Chapter 7
Seven
Ican’t believe that I’m here. The palace.
Stories of the beauty of the palace are told with wistful expressions in the marketplace, although whether these are accurate or not is another matter.
The likelihood that anyone of us has actually been lucky enough to see it is almost naught.
From the Gutter we can see parts of the white towers and glistening domes, but none of this does the palace justice.
The first thing I notice is all of the green.
Lush leaves and plants seem to grow everywhere.
Manicured to perfection, not a single leaf it out of place, the rich green of life everywhere I look.
Flowers bloom in a riot of colour, their scents hitting me even in the back of the prison wagon.
Whole swathes of the ground are covered in grass, nothing else grows on it, just a pure, green, living carpet.
It is nothing like the scraggly, yellowing grass the cattle graze on in the Gutter.
Getting anything to grow there is a tough, laborious job, yet here it’s in abundance.
Why? There are no animals here to feed that I can see, so what is the point in having these lawns other than just to marvel over?
How do they even manage to keep all of this alive?
The sound of trickling water answers my question and my gaze flicks around to search for the source of the water.
I swallow uselessly, my mouth so dry that just hearing the water makes my throat hurt.
We continue along the long road up to the palace, passing tall trees, the glittering of what looks like mirrors filtering through the gaps.
Moving past the final tree, my jaw drops open at what I see.
The mirrors I thought I saw are actually huge pools of water.
One of them is shaped like a long, stretched oval and is so large that it wouldn’t fit inside the marketplace.
Either side of this are decorative fountains, spaced out in even intervals and surrounded by flowering bushes.
I have never seen so much water in one place.
Ire starts to build up in me as we pass the gross display of wealth and privilege.
Passing through Hilltop I had found the presence of their easy access to clean water offensive, but this is obscene.
People die on a daily basis due to lack of water, or by drinking from an unclean source.
Here, they have it in such abundance that they can use it for decoration.
My hands start to quake and it’s nothing to do with the pain of being so tightly bound, anger banishing my sorrow and fear. I have to sit back, I can’t look out at the beauty of the palace grounds any longer. It makes me sick to see.
Keep calm. I need my mind to be clear and that won’t be possible if I’m furious. So I close my eyes and repeat that as a mantra, not allowing myself to think of Ella or the excess of water, or why I might be here. Instead, I simply focus on my breathing and the slow rocking of the wagon.
Not long passes until the horses slow and the wagon comes to a stop.
My eyelids flicker open and the carriage doors swing open the next moment.
Blinded by the light, I squint and try to make out the blurry figure in the entrance.
Hands grab my ankles and I’m dragged toward them and despite my promise to myself that I would stay calm, fear spikes in my chest. I kick my legs, trying to throw off the person holding me but it’s no good, they are far stronger than me.
My feet hit the ground and I’m dragged forward, blinking against the light. Guards surround me, but I quickly forget about them as I take in the sight before me.
I stand at the foot of a grand staircase that leads up to the palace entrance, the pale stone perfectly carved with intricate designs, the banister itself looking like a majestic dragon.
Allowing my gaze to travel up, I take in the rest of the palace.
It is colossal. Even from the Gutter you could tell it was large, but now I’m seeing it up close, I can’t quite believe what I’m seeing.
Even in my dreams I have never imagined that such colours and intricate designs were possible.
There are archways everywhere, impossibly delicate, and the multitude of grand pillars have such detailed, twisting patterns carved into them that it makes me wonder how they are strong enough to hold up the weight of the palace.
Towers are on every corner, their domed roofs painted in the royal red, the same as the colour of the guards uniforms. The huge onion shaped domes of the palace itself are gleaming gold in the sunlight, only accentuating the pristine white of the stone.
Looking closer I see that the doors to the palace are actually set back, the pillars that line the entrance actually form a covered walkway the length of the front of the building. I suppose if I had land as beautiful as this I would want to be able to view it clearly.
