Page 108 of Of Glass and of Gold

Jenta.

The horrified confusion set against her typically well-presented face sparked a little joy. I watched as she slowly processed, putting the pieces together. Knowing our financial state, the fact that we would never be able to afford frequenting a shop as high brow as this, pairing with the newspaper announcement in her hand. The paper crinkled under her furious grip.

I offered a condescending smile before raising my chin and facing forward again. A moment of triumph for her treating us so terribly after we’d lost our wealth, and she’d treated us like infectious trash. Karma.

She stormed off, her dark cloud never to rain over me or my family again.

My heart galloped. Weeks ago, I’d considered not even surviving to see the next spring, not with the mess I’d been tangling myself in. Now, I was engaged to a man I’d come to love over such a short period of time, who just so happened to be a prince.

This felt like a story from one of those fairytales they tell children, something truly unbelievable that had somehow become my life. I didn’t know this kind of happiness existed, or if it did, that I’d be fortunate enough to feel it.

It reminded me of how my father would speak of my mother. How she’d smile up at him as if the stars were in his eyes. I wished they could know that their daughter had somehow managed to find joy.

My mind conjured up the moment my parents would have handed me over down the aisle, how my father would have traveled across an ocean to gift us a unique wedding present. How my mother would have embraced him and called him the son she never had.

“I think we’re all finished,” the seamstress said, tugging me back to reality. “We’ll get you out of this, and I’ll finish making the corrections. I shall have it dropped off tomorrow morning, right to your address.” She beamed, and to my discomfort, bowed slightly. “I am honored you’ve chosen my establishment, Your Grace. I hope you are pleased with my work.”

A bow and a title. Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to get out of this monstrosity of a dress and slip back into my simple, worn in and comfortable shirt and pants.

“You have been a most gracious host, Lady Smythe. We shall not keep you for a moment longer.” Melody rose from the chaise and approached me from behind, beginning to unlace the bound ribbons, as if she sensed my desperation.

“Thank you,” I whispered. She merely smiled while she worked to free me.

54

Nicholas

My carriage parked outside a poor excuse for a tavern near the outskirts of South Harbor. The stench of sour ale spilled into the street, and the uneven walkway hinted that some found the bathroom too far to travel. I ordered my two guardsmen to remain posted at the front doors as I stalked inside.

A woman I wouldn’t want to mess with worked a rag around a cup. “We’re closed for two more hours. Come back then.” She didn’t even glance up.

“Is Caine here?” I asked.

She sighed, setting the rag and cup on the bar top, preparing to berate an unruly customer when her gaze fell upon me and my formal attire and crown. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “Yes, Your Highness. He’s in the back.” She tossed her thumb over her shoulder, to the doorway that no doubt led to his office.

A slight nod was my only response as I brought myself behind the bar and entered the back room, closing the door behind me. Caine looked up from his disheveled paperwork and promptly stood in greeting. “Your Highness. What a pleasure.” He bowed, throat bobbing on his way back up.

“I have had the fortune of never meeting you before, Mr. Caine. Should I again, I’m afraid you won’t find it pleasant.”

He froze, fear paling his aged skin.

“You hold a woman under your employ. Nora Shen. Tell me how it came to be.” With an air of disinterest, hands clasped behind my back, I strode from one end of the room to another, taking in every detail.

Every crack in the splintering floorboards, each stain that hadn’t been cleaned well.

A man with little integrity. Unsurprising, considering the way he could treat a young woman. I worked to suppress the building rage that threatened to seek the destruction of the pathetic excuse of a man before me.

“S-she has been under my employ for several years now, working off a debt left by her father. I hold the deed to their house, and in exchange for selling it and leaving her and her family destitute, I agreed to have her earn it through labor.”

My fist wanted to break the wall over the way he tried painting himself as a saint. Squaring to face him, my stare pinned him in place. “Tell me, Mr. Caine, do you enjoy taking advantage of women in precarious circumstances? Or threatening their lives if they cannot secure you funds which have surely been paid by now with nearly a decade of free labor?”

“I—” He couldn’t find the right way to explain himself. Because there wasn’t one.

In a few swift steps, I anchored myself in front of his desk and retrieved a sack of coin from my pocket, letting it thud before him on the wooden surface. “This will pay off the deed to the home, in full, despite what should have been docked based on the labor you leeched off her for years. Give me the deed, now. With these funds, you will leave my kingdom.”

I placed my palms on the desk, my fingertips pressing into the grain as I leaned down to bring myself eye-level with this scum of a man. “And if I hear a whisper of your name anywhere in my land, you will be well acquainted with the executioner’s block. Do I make myself clear?”

He stared, a droplet of sweat forming on the side of his forehead. “Yes, Your Highness.”

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