GOLD & AZURE

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 12: JEWELS IN THE MUD

PART I: THE SILKEN PUPPETS

Morning at the Quartz Palace did not rise; it dragged itself painfully from the clutches of the arctic night in a halo of grayness and frost. But in the Barsky sisters’ apartments, the bustle could have rivaled a beehive in high summer. Mia and Bea, usually more comfortable in leather breeches and tracking boots, were at the center of a whirlwind of fabrics, perfumes, and improvised diplomatic scripts.

Anastasia, true to her role as a ruthless governess, circled the twins with a severity that would have made a palace guard regiment tremble. She wasn’t merely dressing them; she was sculpting them for a play where the stakes were Elowen’s very survival.

— “Stand up straight!” Anastasia commanded, tightening the laces of Bea’s corset with punitive vigor. “If you slouch, you no longer look like disgraced nobles; you look like peasants who stole their mistresses’ clothes.”

— “I can’t breathe, Ana,” Bea gasped, her face flushed crimson. “How do you wear this every day? It’s a medieval torture device.”

— “It is called dignity, Bea. And it is your best shield. If this Elara is Krane’s spy, as we suspect, she will look for flaws. She will look for the warrior beneath the lace. You must be so superficial, so full of yourselves, that she feels she is wasting her time with two bird-brained girls.”

Mia, seated before a silver vanity, let a maid braid gold threads into her hair. She watched her reflection with a mix of fascination and unease. Pearl powder had been applied to her skin, making it unnaturally pale and emphasizing the predatory glint in her eyes.

— “The plan is simple,” Mia repeated to herself. “We go in, we complain about Thal being a stingy tyrant, we display the jewels to ‘pay our gambling debts’ and for ‘future gowns,’ and we wait for the fly to bite the hook.”

— “It is never simple, Mia,” a soft voice intervened from the doorway.

Elowen stood there, wrapped in a new purple velvet dress, her wolf Soleia seemingly standing guard at her side. Her gaze was heavy with a guilt she couldn’t quite mask.

— “You are risking a great deal for me,” she whispered. “Elara... if she truly is Krane’s spy, she will be sharper than any mercenary you’ve ever met. She sees what others ignore.”

Mia stood up, despite the protests of the maid who hadn’t finished her hair, and took Elowen’s hands.

— “Listen to me, Sun Wolf. We’re doing this for you, yes, but we’re also doing it because we are Barskys. This palace has thick walls, but it gets suffocating. Let us be your eyes. And don’t worry about us: we know how to be incredibly annoying when we want to be. Just ask Thal.”

Thalys appeared behind Elowen, looking about as serene as a man facing the gallows. He wore his dark traveling gear, his eyes scanning the room with contained anxiety.

— “Karl and Anton have already left,” he announced. “They’ll be at the Biting Frost tavern before you. Karl will play the role of a drunken lumber merchant, and Anton will be his taciturn bodyguard. They won’t look at you. They will only intervene if there is a threat. Not before.”

Bea approached her brother and gave him a friendly nudge, despite the rigidity of her costume.

— “Relax, Thal. We’re selling her jewelry, not our souls. And besides, look at us! We’re magnificent. Even you wouldn’t recognize us if you didn’t know we were your sisters.”

Thalys sighed, resting a heavy hand on Bea’s head, ruffling Anastasia’s handiwork in the process.

— “That’s exactly what worries me. Be careful. Leopards hunt in silence, but Southern wolves hunt with their minds. Do not let her inside yours.”

PART II: THE FROST’S DEN

The journey to the village was an ordeal of cold and silence. Mia and Bea traveled in a small ceremonial sleigh pulled by two white reindeer, an ostentatious luxury intended to signal their status upon arrival. As they moved away from the quartz fortress, the purity of the snow gave way to frozen mud and the soot-stained trails of village chimneys.

The “Biting Frost” tavern lived up to its name. It was a squat building, its beams seemingly groaning under the weight of centuries and dampness. The smell hit you before you even crossed the threshold: a mixture of rancid mutton fat, fermented ale, peat smoke, and human sweat.

Mia glanced at Bea. — “Ready for the show?”

— “I can’t wait to take this corset off,” Bea muttered through clenched teeth. “Let’s go.”

They pushed open the heavy oak doors. The tavern’s din died instantly. Fifty pairs of eyes, scarred mercenaries, trappers smelling of dried blood, and nimble-fingered merchants, fixed upon these two apparitions of silk and gold.

Mia entered with a disdainful stride, slightly lifting the hem of her skirt to avoid the soiled straw littering the floor.

