Crimson and Gold

As soon as the Emperor and the Princess left the auction grounds, Thirteen was escorted to a wagon and brought to the place that was going to be her new home for the time being.

The Royal Palace in Aervelis.

The second she laid her eyes on the building, she immediately understood what Tally meant by ‘better living conditions’.

As far as the eye could see, the Palace was filled with unmatched splendor.

Gold, exotic plants, sculptures, and ponds filled with colorful fish. It was like a whole new world contained within the Palace grounds.

Polished marble lined the interior of the grand vestibule, at the center decorated with a giant golden statue of the Emperor.

Walking into the grand atrium, she was met with a heavily decorated fountain depicting water nymphs playing by a waterfall.

Every inch and every corner of the building was arranged with an extravagant intent to impress.

And it was doing a really good job at it.

“You must be the daethri,” a strong, impatient voice sounded behind Thirteen, prompting her to turn around.

“Come with me,” the woman gestured and walked right past her.

She was short. Her thick gray hair, tied in a slightly messy bun, suggested that she was quite past her prime. Her energetic moves and voice that could embarrass a general, however, seemed to say that there was still a lot of strength left in her old bones.

“The eastern wing belongs to His Radiancy, the western one to His Highness. The pavilion over there is where Her Highness’ chambers are,” the woman looked over her shoulder, “That one is where you will be frequenting the most, I’m guessing.”

“His Radiancy? His Highness?” Thirteen asked in confusion.

“The Emperor and the Crowned Prince. You’ll have to remember those titles. You need to address all members of the Royal family with proper respect.”

“What about you? How should I call you?”

“My name is Dolores, and I am the overseer for the servants.” Dolores paused and turned to look at Thirteen. “And now also yours. So don’t think of going around and causing any problems. Just because you swing a sword slightly better than others doesn’t mean you are above the rules.”

“Yes, sir.” Thirteen saluted lazily, earning herself a death glare from Dolores the General.

The woman sighed heavily, then resumed the tour.

“Beyond that wall are the guard barracks and the training ground. This area is off limits for you. The small house ahead is where the staff quarters are. Your room is at the end of the right corridor.”

“If my room is on the right, then why are we turning left?” Thirteen asked, casting a longing gaze towards the corner where her very first private quarter was located.

Hearing that she was so close to the bed, she felt the fatigue crushing down on her like a landslide.

Dolores swung open a door at the opposite end of the hallway and marched inside. “Because you need a bath first. Her Highness requested to see you as soon as you arrive.”

“But I just bathed.”

Dolores scanned her with the scrutinizing gaze of her unyielding green eyes. “Not thoroughly enough. Now, stop arguing and get inside the tub. I don’t have the whole day.”

Lysandra was standing on the balcony. Her body, like the finest piece of art, leaned leisurely against the marbled railing.

Her bright golden eyes watched Thirteen carefully ever since she entered the room.

The gossamer red dress the Princess was wearing left tastefully little to the imagination. The fabric cascaded down and spilled on the floor at her feet. The golden cuffs on her graceful arms shimmered in the sunset behind her.

She was like a painting. Mesmerizing, enchanting, too beautiful to look away. Almost unreal.

“Bed,” she ordered with an unreadable expression.

Her voice snapped Thirteen from the daze, but she didn’t move.

She looked towards the lavish bed with sheets as red as Lysandra’s dress, which contrasted against the delicate white veil of the canopy above it.

It looked inviting. It was promising an unforgettable night to anyone who decides to give themselves to its comfort.

Considering who the bed belonged to, Thirteen was more than certain that the night would be indeed unforgettable.

One way or another.

Without delaying any longer, she obediently approached the marbled frame and sat at the edge of the mattress.

“Lie down.”

Hearing another command, her crimson eyes flashed with suppressed annoyance.

What am I? A dog?

She groaned and pulled herself back to lie flatly among the satin red sheets.

It was even softer than she imagined.

Living in the Arena, her bed was nothing more than a few wooden planks nailed together and covered with a blanket. She got used to it fairly fast, but lying in Lysandra’s made her realize that, perhaps, she adapted so quickly because she didn’t know anything better.

She felt like she was lying on a cloud. As if it cast a spell on her, she immediately started feeling drowsy.

Thirteen cursed in her mind whoever took her memories away and lowered her standards, then forced herself to stay vigilant and not fall into the trap of the heavenly comfort she was lying on.

