Chapter 21 #2
“I don’t have to understand anything,” I snap, my Gift roiling. I lash out with it, sending twin walls of ice shooting down either side of the street, slamming into the cages. Metal bends and screeches and snaps, iron bars crumpling into frozen heaps.
Killian arches a brow but doesn’t comment, his body taut and his jaw clenched tightly. He rides ahead, wisely leaving me to seethe alone. Odessa doesn’t speak either, though I can tell she wants to. My Gift is still writhing, my skin covered in a sheen of frost.
-You need to calm.-
-What!? How can you say that?-
-There has been no human in those cages for a long, long time- Soren points out. -And there are many things you do not yet understand.-
I grit my teeth so hard I fear I might crack my jaw.
-Then. Someone. Fucking. Explain. It. To. Me.-
-It is not my story to tell.-
I glare at the cat and he gazes steadily back, icy blue eyes rimmed with gold warring with emerald green. He stares, unblinking, defiant. I finally huff in annoyance and look away.
-I win.-
-I will skin you and wear you as a frock coat.-
He chuckles low and stalks forward, and I force my Gift to recede, my skin warming once more.
We reach the path that leads up to the palace and a towering gate stands at the entrance, two stone dragons perched on each pillar.
Two guards stand at attention on either side, nodding deeply to Killian as he passes, putting fists over chests.
The path is narrower than the King’s Road, but our three horses can ride beside each other if we so choose.
We don’t.
I’m still fuming, though I have calmed, as Soren instructed, and I’m trying my best to cling to hope.
Hadn’t King Ryker told me that things aren’t necessarily what they seem?
If three of the people I have come to hold in such special places in my heart can somehow serve and trust Dorian, I should at least try to let them explain, shouldn’t I?
And I recall now that Dorian stopped inviting guests from the empire to gawk at his Gifteds in cages long ago as his madness worsened, before he closed the kingdom off completely.
So, I suppose it stands to reason that perhaps the Gifteds aren’t forced into those cages any longer at all, guests or not.
I let out a long, slow breath, telling myself over and over to keep my mind open.
Killian leads the way, Dessa behind me, and Soren walking along the ledge with an easy grace that’s bordering on preternatural.
We wind our way up the side of the mountain, back and forth, rising higher and higher above the city.
I try not to look out over the kingdom because every time I do, the buildings below look a little smaller and my stomach inches farther up into my throat.
More dragon statues stand guard atop pillars along the way, some with wings outstretched as if in flight, some looking as if they’re ready to leap from their perches, stone claws curling and digging.
We finally reach the front of the palace, the huge doors carved of the deepest obsidian, a giant silver dragon’s head in their center.
Several squires rush forward to take our horses as we dismount, but give Soren uneasy glances and a wide berth.
The damned cat flashes his fangs and one of the boys pales, the other making a sound that’s somewhere between a squeal and a yelp.
He stumbles backwards, tripping, and landing right on his ass in a freshly deposited pile of dung.
My hand flies to my mouth and Dessa chortles.
“Soren!” I scold in a low hiss, but I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up my throat. I meet Killian’s gaze and though he’s trying his damndest not to laugh, his lips curl and his shoulders shake.
-You know it was funny.-
-Ok, yes, it was fucking hysterical, but still rude. You could have killed the poor boy.-
I give Zaro a loving pat on the neck and he noses my hair.
“Thank you for being my companion through all of this,” I tell the horse quietly. “I hope I’ll see you again soon.”
The only squire to keep his wits about him with Soren steps up to take Zaro’s reins, inclining his head. He leads the horse away, the others following now that the other boys have regained some composure, and I stare up at the doors, at the dragon that seems to be watching my every step.
“Are you ready?” Dessa asks softly.
I sigh. “As I’ll ever be.”
We ascend the wide stone stairs and two more guards in black, silver dragon pins in the center of their chests, open the doors.
The inside of the palace is breathtaking, all soaring ceilings and polished deep gray stone and silver adornments.
It’s dark, but not in a brooding, dismal way as I expected it to be, to reflect the dismal king himself.
