10. Chapter 10
B y the time the walls of Pyraelia came into view, the journey had drained every last ounce of strength from Ren. Just days ago, she’d been certain she’d never see another town again. Yet here she was, breathing, walking, alive .
The thought felt unreal.
Soot clung to her skin in a thin, grimy layer, and sweat had long since plastered her hair to her temples and the back of her neck. Each step felt heavier than the last, her boots coated in dust.
Ren wasn’t sure if it was her near-hysterical stupor or sheer disbelief, but the sight of Pyraelia gate’s took her breath away.
Carved from dark obsidian, the gates were flanked by steel-winged sentinels that watched Ren’s every step.
Beyond them, Pyraelia unfolded in layers of marble and cypress.
Spires rose against the midmorning sky, their tips shimmering with mosaic glass.
Pyraelia had little land to spare, so it had grown upward instead. Buildings stacked on buildings, their spires and balconies entwined. For someone used to the squat villages of the western region, the scale was dizzying.
They wound through streets where opulence danced hand in hand with vice; velvet-curtained windows spilled lively music onto slick cobbles, and laughter rolled out of open doorways.
One doorway caught Ren’s eye – marked by a tarnished brass plaque reading Shades of Love , Ren wasn’t sure if it was an inn, a tavern, or a shop that promised indulgences best left to imagination.
As they passed the open doorway, Ren caught a glimpse of a female fae meticulously choosing between two colors of silks and an ever eager merchant giving her suggestions.
“You’ve got the kind of figure that deserves to be celebrated, not hidden.
This one would flatter a voluptuous shape.
It clings in all the right places and drapes in all the wrong ones, darling. ”
Ren hadn’t realized she had paused to stare until two pairs of eyes fell on her. Ren’s cheeks went hot.
Before Ren could muster a response, the merchant chuckled softly and crooned.
“Ah, I see. The bashful sort. Don’t worry, dear – curiosity isn’t a sin here.
Come now, try one. We have every color, and the best silk in Pyraelia.
” The merchant’s eyes assessed Ren’s figure from top to bottom, lingering on Ren’s hips.
“A body like yours deserves something daring, perhaps ember silk. It tends to slip off very easily.”
Ren nearly choked. “I-I think I’ll pass,” she muttered. She ducked away and hurried to catch up to Talen and Elira.
Around the corner was a tavern. A fae male lounged in the doorway, simmering lazy grace and mischief, his shirt half-unbuttoned to reveal the gleam of skin. His gaze fell on Talen, and his mouth curved in a wicked smile. He shot Talen a wink as if saying looking for trouble or hoping it finds you?
Talen’s jaw stiffened, and a quick flare of color crossed his cheekbones before he strode away.
They rounded the next corner and came upon a vendor tucked against a stone wall.
Wooden tables lined the courtyard where fae drank glasses of wine and ate, the air rich with the scent of roasted nuts and spiced bread.
Behind the merchant’s table, Ren’s mouth watered when her eyes drank in the food laid out in neat rows – honeyed dates and figs nestled among plump grapes and bowls of walnuts dusted with spice and salt.
Lastly, loaves of bread were piled alongside porcelain dishes of olive oil.
Talen paused, exchanging a few coins with the vendor before turning back to them. “Go ahead and eat,” he said, handing Ren and Elira each a small plate piled with bread, grapes, walnuts, and a few dates. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep your legs under you.”
They found a table tucked beneath a shade of creeping vines.
Ren immediately tore off a piece of bread, dipped it into the oil, and groaned.
She reached for the grapes next, devouring them one after another until the juice ran down her thumb.
Across, Elira did the same, beginning with the walnuts and dates.
Talen returned a moment later, setting down a glass of water. Ren barely managed a breathless, “Thanks,” before reaching for it.
“Easy,” he said with a faint smile, watching her and Elira eat like starved wolves. “Eat too fast, and you’ll both regret it later.”
Elira swallowed a mouthful of bread, scowling as she reached for another grape. “You try traveling for days as a prisoner and not shovel everything in sight,” she muttered.