Lysandra didn’t move. Not right away.

She stood on the balcony, observing Thirteen silently. Her eyes scanned her elegant frame, the unassuming gentleness of the body that could kill with such ease and prowess.

Her beautiful face didn’t betray any emotions.

After what felt like an eternity, she stepped inside and walked over.

She raised the long fabric of her dress, revealing her smooth, long legs, and climbed on the bed. Then, without taking her eyes off Thirteen, she swung her leg over and sat on top of her.

Thirteen’s pulse quickened against her wish to stay calm.

A cunning smile curved Lysandra’s lips, seeing the crimson eyes widen in surprise.

She leaned over and cupped Thirteen’s face in her hands.

Her thumb stroked the cut on her lightly swollen lip. Golden eyes swept around it one more time before Lysandra closed the distance between them.

The kiss started softly, their lips caressing one another shyly.

Sweet scent of citruses enveloped Thirteen’s senses, but this time, she wouldn’t allow herself to lower her guard. She learned her lesson from their first meeting.

Or so she thought.

She answered the kiss with restraint, ready for a strike that could come at any moment.

It took all of her strength to keep herself from falling into its allure. Her own body protested against her, caught under the spell of Lysandra’s skillful touch. Her senses lamenting the pleasure that was being denied to them.

Lysandra noticed the tension and the hesitation. She parted Thirteen’s lips with her own and sank her tongue inside her mouth.

It coiled around the other, stroking and thrusting until the two started dancing to the same rhythm.

The tension melted, replaced by growing hunger and quiet, restrained moans of pleasure.

Thirteen’s hands found their way to Lysandra’s thighs and slowly glided up, diving under her dress, caressing her soft skin. The higher they went, the more impatient her touch became.

She squeezed the hips pressing against her, earning an exasperated gasp from the Princess, which disappeared between their lips.

Lysandra’s hands slid under the pillow and held on to something.

In the next moment, Thirteen felt a sharp sting of metal on her throat.

Of course.

Lysandra broke the kiss and pulled back.

Her breath was more ragged than it should have been. Her face flushed against her wishes, lips tingling with sensation more pleasant than she was willing to admit.

“Who are you?” she asked, once her breathing was calm enough to play along.

Thirteen sighed.

She should have seen it coming. She knew it was coming, and yet she fell right into the honeyed trap like a fool. “I don’t know.”

“Try better.” Lysandra pressed the dagger harder. “Where did you get the pendant from?”

“I don’t know,” Thirteen repeated, resigned.

“Stop lying.”

Thirteen looked at her curiously. “How do you know it’s not mine?”

The Princess laughed, then inched closer to her face. Her eyes flickered to her lips.

“Because of this,” her finger pressed on the cut on her lip, “if you were its rightful owner, this would have healed by now.”

Thirteen inhaled sharply. Her eyes met the piercing golden gaze, searching for the truth.

The tip of Lysandra’s dagger dug deeper into her neck and drew a drop of blood. “But I’m sure you know this very well.”

She didn’t.

“I’ll ask one more time. Where did you get the pendant from?”

“And I’m telling you once again that I don’t know.”

“Do you seriously think I’m going to believe this?”

Thirteen groaned. The frustration reached its limit.

She grabbed the dagger and, in a swift motion, flipped them up. It was her time to be on top and threaten the other with the blade.

“I don’t care what you believe. It’s the truth. I woke up a week ago as a slave without memories of who I am or who I was. Five minutes before I was thrown into the arena. The pendant and the fact that I’m really good at killing are the only two things that connect to my past.”

The stream of words carrying week-long frustrations shot out before she could stop it. Not that she was really trying.

There was no point in hiding it from her. If anything, the honesty could earn her some answers, as the Princess was the first to recognize the necklace.

Lysandra stared at her for a moment, searching for any hint of deception.

Eventually, she seemed to relax. “I believe you.”

“Thank you,” Thirteen sighed and took the dagger away from her throat.

She leaned back, still on top of Lysandra, but quickly jolted away, feeling something sharp poke her side.

“Sorry,” Lysandra smiled with a slightly dishonest apology as she moved away, the second dagger she had pointed at her.

Thirteen looked at her, slightly impressed, then sat at the edge of the bed.

“Let’s talk,” Lysandra said and put the blade away.