Gilt by Wade Lewellyn-Hughes

Gilt by Wade Lewellyn-Hughes

Author:Wade Lewellyn-Hughes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: strong female character, dragons, female friendship, Sword and sorcery, fantasy ballet dancer, high society nobles
Publisher: Wisdom, Wonder, & Whimsy Books
Published: 2017-10-01T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter 8: Golden Threats

Carolle peeled off her glowing costume, dropped it in front of the mirror, and fell into the only chair in their bedchamber. She propped her sore feet on her bed. Braith brought over a tray with heated oil and soap.

Lucille wrung out a steaming rag and laid it over the mouth of the ewer on the bath stand. “I’m only saying you should hear Gaines out.” Carolle’s glower didn’t deter her. “Don’t do something rash, like. I’m not being funny; that plat can do a proper lot of good. In your hands.”

“In my hands? You’re doing my head in, Luce. I couldn’t do what Rodinger can.” Carolle poured the olive oil over the pitch on her chest and began to rub it in. “Gaines and his father’ll use whatever I tell them against our own queen’s wishes—against the Bonded Nations. I’m sure of it.”

“The Bonded Nations?” Lucille asked, passing over the damp rag. “Who’s getting ahead of herself now? We’re talking about one noble and the Warring States. You can’t know what’ll occur—”

“I can! Because I won’t do it!” Carolle wiped the last of the olive oil from her chest and slung the rag to the tray. “I’m not my mam! I’m not a whore!”

Lucille’s cheeks went ruddy. “I was. The women who reared you were! You look down on them now, do you?”

“Course not, Luce bach.” Carolle sat forward. “I’m only saying Gaines is buying a part of me that’s not for sale, man. No coin should give me pause over that.”

Braith said to her fidgeting fingers, “Really makes you a mercenary more than a prostitute, doesn’t it?”

Carolle defied Lucille’s glare with her own and responded with an audible sigh through her nose.

Someone gently tapped twice at the door. It cracked open. “Braith, love?” Dafydd asked. Braith scurried to block his view.

Lucille draped her cloak over Carolle. They sat opposite each other with softened features. “There’ll be Gaines,” Lucille whispered.

“I never wanted to feel this way,” Carolle said. “The way that coin makes me feel.”

Lucille sulked and studied her hands in her lap.

“This is what’s best, Luce.”

Braith put her back to the door and offered a reassuring smile. “It’s not Gaines. Madame Davies wants a word, Carolle. I told Dafydd you’ll be there now in a minute.”

Dressed as herself, Carolle sought out Madame Davies in the suites upstairs and found her sitting at her vanity. A letter preoccupied her thoughts among the plentiful bouquets. “Madame Davies?”

“Never thought you the type, Carolle bach,” she said without looking up. “To marry into security.” Carolle took the note. Rodinger’s formal invitation to dinner.

Madame Davies waved away her words. “I’m not saying I disagree with your methods. I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve always taken care of yourself more than the rest have done.”

“If that were true, I wouldn’t be in the troupe.” Carolle laid the note aside and stood behind her matron. She began removing hairpins from the older woman’s lavender-perfumed curls. “Lord Bernard is a friend, not a suitor.”

Madame Davies’s cackle dwindled into a chortle.



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