Chapter Twelve
Skylar Cathal
The waters of Sapphire Bay shimmered beneath us in a living display of blues that shifted with every breath of wind.
Near the shore, the color lightened to a transparent, glassy turquoise, revealing schools of silver fish darting between ribbons of seaweed.
Farther out, the bay deepened into hues of cobalt and indigo, the surface glinting like polished stone beneath the sun.
Every ripple caught the light like a blade’s edge, scattering brilliance across the hull of our ship.
A part of me still didn’t believe what we were about to do. “We’re here,” I said aloud, needing to hear someone say it.
Daxton moved to stand beside me at the front of the ship. His hand reached around to the small of my back to lend me strength. “We’re ready.”
Seabirds soared above. Their cries mingled with the clamor of the bustling harbor and the creak of passing ships. A horn bellowed from the shore to announce our arrival. Its echo rolled over the water as sunlight flashed off the golden armor of the waiting guards.
“Are Rhea and Talon aware of the plan?” Daxton asked.
“Yes,” I answered. “I’m surprised Castor didn’t throw himself overboard during our journey.”
Talon wasn’t a fan of fancy attire or politics, and Rhea would ask every condescending question to Castor to get a rise out of him.
Daxton chuckled. “Nyssa was able to talk him down the other evening.”
Thank the gods for her.
“Nyssa agrees with staying behind?” I asked.
Daxton nodded. “I overheard Talon suggest that Rhea—”
“Ha,” I laughed. “And I bet he nearly got his head bitten off for even thinking it.”
I understood Talon’s concerns, but I also empathized with Rhea. I would choose the same if the roles were reversed.
The ship rocked gently as the crew worked to guide the Opal into the harbor. From where I stood at the bow, the human capital sprawled across the coastline like a jewel scattered in sunlight. Whitewashed buildings climbed the cliffs in layers, their tiled roofs gleaming beneath the midmorning sun.
The scent of salt and smoked fish mingled with the sharper tang of oil and the faint sweetness of baked bread. Voices carried across the water: laughter, the rhythmic calls of fishermen unloading their catch, and the distant clang of metal on metal as dockworkers hammered at ships’ hulls.
Daxton’s hand left my back as the gangplank was lowered. He straightened his dress shirt and gave me a look that was equal parts reassurance and warning.
“Ready?” he asked quietly.
“As I’ll ever be.”
We descended from the gangplank of the Opal first, our steps light across the dock’s wooden planks.
A small contingent of human guards waited at the end of the pier, their armor decorated with red-and-gold crests stamped across their chests.
An older man with salt-and-pepper brown hair and chestnut eyes stepped forward and gave us a curt bow.
“High King and Alpha Queen of the Inner Kingdom,” he said. “I am Captain Ryder Wyndfall. On behalf of King Taran and Princess Réalta, welcome to Zircon. My guards and I are here to escort you to the palace.”
“Your hospitality is appreciated,” Daxton replied evenly, the diplomat in him already at work.
“How many are accompanying you?” the captain asked.
“Two from my pack,” I said, standing straight at Daxton’s side.
Behind us, Rhea muttered something under her breath about welcoming parties with too much metal, earning a sharp elbow from Talon. “And High Prince Castor of Silver Meadows, brother to my mate.”
Castor was the last to join us. His dark eyes scanned the crowd that had begun to gather at the edge of the market street. Children pointed and whispered, and women with baskets of fish paused to stare. To them, we must have seemed otherworldly.
The High Fae had not ventured to these lands in over five hundred years. And shifters? Well, our people had been at war with each other just as long.
Captain Wyndfall nodded. “This way.”
“Keep your eyes open,” I said, speaking to our company.
“Take note of the population, layout of the city, defenses, and number of armed patrols in the streets,” Daxton added.
Talon’s voice was calm, yet there was an unmistakable edge of concern. “There are more than we thought, Skylar.”
“The city is a fortress,” Rhea added.
“We knew we would not win this war by sheer force,” Daxton said.
I paused to examine the ships docked along the harbor, counting the number of sails along the shore. “There appear to be nearly one hundred ships here. What are our numbers in the Inner Kingdom?”
Daxton inclined his head, sweeping his silver gaze along the coast. “Aelius has thirty-five ships, Fjorda oversees fifteen, and Adohan ten.”
Even if forces collided on the sea, we were still outnumbered.
As we moved through the streets, merchants called out. The colors of silks, spices, and dried herbs filled my senses. Fishermen hauled nets heavy with silver-scaled catch while street performers twirled ribbons beside the fountain in the square.
Children darted between the crowds, their laughter ringing like bells. A pair of boys raced past with wooden swords, dueling their imagined foes, while a group of younger girls skipped rope beside a fountain, their skirts fluttering like flower petals.
The cobblestones gave way to marble steps as we meandered through the city and neared the palace gates.
Two massive towers flanked the entry, their banners rippling with the distant sea breeze.
Beyond the gates, a castle rose in breathtaking symmetry.
It was a masterpiece of pale stone touched with veins of gold.
Its high spires and sweeping arches reached toward the clouds like prayers cast in marble.
The sunlight reflected off the metallic domed roofs, scattering a soft brilliance across the courtyard below.
Water from nearby fountains glittered like liquid crystal, while the faint hum of the bay still echoed in the distance.
The guards parted, and the captain beckoned us to move forward.
“King Taran and his heir, Princess Réalta, will greet you formally in the throne room this evening,” Wyndfall said. “Afterward, you are invited to join them for a shared dinner. His Majesty hopes this meeting marks the beginning of peace between our realms.”
Peace. The word sounded fragile and delicate, like glass—beautiful, but easily broken if not treated with care.
I exchanged a glance with Daxton as we crossed the threshold into the palace. Whatever waited beyond these doors would decide more than land agreements and treaties.
It would shape the fate of all Valdor.