Page 79 of The Shadow of Breninsol
He had some serious muscles underneath that dark blue jacket he’d squeezed into. As her eyes roamed over him, she tried to find the outline of how many concealed weapons he had. He wasn’t outwardly wearing one, but Eleanor would bet the meagre contents of her bag that there was at least one blade tucked into his shiny knee-high boots. Which meant he worked for a lord, but which one?
“Who are you?” Eleanor asked in what she thought was her oh-so sweetly innocent voice, as best as she could put on with a pounding head, at any rate. The aftereffects from the wine dulled her simmering annoyance, which meant it was easier to conceal her irritated tone. She hoped that starting up a conversation with him would reveal who hadfuckingbought her.
As the horses and trundling carriage made their way through the Exchange’s clean cobbled streets, she could feel that seething outrage of emotions yawn itself awake and grow with each passing pace that distanced her from the Barrow’s rough streets. They were going away from the city’s gates, which meant she was staying inside Breninsol, for now at least.
The man’s only response was an unamused stare, that he’d perfected likely honed from lurking in corners scaring small children.
There was nothing. No response.
Eleanor tried to look unfazed by his lack of reaction and smiled with what she hoped was another attempt at heroh-soinnocent act. In another attempt to draw him into conversation, she asked, “Where are we going?”
His response to her sweet act was to fold his arms, straining the jacket against his big biceps and continue that blank look.
“You won’t even tell me where I’m going?” she huffed, frustrated with his disturbingly perfect silent routine.
“You’ll find out when we’re there,” was his only response.
Narrowing her eyes at the man, she averted her attention to look outside at Breninsol’s stirring streets. Eleanor knew she’d get nothing else out of him. She tried to shake the mounting anxiety as she watched as the people woke with the city.
They passed kempt stone buildings with colourful shutters thrown open as the inhabitants started their day. The bakers, who’d already been awake for hours, were selling their morning’s bread. Merchants were readying their ladened carts with baskets and barrels of their wares to head to the Exchange’s markets, while young lads were running around with their early morning messages. The rain, of however many days she’d been cooped up for, watered the flowers and herbs in the window boxes, adding to the houses’ cheerfulness.
The carriage inevitably brought them to the spotless cobbled streets of the Centre. Wide windows gleamed in the morning light on the orderly and immaculate smooth white stone houses, and brightly coloured flower boxes lined their sills. The buildings were noticeably larger and grander, as befitting those who inhabited them. They set the houses away from the flagstone pavement and cobbled road, separating them from others with small driveways and spotless verdant gardens shielded by wrought-iron railings and a gate.
Hired guards stood outside the double doors or gates in some sort of uniform. Their high pay and demand set these men apart from the dubious ones outside The Ladies Grace.
Eleanor took more notice of these streets than the ones they’d left behind. Seeing them in the early light, rather than lit at night, was new to her and she’d been unable to see much from the carriage on her progress to the palace.
Since she’d come into the city, she’d barely stepped foot in this part. Eleanor stifled a mirthless laugh, at how, in the space of such a short period, she’d become a frequent visitor to this part of the city.
The sun’s rays, reflected in the larger puddles, momentarily blinded Eleanor. Passing pretty looking tea rooms, confectioneries, haberdasheries, she instantly recognised these were a far cry from the pubs and her usual haunts. Their signs weren’t wonky nor the street outside smelling of urine, blood, and vomit. The shops had swirling gold lettering scrolled onto their large clear windows to proudly state their business and were decked out with a colourful awning.
She shook herself to stop being distracted by the colourful and pretty looking shops and focused on the carriage making its way to where the larger noble houses were in Breninsol. Unless they received an invitation from the king to attend court for the Season, this was as close to the king as they could get.
The First King’s statue taunted her in the first light of day. She was so convinced that the marquis was responsible that she hadn’t considered the possibility of someone else buying her: the king.
The air suddenly felt tight around her. Surely, the king didn’t need to add yet another Favour to his sizable number, surely not. Taking a breath to steady her hasty thought, she focused on her surroundings, silver, black, and dark blue adorned the carriage. She almost let out a sigh of relief at seeing not even a speck of gold anywhere, but that didn’t mean… Before her thoughts could run away with her, the carriage turned away from the palace.
The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, but the growing churning in her stomach grew as they passed more and more mansions. Eleanor had swapped one owner for another, she knew Favours were treated well, but she wasn’t under any illusion that this lord couldn’t abuse her. At least she’d have her own plush bed, and the wine would be better, perhaps even some whiskey. Eleanor licked her lips at that thought. Like sparkling wine, she’d missed the bitter-sweet smoky amber liquid.
The carriage passed the mansions, and city retreats of the aristocracy until she found the carriage turning through some armed gates and going along a tree-lined driveway. She felt a prickle of suspicion. Unless another lord had their city residence tucked away. Had thatpompous prickstarted a trend, and other lords had their mansions away from the main roads? She didn’t think it was likely. If she believed the Mother was listening, she would have sent a thought her way, but the Mother had never been there for her.
The tree-lined avenue gave way to a secondary gate, with more guards and a guardhouse. Eleanor pulled her eyes away from counting the guards, who were manning the gates and the surrounding walls to recognise the property.
Fuck.
The stars had cursed her.
The carriage halted before the Marquis of Laerus’ residence.
Chapter Thirty
Glorious coffee
Before the marquis’s party, Eleanor hadn’t realised this building existed in Breninsol. If she ever considered it, she would have assumed he lived in the palace, like other high-ranking nobles with private wings or floors in the king’s palace. For this noble to live outside the palace, he either had more money than anyone realised, or power that surpassed the other nobles.
The carriage trundled to a stop in the courtyard of the expansive residence, leaving Eleanor no time to consider the confusing, swirling mix of feelings that filling her stomach.
The man silently unfolded himself from the carriage, held the door open for her. She thought that she could have had worse lords to have bought her. At least this lord was attractive and, coupled with access to some exceptional wine, that might make this whole ordeal worthwhile. Eleanor licked her lips at that silver lining and it gave her enough encouragement to move. As she stepped out of the black carriage, she kept her eyes on the large man, a loose hand near her thigh and a tight grip on her bag.
