31. Chapter 31 #2
“The God of Dreams, silly!” she laughs as she slips through the adjacent washroom door, her voice lingering far behind her.
“Gods only know he’ll be the first one bursting through the door once he realizes you’re here.
Especially once he learns that you’re trying to destroy the entire fucking world. ”
The corridor leading to the dining hall spirals up toward the Heavens.
It’s overflowing with plants laden in amber petals, which bunch together to create canopies that droop over our heads.
Yet despite its fierce beauty, the darkness within still manages to drench us in shadows, which seep from the walls to devour us whole, only to recede upon the glittering hem of my starstruck gown like they’re scared of the fabric biting them.
Beside me, Bella is a flutter of melancholy wrapped in chocolate velvet, a dress which she swept off the edge of her white-washed bed and then pulled over her head in stubborn silence.
Maxine is her complete juxtaposition, draped in spools of violet and cashmere that resemble a soft, tufted cloud, her smile effervescent.
They hook their arms through mine to help me take some weight off my leg. “We’re almost there,” Maxine reassures me, slowing her step to align with my pace. “Soon, you’ll have the antidote, and your leg will feel all better. I’m sure of it.”
“Let’s hope so,” I sigh as I tip my head back at the ceiling, which preens in a vibrant display of mosaics that align in perfect harmony to reveal a woman looking down on us.
Fiery red braids tumble down her back, complimenting a red-hot dress that billows off her curves like liquified magic. She looks familiar.
Do I know her?
“That is the Great Mother Sun,” Bella whispers into my ear. Before I can ask her any follow-up questions, however, a nearby guard shoulders open a door and leads us into a banquet hall of splendor.
Everything in the dining hall feels real, like it’s been built by a living hand, and not forced together with stitchings of magic.
Wisdom radiates off the table in droves, as if the memory of the ancient tree it once was still echoes through its grain.
The hearth calls out to me, its flickering flames roiling like they were birthed from the belly of a dragon.
And then there’s the matter of the undisturbed tension rising from the nobles seated around the table, their faces all wrought with wonder as they gaze in my direction.
Bronk breaks the tension by standing up to greet us, quickly guiding us toward the empty chairs beside his.
One is located to his right, which Maxine snags.
Another is sandwiched between him and Axel, which Bella claims. The third is on the opposite side of him, located perpendicular to the head of the table. Directly beside the king.
Fucking fantastic.
Sylas lifts his head, watching me with feral curiosity as I gather up the train of my golden gown and limp to find my seat.
His gaze is so intense, I’d smack it right off his face if I didn’t care about the consequences.
Unfortunately, he’s holding my precious statue hostage.
And his healers are the only ones who can fix Lily.
So I refrain from acting on my instincts.
He stands to raise his glass and toasts the room with a smile fit for royalty. “Thank you all for coming,” he announces.
Heads nod. Beautiful heads that are filled with hope and anticipation, including a woman a few seats away, who is donned in crisp pale robes and is bearing the spellmark of a white dragon.
Her eyes remind me of a moonlit echo with the way they glint so fiercely blue.
An older gentleman donning a gray cloak is seated beside her, the emblem of a Winddragon brandished to his chest plate like a war medallion.
I count six nobles in total. Nine after accounting for Sylas, Axel, and Bronk.
Yet who they are and what their significance in this court is, I can’t be certain.
All I’ve gathered thus far is that they adore their king.
Mostly because their eyes glimmer in admiration every time he speaks.
Ugh. Revolting.
“As your king, I’ve called upon this feast in celebration of our good fortune,” Sylas says, his gaze focused on his guests.
He slides a glass of frothy yellow liquid in my direction, which I can only assume is the antidote for the poison.
My heart skips. “As you all know, since our journey back through the Veil, I have searched tirelessly for the Mother of Chaos with the hopes that she might provide us protection from the New Gods.”
Murmurs ensue. Sylas proceeds to address each lord and lady by surname.
But my mind is too busy whirring about to pay any attention to what they’re saying.
At some point, Bronk slaps a steak onto my plate, and then proceeds to slice it up for me like I’m an incompetent dimwit.
