistering light that came from the man, as he brightly surveyed his courtiers from above, but she was as transfixed as everyone around her. As one, everyone dropped into a deep bow or curtsy, a few courtesans clumsily falling into the gesture. While Eleanor followed the movement, she also peered at him from under her lowered lashes. Although the golden man eluded her sight, she listened intently to hear where he was stepping, but she could distinguish that he was coming down the stairs.
She felt a sickening twist in her stomach, accompanied by a sudden dryness in her mouth. The king had decided to grace the mere mortals with his presence after all. The Fateful Stars were punishing her; she was sure of it. Feeling a faint pressure from her tiny ball of magic as it pushed ever so slightly against its restraints, she frowned, but after taking a calming breath, it eased back into its darkened space, quietening once more.
A single handclap resonated, prompting the room to rise in unison. As Eleanor followed the movement in the room, she knew where to find the king, standing atop the high dais. Though her gaze was immediately drawn to him, she was forced to blink furiously against the shining light that was the man before them. Every inch of him, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, was covered in shimmering gold. Golden stones glared from an equally golden headpiece that rested on his pure blond long hair, which fell to his chest, that was proudly on display for all to see. The king was topless, but instead of seeing skin tone, his skin was pure gold. Eleanor could see every outline of muscle on his lithe torso, where his pecs met his firm stomach and the lines ofhis abs. The golden armlets that wrapped around his arms and forearms defined the muscles in his shoulders, snaking down to his fingers. A pointed short gold skirt sat low on his waist, revealing his lean legs, which were also coated in gold, and he stood proud and confident in bare golden feet in front of all his court.
The golden king spread his arms wide, and in a strong, sure voice, he declared, “I am the image of the First King.” The breath left Eleanor as she tightened her grip on the glass in her hand, focusing on not dropping it. “I was named from him; even in my infancy, my importance was known. And as the First King did, so will I. I will bring us into the glorious light.”
A proud voice rang in her ears.My light has banished the darkness.
Eleanor sucked in a shocked breath as the king continued his speech. “And as my light bathes and gives joy, I can take it away and deprive you of the pleasure of it, leaving you in the cold and dark.”
His words made her felt sick, sick to the very core of her being.
The light in the darkness.
“I am radiant like the sun,” the king announced.
With that declaration Eleanor realised the golden spikes running around his headpiece were designed to look like it was the sun’s rays spiking out to those around him.
“As you’ve all seen, everything my light bathes turns to gold. We were told the gods would be reborn among us and look. Now, before you, I am reborn. I am a god amongst men. Why worship the First King when you can worship me, a living god? A living god walks among you. I am the very day itself. The Sol King.”
