Page 53 of The Shadow of Breninsol
Unintentional fires lit the battlefield against the dark night to reveal their enemy.
She was tired. Her muscles ached, and her body was weary.
She didn’t want to be here.
She wanted itallto stop.
She didn’t want to kill anymore.
A wail of fight came from a helmless woman rushing towards her. The woman’s dented and dirty armour reflected in her own armour. The warrior held the determination of death in her eyes.
She tried to halt her sword arm, but her arms kept moving through the deadly movements that she knew so well. It was as easy as breathing for her.
She knew she had to. If she didn’t, she was as good as dead, but that didn’t mean she liked it. That knowledge kept the tears at bay as her arms relentlessly hacked, slashed, moved as if it wasn’t instinct for her to do so.
All she wanted to do was yell, shout, and scream at them to stop, to just stop.
She couldn’t.
She could only grit her teeth and deal the death blow.
She’d never wanted to be here, but it was too late. She was here fighting amongst her people and fighting against her people.
She fought anyone and everyone that came at her with their weapon raised. Those that did found themselves face down, adding their blood to the mud.
Opponent after opponent rushed her. Some had been on her side of the battlefield when this battle had started, but they’d either turned in the midst of the battle or they’d taken their chances to kill her.
She would have liked to believe that type of deceit hurt, but it would have been a lie. She was used to it.
Her only hope was herself. The only person she could rely on.
It was her fighting to protect herself, as it always was and as it always would be.
She had to endure this nightmare, make it off the battlefield, and only then could she stop.
All she had to do was to endure.
Chapter Twenty-One
Stakes
Eleanor meandered along the outskirts of the tables, where the richly dressed courtiers were playing card games in the lavish white marble and gold room. Unlike the bare expanse of the ballroom, this room was smaller and dimly lit, despite the heavy diamond chandeliers hanging overhead. Gold curtains covered the large windows, adding to the oppressive feeling. Unlike the other rooms she’d seen at the party palace, paintings decorated these walls. Each painting varied, but they all featured twelve naked women kneeling, lying, or sitting around a golden king.
TheSol King,as he’d proclaimed himself to be.
Even though the king himself wasn’t present tonight, the eyes of his many likenesses watched his court. She looked over at the lords while sipping the sweet, sparkling wine that tasted like berries and almonds from a gold-tinged flute. It hadn’t taken long to become reacquainted with how delicious it tasted. She lamented the loss of having this wine to drink once it was all over. Her underfloor stash of booze would have to suffice, much as it’d successfully done while she’d stayed in her room whittling down the hours until she’d needed to emerge to join the other courtesans. She’d barely made it to the carriage in time to leave The Ladies Grace, so her hair dark auburn hung loosely in its natural waves. Her lip had finally healed after soaking it in salt water, so she hadn’t seen a reason to select a bright dress tonight. The sheer plum-coloured dress trailed along her chest and joined at her waist with a split to reveal a single rosy-freckled leg. With every stride, she felt the cold steel pressed against her inner thigh and, effortlessly, her slither of magic shielded the scars that peeked from beneath her dress.
The mood in court tonight was more of an accurate reflection of a young court, the laughter feeling genuine and lighter, while the wine flowed freely. But Eleanor stood on the edges of the room watching the gambling courtiers steadily lose more with the more alcohol they consumed. At the tables, the courtesans kept the lords company. Eleanor’s drily thought that the lords thought it lucky to have a scantily clad woman draped on their arm. Supposedly, the lord became even luckier if the woman kissed him before he threw the dice or drew a card.
Eleanor didn’t want to spend her night attached to an arm of an unlucky lord. She sighed in relief as she sat at a vacant polished table, taking the pressure off her tired feet, wanting to indulge in sitting alone for a moment longer. This day had taken a toll on her, more than she cared to admit.
Although, the reprieve was short-lived. No matter how much Eleanor had tried to drown out her restless night with day drinking, the memory of her dreams still plagued her. Her hand tightened around her glass. Shehadto trace the necklace back to its source. She hadn’t wanted to go to anyone else about this sensitive topic, but she couldn’t wait until the Flea opened, stirring restlessly on her chair at the thought of how the wait will stir up more dreams. She couldn’t continue like this.
There was only one option, and she’d have to go tonight.
When she’d taken the last sip of her glass to strengthen herself, then would she get up from the cushioned seat and belatedly attach herself to whichever lord she selected for the evening.
Before that could happen, the small hairs on her nape alerted her tohispresence. She held herself in place and willed her body not to turn and seek him out. Not after the last time she’d been with him, and he’d slammed the carriage door in her face.
