Chapter 32 - Meryn #2
Details reveal themselves that I couldn’t make out from above.
Carved fountains on every other street corner, burbling with cool water.
Bell towers that don’t seem to mark the hour but rather chime with constant, tinkling sound.
Tiles dot many of the buildings and roads, their bright colors arranged in geometric patterns.
I’m distracted by the sights, at first, but I soon realize that we’re getting a lot of attention. Citizens gasp in fear when they see us coming. Mothers pull their children behind them and hurry away. Shopkeepers hurriedly close their doors.
I feel as if I’m a walking nightmare, back to being a scary story in someone else’s mind.
I ignore it as best I can.
It helps that Anassa doesn’t even slightly care that these people are afraid of her. She bares her fangs at them as we go, reminding me that it doesn’t matter what they think. They’re the enemy.
After a punishingly slow procession, we finally reach the castle’s main entrance. Elias halts his horse before the beginning of the bridge. The water of the moat trickles gently, fish flashing close to the surface.
“I will lead you through the gates, and then we will part for now,” Elias says. “It was not as awful as expected, traveling with you.”
Stark’s mouth twists, and Noemi just stares at him. I sigh, wishing we could have ended the journey on a high note.
“Ready, Sae?” I ask, rubbing her arm to distract myself from the awkwardness.
“Yeah,” she says, leaning forward so she can peer down into the sparkling waters as Anassa pads after our guides.
The tall gates loom over us. They’re covered in swirling gold patterns and glinting precious stones. There’s a symbol above them—that sun with wavy rays again.
Waiting for us in the center of the open gates is a gathering of people. Siphons, most likely, judging by how pretty they are.
Is one of them this King Lucien? I scan the crowd, but nobody looks more regally decked out than the rest.
A man steps forward with his hands clasped neatly before him. He’s tall, immaculately dressed in a long, flowing robe patterned with cherry-colored blossoms. There’s even a ribbon tied around his throat.
Actually, a lot of them have ribbons. Astreonan high fashion, maybe.
The man’s pitch-black hair gleams in the light. He arranges his face in a polite smile, then bows only his head. Shallow. “I am Felippe, the Royal Chamberlain of Brightbane Castle.”
Royal Chamberlain. King Lucien sent the chamberlain to greet me rather than greeting me himself. A gaggle of politicians and servants stares up at us like they have no idea how insulting this is.
I scowl. “And where’s your king?”
Felippe presses his lips together like he’s restraining a smile, and his voice twists with something close to amusement. “The king wouldn’t personally greet visitors at the door. You will see him when he summons you to his presence.”
His choice of words, particularly summons, immediately sets me on edge. Anassa silently growls over our bond.
I can’t figure out if they’re intentionally offending me.
Elias lets out a piercing whistle. It startles Felippe, who scowls at Elias.
Our guide spins his finger in a circle. “Our job is done.”
Then Elias turns to look at me, and for the first time since I’ve known him, he bows entirely at the waist. Low and deep. When he rises, his eyes linger on me. Then he and the others march their horses through the gates and into the castle courtyard beyond.
Felippe looks disoriented. Whatever just happened—whatever Elias just did—it meant more than I entirely understand.
“He showed respect where it was deserved. When you required it,” Anassa tells me.
I slowly smile. Felippe’s confusion makes more sense. Elias elevated me when Felippe was closing me into a box. My smile drops when I realize that my father is still here, lingering at the back of our group.
Maybe they’re not sure what to do with him, either.
Stark strides forward on Cratos. A few of the people skitter back out of teeth-range. “We need accommodations for our direwolves. Are there suites with connected terraces or a similar space where our wolves can stay close with easy outdoor access?”
One of the women in Felippe’s entourage titters. “We don’t keep pets indoors here.”
Cratos lurches forward, snapping his teeth. His fang catches the very edge of the woman’s neck-ribbon, unfortunately dyed a deep crimson color. As the ribbon flutters down, it looks almost like blood.
The woman isn’t the only one who shrieks, and I note that Stark takes his time calming Cratos and urging him back a step.
His expression darkens as he coldly says, “Direwolves are not pets. The failure to consider appropriate accommodations for the wolves shows disrespect not only to them but especially to Queen Meryn and Anassa, who have traveled all this way at Astreona’s request.”
Stark’s voice carries with it a threat. Respect or decapitation. Your choice.
At the severity of Stark’s tone and the wolves’ reactions, Felippe quickly bows in apology—much deeper than before. It makes me think he never actually intended to insult me.
He might just be ignorant, which is easier for me to forgive.
“There is a back garden adjacent to the castle that leads to the mountains beyond. We will immediately prepare it as suitable accommodations for the direwolves, with direct access to the Nocturnan quarters,” Felippe says hastily.
