Chapter Twenty
There’s no need to seek revenge; let the rotten fruit fall from the tree on its own.
The strangest woman served as our escort.
A large crystal headpiece crowned her hair, while a porcelain mask concealed her face.
Slashes of pink rimmed the eyeholes, and a dark, crimson heart stained the mask where her lips should be.
Delicate flowers adorned one temple, their vines curling over the other in a mesmerizing pattern.
Her flowing black robe, spun from the softest silk, trailed behind her like a shadow, rustling over the ground with every step.
No armed guards stood outside our door, or any door for that matter, as if they’d fled. No meta either.
I glanced at Cyrus, hoping for an explanation, and he delivered.
“I told you the castle rearranges often, but no one, not even those of us who fathom the layout, can find the emperor’s wing without the aid of his personal servants. These individuals have been forcibly silenced, yet they are fully authorized to kill anyone who enters without permission.”
“By forcibly silenced, do you mean they vow not to speak, or . . .”
“It’s done surgically, and with their consent.”
Yikes. That was hardcore. And soon I would come face-to-face with the guy who demanded such a life-altering action. With a snap of his fingers, he could order my death. I worked on my defenses the entire trek. Or I would have, if I hadn’t worried for Domino.
Where was he? Our connection had dulled, and I couldn’t feel him as strongly. Or at all. Had something happened to him? No, of course not. He was too powerful. There must be some other explanation.
Focus. I couldn’t afford to get lost in apprehension. Shadows covered the walls, shifting as we approached, a reminder of the horrors I’d experienced inside the chamber of death. I cringed away.
“My grandfather collects them,” Cyrus said in an effort to distract me, motioning to the many side tables displaying an abundance of goblets, big and small, old and new, decorated and unadorned.
The attempt to distract me worked. “Why?”
“There are rumors Astan owned a goblet made to contain water from a fountain of youth.”
How interesting.
We slipped through a shimmery patch of air that filled an archway, and suddenly I spied the emperor.
He wore a suit and tie, resembling an older, albeit shorter version of Cyrus.
The plain but elegant pregnant woman—Giselle—stood at his side.
Diamonds of various size decorated her neck, wrists, and fingers.
To my disappointment, she wasn’t wearing the key.
The couple waited beneath another archway in front of a large sitting room with high-backed velvet chairs and intricately carved wooden tables, their surfaces gleaming under the soft glow of floating crystal orbs that drifted lazily through the air.
A grand fireplace crackled with mesmerizing blue flames that cast flickering shadows upon a mantel sculpted with battle scenes and bookshelves bursting with tomes.
Both the emperor and his companion brightened as we approached.
“Grandfather,” Cyrus said, and the two men embraced. “I’m pleased to present to you Lady Arden Roosa.” He waved a hand toward me. “Arden, the emperor, Piven Dolion.”
“Your Majesty,” I said softly, offering my best curtsy. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“So, you’re the infamous Arden Roosa.” He looked me over with deep, mysterious eyes. “From everything I’ve observed, the Dolions either love or hate you. I’m glad Cyrus suggested we do this so I can finally pick my side.”
A vague threat issued with an easy smile. I decided to laugh as if he teased me. “Prepare to be won over.”
“I shall.” He motioned to his companion. “This beauty is Giselle,” he said, his tone softening at the same warp speed as his expression. His affection for the woman couldn’t be denied. He traced his knuckles along her jawline, beaming adoration at her. “The key to my every happiness.”
Jolt! Did he know I’d come for the key and now planned to toy with me?
Giselle wound her arm through his and grinned at me. “Let me set your mind at ease. He adores Cyrus, so he’s predisposed to favor you.”
I returned her grin, though mine faded fast, lost in a wave of nervousness. How was I supposed to introduce the field of berries, the force field, and its key without her wearing said key? “I appreciate the reassurance.”
“I’m not late, am I?”
The familiar voice came from behind me. I twisted, spying Felix as he strode closer. He dazzled in a streamlined tux, his hair artfully styled and his eyes sparkling.
The brothers exchanged a swift hug, not as stiff with each other as usual but not quite friendly either.
“I hope you don’t mind, Cyrus, but I invited your brother. And now that we’re all here, come, come. I had Chef prepare a veritable feast.” The emperor and Giselle led us into the dining room.
The vaulted ceiling was a stunner, adorned with intricate frescoes of celestial scenes and draped with shimmering silken banners that shifted color with the changing light.
