Page 25 of The Shadow of Breninsol
The pull intensified, making it unbearable to feel ripped away from something that belonged to her. The beautiful woman’sface swam in front of her until her features melded together like the swirling colours and shapes from the stained-glass window.
A soft gasp that didn’t come from her mouth, and then…darkness.
There was nothing in the darkness, nothing except the lingering pain.
Then, a new, hard voice said, “child, this is your fate.” The sound of the voice echoing around her, coming from everywhere and nowhere. She clung to her one certainty; terror had her in its grip. The unforgiving voice repeated itself over and over, becoming fainter and fainter until it trailed off into wisps.
Chapter Eleven
The Petals’ Plan
Eleanor sat at the breakfast table, knowing no amount of dirty dishwater coffee was going to help today, but she was drinking the stuff out of habit. The porridge was marginally better this morning, as it didn’t stick to the spoon so heavily. Not that it mattered. Eleanor would have forced the food down no matter the consistency. With each spoonful and sip of coffee, she tried to shake off the remnants of last night’s dream. It’d been more vivid than previous nights and it was clinging to her, much like her porridge to the spoon.
Eleanor wasn’t sure if her run in with a certain lord—the Dark Star—last night contributed to her poor sleep. She absentmindedly rubbed at her chest while she remembered how it felt to be held by him. She took a ragged breath, as she remembered how his soft but firm touch from his fingers had felt on her skin. That noble, the Dark Star, whoever he was, was not for her. Affection was not for her. She would have to stay well away from him while she was at court and then she’d have to forget about him. It almost pained her to think she’d have to leave him alone to his life without her.
After everything Eleanor had been through, it was no surprise that a bad night’s sleep perpetually plagued her. The way she’d managed—barely—over the years was to fill her nights with either booze or bloodshed. Since coming to The Ladies Grace, she’d swapped a brawl for a bottle, but it seemed that had stopped working. She mused that maybe she needed to mix the two, a few too many drinks could lead to a good fight. She relished the thought as she picked up the conversation happening around the table.
“Lord Stonguard wasn’t shy about his attraction to me,” Lucy said in a smug tone.
“What about Lord Forgen or Lord Glaedeston?” Veronica asked, while her eyes remained fixed on her book. Her fingers traced the edges of her violet patterned headscarf, a seemingly mindless action that drew attention to the rich dark brown hair hidden beneath. The absence of her usual cloth-strip plaits was unusual for Veronica, and it drew Eleanor’s attention from her morose musings. Veronica wasn’t the only one wearing a brighter, newer accessory. The Bellas looked like they’d dressed up, as if they were expecting a particular client to arrive at any moment for breakfast. Their hair was adorned with vibrant scarves, which also draped elegantly over their brightly coloured dressing gowns, adding another layer of colour and texture totheir appearance. Eleanor didn’t think the ladies had enough money to buy new scarves or dressing gowns, unless…they were gifts.
“Lord Glaedeston has a Favour,” Calla replied.
“So? Who’s saying she’ll last?” Mirabella said coyly.
Calla and Lauressa giggled next to Milk, causing Annabella to narrow her eyes at the women. “I don’t know what you pair find so funny.”
“Lord Holen’s wife looked unhappy when the courtesans from the Moonlight House offered to take him for the night,” Iris said, as she tucked a loose strand of her dark hair into her scarf that was simply wrapped around her hair.
“She had such a sour face, liked she’d sucked on a lemon,” Calla snickered.
“Because they asked about fucking her husband in front of her while she’s pregnant,” Jasmine replied in a dry tone.
Milk coughed and spluttered his coffee over the table. Cookie clapped him on his back to help his fellow bedmate breathe past the coffee he’d just inhaled. Cookie’s slaps were so hard that he managed to dislodge Milk’s bright orange headscarf.
“With his daughter and Favour next to her,” Iris added in a harsh tone.
Eleanor sighed into her weak coffee as Julia mopped up Milk’s coffee spray on the table. They were getting short with one another and weary of the fierce looks from the court ladies. Initially, it was amusing to them all, especially since the courtiers giving the venomous looks already had husbands with a Favour.
On the first night in the palace, Calla went as far as approaching some snooty court ladies about joining the Petals. The courtiers appeared so astounded by the suggestion, almost causing someone to faint. Eleanor wasn’t sure if that was true, as it depended on who was retelling the account. But it was a storythat never failed to produce sniggers from everyone, especially with Jasmine’s haughty imitation of the court ladies.
Yet, there was an increasing separation each day between the courtesans and the other ladies at The Ladies Grace.
“Perhaps Lord Forgen and Lord Stonguard will want to share Favours like His Grace and His Lordship,” Mirabella said.
“His Lordship?” Lucy asked.
Eleanor also found the title confusing; it wasn’t one she was familiar with.
Annabella rolled her eyes, as if this question was a massive inconvenience to her. “The marquis, dimwit. That’s what everyone calls him,” she replied haughtily, while she sipped her contraceptive tea with her little finger pointed out. Eleanor did not know how the woman was sipping the damned brew like it was actually pleasurable; it tasted like feet and smelled like it too.
“Because it’s his title,fool,” snapped Veronica. Despite her book being open in front of her while she was eating, she was listening to the conversation.
“We could gamble with him,” mused Iris, ignoring Veronica.
Mirabella scoffed into her cup while Annabella sneered, “and how are you going to manage that?”
“Everyoneknows he gambles in debts, not money,” Veronica said, as she tucked a stray tassel into the violet scarf that was wrapped around her thick, dark hair.
