Chapter 49
Vera
It’s difficult to fall asleep when you’re trying as hard as I am. Sleep is a few hours of unconscious escape from the dismal reality that is my current situation. I crave it for one reason: Ikar.
I lie on my bed listening to Tatania’s quiet, even breaths across the room for one hour… then two. After a bout of panic that I may not rest at all and a fourth round of breathing exercises, I finally sink into restless slumber.
That bright-white light shines from behind Ikar, and I smile widely, almost gleeful. “You came back.”
What are the chances I dream of him two nights in a row? He looks good. Really good.
He grins. “Of course I did.”
I savor his cocky tone, not allowing myself to be sad when he stands before me, even if he is just a dream. I tentatively reach out this time, attempting to put my hand in his that’s outstretched and waiting, but I still can’t reach him. Curiously, though, his voice sounds nearer this time.
He says something, but even though it’s nearer, I can’t hear him—
“Vera.”
I’m yanked from the dream as if a glass of chilled water was poured on me, and I gasp when someone shakes my shoulder.
“It’s time for the tour, my lady,” Gretta whispers.
Gretta. Curse her, and curse Renton.
I groan. “It’s the middle of the night.”
I’m feeling great stirrings of hot rage that I was pulled away from the midnight rendezvous with dream Ikar that I worked so hard to sleep for, even if it was just a dream. Now I’m left to deal with grief and sorrow until the next night. Numbness descends to protect me.
Gretta ignores my protests. “Believe me, my lady, it’s the best time. The creatures thrive in the dark.”
Lovely. I sigh heavily.
She holds a long fur-covered cloak in her hands, so long that the length of it pools on the floor.
She shakes it impatiently at me while she waits for me to roll out of bed.
Tatania sleeps soundly across the room, so I silence any further groans or arguments, snatch the dratted, fancy cloak from her hands, and swing it over my shoulders.
It’s heavy and drags on the floor as we leave the room.
I blink my tired eyes as we finally leave his…
I’m not sure what to call it. It’s certainly not majestic enough to be called a castle, but it’s much grander than the smaller structures, tents, and smoky fires that we travel through to get to where I’m supposed to meet Renton for a tour, as he and Gretta call it.
I look over my shoulder as we leave my prison behind.
It’s all twisty, swirling gloam, with shadows so deep I can hardly see any details, especially in the dark.
The roof is pitched sharply, and two wicked spires stab into the air.
I find it to be ridiculously elaborate for an encampment.
I would snort, but I’m not in the mood. I can’t help but think of the crisp brightness of Ikar’s castle, but the numbness doesn’t like that thought and devours it before I can consider it further.
Familiar sounds of fires cracking and popping and men conversing fill my ears as we pass groups of them standing near tents or sitting around fires, but it’s all interrupted by screeching that spreads goosebumps up my arms. It’s some type of gloam monster I can’t name, and the eeriness that echoes through the camp tells me I don’t want to.
There are other sounds of gloam monsters, though more faint, and I can’t discern which ones they might be coming from.
I fold my arms within the heavy cloak in an act of attempted self-comfort as I glance around warily.
Gloam curls and wafts around us as we walk.
The childish side of me wants to kick it just to see it swirl around in smoky patterns, but I don’t.
I blink blearily again, but it doesn’t help clear my vision because everything is so gloamy it appears somewhat fuzzy around the edges, as if my eyes are having difficulty adjusting—it’s beginning to bother me.
The shadows are deeper, twistier—suffocating.
And there’s a chill in the air that bites my cheeks and nose.
I blink several times. My eyes are swollen and dry from crying, but I don’t think that’s it.
I think I’ve entered a preview of what our kingdom will become if no one is able to stop them.
And apparently these people are so confident they’ve begun to move in…
and recruit others, according to Gretta. I shudder, horrified and saddened.
I look up, sensing her before I see her, and it disrupts the numbness I’ve embraced.
Feelings ripple to the surface as Rupi soars through the air, half-quilled as she swoops toward me.
She lands amidst the long fur of my cloak, diving through the mess of my braid to reach my earlobe, which she affectionately pecks.
I latch onto her presence like never before, choking back a sob as I lean my head against her soft fluff and reaching a trembling hand to stroke her feathers.