They devoured every crumb and scrap, licking the last of the oil from their fingers as if afraid it might go to waste. The vendor’s plates were empty before long, the only evidence of their feast a few stray walnut shells and sticky fingertips.
Too soon, all the food was gone. Ren leaned back in her chair, stretching her legs beneath the table.
Ren sighed. “You know,” she drawled, eyeing a nearby vendor pouring deep red wine into crystal glasses, “I think a glass of that would really seal the meal.”
“No,” Talen said.
“No?” Ren repeated.
“We’re going to the palace,” he said simply. “After we show Elira to the forge, of course.”
Ren asked, “We’re going to the palace to do what, exactly?”
“To present ourselves to the king and queen.”
Ren froze mid-stretch, the last of her contentment evaporating. “You’re joking.”
“Afraid not.”
Her stomach gave a low, treacherous churn. “Here’s a thought,” she muttered, pressing a hand to her middle. “Shouldn’t we change first?”
Only then did she glance around and immediately regret it.
The fae crowd drifting through the streets looked as though they’d stepped out of a painting: gowns that shimmered, tailored coats gleaming with polished buttons, every strand of hair and fold of fabric immaculate.
Ren looked down at her dust-streaked leathers, travel-worn boots, and grime.
Talen adjusted the clasp on his cloak. “It’s best not to keep my family waiting. They’re not known for their patience. Once we’ve presented ourselves, you’ll have a chance to clean up. I promise.”
“Wonderful. Maybe I’ll only smell half-dead by the time we get there.”
Talen’s mouth twitched. “Progress.”
They continued deeper into Pyraelia. Ren felt as though she’d crossed through a portal and into another world.
Roses bloomed along the walls and archways.
Runic patterns whispered from the cypress, a language Ren couldn’t read but instinctively distrusted.
Ren was so intent on studying the looming buildings that she didn’t notice the horde of rowdy fae barreling down the street until the sound of their raucous laughter broke through her thoughts.
They swept past in a flurry of wings, cloaks, and sloshing goblets, and Ren had to sidestep to avoid being bowled over.
She gawked as they passed beneath grand archways built for gods, not mortals. But the awe twisted quickly into something darker as she turned over her shoulder.
Mount Solfira loomed in the distance, its smoke curling skyward like a dark crown over Pyraelia. The sight of it made Ren’s jaw tighten. Ren narrowed her eyes, sending the mountain a withering glare – daring it to try and claim her again.
They wove through the bustling square beyond, sidestepping merchants balancing trays of sugared confections and fae dressed in embroidered silks who barely spared them a glance.
Few seemed to recognize Talen; he passed among them like just another well-dressed stranger, his presence unnoticed beneath the capital’s constant hum of leisure.
Ren’s gaze flicked over the faces of the crowd, noting flushed cheeks, bright eyes, laughter spilling freely.
It struck her then how far removed Pyraelia felt from the villages they’d passed in the western and southern regions of Lytharien.
There were no signs of famine or decay. Perhaps the Witherblight hadn’t yet reached this far north.
They stepped into another courtyard where roses spiraled along marble archways, vines curled with lazy elegance, and the air was thick with the scent of melting chocolate and sugar-dusted fruit.
Ren nearly stumbled; the beauty was dizzying, decadent, so unlike the hellish climb they had endured to reach the capital.
A female fae sat beside a water fountain just off the center, naked, save for a thin chain draped across her hips and a string of flowers in her hair. She plucked at a silver harp with long, graceful fingers. The melody she played was somehow both soft and sinful.
Her eyes met Ren’s mid-note. Her lips curled into a smile.
Ren flushed instantly and looked away, cursing her own reaction. “Is that… normal?” Ren muttered to Elira.
Elira laughed at her side. “Welcome to Pyraelia,” she said.
“Where beauty is currency and modesty is more myth than law. The city’s always been like this, strange and oddly seductive.
” She nodded toward the harp musician. “They’re beautiful here.
Every last one of them. But don’t let that fool you. ”
“Why?”
