Chapter 42 #2
“You brought him into your home,” I murmured, a teasing curve to my lips.
“Oh, when we saw good King Kallias marching, those able brought their Kuh’lir in. The pastures are empty because most are safe inside,” Hur explained.
“Making a mess,” Fiona muttered.
Quill shot his mother a glance. “I told you that shirt had a hole anyway!”
“A hole I can mend!” she exclaimed. “What I cannot mend is a tunic half-digested in a goat’s belly!”
The black-and-white creature, small but nearly reaching my knee, bleated and tugged at Quill’s hold, ears pricked toward me, horizontal pupils trained on me.
“Is he one Claydon’sol was breeding to ride?” I asked, stepping closer, palm extended. Oreo sniffed before grabbing a finger, suckling at it.
“That’s not a teat!” Quill shouted, tugging back.
I laughed, wiping my hand on my skirts.
“He’s one of Er’oer’s kids, aye. Shorter than hoped—he’ll not carry a rider,” Hur said with a shake of his head. “Lemella’s kids will be the first trained under saddle.”
Anna’s weak, injured form flashed through my mind, and I forced it away as I took in the cozy room. “I’m pleased to see your home has been spared from the battle.”
A shadow flickered across Fiona’s face, and Hur’s smile faltered.
“We have been blessed by Elohios,” Hur said. “Not everyone could claim the same.”
I pressed my lips together. “The tenth level has been cleared—this was where most of the Velli came through?”
It made sense, since this level connected to the manor. They’d have more traffic than any other tier.
“Quill, Skye, beg excuse of your queen and see Oreo to your room.” Fiona nudged the children.
“Beg your pardon!” They both exclaimed, darting off, the boy dragging the goat behind him, hooves skidding across the stone.
“Please—sit.” She gestured to the table, and Hur hurried to pull out chairs for us.
I seated myself, spine straight, pride intact. Ronan perched beside me, leaning forward, hand never leaving his dagger.
“I would offer tea, but we dare not risk the streams during battle,” Fiona said. “I’ve not left the house in over a week.”
Hur grunted, dropping into a chair with a protest from the wooden legs. “I wouldn’t let her. The first night was the bloodiest. We were lucky to have our doors barred.”
“What happened?” I asked, searching their faces. I couldn’t fathom the terror of screams and battle outside, trapped in a windowless home, uncertain how long safety would last.
“They came in the middle of the night,” Hur said, fingers twitching over the table.
“Velli devils led the way. They did their job well, causin’ the good folks to hide in their homes.
Those who didn’t… Well, they paid with their lives—or worse, dependin’ on how ye be lookin’ at it.
By morn, soldiers wearin’ Radaan plate were marchin’ down our streets.
The strip of black cloth about their arms gave ‘em away, it did. That’s how we knew—this wasn’t King Kallias’ doin’. Nah, those traitors belong to his son.”
They had no idea Tallon was half-Velli, still hiding his lineage. Surely, they had to suspect. There was no way he could’ve painted enough armor on the move. I would search the bodies for black cloths, reveling in each one that marked a traitor’s death.
“Why didn’t you fight back?” Ronan’s stare was cold as ice, cutting into the room like a blade.
“They came in the night. With Velli.” Fiona repeated the words as if that explained everything, her tone taut with memory.
Ronan scoffed. “And the time of day determines whether your people resist a traitor or not?”
Wood groaned under Hur’s shifting weight, his friendly demeanor darkening as he leaned closer.
“Sol’s not meant for fightin’, Yer Highness.
She’s meant to protect. Those who fought were nothin’ but fuel to the fire.
Kindlin’ for the flames. Their blood encouraged them.
Sol’s outer walls fell that night, but her heart took longer. ”
I kicked my brother under the table, subtle but firm. It wasn’t his place to accuse these people of failing against the Velli. “Sol’s heart?”
Fiona swallowed hard, hands clasped together, brow pinched with worry, wrinkles deepening with each measured breath.