She huddles into my neck, and for a moment I allow myself to savor the little bit of warmth she offers from her tiny body.
“I don’t know how you always find me, but I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper, blinking back tears.
Her responding chirp, so clear and sharp, is magnified by the muted darkness around us, and it catches Gretta’s attention. She abruptly halts her march and turns with a frown, her head tilted as she peers through the literal nest of my hair.
“What is that?”
I keep my expression flat. “My bird.” When that answer doesn’t wipe the frown from her face, I shrug. “She’s harmless.”
Rupi quills up, stabbing me in the neck defiantly to prove that she is absolutely not harmless, and I mask a wince.
Gretta purses her lips. An indecipherable look is shared between her and the guards that follow us, and one of them nods.
I’m almost ready to raise my fists—no one’s taking Rupi.
I just got her back, and I need her more than ever.
But the nod must have been an okay to proceed because Gretta turns without another word, continuing her rigorous pace.
A permanent horrified expression has molded itself to my face. Renton no longer pays any mind as he gestures proudly toward several creatures. “These are shard beasts.”
I’ve heard of them. I eye the large paddock fashioned of timber and thick strands of gloam that contains them, but I wonder if it’s truly enough.
The beasts appear to be made of crushed glass, sharp pieces creating a lethal fan around their faces as they crash wildly against their bounds with earsplitting sounds of breaking and scraping glass.
It’s nightmarish. This, just after we passed a row of pens filled with deathstalkers, gloartawks with wings so large they could span the roof of my childhood home, gloam wolves with spikes down their backs and trailing down their tails, and serpents with eight heads that regrow when chopped off. I saw it myself, unfortunately.
“Only five?” I drawl sarcastically, watching as two of the shard beasts begin to battle and wincing as my ears begin to ring.
He chuckles and leans close to be heard over the fight. “Patience, my queen. As you’ll see, it takes much time and energy to create beasts such as these. We simply prepare for battle early, to ensure a swift victory. We want as little violence as possible, which I think you appreciate.”
I scoff. As little violence as possible?
These creatures kill so easily an entire army could be decimated in less than half a day.
I curse beneath my breath as the velvety, heavy cloak Renton gave me tangles between my legs.
I jerk it away. Again. It’s completely impractical and looks ridiculous with the state of my clothing underneath.
But he insisted—with gloam around my throat when I tried to remove it.
Now, that gloam is replaced by fur that is supposed to keep me warm but makes my neck and face itch.
I might actually prefer the gloam noose.
When I first arrived, I thought he was crazy.
Now I’ve attended an uncomfortable and delicious dinner, saw every bit of his massive camp earlier this morning, and have now experienced this…
eye-opening tour of his gloam beasts that has lasted an entire day.
I’m finding he’s not only crazy—he’s loaded.
One deathstalker can take out a group of armed men. What will this many do?
We weave around groups of soldiers leaning against fences, who laugh and jest until their king walks by, then everyone falls silent, standing upright and at attention.
Those who are training begin to fight even more fiercely.
I’m not sure if they fear him or respect him, but his presence certainly keeps them in check.
As we pass, I avert my gaze. I don’t want to watch them training to kill my people with gloam swirling all around them.
It just makes the situation feel more hopeless.
I try to be impressed for my own protection, but Rupi and I are quiet for the rest of the morbid tour.
I’m more disturbed by the passion so easily visible within Renton as he tells me about each and every one of his beloved war creatures; gratefully, he doesn’t seem to notice when I begin to grow numb and hardly respond.
He wraps my arm around his and pulls me toward a sturdy gloam fence with a burly man at its edge.
The fence forms a large circle where gloam whirls in a funnel, thick and wide at its center—it reminds me of the murk that attacked Ikar and me just weeks ago.
But when Renton approaches, the gloam calms and stills, leaving what looks like half a creature formed—a scene that turns my stomach.
The man inside the fence approaches and bows before Renton.
Renton claps a hand on his shoulder. “This is Onvid, my best gloam master. Onvid, continue. Let’s show our future queen what you can do.”
He nods, looking pleased at having the king’s attention. “Of course, Your Majesty.”