Gold Weaver | ✓

zehn

ZEHN

Time passed too quickly for my liking as I watched the King step away from the now empty entrance and, half a dozen Masks in tow, move further into the gardens.

I knew I had to get in there quick, before the seemingly endless people here started asking for his attention.

"Here, hold this," I said to Jack, practically shoving my drink in his empty hand. He managed to keep ahold of it, surprising me. I didn't have the time to congratulate him on his drink holding abilities as I bolted towards the King. Okay, maybe not bolted. But walked very fast.

"Yes, Eleanor?" He asked as I stepped into his line of sight. I felt his personal guard analysing me for my threat level. I couldn't be arsed to be uncomfortable under their gaze. "I trust you've been told about the performance?"

"Yes," I said, still a little miffed he'd not told me sooner. He's trying to trip you up, a small voice told me. Or maybe he just liked to boast.

I knew plenty about boasting, having lived with my dad all those years. He'd probably never realised how detrimental a boast could be. I almost wanted to warn the King. Only, I didn't want to help a man who would send an eighteen year old to her death.

"I wanted to talk to you about my reward." He made no move to interrupt or shake me off, so I took that as the sign to go on. "I'd like my friend to come to the palace."

"And who would this friend be?"

"Martha Stewart," I told him. "She lives at 23 Sunnydale Roa—"

He waved his hand. I clamped my mouth shut. "I don't need her life story," he said, sounding as stiff as he looked, as per usual. "Why don't we see how this performance goes and go from there?"

"And if it goes well?"

He watched me. "Then I'll organise it."

That was about as much of a confirmation as I was going to get. I turned to go, catching sight of Jack standing about ten feet away, still holding my drink like the good little guard he was.

"But Eleanor?" His voice had been turning back to face him. That, and the hand he latched onto my wrist. "Make sure it goes well or this Martha might not have a friend left to visit."

I gulped, but otherwise held my composure.

He let go of me, turning away and quickly jumping into a friendly conversation with an elderly woman, a large blue hat atop her head.

From dishing out threats to talking about spaniels, I thought with an internal scoff. Versatile.

I stepped up to Jack again.

"Are you alright?" He asked, holding me by the arm. "You look a bit... green."

"I'm part chameleon. Did I never tell you?" I tried to joke, failing miserably.

"Come on," he said, still holding onto me to keep me steady. We began walking into the thick of the guests as they milled around on the palace lawn. "You should sit down."

"I'm just a bit overwhelmed," I said, which wasn't exactly a lie. "I think I just need to sit quietly for a few minutes."