21
They arrived at the gleaming palace within the hour. The golden gates were opened, and their retinue found themselves in a beautiful courtyard. The ground was pristine and displayed a masterpiece of a mosaic in shades of ivory and violet, gilt with a talented hand. It depicted the Tallohian gods, each clasping a moon above their heads, glimmering stars surrounding them.
A man dressed in pale livery opened the carriage door, bowing as he did so. In order, they filed out, Sarim taking the head while Valine tailed behind Malik at the rear.
For a moment, she was unsteady on her feet, surrounded by so many people, so many enemies. She deduced quickly that the walls were fortified with double the usual measure of guards and that every exit was closely watched. They may have been invited with a friendly hand, but the other held a blade—just in case. All the Tallohian soldiers were garbed in white, while Adraali’s own stood solid in black. The only connecting features were the hints of gold that adorned both.
“Welcome to Talloh, Your Majesty,” a dark-skinned, softly-spoken man announced, bowing grandly to Malik. “The city of Selyndyr awaits you. Pleasures and celebration abound.”
The air was scented with a bouquet of flora, the exotic scent of jasmine, and the cerulean ocean carried on the wind, mingled with the undertones of boiled leather and oiled metal. Around them, pampas grass swayed gently from glass vases while bronze-skinned servants waved large white feathers. The tinkling sound of fountains sang from beyond the ivory archways, soaring palm trees ghosting beyond the tenements.
“Many thanks,” Malik answered politely, dispensing with the formalities of a herald himself. “I look forward to enjoying the splendor of your divine kingdom.”
“May I announce the honored presence of the Gods-Blessed. King Jericho Aku Mayar, Queen Amaris Elara Mayar, and their daughter, the Crown Princess Jacira Lusin Mayar.”
Behind the soft-voiced man were the three named royals, grand in poise, style, and air. The royals of Talloh were so very unlike their people. The three rulers had moon-pale skin, unheard of in the northern kingdoms and the unforgiving sun. They believed it was a sign of their status and virtue by the gods that they so resembled the three moons they’d been hand-chosen by. Therefore, they went to great lengths to preserve the integrity of their moon flesh.
“It is a gift to be within your presence,” Malik said, dipping his head in deference. Even after days of travel by carriage, the Adraalian King was as beautiful and put together as ever.
Valine and the others sank to a knee until the king waved artlessly for them to rise.
The king was a tall man, well-built without the paunch his fifty-four years expected. His hair was the silver of graceful aging, carefully styled beneath the golden spikes and glass orbs of his crown. A crown that was studded with as many diamonds as there were stars in the sky.
“An honor few are bestowed, for certain, we do not deign to give our proximity to just anyone. Such sights are for the worthy. Whether they be our chosen foe is as equally possible as the selected friend.”
Valine’s lips tightened at the thinly veiled insult from King Jericho, but Malik was unruffled and retained that silky smile that made her heart squirm.
“I do not doubt that is the truth. We are as equally certain we extend the same platitudes,” Malik continued seamlessly as he swept his arm towards our group. “And may I so humbly introduce my closest of confidantes. Freyja Nahara, Alastair Whitechurch, Sarim Kahlil, and Valine Desdemon.”
Two Runellian names, the presence of which were not lost on the royals.
Queen Amaris stepped forward, soft shock igniting behind her jade eyes. She placed a hand on the bodice of her satin gown, the sun reflecting the metallic material in a blinding way. “It is our utmost pleasure to have you all present for our sacred Tri-Moon Festival. Perhaps it will open your eyes to the magnificence of the Stygian Ones.”
“Perhaps, Your Majesty. I would love to learn the glory of Talloh’s mighty crown.”
“A mighty crown it may be, but the gods are all-knowing and good, so it is their halo I prize.” With a flick of her fingers, stars bloomed above her delicate diamond tiara, tiny white fires that circled and burned around the queen’s brow.
