Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
The black gloved king
sapphire
Bleary sunlight drizzled into the small room through the smudged glass window. It slid across the floor, climbed the rickety wooden bed frame, and bled over the crusty sheets. It was too warm, even for midday.
Back in The Grey, I’d longed for the bitter winter to end so I might bask in the heat of the spring. But here in Oscuro the cold was gone, and worse still, the sun didn’t feel right.
I laid on my front, folded at the hips on the edge of my bed.
It squeaked—the legs scraping on the wooden floor—each time the male behind me thrust. My hands hung limply by my side as I stared at the wall to my left.
It was cracked in multiple places. Off-white paint chipped, crumbling to the floor.
“Fuck!” the male cried out as he found his release.
Good. Now I can be left alone.
He pulled out and tossed a few coins onto the sheet. I didn’t look at him. Didn’t bother to acknowledge his parting words—that I was a good fuck. The only sound that lingered was the click of the door shutting on his departure.
Once he was gone, I dragged my aching body—wings and all—to an upright position, collecting the coins in my hand.
I tossed them into a small tin on the barely standing dresser and then cleaned myself up with the pitcher of water that sat on top.
Only when I felt somewhat clean did I retrieve my dress that hung over the well-used wooden chair in the room.
It was small—smaller than my place at the Silver Finch.
Dirtier too. But it was a roof over my head and the safety of four walls.
Not that I would call it safe. Better than being on the streets though.
Cries of pleasure seeped through the paper-thin barriers. Men grunted, cussed, and groaned, their voices rough with effort, while the women shrieked, moaned, and whimpered as the rhythmic thumping drove through the walls.
I laughed at myself; a manic sound that wasn’t normal. How does anyone call any of this pleasure? A man wouldn’t know how to pleasure a woman if he was given instructions in a book.
Powder-blue cotton fell over my frame as I threw my dress on. I’d been in this brothel for over three days now. The moment I stepped through those red painted, swinging doors, I’d lost all recollection of time.
What did it matter anyway? I wasn’t going anywhere. I’d spend the rest of my damned days in this light forsaken shithole called Oscuro.
The Painted Lady, as I’d come to learn, housed fifteen women from all walks of life.
Though I hadn’t found the desire to introduce myself to all of them yet.
Esse, the brothel owner, had given me the last room available, warning me not to bring trouble to her establishment and we’d get on swimmingly.
Thankfully, for all our sakes, I had no urge to knock on trouble’s door. This place was bad enough on its own.
In the short amount of time here, I’d learnt that no one cared what your name was. Money was so valuable, people would pull your teeth out for it. Oh, and men were still weak and pathetic . . .
My lungs ached as I stood by the grimy window, looking down at the streets below. I was craving the taste of cinderleaf on my tongue, the burn in my throat as I took a drag. But until I earned some decent coin, I’d have to do without.
“Sapphire, Esse wants us all downstairs.”
I swivelled around and caught Victoria hovering in the doorway, her auburn locks piled high on her head in a messy bun. She’d been the only woman here who’d bothered to look my way when I arrived. She was always dressed in sheer red. I had to admit, it looked good on her.
Hard, green eyes caked with brown powered hues held my gaze.
The colour sent a ripple up my spine, stirring memories—the sharp unyielding gaze of another who had awoken something in me I didn’t know existed.
For the briefest breath, I almost let myself sink into that reminder of Nik, the way his eyes could hold peace and chaos in the same glance.
But I couldn’t. Not now. Not here. I shoved the thought aside, burying it where it couldn’t touch me.
I didn’t have the strength to carry him in my mind, and perhaps I never would.
“What does she want?” I said softly, the emptiness in my voice a mirror of the hollow cleaving my chest.
Victoria shrugged. “Who knows? She just asked me to gather everyone.”
I nodded, sweeping my hair up and securing it with a tie to make myself look a little more presentable then I followed Victoria from the room. The stairs creaked under our weight, and by the chatter coming from the common room, most of the girls were already gathered there.
A few drunkards tumbled out the front door. A woman with a feral look on her face shoved them outside only to turn and lock the door behind them. I entered the room, doing my best to blend in with the peeling, blue-washed walls, not wanting any attention on me.
Esse stood over by the window, the harsh light framing her gaunt figure. Inky black strands of hair were pulled back in a tight bun at the base of her neck and empty, blue eyes flicked to each one of us, before they landed on me.