Elira’s voice dropped low. “I think she’s a siren, and if she asked you to burn the world for her, you’d probably thank her for the chance.”
Ren muttered a curse and kept walking, trying not to look again.
She failed.
The harpist continued strumming the harp. The curve of her shoulder, the elegant line of her collarbone, the slope of her waist where the jeweled chain dipped low against her hips – it was art and sin and temptation all at once.
Their eyes met again.
The musician simply held Ren’s gaze like it was a secret they shared, a thread stretched tight across the courtyard between them.
Ren inhaled sharply—
And walked straight into Talen’s chest.
“Careful, you’ll cause a scandal.”
Talen stood there, brow arched in amusement, arms crossed like he’d been watching her for longer than he’d like to admit.
Ren scowled. “You could’ve warned me you were lurking. ”
“I was enjoying the view,” he drawled.
“Are you always this smug, or is it a princely requirement?”
“Only since my exile.”
Ren tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Speaking of which, what did you do to get banished?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard plenty of versions already. Most of them exaggerated. Some wildly inventive, although I applaud people’s creativity.”
Ren arched a brow. “So enlighten me. What’s the real story, then?”
Talen shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance. “It involved a royal carriage, a minor explosion, and a somewhat unfortunate misunderstanding with a trade delegation from the Southern Isles.”
Ren nearly choked. “Saints, don’t tell me – the goat debacle was true?”
That caught him. His expression sharpened, tone suddenly earnest. “The herd had been bred and sold illegally by a court minister. He was pocketing the profits under the guise of ‘tribute.’ My liberation of the goats was meant to expose his corruption. Of course, the court twisted it to make me look reckless and impulsive instead of him being corrupt. He’s since been promoted to Steward.
” His mouth pressed flat. “They exaggerated the whole thing.”
Ren squeezed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “Exaggerated?”
“I only singed the carriage,” Talen corrected firmly, lowering his voice like he was confessing a sacred truth.
“The goats caused the real damage.” His gaze flicked to hers.
“Did you know goats will try to eat anything ? Truly, the most disturbing thing I learned that night…” he leaned just slightly closer, lowering his tone, “is how far they’ll go to consume things they shouldn’t.
I’ll never look at a cloak the same way again. ”
“You’re telling me the heir of House Vaelaran was nearly outmaneuvered by goats.”
“Not nearly,” he corrected smoothly, straightening, shoulders rolling back into command once more. “Completely. Let’s just say I’m not allowed anywhere near their vineyards anymore.” He gestured ahead, as if brushing the topic away. “Now, enough about goats.”
Ren shook her head, the edges of her mouth twitching despite herself. “Fae politics sound exhausting.”
“They are,” he agreed, stepping beside her as they ventured deeper into the city. “Which is why I prefer fire-starting mortals with terrible attitudes and very questionable taste in where to look during a diplomatic walk.”
Ren glared.
For a moment, Talen’s smirk faded, his gaze drifting over the familiar streets and marble spires rising ahead. “Feels strange,” he admitted quietly. “Coming home after so long.”
“Strange? You’ve been gone… what, nine months?”
His mouth curved faintly, but it wasn’t the usual sharp-edged smile. “Closer to a year,” he said, his tone unreadable.
“And where exactly have you been?” she pressed, watching him sidelong.
“That,” Talen replied smoothly, eyes forward once more, “is a story for another day.”
As they passed through a lively market of eager vendors trying to sell their items and wares, Ren recalled the whispers she’d heard about House Vaelaran.
Rumors claimed they consorted with dreamwalkers and moon spirits, that they bartered with keepers of forbidden lore.
Some swore their blood was tainted with something far older than fae, and others told wild tales of their ancestors dancing with ancient magic beneath eclipsed moons.
Talen glanced at her, the faintest glimmer of amusement returning to his expression.
“A word of advice, since you’ll be meeting my family soon.
They’re… a little unhinged. Especially my sister.
But they’re also fiercely loyal and protective, in their own twisted way.
If you’re honest with them, they may actually like you. ”
“Comforting.”
“You’ll survive,” he assured with a faint, knowing smile.