Chapter 52 #3
“The Flamelands don't keep slaves,” I bit out, unable to tear my eyes away as the auctioneer unclasped the pair's chains from the post and placed them into the waiting hand of a tall, radiant female. Applause erupted throughout the square as she led them away.
Thalassis gave an amused snort. “You've seen Dheren, have you not?”
A knot tightened in my stomach. I remembered the endless darkness beneath the mountains, the Vein roaring through the depths like a river of molten fire, and the vacant-eyed soldiers with swirls of raised runes etched across their faces.
“The Court of Flames enjoys presenting itself as civilized.” His gaze drifted back toward the square.
“Yet every faerie born there is conscripted into military service. Vein-tempered beads are driven beneath their skin, and with them, obedience. A command is given, and they have no choice but to obey it. Their bodies are no longer entirely their own.” He looked at me. “Wouldn't you call that slavery?”
I had no answer.
“At least our slaves retain themselves,” he continued.
“They think. They choose. They're housed and fed. They can petition for a new placement if their master proves cruel, receive an education, and even earn—or purchase—their freedom if they possess valuable skills, though doing so requires them to leave Pelaga.” He gave a small shrug.
“The Flamelands strip people of their wills. Compared to that, what we practice here is mercy.”
Thalassis watched me closely, as though he could see the illusion of the Court of Flames unraveling inside my mind. Then he drove the knife deeper. “Here, we learned from the Dark Prince's control. In the Flamelands, they were inspired by it.”
The words struck like a blow.
Aedric condemned the Dark Prince for the monster he’d been, yet in Dheren, he'd built an army in the image of the very power he claimed to despise. The realization left me reeling.
Thalassis slapped his palms against his knees, startling me from my thoughts. “I'm absolutely famished! Shall we return to the palace for lunch?”
I forced a strained smile. “That sounds delightful.”
“Excellent.”
He rapped his fist against the wall of the palanquin, and the servants—slaves—turned it around, retracing our route through the city.
From this direction, the palace rose above the rooftops, and beyond it, sheer cliffs thrust through the surface of the ocean, their jagged faces disappearing into the world above.
“What's that over there?”
Thalassis followed my gaze to the wall of rock rising through the sea.
“The Cliffs of Malaer.” He folded his hands in his lap as the palanquin swayed gently onward.
“Treacherous things. They're riddled with caves and hidden passages, with ruins scattered throughout, though most have crumbled to little more than rubble.” He glanced out the window, clearly uninterested in the subject.
“Remnants of the Vaelorii, I suspect, from when they first constructed Pelaga and ruled the coastline from here to what was once Solmire. Though nothing compared to what they built here.”
My attention remained fixed on the cliffs. Rìan was up there. I was certain of it.
A current of brilliant blue hugged their base, flowing alongside the rock face like a luminous river.
It glowed from somewhere deep within itself, the radiant torrent disappearing behind the wall of stone before emerging again farther along the coastline, where it continued its endless course through the sea.
“Is that the Tidelands Vein?” I asked.
Thalassis glanced at me, looking faintly impressed. “One of its capillaries. The Vein itself shifted eons ago. You do have an unfortunate habit of spoiling my surprises, Elowen.” A crooked smile tugged at his lips.
His gaze returned to the cliffs, his expression warming with unmistakable pride.
“It was from that very capillary that I drew power from the Vein to drown the city. I—” Thalassis fell silent.
A faint crease formed between his brows, his gaze fixed on nothing at all.
His hand drifted to his chest, rubbing absently over his heart.
“Are you alright?”
“I can sense…” he murmured. His eyes lifted sharply to the cliffs.
My pulse stumbled. As a conduit to the Vein, could he sense Rìan's presence so close to the river of magic? Before I could think better of it, I rested a hand gently on Thalassis's knee. His attention snapped to it immediately.
“Perhaps we could take lunch privately,” I suggested with an easy smile. “I'm very much enjoying your company, and I'm fascinated by the Tidelands. I'd love to continue our conversation there.”
His expression softened at once, the concern melting away like a cat distracted by a bowl of cream. His broad hand closed over mine, keeping it where it rested on his leg.
“What of Aedric?”
I lowered my eyes, forcing a shy smile. “Perhaps I’ll let him rest a while longer.”
The gleam in Thalassis's eye made my skin crawl, but I forced myself to leave my hand where it was. I endured his touch for the remainder of the journey back to the palace.