“Ah, I forgot ye only visited once.” Hur’s dark gaze returned to me. “What ye see on the outside is only a fragment. Sol proper lies within the mountain. A great white city, large enough to rival Reem herself, pristine and lit with the light of the sun.”
“And it fell?”
“Aye. Though it’s not mine to advise ye, I daresay yer troubles start there.
When foolish men opened their doors to fight…
” He sent a glare to my brother. “They opened them to the Velli. Too few of them to hold it proper, but Sol runs deep. They could hide for weeks, if not months. Taking the outer levels is easy. Retaking Sol’s heart—that will be the true siege. ”
If that rat bastard burrowed into the mountain, my dragons wouldn’t be able to reach him. What I had hoped would be a quick hunt ending with his demise might stretch into an endless search, house to house, level to level.
“Do you know where Tallon is?” It was pointless, but I had to ask.
Hur shook his head. “If I knew, I would’ve told my king when he passed. Alas, he could be anywhere.”
I schooled my expression, keeping disappointment locked behind carefully arranged features. They didn’t need my frustration, nor feel the devastating ache that my dragons could serve no purpose.
“I want to see this city,” my brother blurted.
Black brows met in a frown. “I can’t take that risk, Prince.”
Ronan twisted, raising a brow toward me.
“Is it still under Velli control?” I asked. “You say it’s larger than the capital—Tallon didn’t have enough men to hold Reem.”
“If I open that door, I endanger my family.” Hur’s eyes sharpened with accusation. “They’re a disease. Everywhere and nowhere at once. Aye, there may not be one waitin’ on the other side, but what if there is? Then my children are nothin’ more than blood bags.”
“Hur!” Fiona’s hand fell over his, tightening in a calming press.
“Don’t forget who I am,” Ronan said, voice deathly still. Fingers snapped; a spark erupted and roared to a hovering blaze above his palm. “I swear to protect your queen and family.”
The man’s jaw shifted in thought, a muscle ticking under the skin.
“Hur, I would never ask you to do anything that might put your family in danger,” I said. “I am your queen—take me to see the true city of Sol.”
Fiona’s eyes fluttered closed, a silent surrender, while Hur’s nostrils flared, irritation honing every line of his face.
“Aye, then.” He loosed a harsh sigh. “But only to a vantage point. No deeper. For that, ye’ll need more than a ball of wee flame.” He pushed to his feet, stride long and purposeful, storming from the table.
Ronan sniffed, kicking back his chair. “Wee flame, he says.” His fist clenched, squeezing the spark into oblivion.
Fiona led us through the tight rooms, cozy but small. The gray stone brightened a bit the deeper we went, but the light did little to ease the mounting paranoia pressing against my chest, the weight of the Andeluith pressing down on me.
Here I was trapped. No flight, no escape if the mountain fell.
I craved open sky, the sight of my dragons circling above.
No matter how I reminded myself these people had lived here for generations, the fear clung, threatening to crush me beneath the knowledge that it could all come crashing down at any moment.
“If I can’t name Oreo, ye don’t open this door, hear?” Hur’s white-knuckled hands gripped the thick wood. Behind it, his children, wife, and goat would remain safe until our return.
“You come back to me, Hur of Sol,” Fiona said, fingers clutching her skirts with a death grip.
The big man smirked, leaning down to give her a quick peck on the cheek. “Bar it now.” He shut the door with a solid clang, the sound echoing through the hall like a drumbeat of doom.
His hand rested against the wood, hesitation in his posture—torn between obeying his queen and following caution. Lurching, he pushed away and stalked down the corridor, silent but resolute. Rude, perhaps, but I did not want to shake his determination.
We wound deeper into the house, glimpsing generations of paintings and tapestries on the walls. Our haste didn’t allow for a proper study. We plunged down a second, brighter corridor, following Hur to a dark, formidable door locked with three iron bars across its length.
He wasted no time, shoving each heavy bar aside one by one. The metal fell into place with solid thuds, each sound echoing like a heartbeat through the stone.
With all three removed, he glanced once at Ronan, then heaved the door open, the hinges groaning in protest.