Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Iwalked side by side with Bran, hands smoothing out my robes, unable to stay still. Anxiety swarmed my gut like a nest of angry sunhornets.
I had received the letter from a message carrier not even ten minutes after I had woken, the royal wax seal making me sick.
Apprentice Sommers, Prince Kairen has requested your presence at the palace in exactly thirty minutes. Please make your way to the entrance accordingly.
Regards,
Butler Nott
Bran hadn't wasted time in finding me after, his own letter in hand, a nervous expression on his face. Our walk was one of tense silence, only broken by the popping of his knuckles every few minutes.
A nervous habit he’d had since childhood.
I had never stepped foot within the Solerian Palace, and had never wanted to. Hands shaking as we approached, a man in brown robes threaded with gold met us.
"Apprentice Sommers, Recruit Sommers," he greeted with an incline of his head. Despite his servant's position, this man was not Luanthian. The high position of serving the royal family never fell to the converts. "I am Butler Nott, allow me to show you to the meeting room."
I couldn't help but notice his greying black hair was balding at the crown of his head. His deep brown eyes were kind though, wrinkles crinkling around his eyes and smile lines prominently set into his skin. He looked kind, like a grandfather I would see wandering the market on a spring day.
The belly of the beast.
Crooning their disapproval, the shadows swarmed.
A palace so high and towering.
Of sun and fire.
To burn you alive.
Be careful, little shadow.
For our enemies lurk around every corner.
I clamped down hard on the anxiety, pushing and shoving it from the forefront of my mind.
Bran watched from the corner of his eye, a hand reaching out to steady me.
I gave him a small, reassuring smile and he looked away as Butler Nott led us through various lavish hallways.
The interior of the palace was the most expensive thing I had ever beheld.
Gold details lined every corridor, as if it was threaded through the palace walls the way it was threaded in the Master robes.
Our steps echoed off the pristine marble floors in stretches not blanketed by lavishly woven runners.
Everywhere I looked, there were extravagant paintings hung on the sunstone or golden vases perched on marbled stands, filled with flowers so fresh they had to have been cut that very morning.
Every inch of this massive, bustling building was pristine.
It was begrudgingly impressive, yet a thought lingered in the back of my mind.
What would the Luanthian palace have looked like if it wasn't reduced to ash and dust?
Would it have rivaled the beauty of this place, would I have felt more at ease entering its doors? Would the moonstone it was built of have glowed under the stars the way the sunstone shone in the rays of the day?
We entered a simpler section, something more akin to business than extravagance, but still elegant in its design. We stopped before a dark, wooden door.
Butler Nott rapped his knuckles against it and I swallowed thickly as a faint, familiar voice called out, "Enter."
The door led to a simple, clean office space.
Perhaps a bit larger than necessary, but not overly ornate.
A dark, sleek wooden desk sat in the center of it with a high-backed chair.
Behind it was a large window that overlooked the barracks and forest beyond, allowing the brilliant light of midday to illuminate the space.
Tall bookshelves lined the left wall, and in the center of the room were five plush, green chairs formed in a circle around a low table that perfectly shade-matched the desk.
My gaze immediately found the man sitting in one of those chairs, his silver and green eyes boring into me as he lounged comfortably.
Call me a coward again, little menace, and I'll flay the skin from your bones and toss you in the woods for all the little creatures to feast upon, do you understand?
His words, his proximity last night echoed in my mind as my stomach lurched with surprise and fascination.
His fingers moved in a lazy, lilting pattern, a trail of water following his motions.
It had been so long since I had seen blessed magic bestowed by the Goddess Lua in the act.
The Luanthians who converted to Soli were forbidden from using their magic, with very few exceptions.
All those that could use them were only allowed to under very strict conditions.
It appeared Roan Delmar did not have those same restrictions.
The magic was breathtaking.
There was something innate that drew me to him. Something that called deep within me, a familiarity that overwhelmed me every time our eyes met. It was a shame the man was such a prick because as much as I hated to admit it, he was beautiful.