I must thank him, because he grunts, “You’re welcome. ”
It’s only after a moment do I understand why Bronk is distracting me…
to give Sylas the upper hand as he interlaces his fingers in mine, catching me by surprise.
I try to pull away, but his grip is a fucking vise.
I fear the only way out of this situation is to stomp on his foot beneath the table or kick him square in the balls.
But unfortunately, everyone is staring at us, and I can’t cause a commotion. Not yet.
Sylas’s voice rises like a tidal wave of announcement as he addresses his guests again.
“I have invited you here today not only to announce that I have found the Mother of Chaos trapped in stone, but also to inform you that I’ve found the very person prophesized to free her.
” His eyes turn on me as he adds, “The raven.” He squeezes my hand, and I wince.
Silence.
Brazen silence.
Silence that’s met by whispers, and then followed by stares.
“But there’s more!” Sylas squeezes my hand tighter, as though he fears loosening his grip even a smidge might cause me to fly away like the bird I am. “The raven is my twinflame.”
Whispers begin twirling about, catching flight with the breeze that sifts through the cracked windows as he adds, “Her existence is meant to strengthen my magic and guarantee me immortality.”
Wait. What the fuck did he just say?
“Thankfully,” he continues, fondly banking his head in my direction, “she is in full agreement to marriage. Our wedding is set to occur during the next solar eclipse. An event that only happens once in a lifetime.”
I don’t fucking think so.
The only reason I don’t lumber straight out that door or whack him upside the head with his own plate, is because everyone in the dining hall is staring straight at me.
Their eyes are all filled with anticipation and hope, like I’m some kind of poignant chess piece amongst a battlefield of chaos.
Or worse, like I’m some kind of prophetic chosen one.
Well, I have devastating news for you all.
A woman sobs into her hands and casts her gaze skyward.
A man falls to his knees and mutters out an incomprehensible string of words that I don’t bother to decipher.
I commit my gaze to the gnarly wound gnashing through my leg, praying that my pain might numb whatever this feeling is.
Because it’s starting to feel an awful lot like responsibility. And I don’t like it.
Maxine flips Sylas the bird from beneath the table. Bella skewers the meat on her plate with her steak knife, as though she’s picturing it’s his meat that she’s impaling. I give them both a feeble smile, my pulse thrumming in my ears.
This is wrong.
So wrong.
I’d rather endure a lifetime of pain and suffering than resort to this.
The remainder of dinner slips by in a foggy haze as various lords and ladies toast to my name.
They feast on desserts, such as spiced pear pastries and lemon meringue bars, along with main dishes, like baked oysters and chunks of smoked salmon.
Amidst the chatter, I learn that Lady Lark is from the Meadowlark Forest and is a leader of the Flora Clan, and that Lord Fig is her husband.
Lord Gray is from the Smoky Everglades and is leader of the Wind Clan.
The rest of the clan rulers blur together, their names and titles buzzing through the air like a swarm of moths.
One of them is a lady from the Ciridee Mountains, another is a lord from the Ember Islands.
There are fire lords, water lords, plant lords, rock lords…
every element that one can imagine. Oh, how I really wish they wouldn’t look at me like that…
as if I’m their last hope. It won’t end well for any of them.
“Drink it,” Sylas says as he shoves the antidote closer to my plate. I get a whiff of its grotesque contents and fight back the urge to gag.
“I’d rather die.”
“I anticipated that you’d be angry with me,” he grumbles under his breath.
“But don’t worry. That anger of yours will dissipate as soon as you realize that your powers hang in the balance.
We’re twice as strong together as we are when we’re apart, you know.
Together, we can live forever. That is the profound power of the twinflame. ”
I carve a little bird into the table with my fingernail, my mind buzzing at the thought. Live forever? With you? Who the hell would want to do that?
“Here’s the funny thing, king,” I reply as my heartbeat sails against my chest. “I don’t have any powers. So that little theory of yours, as cute as it is, is utter nonsense.”
“He never told you,” Sylas seems to realize, his eyes widening.
“Who never told me what?”
He leans forward in his seat. “Drink the antidote, and in exchange, I will tell you everything,” he quickly promises.