Page 100 of Brighter Than Gold

“When you left the palace the night of the attack, where did you go?”

Something flashed in his eyes, and I immediately sensed his hesitation. But I didn’t give him a chance to back out, I wanted to know.

He took a deep breath. “I’m not even sure where to begin that conversation.”

* * *

Burke

I wanted to be honest with Reyah, truly. But it made me irrationally nervous to tell her the truth. She was looking up at me, wide-eyed and waiting for my answer.

“All right. Let me start at the beginning.”

Twelve years ago

“Fuck, last one boys,” Briggs called out to us. “I’m not spending another day riding in a carriage while you three puke on my shoes.” Briggs was always the sensible one, the mother hen making sure all her chicks were in line.

“Yes, mummy, last one,” I teased, as we stumbled towards a fourth pub. We’d been drinking for hours by this point, and our world was nothing but soft colours and rounded edges. I slung an arm over Briggs’ shoulder. “You need to loosen up more, my friend! Let’s find you a girl to take back with us tonight. Or maybe several.” I grabbed his balls through his trousers, and he quickly knocked my hand away angrily as I chuckled. Oaks and Casimir were singing some drunken sailor song behind us as I gave the door to the pub a firm shove open. We all went immediately silent.

“I think you’re in the wrong place, boys,” a woman said turning to us. She was stunning, perhaps thirty years old, with long chocolate brown hair down to her waist. The dress she wore was slick and black, and clung to her like she wore oil instead of fabric.

“I think wearein the right place,” Oakes said eyeing her and pushing his way inside. The woman took long confident strides over to my friend and stood tall, directly in front of him.

“I assure you; you are mistaken, sir. I would appreciate it if you left my establishment.”

“Do you not know who this is?” Oakes asked incredulously, holding a hand out to me.

The woman turned to me, biting her tongue. “Your Grace,” she said as she lowered into a curtsey, there were two younger women in the corner of the room who lowered themselves as well, but the men seated at a table, five of them, didn’t budge. “The public house is the next block over, I’m sure that’s where you and your men meant to go,” she said to me. But I was curious,sofucking curious now. The room around us was mostly empty and barely lit, there was a large wooden armoire next to the two younger women along the wall.

“What’s your name?” I asked her. She rose from her curtsey and looked me in the eye. “Meloria, Your Grace.” She was poised, shoulders down and her neck held high. My authority did nothing to make her nervous.

“What is this place, Meloria?”

“It’s just a room,” she answered, evading my question.

“What do you do in this room?” I took a step closer to her.

I’d noted the two royal guards pushing in through the door behind me, and I saw Meloria’s eyes dart to them, then back to me.

“I hurt men, Your Grace.” She said it directly to me, dripping confidence and sexuality. If it was meant to scare me away, it had had the opposite effect.

“Really?” I asked, amused. I heard the floor creaking as the guards behind me drew closer, gauging this strange woman’s almost-threat.

“Yes, Your Grace. Do you like being hurt?” Meloria cocked her head ever-so-slightly to the side, blinking impossibly dark lashes as she waited for me to answer.

“Not particularly, no.” I pointed to the men who sat in the chairs. “Are you going to hurt those men?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Do they not know who I am?”

“They know who you are, Your Grace.”

“Then why didn’t they bow?”

The cockiest grin I’d ever seen, sliced across Meloria’s mouth. “Because you don’t rule in this room. I do.” Her teeth gleaned white against the dusty-rose colour of her lips. Her skin was tinted like an autumn leaf and there was almost a reddishness to it.

“This room,” I said, “happens to be within the Realm. And here, I happen to rule as King. So, if the men do not bow, it would be heresy.” All eyes turned to the men, all but Meloria’s. Her eyes stayed on my face, still grinning like a spoiled cat as none of the men ticked even a muscle.

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