Gallows of Transgression (ON HIATUS)

e l e v e n

Soren leaped back onto the purple couch, sinking deep into the soft cushions. He rested his head on the arm, tilting back and closing his eyes as he let out a deep sigh. "Before you go accusing me with those eyes of yours of being a wizard or something of the like, perhaps you should try take a look at yourself."

"What do you mean by that?"

"You wear your every emotion in the expressions of your face. Confusion, curiosity, sadness . . . let's just say that you would be terrible at poker. You never hide what you're feeling, which makes it pretty easy to know what's going on in that thick head of yours," Soren explained with a half smirk, before sitting up straight and motioning to Dremmie. "To answer your question, little Dremmie here is quite different than most painters, though I'm sure you've already guessed that."

Remi eyed her curiously. "She walks around like she's untouchable, but without the naivety of someone who doesn't know what the world is capable of. I'm guessing she's under the protection of someone."

Bang bang, bang bang.

Dremmie let out an irritated groan as she grabbed his wrist with her small hands and yanked him up onto his feet. "First of all, I'm in the room. Second of all, you're useless to me when you're distracted and talking and moving about—and I can't focus on painting the finishing touches when your father is banging on the door. Just go, okay?"

Soren levelled a dark stare in her direction.

Remi barely managed to hold back an amused snort. Seeing her grown cousin crossing his arms and glaring down at a little girl in a frilly dress with equally irritated expression on her face was one of the funniest things Remi had ever seen.

Bang bang, bang bang.

"Soren, let's go," Remi grinned widely, unable to contain her smile.

He sighed loudly and dramatically, turning away from the little painter abruptly and sticking his chin in the air as he walked away, as if he was better than her.

"Dummy," Dremmie muttered beneath her breath. Fortunately, Soren didn't hear.

Remi jogged to catch up to her cousin, barely reaching his side as he swung the door open—being sure to stand just off to the side so as to not obstruct the view of the giant painting for everyone on the other side of the door.

Shaam's face was not what greeted them on the other side. Instead, five tall men in dark, face-covering helmets and chain mail, along with sheaths and swords and metal boots reaching up their calves, stood by the door. The one who had been incessantly pounding on the door took a professional step back, his efforts finally achieving the intended results.

"Lord Shaam is waiting in his conference room, if you'd be so inclined to come with us," the guard who had been knocking stated solemnly, addressing Remi personally.

She nodded curtly and began following them, forcing her face into what she hoped was a neutral expression. Their chainmail clinked loudly in the otherwise silent hallway. Her heart gradually began picking up speed, becoming faster with each step she took, while her nerves buzzed incessantly beneath her skin.

She couldn't afford to screw this up.

———

The guards allowed her and Soren to walk into the room first.

Remi squinted against the darkness, as the room was lit by just a few large, flickering lanterns high on the walls. The shadows and light created by the flame danced across the walls beneath, both in perfect sync without ever colliding. The walls were made out of some strange but beautiful stone; slightly transparent like it was made from crystal that was the colour of a cool flame.

Shaam Goldridge sat on an ornate chair, carved with a collision of numerous designs that were all different, but came together to create something intricate, complicated, and magnificent against the dark cherry wood of the chair. Real vines had been woven through the chair and around the room, the dark green contrast creating the illusion that the entire scene had been taken straight from a jungle and placed into Shaam's mansion.

"How nice of you to finally join us, niece."

More guards with chainmail lined the walls, their backs pressing against the wood as they stood at attention with their arms at their sides. All their eyes were trained on Remi, watching her as if she was some dangerous, unstable thing with the potential to erupt at any point in time. She quickly shoved her gaze to the floor and fidgeted with her thumbs as she stopped herself from the instinct to hide herself behind Soren to avoid their intense gazes. She didn't want to be looked at, but she couldn't fall apart right now.

A whoosh of air brushed against her neck and the cold clothing sticking to her body like a steely gaze. Remi turned to find Killure standing right behind her, his eyes watching Shaam with suspicion. His lean, muscular body was taut and on edge, appearing ready for any problem that may arise.

"Sorry for the wait," Remi said, her voice starting out shaky before she steeled it into something more confident than she felt.

Shaam leaned forward in his chair, the flickering light from the sparse flames lighting up his features harshly. The shadows beneath his hooded eyes and cheekbones made him appear all the more intimidating. "You have a proposal, my dear?"

Remi nodded, clenching her jaw as she reminded herself who she was doing this for. She held on fast to the image of her little brother's face like it was a lifeline, before tucking it away into her mind and fixing a hard look on her uncle. "I do. Shall we begin?"