— “Is this it?” she exclaimed in a high-pitched, deliberately nasal voice. “Bea, you promised me somewhere ‘picturesque,’ not an open-air sewer!”

— “Oh, shut up, Mia!” Bea snapped back in the same tone, playing the annoyed sister. “We have no choice. If Thal finds out we lost at cards to the Guard cousins again, he’ll lock us in the tower until next spring. We have to sell these jewels before sunset.”

They headed toward a central table, superbly ignoring the grunts of the patrons. Passing by, Mia spotted Karl and Anton in a dark corner. Karl was faking a loud snore, head resting on an empty pitcher, while Anton sharpened a knife with calculated slowness. They were there.

At a slightly more secluded table near the sputtering fireplace sat their target.

Elara wore weathered leather clothes and a traveling cloak with a salt-eaten hem. At her feet, a silver-gray greyhound raised its head as the twins passed, its intelligent eyes scrutinizing every detail of their gait. On the table, a ginger cat stopped licking its paw to stare at the newcomers with manifest hostility.

Mia sat on a grimy bench with a perfectly executed grimace of disgust.

— “Tavern-keeper!” she called. “Bring us whatever you have that is the least... offensive to the stomach. And clear water!”

Viggo, the owner with a braided beard, approached, wiping his hands on a soot-black apron.

— “We don’t have clear water, ladies. We have mead that would wake the dead or small beer. Choose your poison.”

— “The mead, then,” Bea decided, pulling a rosewood box from her bag. She opened it with deliberate ostentation, making the jewels shimmer in the light of the tallow candles.

The silence in the tavern grew heavy. Several mercenaries’ hands crept closer to their hilts. Mia and Bea felt the air vibrate with greed, but they knew Anton wouldn’t let anyone get within a meter.

— “Look at this tiara,” Mia sighed, handling a silver diadem set with sapphires. “It’s an heirloom from Aunt Clotilde. She’ll kill us if she finds out.”

— “Aunt Clotilde has been dead for over ten years, Mia. And she was blind. What matters is finding a buyer who won’t ask questions about where it came from.”

At the neighboring table, Elara didn’t move, but Solas had stopped his heavy breathing. The cat, Mishka, jumped to the floor and began to approach Bea, drawn by the glint of a pearl necklace dangling from the box.

PART III: THE GAME OF CAT AND LEOPARDS

Mishka stopped a few centimeters from Bea’s boots and let out a demanding meow. Bea, who loved animals, almost broke character to pet the little ginger ball, but she caught herself in time.

— “Oh! Look at this furry horror, Mia. Is it a giant rat?”

— “It’s a cat, you little i***t,” Mia replied, casting a sidelong glance at Elara. “And it looks as hungry as the rest of the local population.”

— “Mishka, come back here,” a calm, steady voice called out.

Elara had turned toward them. Her face was marked by travel, but her eyes possessed a depth that made Mia shiver. It was the look of someone who had seen an empire fall and the sun go out.

— “She won’t hurt you,” Elara continued. “She just has a very strong taste for things that shine. Much like myself.”

Mia feigned surprise, bringing a hand to her silk-clad chest.

— “Oh, are you a merchant? You don’t look like one. Your clothes are... how shall I put it... functional.”

Elara let out a short, dry laugh.

— “‘Functional’ is a kind word. I prefer ‘discreet.’ In my line of work, discretion is worth more than all the gold in your box. My name is Elara. And you are clearly very far from your palace.”

Bea pulled the box closer, simulating suspicion. “We are just travelers. We’re looking to fund a... a study trip.”

— “A study trip with royal family tiaras?” Elara mused, standing up to approach their table. “Solas, stay.”

The greyhound didn’t move, but its eyes remained fixed on Anton in the shadows. The dog had sensed the warrior. Elara sat down uninvited across from the twins. The scent of frozen resin and leather emanating from her clashed with Anastasia’s sophisticated perfumes.

— “Listen, princesses,” Elara began, lowering her voice. “You are playing your parts very poorly. You are Barskys. I recognize that posture and that arrogance from miles away. You aren’t here to sell jewels. No one is foolish enough to sell those in a tavern full of thieves unless they have an invisible escort protecting them.”

Mia felt her heart skip a beat. She glanced at Anton, who hadn’t moved an inch.

— “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mia countered, her voice losing its nasal tone and becoming firmer.

— “Of course you do. You’re here because you know I’m looking for something. Or rather, someone.”

