Romans & histoires Gilded Series

As expected, Gillian's house was a blast. His house was a futuristic style house. It wasn't large or close to the size of a mansion, but it was considerably big and painted gold. Literally, the house was polished with metallic gold paint. Along with the printed glasses, it gave the house a luxurious exterior appearance. When I got inside, I wasn't disappointed. I already had my guess that Gillian was clean, but the house helped me confirm it. The interior was neatly arranged and the rose gold glitter wall paint was spotless. Gillian probably had a thing for the word "gold" because his furniture was metallic white gold.

The certainty didn’t hurt the way it should have. It terrified her how much it didn’t. He looked at her like he wanted to say something else. Something dangerous. Something irreversible. Instead, he stepped back. Distance slotted into place like armor. “Go inside,” he said. “You first.” A beat. He turned and walked toward the tower doors. She watched him disappear into Briarcrest’s mouth of glass and light. The banner still burned above the atrium when she entered later, their names fused in gold. Moore / Calder.

He walked into the lion's den. The interior of the Gilded Cog was an assault on the senses. Chandeliers made of Aether-crystals cast a prismatic light over the main hall. The air was thick with the scent of lavender smoke and expensive perfume. In the center of the room, a circular bar revolved slowly, serving drinks that glowed in neon colors. The clientele were the masters of the new world: Merchant Princes in silk robes, arms dealers in reinforced suits, and courtesans with mechanical limbs plated in gold.

She tried to distract herself from the sudden tension by looking at the restaurant. The Gilded Lily lived up to its name. Its exterior was white marble and polished brass, its tall, arching windows gleaming with warm light, exuding an atmosphere of old-world royalty and new-world wealth. It was quite the opposite of The Cozy Corner, the casual place Lucian had taken them to for their date. While The Cozy Corner was a dim, informal hangout, The Gilded Lily was classically elegant and undeniably expensive—the typical place Vyr Machiavelli would pick out.

Lucian stood up, his face an unreadable mask, and looked out at the garden where Leo was still playing. "What is the Gilded Key, Lucian?" I asked, walking up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn't turn around. "A myth. A ghost story told by the old money families. They’re the people who bankrolled my father, and his father before him. They don't care about companies or titles, Eve. They care about control. If Silas Miller had a drive with their names... we aren't just looking at a corporate war anymore. We're looking at an uprising."

Of course I asked, but he only ever told me that he hoped I would never have cause to find out what is safely stowed under the ground and sprawling roots of the densely packed trees. My mind has flitted from jewels and gold, to weapons and historical artefacts, but the rumours of other powers guiding our former King, makes me wonder if I am ready to unearth yet another secret. “The Gilded Guard are more than protectors of the crown, they are guardians of the realm. Only the oldest souls have the knowledge of the conflicts of our past, and from our past we can learn to build a better future for our kind.” Is what Sebastian told me before the ceremony that changed my life.

She rolled over onto her back, her dark eyes widening as she looked up through the dense treeline. The Gilded Fortress was gone. The massive, multi-million-dollar Bedford estate was a towering inferno of orange flames and black smoke, the dark stone structures collapsing into a massive crater of burning rubble. Everything Dominic had used to cage her, everything she had fought against for weeks, had been completely erased from the face of the earth in a single, calculated stroke of treachery. "Vivian..." A low, ruined groan drifted from the dark shadows beside a massive pine tree.

The seating chart was on a small ivory card on the sideboard, and Eleanor checked it as they came in and found that Preston had not been invited, which she registered as either mercy or strategy and could not immediately determine which. She was seated between her uncle Gerrard and Daniel. Gerrard was seventy, red-faced, jovial in the specific way of men who have never had to moderate themselves and have mistaken this for good humor. He collected American antiques. Eleanor had, in the car, considered warning Daniel about Gerrard, and had decided against it for the same reason she’d decided against the shirt: Daniel didn’t need to be managed. Daniel needed to be allowed. Gerrard found Daniel