Noemi steps in then, dismounting Ephyse.
She flashes her pearly, beautiful smile and says in the tone I now recognize as coaxing, “Thank you for your solution, chamberlain. If you would be so kind, my friends and I would appreciate being shown to our rooms. We’ve been traveling for many days and would like to refresh ourselves. ”
Felippe straightens and nods. “Yes, of course.” He lifts his hand and snaps loudly.
One of the men behind Felippe steps forward hesitantly. “I can… lead you there. To the gardens,” he says. “The wolves, I mean.” He’s clearly terrified.
Venna leaps from her wolf’s back before reaching to help Saela down. Stark swings from Cratos as gracefully as ever, but even that does little to distract me. I slip from Anassa’s back and share my unease.
She turns her head and nudges her nose against my chest. “I will be moments away, should you need me. Always.”
My jaw is tight as I watch her go. Cratos catches up to her and presses against her side, and their tails brush together with their steps. At least they’ll have each other.
And as for me? Stark is already at my shoulder, arms crossed over his chest, staring at the group of Astreonans like he’s daring one of them to try to throw a punch at me.
He still wants to protect me—even if he doesn’t want me. I sigh.
Felippe leads us through the elaborate courtyards and corridors, and I can’t shake the sense that despite coming here voluntarily, we’re essentially hostages.
It doesn’t matter how lovely it all is.
It doesn’t matter that there’s a waterfall inside or that the architecture casts delicate shadows and reflects off the water.
Prisons can be pretty.
The Astreonans’ attitudes suggest they view us as barbaric curiosities. I can’t imagine what they’d have thought if we’d shown up in our furs. Moments after I have that thought, Felippe confirms my worries in a notably condescending tone, as if he were speaking to children.
“We’ve done our best to set up the rooms to your liking, but I’m sure things are a little different here than what you’re used to back in Nocturna. Here, we sleep in beds, not in the woods with our animals.”
I let out a scoff. When I look at Stark, he seems just as disbelieving.
What fucking stories have they heard about us?
I consider correcting him but decide it’s not worth the effort at the moment. I’m used to shrugging off condescension, so I do what I always do. I absorb the blow and store it for later, in case I need this little twinge of pain to add some extra force to my own strike.
We arrive at a spacious suite of rooms designated for our party. There’s a large, lushly furnished common area surrounded by adjoining individual bedrooms. A huge rectangular skylight streams light down over woven rugs.
A shallow pool of still water is carved out of the stone floor. The archway that leads to a balcony reflects perfectly on the surface of the pool. There’s even delicate tilework in the basin.
“The sleeping arrangements will be as such,” Felippe tells us, unfurling a scroll. “The first room will house Venna. The second, Noemi.” He pronounces her name entirely wrong—Nummy. “Third, er, Stark. And the last two will belong to Queen Meryn Sturmfrost and Princess Saela, respectively.”
Felippe turns to my father, who has remained silent since we arrived at the castle. And he dismissively says, “You may now return to your home in the city.”
My father bows deeply, and Saela lets out a shocked, “Oh!”
She looks at me, eyes wide and pleading. Her hands come up to her chest, clutching just over her heart.
I’ve never been good at denying my sister something she wants. And to my great annoyance, I find that I can’t even deny her this.
“Wait,” I say begrudgingly. My father startles as he looks at me. “Do you… can you stay? Are you free to stay?”
His mouth opens and closes like a fish searching for air. Eventually, he says, “I have no other obligations at the moment.”
Ugh. That settles it, I guess. I look to Felippe and say, “My father will remain at the castle as an official emissary between our kingdoms.”
I can’t watch him walk away. I can’t have that happen to Saela, knowing intimately how it feels.
“I will arrange accommodations for him as well, then,” Felippe says. “You will be summoned for dinner later.” He moves to the door and pauses there before turning back. “I almost forgot to ask. Do you eat your meat raw like your animals do?”
Confirmed that he’s just an ignorant piece of shit, then.
Stark’s hands curl into fists, but before he can snap like Cratos, Noemi steps forward to defuse the situation. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes as she explains, “We eat our food just like any other humans.”
She emphasizes the word humans, intentionally highlighting the distinction between us and the Siphons. The implication is clear—they should serve us like they do any of their nonbloodsucking guests.
That is, assuming they ever have humans here as their guests, instead of just as subservient staff members or willing blood bags.
Felippe informs us that servants will arrive within the hour to help us prepare for dinner, then he finally takes his leave.
The instant the door closes behind him, Venna’s polite mask drops. She turns to me with a glint in her eye.
“Can I please go spy on these assholes?”