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Erik~~

This is living.

Still fastening the buttons on my shirt, I slip out of Cerenia Lochel's bedchamber and make my way out of her townhouse. I have to duck behind a few curtains and inside a couple of doorways to avoid the ever-watchful eyes of servants—if my presence wasn't enough to raise suspicion then the lipstick stains on my gray collar might. I'm not sure if that's as damning as my lips almost certainly being red and swollen.

It'd take them mere moments to report my presence to Rallem Lochel who's currently somewhere on another continent, plying members of an Order with wine to get them to fund his ventures.

            It's late enough in the night that when I exit her house through a backdoor, no one else is on the street.

            Light emanating from a lamppost glints off of the gold emerald encrusted band circled around my finger. A new gift from Cerenia. I wiggle my fingers, taking a moment to watch how the light bounces off it. I'll sell it soon enough.

            Iron lampposts line most of the streets in Sola including this back one. It's not real fire that burns inside their glass prisons, but even knowing that, I can't tell it's fake from looking at it.

All of the buildings in Sola were built to match, and any new buildings must be constructed with the same dark gray stone exterior that is found throughout the city. Their doors and trim have to be either black or gray.

The street is made out of a light tan material that is not found on Earth. I once visited Bath on my only trip to England, after the monarchy issued a rare invitation to my father and Jonas's father to come and discuss healing the centuries-old wounds our countries have between them. Sola is Bath if it were to undergo a creepy paintjob.

Jonas insisted the two of us visit the Roman Bath Houses. That was back when my cousin could talk me into things, back when my cousin was my friend and not my former boss. 

            I head up the sidewalk ready to end my night with a drink. There's a tavern a few blocks away that I usually end up making it to once a week. They have good prices, and I'm in no hurry to ask Alastair for help.

            A light buzz still trickles through my veins and mind from the wine I shared with Cerenia nearly two hours ago. I stretch out my arms, cracking my back and letting out a yawn. There's no one around to see my behavior so far removed from the realm of decorum. I lick my lips wishing I could still taste wine on them but instead only find the taste of Cerenia's lipstick. This planet truly has the best wine, and I've absolutely no clue why the Society didn't import it. As I cross the street, I picture my family running a winery and a rogue laugh slips out. I can so clearly see Eli, my cousin, complaining about smashing grapes with his feet—they'd better run that kind of winery only so they can torture Eli. Bently, another cousin of mine and falling in rank in the Order right below Eli, would host wine tastings and use them as an excuse to get drunk.

            I laugh some more before I find myself frowning and not knowing why.

            I don't have time to ponder that—bless the stars above—as I reach the tavern. It should be closing in about an hour, though there are only a few patrons inside—not the usual crowd it typically boasts at this time of night.

            I tuck myself in the corner of the bar counter, pulling out a silver coin that will cover a glass of mead. No one ever seems to drink mead anymore on Earth. When did we decide as a planet that beer and wine were better? I missed that meeting and would have made a killer argument for the wonderous world that is mead.

            Once a glass is in my hand, I observe the rest of the tavern, curious about my fellow patrons. There are two men further down the counter. The Amoris here are less terrifying than those in the Society. Maybe it's because they don't have an inclination for living underground like those back home in Elleany. Frowning again, I swish the mead around in my glass. Home. Elleany isn't my home. Amoria is, not that I exactly have a place here. I spend most of my time hopping between cities and continents.

The only other patron is a woman seated at a table. She watches me, her dark purple eyes narrowed. When I meet her gaze, she doesn't look away now that's been caught or even as her mind processes my Expiration Date. It seems like an awful power to know someone's death when you make eye contact with them. She wears a dark green dress with a brown leather jacket layered over it. Her ebony hair flows in box braids halfway down her back, and her skin is a dark umber brown. Her cheek bones are sharp, limned in highlighter that shimmers when she angles her head at me, her lips turned down, and I have the vague notion she's looking down her nose at me.

            She's sips on a glass of wine, moving her gaze toward the door as if she's suddenly bored with me. I wouldn't be able to guess her exact age, but she can't be much older than me. She's prettier than Iris. Maybe I'm attracted to women who exude blatant disgust with me.

            Perhaps I should go to therapy, I think and take another sip of mead. As it runs down my throat, I come to my weekly conclusion that this is cheaper than finding a therapist who won't blab to Alastair. 

            I examine the new ring on my finger, wondering how much it will fetch me.

            Alastair calls me often asking if I need anything, and I haven't had the guts to tell him I've ran out of the money the Society gave me three months ago for when I arrived on Amoria and that I don't have a job yet. He'll tell Jonas, who will tell the rest of the Order. Just the thought of them sneering and laughing at that news and saying they knew it is almost enough to call the bartender over to refill my half-empty glass.

            Amoria is full of rich women whose husbands are always too busy off kissing the feet of the five Orders to pay attention to them. Their gifts are enough to get me by without seeking out the heir to Amoria for help.

            He won't stop asking to see me, but I've found excuses to postpone. Even if I wanted to see him now, I can't. He's on his way to Earth for Jonas's and Iris's wedding.

            The stool beside mine scrapes against the ground, and the woman slides onto it.

            I raise an eyebrow at her and take another sip of mead.

            "You're Erik Blackwood?"

            "The one and only."

            "You're a lot more depressing to look at than I imagined."

            "Oh really?" Another sip. "And in what situations were you imagining me?"

            She ignores my question. "I've heard you need money."

            I raise my hand, showing off the ring. "Does it look like I need it?"

            "You can either continue to sleep with other men's wives or you can help me."

            "And what does someone like you need with someone like me?"

            "You used to be Tresais."

            I grimace. "Yes."

            "But Gwen Blackwood replaced you."

            "You don't need to recount my life story. If I thought it was interesting, I would have put it in a book. But I didn't, so I don't want to hear it."

            Her nostrils flare, and she splays her palm on the table. "My name is Rydersin Torellae. My father is Preeminence of Acquaellia. I'm his eldest, but because I am not male, my brother who is only four is destined to be Preeminence." In Earth years, he'd be eight. Though being a ten-year old here means something completely different than it does on Earth, I still don't like referring to myself as it when I'm twenty-one. "The rest of his Order have heirs who are old enough to take over, but now they must wait. My father taught me everything he will teach my brother. Help me convince the Orders to make me Preeminence."

            "And why would I bother? That seems like an exorbitant amount of work. My time is valuable."

            She throws a look at my almost empty glass. "Clearly. If I become Preeminence, you will never have to work another day in your life. You can spend the rest of your days drinking if you so desire."

            I stand and finish off my drink.

            "What do you say?"

            I drop an extra coin on the table for a tip and turn toward the door. "No."

You've made it to book 4! Thank you so much for reading this far! For those here at the beginning of me writing Exposed, I'm so excited to have you join me on this journey. Be sure to join the Discord for updates and of course for fun. We write one shots on there and share music. It's great.