Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
The king’s gold
sapphire
Darkness blanketed the streets of Oscuro.
It was unwise for me to be out alone at this time of evening, but I’d been desperate for some cinderleaf.
I’d managed to save enough coin over the last week to secure my lodgings, buy a dress, and pay Victoria back for the food she’d shared with me. That left just enough for the herb.
I stepped from the apothecary store, put a roll between my lips, struck a match and dragged in a deep breath. The orange ember glowed against the dusk sky as the cinderleaf coated my tongue, drifting down my throat with a silky touch.
My lungs swelled with smoke. I held it there, if only to fill the hollow of my chest, and then released it into the air. Oscuro offered this small mercy, at least. It numbed the constant dread that sucked the very life from my soul every second my eyes remained open.
I threw a glance over my shoulder towards the store. It reminded me of Meeka, and how she used to offer the herb to me for free. She knew I needed it to cope. Her apothecary was much warmer though, more inviting. Her presence filled the space like the crackling comfort of a hearth.
With a sigh I turned back to the streets, heading for The Painted Lady.
I hurried through the crooked alleys, cinderleaf clutched tight between my fingers as I took another drag.
The smoke kept the stench of Oscuro at bay, if only a little.
My boots scuffed fast against the grimy ground, every shadow making my skin crawl at the thought of who might linger there.
I was sticking close to the light offered from the flickering streetlamps, when a hand shot out from the dark and clamped around my arm. My breath caught sharp in my chest. Another hand fumbled at my face, scratching for the cinderleaf between my teeth.
For a heartbeat, I wasn’t in the alley—I was back in the dark where I’d died. Hands grabbing, dragging, the cold rush of terror that had swallowed me whole. My chest locked, the air turned to ice, and the world narrowed to the press of fingers on my skin.
“Fuck off,” I spat, shoving hard, twisting out of their grip with more panic than strength. My voice cracked but it was enough. The stranger cursed, stumbling back into the shadows.
My heart hammered in my ears, too loud, too fast. I yanked my hood lower over my face, dragging it down until the world blurred at the edges, and forced my legs to move. One step. Another. Faster. I didn’t look back.
I couldn’t.
Because if I did, I’d have to relive that moment all over again, and for the briefest moment, I’d managed to think about anything else but that night.
The rest of the journey back to the brothel was hazy, yet I didn’t stop. My feet knew I needed to feel the safety of my tiny room.
I stomped out the cinderleaf butt on the dank ground, then rushed up the stairs and through the red doors, straight into a body.
I collided with a soft thud. “I’m so sorry—Esse?”
She looked as if someone had just eaten her prized piece of cake she was keeping all to herself. “Where have you been?” she hissed, teeth slightly yellow and black hair pulled tight.
I stepped back, pinching my brow. “I’m sorry? I wasn’t on shift tonight so I didn’t think I needed to tell you of my travels.”
Esse huffed, hands on hips. “Never mind that. The king has requested you.”
The air around me froze. Time came to a shuddering halt, and my stomach flipped on itself. Esse’s lips were moving, but whatever she was saying drowned beneath the shrill ringing in my ears. The world narrowed to that sound, sharp and merciless, until it felt like nothing else could reach me.
Her cold fingers wrapped around my arm, giving me a violent shake. “Did you hear me, girl?”
The king wants me? At this hour? My mind scrambled.
Thoughts of Victoria when she returned the night after the party flashed in bursts.
She hadn’t said much, but I could see—hidden in her eyes—that she’d been through something rough with him.
I knew that look—knew how it felt, because I'd given it after visiting Kavish.
I yanked my arm out of her grasp, shaking my head. “What if I say no?”
Esse balked at me. Her eyes grew so large I thought they’d pop straight out of the sockets. “You can’t say no to the king,” she hissed.
“And why not?” I hissed back.
She stepped so close I could see the storm clouds building in her gaze. “Because to refuse him is to say yes to chaos.”
Heat flushed my skin at her threat. Would it be so bad to say no to him? What could he possibly do that I haven’t had done to me already?
I squared my shoulders, trying to hold my composure. “What would he do?”