For reasons I didn’t know, the look she gave me made my skin crawl, like thousands of leeches had risen from the murky pits of a dam and slunk up my legs. Nausea churned in my gut—or was it hunger?
In three days, I’d only eaten a handful of nuts, a slice of stale bread and an apple that was most definitely rotten. Victoria had shared them all with me. I’d promised to pay her back as soon as I could but she’d shrugged it off like it was no big deal.
“I’ve called you all in here because it’s that time of the week.” Esse’s voice cut through the heavy air that smelled heavily of pungent ale, sweat and cheap perfume.
Time of the week? Why does that sound like a bad thing?
Girls hummed around me as Esse continued to speak. “The king is having one of his famous parties, and he’s requested dancers, pretty faces, and charm. Of which none of you are. But he doesn’t have much choice, does he?”
My eyes widened at the way Esse addressed the girls. Was she trying to be humorous? Not even Kavish was that harsh with his words.
A few women scoffed, others giggled behind painted nails, while I studied them all from the back of the room. Victoria slumped against the wall beside me. She, too, watched the scene unfold.
Esse clapped her hands, the sound bounced off the walls sending the mumbling women silent in seconds. “Don’t forget to dress the way he likes. You have one hour before you leave.”
My stomach dropped, hands knotting in my skirts. The palace? A party? I’d seen what parties looked like at the Silver Finch—drunken men slobbering, laughter masking cruelty, women pulled onto laps and used like props.
Death covered up under the blanket of cheap perfume and heavy pockets.
Lily.
Meeka.
Me . . .
Fear gripped my chest like a vice. Victoria kept glancing at me sideways, perhaps sensing my unease. I didn’t have the emotional capacity to face her.
Esse wove through the bodies of women scattering from the room. This was my chance. It was now or never.
I stepped forwards, keeping my voice careful. “Esse, I can stay back. Someone should watch the house, tend to the regulars—”
Her sharp eyes pinned me where I stood. “Don’t be foolish.”
Heat washed over me and I felt my chest constricting once more. “I’m not made for parties, and I have two left feet. I’ll be more useful here.”
Esse’s jaw tightened before she leaned in closer.
I could smell her sickly lavender scent—or was it cinnamon?
I could never quite tell. “The king asked for fresh faces,” she hissed, low enough only I could hear.
“If the king finds out I kept one from him, he’d have my head on a silver platter .
. . especially when you’re the prettiest girl in this light-forsaken place. ”
Her words punched the air from my lungs.
I didn’t want to be the prettiest in the room.
Being pretty got you noticed and I was trying to become invisible.
I flicked my gaze over her shoulder. Other girls laughed, and twirled in excitement.
But I stood there rigid, cold spreading through me like frost. I wanted to disappear into the floorboards. “Esse, please—”
She shook her head, waving me towards the stairs. “Get ready. You’re going.”
My nails bit into the fragile skin on my palms. “I don’t even have a dress.”
Esse looked like she was about to boil over when Victoria stepped up beside me, linking her arm through the crook of my elbow. “She can borrow one of mine.”
And that was that. Esse marched off to god knows where and Victoria ushered me upstairs. I had no idea where the time went. My mind blanked, becoming a blur of muted colour, and before I knew it, I was winding through the sulphurous streets of Oscuro.
Victoria walked beside me in a gown of red—just how she liked it. She’d dressed me in black, telling me it suited my complexion. I didn’t care. Nothing mattered at this point.
Afternoon sun stung my skin. It’s colour a sickly shade of yellow. We walked behind the group of women up ahead, who were already humming tunes and swaying their hips like they owned the streets.
Truth was, they did. In a perverted sort of way.
“You know, these parties aren’t that bad. As long as you do as the king asks.” Victoria muttered beside me. She talked like she was educated in this area and I’d do well to listen.
I glance at her sideways before dropping my gaze back to the streets. “Have you been before?”
“A few times.”
“Does he—umm—” I had to ask. The thought had been gnawing at my mind since we left The Painted Lady.
“Yeah. The king chooses a girl at the end of the night,” Victoria replied. She knew exactly what I meant.
Dread swirled in the pit of my stomach, threatening to spill onto the grimy streets. Wouldn’t be the worst liquid on the ground.