The atmosphere shifted radically. It was no longer a comedy scene; it was a psychological duel. Bea felt sweat beads beneath her corset.

— “They say a lot of things in the village,” Bea said, staring at Elara. “They say a merchant is looking for ‘The Cursed One.’ They also say this merchant isn’t from around here. From a place where wolves are not welcome.”

Elara laid her hands flat on the table. Her nails were short and clean, her fingers calloused.

— “I am not an enemy. If I were an enemy, I would have already sent a raven to Krane telling him his prey is nestled in a quartz cocoon. But here I am, alone with a dog and a cat.”

— “Why are you looking for Elowen?” Mia asked, dropping all pretense.

Elara gave a sad look.

— “Because the world is about to ignite. Krane isn’t just a tyrant; he is a man who wants power, the ultimate power. And Elowen... Elowen is the only spark left.”

PART IV: CONFIDENCES BENEATH THE EMBERS

The tavern’s roar seemed to have receded, creating a fragile bubble of intimacy around the three women. Viggo brought two mugs of amber liquid, setting them down roughly, but none of them looked at him.

— “How can we know you aren’t an envoy of Krane?” Bea insisted. “He often uses tricks like this to infiltrate dissident packs.”

Elara reached into her tunic and pulled out a small object wrapped in a piece of faded linen. She placed it on the table. It was a mother-of-pearl button, engraved with a nearly faded symbol: a stylized lily.

— “It is the seal of Elowen’s mother’s house,” Elara explained. “She gave it to me the night the shadows invaded the palace. I was two, she was four. She told me: ‘Elara, run. And if one day you see the moon crying silver tears, come back for me.’”

Mia felt a lump form in her throat. The Barskys had grown up in love and strength, protected by their elder siblings. The image of that little girl, alone, with only a pearl button for hope, touched her more than she wanted to admit.

— “Elowen is fine,” Mia finally admitted. “She is... rebuilding herself. Thal is her companion, and he protects her as if she were his own life.”

— “Your brother seems to be a man of honor, from what I hear,” Elara noted. “But he is a snow leopard. He will never understand the true nature of Elowen’s wolf. He wants to keep her in a crystal cage to protect her, but Elowen needs to run. She needs to find the royal pack and her brothers.”

— “She has no pack left,” Bea objected. “Krane destroyed everything.”

— “That is what he wants everyone to believe,” Elara retorted. “There are survivors. They are waiting for a sign. They are waiting for their princess.”

At that moment, an incident broke out at the other end of the tavern. A mercenary, a one-eyed colossus whose breath reeked of fried food, had stood up and was heading toward them, drawn by the open jewelry box.

— “Hey! Little dolls!” he exclaimed in a slurred voice. “It’s not safe to leave toys like that lying around. I’ll help you carry them to your carriage so you don’t get hurt.”

He reached a filthy hand toward the silver diadem. Mia felt her leopard muscles tense beneath the silk. She was ready to break his wrist before he even touched the table. But she didn’t need to.

A sharp sound rang out. Anton had stood up. In the blink of an eye, he was behind the mercenary, the tip of his hunting knife pressed with surgical precision beneath the man’s throat.

— “The gentleman was just saying he was going to go back to his seat and forget he has hands, wasn’t he?” Anton whispered in a voice so cold it seemed to freeze the drafts in the room.

The mercenary turned pale, drunk, but not suicidal. He backed away, stammering inaudible excuses, and stumbled toward the exit. Karl hadn’t even opened an eye, but his right hand was gripping the edge of the table, ready to flip it as a shield.

Elara watched the scene with a raised eyebrow.

— “Your escort is efficient. I suppose Alpha Thalys takes no risks with his sisters.”

— “Never when it comes to us. Or family. Or Elowen,” Mia replied, closing the box.

— “Listen closely,” Elara said, her tone becoming urgent again. “Krane knows she crossed your border. His scouts are not far. They won’t come with a regular army, not yet. He will send ‘Shadows’, assassins capable of blending into the snow. The Quartz Palace is not as impenetrable as you think.”

— “Nothing is impenetrable for someone with nothing to lose,” Bea admitted.

— “Tell Elowen that the lilies bloom even under the frost,” Elara concluded, standing up. “I will stay here for two more days. If she wants to see me, if she truly wants to know what happened to her lineage... she will know where to find me. But do not come with a guard of honor. Come as sisters.”

She whistled softly. Solas stood up instantly. Mishka, with an agile leap, landed on Elara’s shoulder, giving the twins one last defiant look before the merchant walked away toward the stairs leading to the rooms.