Gilded columns reinforced the walls. A long, polished table of dark mahogany occupied the room’s center, set with silver goblets and plates resting atop brocade place mats woven with the imperial crests.
Each piece of dishware reflected the warm, golden glow of an elaborate chandelier made of intertwined branches that held a glowing pritis rather than a bulb.
Stained glass windows dominated the far end of the room, depicting mythical creatures in vibrant hues, their forms seeming to alter subtly as I neared.
A faint aroma of exotic spices hinted at the lavish feast soon to be served, while the air carried a faint melody as refined as the decor.
The emperor claimed the head of the table, with Giselle at his right. Cyrus offered me the seat at his left, a place of honor. Felix took the spot at Giselle’s right, across from him.
Immediately, masked servants glided over to fill our goblets with white wine. Others followed with the first course, which I could not identify.
“Caviar on blini with crème fra?che,” Cyrus whispered, as if I knew what any of those words meant.
Felix toasted his grandfather with a sardonic smile. “Only the best for us, isn’t that right, Grandfather?”
“Indeed.” The emperor bit into the circular . . . toasted bread? Pancake? It was covered by a white glob sprinkled with black globules.
The others mimicked him, so I did the same, tasting salt, cream, and tang with a light crunch. Mistake! I tried not to gag before gulping a little too much wine to wipe out the awful flavors.
Careful. Intoxication could blow this entire operation.
Emperor Dolion looked my way, and I schooled my expression into polite interest. “I know my son, Tagin, spoke to you about the gods before his death,” he said as servants removed our plates and left us with small bowls of warm amber soup.
“He did, yes.” No reason to deny it. But where was the emperor headed with this?
As if he needed a moment to prepare himself for the conversation to come, Cyrus interrupted, leaning toward me once again to clarify what I’d be eating. “Butternut squash with sage and brown butter.”
Sounded delightful, and I couldn’t spoon in a bite fast enough. So good. My taste buds welcomed the rich, decadent flavors.
“I’m curious what you think of this revelation,” the emperor said. “It must’ve been a shock to learn the gods live.”
“It was for me,” Giselle piped up, stirring her soup. “Personally, I find Astan’s fight to reclaim his world, and his woman, deliciously romantic. Overcoming eternal slumber to be together.”
“That’s because your heart is so pure, my darling.” He kissed the center of her palm.
“I agree with Giselle.” Felix’s low bass gave the words added weight. “Love is worth fighting for.”
Compassion rose within me. The guy had lost his wife. His beloved.
“I’m still dealing with shock,” I admitted. Perfect opening. “From gods I’d once considered a myth to toxic berries to invisible force fields, everything is new to me.”
The emperor didn’t take the bait before a third course was delivered. Tuna tartare with avocado and sesame soy dressing, according to Cyrus, which was better than the soup.
“Earlier, when Mr. Vyle ushered me to the temple to meet with Cyrus,” I said, trying again, “I noticed your necklace, Giselle. Such a lovely key.”
Cyrus settled a hand on my thigh and squeezed ever so lightly. Oops. Guess I’d bypassed subtle again.
“Isn’t it?” She grinned ear to ear. “Piven gave it to me.”
I waited, hopeful for another tidbit, but she lapsed into silence when a servant rushed over and bent down, seeming to whisper in the emperor’s ear. Though the masked woman made not a sound, unable to speak, he understood the message.
“Excuse me,” he told us. “There’s something in need of my attention.”
Another servant hurried to pull out his chair, allowing him to stand with ease. As he strode off, an idea sprouted.
I gripped Cyrus’s thigh, hoping he understood my message: Cover for me.
His brow wrinkled with puzzlement, but this wasn’t the place to explain. I pulled my attention inward. If Domino could pull my spirit from my body, I should be able to shove it out on my own.
I expected a battle, but it was as easy as slipping a hand free of a glove. One moment I was seated beside my boyfriend, the next I stood within the table.
Cyrus must have recognized the change in me, because he occupied Giselle with talk about baby names.
Grateful for him, I whisked along the same path the emperor had taken.
It was a relief to discover he hadn’t gone far.
I could only be separated and unresponsive for so long before others noticed, despite Cyrus’s best efforts.
The emperor and Mr. Vyle conversed in the sitting room.
“The boy. Miller,” Mr. Vyle said without a speck of emotion. “He was a Soalian. The only one of the bunch. His pritis was much smaller than expected. He must have teetered on the brink of reinfection.”