A stellaemancer.
The Queen of Talloh was blessed by Nylantia, the patron daemon of the night and stars. But Valine knew better than to comment as such because the people of Talloh did not believe Nylantia and the other patrons were regarded as the legacy they were elsewhere. They believed all the gifts came from their three gods, and a gift of the cosmos upon their star-touched queen only further cemented that delusion.
“Truly an astonishing feat, Queen Amaris. One I am certain you are worthy of.”
“The gods would not have chosen me for my husband-king if that were not the case.”
“Oh, certainly,” Malik said with such grace Valine wondered if he wasn’t mocking her. “The gifts you possess are awe-inspiring. The stars aligned for this joyous occurrence. For if not for them we would not have gathered for such a glorious celebration. I’m sure this will be a festival one cannot forget.”
“Yes,” Jericho interjected, “a celebration made for appreciating our sacred gods and not another’s wife.”
“I agree. While such matters are lovely, I do not presume to know the dreams of gods and plights they encounter when creating such heavenly hosts for their gifts and seek only to offer reverence where it is deserved. Others kneel at the altar of their devotion, mayhap I will find myself there as well.”
Valine smirked at the careful navigation of Malik’s statement. The negotiating of respecting the queen and insulting the king with a final barb inflecting infidelity. She wondered if Malik would make plain a threat to seduce the beautiful queen or if he would let the infection of uncertainty fester, permitting it to disease in his thoughts.
Color bloomed high on the king’s cheeks, fury kept on a short leash, but the same color rose on the queen’s apples for an entirely different reason.
Valine felt jealousy stir ruinously in her chest. She quelled the riot; she had a mission here, and thoughts of where Malik’s cock might go would not derail the subterfuge and political acrobatics she must deploy.
“I can have Sylvan guide you to the appropriate houses of worship should you find yourself seeking the need to kneel at a temple,” the Tallohian King bit out.
“Oh, that would be appreciated. Though, I must admit to scholarly intrigue, as I believe I’ve found the temple I wish to worship,” Malik informed the other king and Valine’s heart jolted when she realized this was directed at her. His words were aimed towards her at the tail end of his sentence, the insinuation clear. He discreetly perused her, his tongue flicking against his teeth. His fingers curled, and Valine burned.
Lightheadedness quickly pulsed through Valine, and she had to blink past the momentary lapse. The mixture of heat and travel was the likely culprit—though she couldn’t entirely rule out her recent near-death.
King Jericho blinked once, not enough to be visibly off-put, but enough for the man to wonder if he’d read the signs wrong and he was at fault. He straightened, and a newfound smile plastered itself across his face.
“Well, my fellow king, I would quite enjoy sharing tales of your travels and the delights you shared along the way. I’ll instruct Sylvan to get you situated, and we shall meet at third bell for refreshments on the Izar Balcony?” Jericho beamed.
Valine struggled to understand the sudden change. Was the inference of Malik’s interest in Valine and not his wife enough for Jericho to switch so suddenly?
“I would love nothing more; I look forward to scintillating conversation.”
The three royals tilted their heads in acknowledgment before turning on their heels, and departing through one of the many arches with a contingency of guards. Malik and Valine were left with their company, surrounded by their own soldiers, and circled by Talloh’s.
Sylvan—the dark-skinned man—greeted them with a warm smile. “If you will, please follow me to the Vesper Wing, and I will direct you to your assigned rooms. Your people will be assigned to the nearby guest barracks.”
“Well, I will certainly be drinking in the garden, and I need vivacious company to join me,” Alastair announced. His bold yellow outfit was like a ripe citrus or a preening bird—eye-catching.
Some of the younger courtiers freckled throughout the space tittered excitedly, and Valine knew Alastair already had them on a hook. Here, the Runellian was fostering the beginnings of false friendship, the pretense to discover the secrets of Talloh and bring about its downfall. She smiled, and with that, they followed.