A Hero’s Reward? (16)

Emily Crawford

by Emily Crawford

Story

It had been too long since he experienced the comforts of home, and this was his first time experiencing such wealth. Before leaving him in her father’s care, she insisted he sit, and he did as she said, but he couldn’t shake feeling out of place amongst the opulent fineries.

Gold was something people traded for goods and services; it wasn’t meant for decorating door frames. Satin was for dresses, not drapes. You didn’t drink out of crystal; you drank out iron, rusted twice over. He sat uncomfortably in dirtied leathers, with his hair matted and tied in a poor ponytail, while his host sat groomed and dressed, ready to dine with the emperor.

The man was perhaps late into his fifth decade, but even if age hadn’t taken its toll, there would have been little resemblance between him and his daughter. He welcomed him into his home with open arms and had since been instructing every member of his staff to attend to his daughter’s “hero”. Even as they waited, the man enthusiastically sang his praises and fuelled his discomfort.

Eventually, she returned, dressed in gold and silver, glowing with a radiance that made him wish the journey had taken just a few more days. She looked between the two of them, servants still fussing over her, and smiled at him instead of her father.

She came and sat down beside him, clinging to his arm. She squeezed tight, but even that was soft and gentle. No longer did she smell of soot and damp; a sweet scent reminiscent of honey and a hint of citrus emanated from her conditioned hair, overwhelming his senses. There was something intoxicating about it; something more inviting than the king’s ransom now filling his pockets.

“Eliza can stay with us, can’t he?”

She asked a question, but as she fluttered and swayed, batting her eyes, it sounded more like a statement.

“Of course, and for longer, if that would be something you wished,” her father replied, glassy-eyed and dreaming.

He wasn’t sure who was being asked. It seemed logical to assume that her father was directing his words towards him, to which a few nights in a warm, plush bed likely with company would not be amiss. Yet, a part of him felt absent from the conversation, despite it being about him to begin with.

She didn’t respond, but her excitement was palpable. The anticipation was building, within him as much as it was within her.

This world was foreign to him, but with her on his arm, something settled him. Torn between two worlds – the one he knew was rife with disaster and discord, and this new world of extravagance felt undeniably alluring. If only for one more night, he could indulge.

He opened his mouth to speak.

“Come on, Eliza, I’ll show you around,” Marianne said, pulling him up from the chair and leading him into the halls.

© Emily Crawford 2023-08-31

Genres
Novels & Stories, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Moods
Lighthearted, Reflective