The corridors are wide, the staircases numerous and sprawling, the curtains and rugs and everything else refined and elegant, but not gaudy or garish.
“What do you think?” Killian asks quietly. Two young maids rush forward, assumingly to taker our coats, but Killian holds up a hand to stay them. They incline their heads and slip back into one of the alcoves.
“It’s…big,” I say, craning my head back to stare up, up, up to the soaring ceiling, so high that it’s swallowed up in shadows. He laughs low and opens his mouth to speak again, but an old man joins us then, smiling fondly at Killian and bowing low.
“Commander,” he says, eyes flicking to me for a moment before shifting back to Killian. “Welcome home.”
“It’s good to be home, Frederick.” Killian smiles back at the old man, a soft, comfortable smile.
The two are obviously familiar. “Frederick this is…our guest,” Killian hedges.
“Frederick is the King’s Second,” he says to me.
The older man inclines his head, his long gray hair tumbling over his shoulder as he does.
“Welcome to Duskthorne.”
I find that I can’t quite make myself speak, my throat suddenly dry and closed.
I’m here, in the Duskthorne palace, about to meet the most despicable monarch in all of Hypathia.
I know logically that I have nothing to fear—Soren will rip the king’s throat out and I’ll finish the job with a blade of ice if I have to, but fear isn’t always logical.
So, I merely nod to the man before he turns back to Killian.
“You may meet in the throne room in an hour. We have a few matters to discuss before then and in the meantime, I’m sure our guest would like to freshen up after so long on the road. A hot bath has already been drawn for you.”
“Oh. Thank you.” The thought of a steaming hot bath puts all of my anxiety aside for the time being.
As much as I want this meeting done, the short reprieve is welcome, and I’ll admittedly feel better about meeting Dorian bathed and in fresh clothes.
He may be a horrible king, but he’s still a king.
“Food will be brought to your room as well—for you and your, um, companion,” Frederick says, sounding unsure as he glances to Soren. The cat stares back, unblinking, and Federick quickly looks away.
“I’ll show her the way,” Dessa offers, taking my arm and ferrying me away up the curving staircase to our left before either of the men can say a word.
Soren stalks behind us as we walk down corridors and cross landings and up more stairs until I’m dizzy with all of the twists and turns.
There’s no way I’ll ever be able to find my way back again.
We finally stop in front of a polished wooden door with dark metal hinges and a dragon’s head carved into the knob.
She pushes it open and I step inside, eyes widening.
It’s huge, the walls rounded, and I realize it must be in one of the towers.
A fire burns in the large hearth and sconces along the walls shine brightly.
There’s a large bed set between two windows covered in midnight velvet, thick, fur blankets atop it with black silk draped between the four posts.
Thick rugs cover much of the floor and I long to kick off my boots and dig my toes into the fur.
A large painted screen divides part of the room, and I can see steam rising from just beyond it from the tub.
I have to fight not to strip off my clothes this instant.
Soren prowls around the space, doing his own investigations.
I see that a pallet of furs has been made up for him as well beside the doors to what I assume is a balcony.
Truth be told, I’m a little afraid to look outside, the height must be staggering and I’m not sure I’m fond of them after the ride up to the palace.
I frown, wondering why we’ve been given such opulent accommodations.
It’s true I hadn’t been expecting to be tossed into a dungeon anymore, but this room seems like one that should be reserved for other royals or members of the court.
“How did you know where the room was?” I ask Odessa as she scratches Soren’s head.
“I practically grew up in the palace,” she tells me. “Federick and my father were old friends, and being the weapons master meant we were here often. And…” She trails off, pursing her lips. “And I know where they keep the valued guests,” she finishes with a smile.
“Valued, am I?” I snort.
“You have no idea. Enjoy your bath, princess. I’m going to check on Mia, but I’ll be back for the meeting—should you wish me there?”
“Yes, please, if you’re allowed.”
“I’ll be there,” she assures me, icy blue eyes sparkling. “Mia will want to see you after,” she tells Soren, who gives his approximation of a meow in agreement. The archer laughs and leaves the room.
I shed my dirty clothes and practically leap into the bath.