***
Alora held the original lamp in her hands, lit for the last time within this room. It was an ugly thing by Opulence’s standards, a bulky and scratched copper. It leaked. She hadn’t realized it until now, that it dripped from a crack in the base, oil seeping into the pads of her fingers. She hurriedly wiped them clean.
The project was done, and it was lovely. The oversized chaise atop an ivory rug. The maple accents of the ottoman, the end tables, and the trim. No single piece shouted for attention, but together, the room demanded it. For a visitor to sit and think and dream. Alora worried for a moment that the tapestry might not fit the space, but it did, somehow, breathing light into a room built in the dark. If she didn’t have lamp oil all over her fingers, she might lay down and use her final, remaining time inthe Room of Desire to imagine a world without Opulence. How would that be? Just to scrub it from existence?
A slow clap had her spinning on her heels.
“Bravo, Miss Pennigrim. Bravo.”
Alora steadied herself against the presence of Marshall Merridon. The man was dressed as any other day, though the glow of the lamplight flickered against the gold of his buttons and turned his eyes molten. His smile dripped charm, pressing upon her until she thought in the back of her head of sinking to the floor.
“Thank you, Master Merridon,” she managed. “It’s finished.”
“And a day early too. Sensational.”
She fought against revealing how his incredulity irked her. Even so, her jaw throbbed. She tracked his perusal of the room as he bent to every piece she’d picked, how he examined the pattern on the walls.
“Your attention to detail is astonishing. Why, this might be my new favorite room.” He stepped over the spot of William’s attack, the one now scrubbed clean of his blood. “Did you always know you possessed such a talent?”
She should be blushing prettily by now, but all Alora could manage were two angry blotches of color in her cheeks. “Not always, but fairly young.”
“Yes. I suppose that is how it often works, isn’t it?”
She didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, she studied him as he studied the tapestry, his posture straight, hands clasped behind his back. It was the only piece he might take issue with, and a part of her did want him to rip it down. Really, it didn’t belong here in Opulence. It was too free.
But he surprised her by saying nothing. Instead, he turned back around, and this time, rather than studying the art, he studiedher.
Alora fidgeted under his scrutiny. “If you’re satisfied with things as they are then I’m happy to call this project completed within the specified timeframe. Thank you for this…incomparable opportunity, Master Merridon.”
Marshall Merridon eased once more into his charming smile, and Alora saw it for what it was: a mask. His smile was the same as hers, honed and perfected, and often entirely without merit. Alora didn’t understand why she suddenly felt upended into an ice bath. “You’re quite welcome, Miss Pennigrim, though I should saythank youjust the same. I do have one little change, though, if I may?”
“By all means.” Alora moved from his way as he walked around the room to step into the hall. He returned a moment later with a crate, smaller than any she’d brought.
The door clicked closed as he worked the lid. “I thought this would be a charming addition. Something to mark the room.”
He motioned her closer, and she took the smallest step forward. A flicker of something entered his gaze and was gone as he bridged the gap between them instead. Alora couldn’t help but peer into the crate as he lifted an intriguing crystal skull free.
She frowned, sure she’d seen it before.
But where had she encountered it? Her memories were blurry, slopping around in her head.
Somewhere dark and uninviting. And something else. Something about eyes…perhaps?
But the only eyes she could conjure were ones of mossy green. Then where—? It was in that moment of puzzlement that the ruby orbs of the skull ensnared her own. They swirled, enticing, down there in the depths. She stepped closer to inspect it better, to find the source of the maelstrom. Was that a pinprick of fire at the center? She wanted to see.
Merridon’s voice seemed very far away from where she was, surrounded by crimson waves. Still, his words permeated her mind.
“Alora Pennigrim, cheers to your completed contract. As promised, 100,000 evergolds. And a membership for one year, paid in full. Take them.”
As if a tether had roped itself around her arm, Alora reached for the proffered envelope, and it was thick with her fulfilled hopes. A sturdy, golden card was tied to the front, pretty and official, with her name embossed upon it.
Alora Pennigrim
Member of Opulence Mansion
“Now, I want you to sit.”
Alora promptly sat on the floor, her legs folding in front of her, the envelope pressed to her chest. Merridon cursed. “Not on thefloor, on the chaise.”