Esse dragged her gaze over the blue hair beneath my hood, and shook her head. “Tie you to the stocks in the marketplace. Allow any and everyone to mock you and throw things at you. Possibly worse . . . True Death even. I wouldn’t know because I’ve never dared to say no to him.”
I forced the bile rising in my throat back down. My body began to shake with fear. I was so tired of all of this, but what choice did I have anymore? Maybe I should let him string me up. Perhaps it would be kinder than what I might find in his bedroom.
No. If I was to survive this world I had to know more. Had to see for myself.
My shoulders dropped. “Does he pay well?”
Esse folded her arms across her chest. “Better coin than what you’d earn here.”
I eyed her. “Am I expected to walk there at this time of night? Alone?”
She took a few steps back, and then shoved her head in the direction of the brothel kitchens. “Take Laird with you.”
Laird was to The Painted Lady, what Ree was to The Silver Finch. Except Laird cared even less about what happened to the women in the building. I’d almost be better walking to the palace alone, but I nodded anyway.
To get through this, I just needed to think about the money. It was the only thing that would keep me alive in this eternity of mindless pain. And despite how terrible it was, a small, scared part of me still wanted to live.
~~~~~
The halls of the palace were cold and quiet.
My boots gave a muted clack on the black carpet that ran over the stone floor, leading me to my unwanted fate.
Laird dropped me at the servants’ entrance with no trouble, and for once I was relieved that I didn't have to deal with more trauma.
From him or the Thorns that were littered through Oscuro.
It meant I had enough time to mentally prepare and to try a few breathing techniques to get my nerves under control.
Yet the moment I stepped through the doors, my heart was in my throat and my stomach instantly twisted into knots. All breathing techniques faded to the back of my thoughts.
A girl, no older than myself, led me to the king's room. She didn’t speak until we stood outside the door.
“The king will be in shortly. Put the dress on and kneel on the floor in the middle of the room,” she muttered before leaving me there to walk inside like it was the easiest thing to do.
I swallowed down the lump forming in my throat, shoving the tears back into my head as far as they would go. I refused to cry for any of this.
The room was empty as I stepped inside. Sconces of orange flame licked at the stone, sending shadows dancing across the floor. The fireplace by the window roared with life, making the room uncomfortably warm.
To the left of the space sat a large four poster bed, draped in finery of ebony and golden trimming. It screamed royalty.
On top of it lay the gown, black in colour and made from what looked like a few pieces of lace. Of course it was. As if a man would want to see a woman clothed up to her neck.
I turned and closed the door softly behind me before changing. For once I was grateful for the heat because the dress I’d been instructed to wear was made of nothing. I moved to the full-length mirror beside the bed to look at myself.
The gown was all black lace, like a spider's web.
It gathered at my waist before dropping to the floor to pool around my feet.
Up close you could see right through it.
The pattern crawled across my skin, as if insects had woven and stitched it together themselves.
Long loose sleeves fell from my shoulders, offering a small amount of coverage, yet every time I moved, the fabric would slip between my thighs, revealing skin through slits.
With a sigh, I moved to the centre of the chamber and knelt.
That’s what the king wanted, right? Centred, open .
. . pretty. The floor was cold against my knees, its stone biting through my skin.
I kept my back straight, hands folded in my lap like the good girl the king would expect me to be.
The mask was familiar. Something I wore daily.
Smoke from the fireplace drifted in the air, turning the room hazy at the edges. While I waited for the king to arrive, my thoughts began to fold into the memories I usually kept locked away. They mattered little now.
My father never looked for me. Never cared enough to write. Perhaps he died years ago and is somewhere here in Oscuro. I’d never know. Then there was my mother. She’d be ashamed I’d become exactly who she tried to hide me from.
Who would love a girl like me? A woman who sold her flesh for the price of gold, just so she could live, and save enough to take herself to the sea.
Meeka came up like a sting of light through all the dark. Her laughter, the herbal tang the apothecary would leave on my tongue. The way she would hold me together, and offer me honey tea when my world was falling apart.
She was the only good thing I held onto. Proof that sometimes—just sometimes the world could hand out soft things.
I deserved to be here. It took nothing to convince myself. Punishment fit me better than mercy ever had. Maybe I’d always been built for ruin—shaped by the harshness of life, and the nights spent trading my sweat for shelter. Maybe this was where I finally belonged.