Page 65 of The Shadow of Breninsol
Eleanor considered the other courtesans and any complementary insights she could attribute to them, unsure about his desired qualities in a Favour. “…Or there’s Veronica, she’d would be a good choice if you prefer someone quiet, or if not, there’s Lucy. There’d be no awkward silences with her.”
“Is that what this is? Awkward?” the marquis asked, making her look at him instead of the painting. “I thought I was listening to you talk.”
She couldn’t read his expression. Was he taunting her and, if he was, was it at her expense? “Oh…I…” Eleanor bit her lip, which drew his eyes.
She swallowed and feigned interest in the painting in front of her, as if considering it was less overwhelming than the man next to her. “No. I was merely providing you with insight into the courtesans I know.”
As they moved to the next painting in the series,The Coronation of a King, Eleanor couldn’t help the small smile. “Oh, don’t look so surprised, Your Lordship. That’s what this is, isn’t it? For you lords to see which courtesan takes your fancy and gain a Favour. That is, until the next Collection when inevitably a younger courtesan catches your eye or until you get bored. Whichever comes first, really. But of course, we’re to beeternally gratefulthat you’d even look at us.”
“I’m not looking for a Favour.”
“No?” She hummed under her breath. “I don’t suppose you are. There are the rumours, I’m sure you’ve heard them.”
Eleanor swore there had been a twitch in the corner of his lips as he spoke. “Enlighten me.”
Drawing her eyes away from those full lips, Eleanor thought about the least provocative of the collection of rumours she’d heard. “You and the duke won’t take Favours.”
He gave a noncommittal noise, as they found themselves in front ofThe Reign of a King.Eleanor roughly swallowed and kept her eyes averted from the painting. It brought up one too many memories that she didn’t need to revisit. The painting depicted the king, his crown encircled by a band of golden light, leading his army into battle against hideous creatures that looked like they were not of this world and belonged in a nightmare. Among them were women in long dark flowing dresses, who had sinister sharp features with their arms raised to command their army of the dark creatures. They were witches. The painting was clear in its message. The king’s army were all in light colours while the witches and creatures were in dark colours. Evil things can only come from the dark.
Eleanor continued talking while staring at the red and gilded frame. “Then there are the other rumours…the rumours that you’d share a Favour. I didn’t take you for the sharing kind, but who am I to judge? Unless you two are together.” She waggled her brows while smirking at him with an overly suggestive look. His lips quirked and his eyes flashed with something. For a few breaths, she’d sworn she’d seen a glimpse of something she wasn’t supposed to.
“As you say, those are rumours, which have a nasty habit of being incorrect. Besides, it’s against the king’s law.”
Eleanor nodded but continued to tease him. “It’s not as if that’s stopped anyone before, unless you’d both prefer to watch your Favours. In which case, I’d suggest taking your pick from the Petals. They’re used to those requests.”
His bored face still revealed nothing, no shock or surprise at her suggestion. She was a little disappointed. Eleanor wanted to see a reaction from him, anything other than his bored, courtier demeanour.
“Naturally, the rumours get more elaborate, what with such an active, passionate life you lead. You’ve sired your fair share of offspring. Of course, they’re hidden away at some far-flung estate of yours.”
“Rumours are stories, are they not?” he replied in that smooth velvet voice of his. “They get twisted and bent out of shape as the teller changes. With each new ear comes a revision of the story, until the hero is the villain and the villain the hero.”
Eleanor snapped her attention to him. The small part of her that had been quiet and hidden away for a long time hoped he truly believed his own words. However, if his bored expression was anything to go by, then he revealed nothing. He hid the true meaning from her, and his tone remained calm, as if he was merely stating a fact.
She hesitated for a moment before they moved to the next painting,The Triumph of a King.All the paintings in this hall made her angry, but she struggled to hide her visceral reaction with this painting. The Witch Hunter King reigned triumphant in his shining crown and armour while holding his sword aloft. His foot stood on a severed witch’s head, which was eye level with the viewer, to better see the contorted, pointed features of a witch. Pyres surrounded him, stretching into the distance, each holding a witch engulfed by the agonising flames. The Great Burning. She clenched her fingernails into her palms as hard as she could to hold back any visible reaction. To not hear the screams, to not feel the searing heat…and to stop the unwanted pulse of her meagre magic from changing her glamour to something else, something revealing and dangerous.
The Birth of a Princewas the next painting in the row. It depicted a naked baby boy—the king’s father, King Caradoc the Second—being presented by an unknown woman to the king. A proud expression marked the king’s sharp features as he sat on his throne, adorned with a bright crown. The painting was a stroke of viral masculinity if she’d ever seen one; by showing an heir had been secured for the king’s line, his kingdom, and throne.
Eleanor needed to find a distraction from the painting in front of her, lest she’d be swallowed by the whole room. Teasing the man next to her hadn’t been working, so she’d opted for shock instead.
“Tell me,” she asked in a smooth, unhurried voice. “Why can two women fuck when lords are paying for it, but they can’t in the privacy of their own homes?”
His face was an impenetrable mask as he continued to stare at the painting. “The same reason two men can’t. It’s against the king’s law.”
Of course it was.
Eleanor had no idea what possessed her to say this and why she was pushing the matter, but she wanted to think she was rattling him, at least a little bit. “But two men can’t fuck at all, according to the king’s law.”
“Apparently, it’s against the will of the First King.”
“Apparently,” she murmured.
Eleanor jolted as the marquis abruptly turned to face her, giving her the full weight of his attention. She sucked in a sharp breath as the gallery narrowed, seeing only him and those eyes of his. Eyes that she’d thought were dark, until she saw him in the light of day and been so close to him, again.Soclose. “I’d suggest you don’t have conversations like this with anyone other than myself.”
Unsure why that caused a reaction from him, of all the things she’d said, and unsure what his reaction meant, Eleanor reverted to teasing him. “Worried about me, Your Lordship? You’d have to buy me to keep me safe.” She smirked at her false flirtation. “Besides, I thought we had a bargain going on.”
“We do,” he murmured.
They continued to the final painting in the series,The King’s Triumph.It showed an aged, but still strong, grey-haired King Iacobus on one side of the painting and his golden-haired son, King Caradoc the Second, on the other. Both men extended an outstretched hand towards the golden crown between them, that was encompassed by a bright light.