Rena caught my attention next, sitting beside the Kinslayer, she gave an excited smile and wave. I relaxed slightly, giving her a small, but genuine, grin in return.
"Syra, Branson," Prince Kairen greeted as he rose from the chair behind the desk, his posture easygoing. “Welcome, I'm glad you both could make it."
Bran bowed deeply and I, begrudgingly, followed suit.
"Prince Kairen—”
"Please call me Kai, no need for formality," he said, gesturing me to a chair, one that just so happened to be directly across from the man I so desperately wished to avoid.
Grinding my teeth lightly, a tight smile pulled at my lips as I took the seat, Bran and Kairen both following suit.
"Your Highness," I inserted instead, ignoring his request and going for an even more formal title simply to vex the people within the room.
Perhaps a miscalculation, but I was past caring.
“Thank you for the invitation. I'm assuming this meeting is to discuss whether we'll be joining you on your quest."
He tilted his head in a subtle nod of confirmation. “Have you come to a decision?"
Taking a deep breath, I turned slightly to glance at Bran and his chin dipped reassuringly. "We have," I said, hands clasping in my lap, my nails picking at the skin. “We will join you, but I have conditions before we finalize that decision."
An unsurprised chuckle sounded and the Kinslayer spoke, his lips twisting in a cruel smirk. “What a shocker that you have more demands."
Rena interjected before I could say a word, her normally playful tone exasperated. “Oh hush, you bully. We’re asking a lot from them, it's only fair that they too get to have a say in how this happens."
I had never heard anyone speak to Captain Delmar in such a cavalier manner, besides perhaps Kairen, but I didn't allow my shock to show.
Instead I chose to ignore his comment and the scowl that had settled over his face as I turned back to the Prince.
"I had not planned on my third trial taking months, weeks perhaps, but not months.
I have many responsibilities here in Amori City, especially within the Old Quarter, as many Healers and Potion Makers refuse to enter it.
I worry that my Aunt, my mentor, will be overworked without my assistance.
She has temporary aid now, but if my cousin and l are to travel with you for however long this takes, I will only be able to go if she is provided a more permanent support in my absence.
I request that one Potion Maker and one Healer each—ones that you trust to care for those in the Old Quarter with compassion and without complaint—be sent to help her at least three times a week.
Whether they alternate days or go together, they can work out those details with my Aunt, but I cannot join you unless this is met. "
Silence followed my request as the three exchanged looks and Bran cleared his throat.
"My mother is getting older, Prince Kairen," he began, his voice strong and clear.
“My cousin is the only assistance she has and helps her more than I can even express.
It would be a large burden on my mother to lose her for months, and it would be detrimental to the people that they treat. "
The prince nodded slowly, his golden eyes meeting mine with curiosity. "You care for those in the Old Quarter very much, that I can see," he said as he scribbled a note on a sheet of paper that laid on the table. "I will see that it is done. Your family will have no worries while we are away."
A breath of relief released in a slow exhale.
"Your next request then?" Delmar asked, arms crossing, his water forgotten in a cup that rested on the arm of his chair.
“If a cure is found," I hesitated, knowing this could very likely land me in hot water, but I needed to make sure, "if I am able to help create this cure that your prophecy foretells, I need to be involved in every aspect of it.
Including the distribution. There will be no hoarding it for one group or set of people.
It is not only Solerian borns and the royal court that it should be accessible to.
I need confirmation that this will be for the benefit of all of the Tavarrian people, including those in the Old Quarter and the Solerian converts. "
Bran stilled; we had not discussed this.
I hadn't even dared to bring it up to him, afraid that he would try to talk me out of it.
Not that he didn't care about the welfare of all people, but he was protective of me.
However, after that interaction with the message carrier the night before, after learning how the Solerian converts could only be attended by Master Healers on certain days despite what ailed them or how serious it was, it made me nervous.
Was it really so far-fetched that they would keep the cure for themselves too?
The silence was cut through by a surprised laugh, all attention turning to Rena. "Oh, dear Uncle Artius will just love that, won't he?"