Inlaid into the walls beneath this walkway are carvings surrounded by mosaics. In fact, bright tiles and glistening, mirrored pieces are everywhere. Even the ground I stand on is paved, with tiny mosaic pieces laid in the gaps between the stone.
My father would have killed to see mosaics such as these, and as his apprentice it would have been a dream of mine to work on something like this. Bitterness fills me, a sour taste in my mouth as I think of my father and the future that was taken from me.
“This is her?”
The question snaps me from my gawping and I lock my focus onto the male that just spoke.
He appears about middle-aged, a few streaks of grey in his neat dark hair.
His tunic is fairly simple, a dark blue with loose matching trousers beneath it, but you can tell from the cut of the fabric that it is expensive.
Something like that is probably worth what I would make in the market in a year.
On his left breast, over his heart is a golden pin.
I can’t quite make out the symbol, yet I’m sure it shows his rank, especially given how the guards are deferring to him.
“Yes, sir.” The captain of the guard bows his head as he speaks, confirming my suspicions that this man is important.
The man in question narrows his eyes, appraising me like I am with him. Whatever he sees doesn’t impress him, his lip curling up in disgust. “Bring her.”
I don’t bother to say anything or ask questions as I know it will be pointless. Men like him don’t lower themselves to speak to the likes of me and his reaction already let me know exactly what he thinks of me.
With a guard either side of me, a hand tightly gripping my shoulders, I am lead toward the stone staircase.
I keep my head high and try to hide my awe at the pure magnificence of the palace but it’s not an easy task.
Focus, I need to focus on what’s important here, and that’s the fact I’m probably going to die here today.
The beauty and wealth surrounding me is at such odds to the life I lived in the Gutter.
Anger flares in me once more, and I harness it, letting it fuel me.
Led through the palace, we ascend another flight of stairs and move deeper into the building.
The gross display of wealth continues, gold seeming to cover almost every surface.
I’m jerked to a sudden halt, all the guards pausing as one.
Was there a signal I didn’t hear? Why aren’t we moving?
Ahead, the male that has been leading us stops before a set of doors, knocking twice and then entering. We wait, and wait, and wait.
After what feels like a lifetime but in reality was probably only a few minutes, the male reappears and gestures us forward.
I don’t wait for the nudge from the guards.
I’m smart enough to know that whatever is behind those doors is the reason I have been brought here and there is no point dragging my heels and making a scene.
“Your highness, I have the witch as requested.”
We are in an office. My father had a small one in our home, but it looked nothing like this.
About three times the size of my childhood home, the office is bright and airy.
A huge arched window fills the back wall, and bookshelves line the other two.
The marble floor is pristine and a gilded desk sits in the centre of the room. Behind that desk, is the King.
I am not sure what I was expecting to see, but the soft faced man with tousled brown hair is not it.
He looks like… everyone else. Shouldn’t a man with so much power command the room with power and might?
If he was walking through the market I would never pick his out as our king.
He’s just… normal. The pristine while tunic lined with golden embroidery gives away that he is someone important, but the powerful presence I was expecting to feel is missing.
“This is her?” The king of Rune asks, his brow raising in surprise, golden brown eyes running over me in assessment. “She’s so small and scrawny.”
Baring my teeth, my anger and stress of the day finally takes over me. “That will be because you starve us in the Gutter.” I’m practically spitting with my rage. How dare he speak about me that way when he’s sitting up here on his gilded throne while his people are dying.
I know better than this yet I can’t seem to stop myself. What has come over me? This is the King, he is not going to accept being insulted this way-
A sharp pain explodes I my cheek and I fall to my knees, the force of the slap catching me off guard and throwing me off balance.
I should feel embarrassed at being brought to my knees by a simple slap, but I’ve barely eaten and running through the market used lot of my energy today.
Gasping from the shock of the blow I open and close my jaw, waiting for the sting to wear off, my knees aching from the sudden impact. A shadow falls over me.
“How dare you speak to your king like that.”