Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 156728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 522(@300wpm)
Daisy took the card. The paper was thick and smooth. “Thank you.”
She stood. “Take care of yourself.”
“I always do.”
Chapter Six
The Room
“What do you think, Jackie? Is the room to your liking?”
Jackie stood in the doorway, small hands curled stiffly at his sides, and stared at the newly appointed bedroom that Chancellor Aurin called a gift. The ceiling soared overhead, painted with clouds and fat little cherubs that reminded him of the ones he’d seen in churches depicting gods. But there was no god here.
A room for a prince. No rats. No leaky stains where the rain dribbled through the walls. No escape. A golden cage. A prison dressed in glitter meant to distract from the hideous truth.
“I asked you a question, Jackie.” Chancellor Aurin’s hand landed heavily on his shoulder, not aggressively, but enough to make Jackie flinch.
He needed to answer, but couldn’t find the words. A terrifying gift. A sentence. One he didn’t know how to escape.
“Cost more than most people’s houses. More than your whole building or entire block, for that matter.”
The bed frame coiled in gold twisting vines that climbed toward a canopy of velvet so red it looked like wine had bled on it. The dresser had gold handles shaped as lion heads with rings through their mouths. The mirror stood in a gold frame carved with more angels, more vines, more hideous wealth that only reminded Jackie of how little power he had by comparison.
“I’ve given you everything a boy your age could want.”
Jackie forced his eyes away from the massive bed and looked up at the man who owned him in ways he would never fully understand.
Barely contained by the fabric of his navy blue suit, the stretched buttons about to pop in an avalanche of ruddy flesh, the chancellor adjusted his red tie with fat fingers. His ring, engraved with the initials RA, glinted in the sunlight as the sweet stench of rotting decay hung in the air, mingling with the ever-present odor of sweaty flesh cologne couldn’t hide.
Jackie’s gaze followed the back of his bruised hand, knowing the exact weight of its touch. “It’s nice, Chancellor.”
“Nice?” Bad breath flowed in the wake of his every word. “Nice, he says! I give the boy a palace, and he says nice. You’re killing me, Jackie. Absolutely killing me.”
Jackie rushed aside before getting trampled. Floorboards creaked as the chancellor stormed further into the room, the world groaning under his weight in ways all too familiar to Jackie.
“Look at this.” He swept a meaty hand toward the shelves lining the wall. “Toys. Every toy you could imagine. Puzzles, books, video games, and every play system there is. I’ve even hired you a tutor. A Cambridge man.” He leaned close, his breath washing over Jackie’s face like a breeze over sewage. “He’s been working on my autobiography, The Art of the Crown. You know, Jackie, you never would’ve gotten an education without my help.”
His stomach sank under the weight of more debt. “Thank you, Chancellor.”
“There. That’s better.” The chancellor patted his head, those fat fingers lingering a moment too long. “You’re a good boy. Your mum was right about that.”
Jackie held perfectly still because resistance only made matters worse, so still he almost stopped existing inside his own body.
“How…” His voice cracked under the weight of building dread. “How long will I be staying, sir?”
The room implied ownership and permanence. The vulgar excess of toys suggested he wouldn’t go home until a sacrifice was made. Captivity.
Jackie had nothing to offer. But the chancellor had a way of extracting other things, things he didn’t like to think about.
The chancellor’s meaty hand squeezed his shoulder. Not hard enough to bruise. Just hard enough to remind Jackie who was in control. “A few weeks. Better for everyone. Less back and forth. Your mum agrees.”
Jackie’s stomach dropped through the floor, sinking into whatever hell existed beneath this gilded cage hidden so far away it might as well be in the clouds.
“Your mother’s getting worse, you know.” The chancellor said, staring out the window at the undisturbed horizon. “I’ve arranged for more medicine. But medicine’s expensive, Jackie. Very, very expensive.”
His acts of kindness tightened like a noose around Jackie’s neck, making it hard to swallow.
“We don’t want Mummy to get sicker, now, do we?” His tilted posture blocked the sunlight. “Without her medicine, she could die. Then where would you be, Jackie? An orphan. A nothing. No one to take care of you.” He turned and smiled. “You want me to help her, don’t you?”
“Yes, Chancellor.”
“Good boy.” He checked his gold watch, then pointed a sausage finger at the piles of toys. “You settle into your new room. Your tutor will be by this afternoon. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Yes, sir.” He backed away to avoid any further contact as the chancellor left the room. Only when he was gone did Jackie draw in a full, shaky breath.