Chapter Three #2
“It’s remarkable their bloodline hasn’t yet been given the rank of nobility,” a woman with disheveled silver hair replies.
“Aside from Sterling being the king’s most trusted advisor, the Nightenjoy line seems to be one of the select few bloodlines capable of producing powerful wielders with different magic types.
Sterling is a Sealer, and I hear his boy wields illusionary magic.
Extremely rare to see such a magical heritage in one line. ”
A man shoving drink down his throat halts only to respond, “I heard the king already offered Sterling noble rank— twice —but he refused the title.”
“ Refused? ” the salt-and-pepper-haired man spits. “How does someone refuse a king? Not only that, but why would someone refuse the title of nobility?”
A man with long, curly white hair leisurely shrugs. “People have their reasons, Cahlmon.”
I suppress the urge to interject myself into their conversation. It heats my blood listening to them discuss Sterling like gossiping girls.
Despite my annoyance, however, I do understand the root of their curiosity; the Nightenjoy bloodline is well-known throughout the Three Kingdoms. As a bloodline almost as old as the Sulien or Fjolla line—two of the remaining progenitor bloodlines for magic, known as the Archbloods—the Nightenjoy line has garnered the respect of many for both their enviable range of magic-types and their unrelenting virtue.
To any inquiring minds, I suppose it truly is a wonder why they remain untitled.
He refused to receive the gift.
I wonder if that’s true…
If it is, I also can’t help but wonder why he would do such a thing. Sterling is a man who possesses considerable foresight and bases his decisions on what he deems the most desirable outcome. So…
What benefit has he gleaned from remaining untitled that everyone else has missed?
The night ends in the monotonous drone of standard festivities one might expect from the King of Rivara, and I escort my assignment out of the hall once all is said and done.
I guide her to the entertaining chamber, and I immediately pour us a “celebratory” drink, not wanting to bother with conversation or idle petting tonight.
I’m simply not in the mood—a weighted ball still sitting heavy in my stomach from my conversation with Gray.
Within a few minutes, the woman is passed out on the sheets, and I am counting down the seconds until I can exit the chamber without it being considered suspicious. I don’t even reach for one of the books I have hidden under the bed, feeling too out-of-it to find my freedom in a page.
When enough time has passed, I take my leave and find myself wandering outside, strolling the grounds until I reach my favorite building.
It is smaller compared to the others, but the craftsmanship is masterful—the three marble pillars at the front carved in stunning detail.
Along the backside, a flimsy rope ladder hidden behind overgrown shrubbery extends from the roof down to my feet.
I climb the rungs to the top, crawling up onto the flat surface.
At the roof’s center, patiently awaiting my return, is a pallet of different fraying blankets and an oil lantern. Normally, I’d make straight for the set up and settle myself comfortably. But tonight, I’m not in the mood to just lay down and stare up at the sky.
So, I instead walk to the edge of the roof, propping myself up on the thin marble railing, and relish in the tiny current of electricity coursing under my skin as my feet dangle above the ground.
I stare out at the picturesque scene, moved by how strikingly beautiful Rivara Kingdom’s capital city, Keziah, is at night.
Channels of crystal water run through the city, flowing in through aqueducts from the westward Halmion Ocean.
Buildings artfully erected from marble scatter along the edges of the channels, their ornate roofs painted in a beautiful sky-blue to complement the translucent waters.
The city is softened by a warm, golden glow, and above the glowing town rests a cluster of sandy-like stars composed of purples, whites, and blues, streaking the sky in dazzling rods of light.
Of the three kingdoms, the Rivara Kingdom is the smallest, yet it is regarded as the Kingdom Loved by the Gods.
There are many stories of love and war, of betrayal and heartbreak, that circulate the myth and lore of Solaya—many of which directly involve the gods and take place within our borders.
Yet I believe the natural phenomena that grace our skies is what truly earned the Rivara Kingdom its title.
We have the colored stars, the Great River of Light, and the unyielding silver moon which sometimes kisses our land, draping the world in a kaleidoscope of water-like shadows.
There is such astounding beauty within these borders—sights I used to love and cherish, eagerly begging my mother to go outside and observe.
But now when I sit and stare out at these lands, at displays that once fueled the hopeful flutters of a tiny, unblemished heart, I am simply reminded that no matter how lovely the cage is made to be, it is still a cage, and without freedom of choice, I will never be able to truly relish in this kingdom’s beauty again.
I exhale a long sigh as I glide a hand down my face and stare out at the haze of purple streaking across the sky.
A voice sounds from behind me. “I thought I’d find you here.”
A small wave of relief washes through me, even if I refuse to show it.
Without so much as glancing over my shoulder, I mutter, “It’s the middle of the night. You should be in bed. ”
I hear him snort a laugh. “And are you my mother now?” Gray positions himself next to me on the roof’s edge and nudges his shoulder into mine.
“I went to your chambers to bring you a shirt since you mentioned your outfit for tonight was ridiculous. I waited and waited, and when you never came…” He huffs a tiny breath and rubs at the back of his neck.
“Well, after the initial worry went away, I realized you were probably out here. ”
“You found me,” I murmur in a dry voice.
Through the sides of my eyes, I see Gray’s brows lower. He watches me for a moment before adding, “I also went to your chamber to apologize, Lyra.”
I glance at him sidelong, and the softness resting within his eyes, the sincere apology overflowing in his expression…
I sigh, conceding my silly anger. “You don’t need to apologize. I know you were coming from a good place. Really, I should be apologizing. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did—you didn’t deserve it.”
Gray lowers his head to catch my eyes. When I refuse to look at him, he lightly grips the bottom of my chin with his thumb and index finger, and he lifts my gaze to his.
His expression is steady as he softly says, “You never need to apologize for responding to how I made you feel. Your feelings matter more to me than my pride, Lyra.”
Unable to string a sentence, I swallow back the lump in my throat and nod.
“Now,” he begins, his tone considerably lighter. “I hope you don’t have any plans tomorrow, because if you do, I’ll have to kidnap you, and I’m not keen on learning what the dungeons are like right before I leave for Bathara.”
I open my mouth to reply, but before I can get a word out, Gray lifts a finger and adds, “And before you say you have to entertain, I checked with my father, and he said the king is not hosting tomorrow, so you should be free.”
I arch a brow at him, the smile pulling at my lips as helpless as it is amused. “And if I object?”
Gray mocks an indifferent shrug. “Then it looks like I’ll become quite familiar with the dungeons.”
I scoff a laugh. “I’ll be sure to visit during your incarceration.”
He leans toward me, a new light burning behind his eyes. “And I’ll be sure to pick you up from your chambers at sunrise.”