Chapter 3
three
We lingered by the room of nightmares, formally known as the Hall of Echoes. I tried to hurry on, but Thelena snatched my wrist.
“They told me to prepare you spiritually. Can you take a moment to pray and reflect so that we can tell them you did such? The gash across your face came from the ritualistic torture,” she insisted.
“Of course it was.” I bowed my head and said a quick prayer to Ovatar, but still shuffled my feet uneasily.
I hated it, and the horrors painted onto the walls—the demon king and his army of dragon-riding ghouls.
The great mural was of their last assault on the kingdom, the one that Ovatar had to step in to stop.
He built the monolithic walls and gifted my family line with the magic to keep the dragons besieging from above and my broken people leaving from below.
This room was a threat to if we ever dared disobey Ovatar, and a promise that their army of monsters—the Ifrei—would return.
It was a terrifying piece of gnashing teeth and dragons so large they could swallow ten men with a single gulp.
The bottom’s crimson paint was so thick it peeled away in rolls, the bright spilled blood of my brethren.
And the warriors of Ilyatria were strewn about the wall in pieces, with care spent painting the vivid missing limbs and spilling viscera.
The Ifrei ate, tore, and shattered what their dragons neglected, bearing curling horns and sickening blue orbs with no pupil—only a fire that burned through their skulls and into my lids when I shut them.
It was brutal. It was carnage, and it was history.
Yet it haunted me in my nightmares, and Deldren too. I may have told him a few too many terrifying tales of the Ifrei. My heart clenched at the memories of hiding beneath blankets with stories, lilting songs, and his bright laughter. That felt like an eternity ago.
After I finished a final prayer for him, I darted down the corridor to the entry hall. It was bustling with excited chatter echoing off the vaulted ceilings. I wasn’t as hopeful as I scanned the crowd, looking through the hordes of gilt clad and painted nobles.
I pressed on from their prying eyes and the accompanying hushed laughter. The women fanned themselves and flittered between the men like impatient birds, and after a day of torture, my patience wore thin.
Deldren hung at the end of the hall, attended by more guards than I’d seen in my life, waiting in the only pool of sunlight.
He was certainly something to behold, now towering at least a full head over me. The last time I’d seen him for more than a passing glance, he’d barely come up to my waist. Where did this man come from?
His dark curls were slicked back, with not a single lock out of place, and wore his lengthy crooked nose with an air of regality.
He kept his cleft chin held high and his cloaked shoulders rolled back.
I wasn’t surprised to see him in Father’s usual regal coat, but I was shocked by how well it fit him, as if he were born to wear it.
I ignored the servant's shouts for me to stay and darted far out of reach of my handmaiden. I rushed in until the only thing between us was a single guard who didn’t hesitate to pull a blade at my sudden approach.
“Deldren—”
“Prince,” the guard corrected, staring down his long nose at me.
Deldren’s head flicked in my direction, and as soon as he took me in, his features relaxed. He waved off the guard and whispered a word in the ancient language. Thelmir.
A curse, and an insult the poor man wouldn’t understand. I smirked as Deldren parted his entourage and led me into the only remaining quiet corner of the upper hall. He almost shuttered us into the closet, but hesitated, choosing to stay just above the stairwell.
But once he caught sight of my face, he gasped. “My god, what happened to you?”
I shivered. “Ovatar’s preparations. It’s fine.”
“You look like they tried to murder you.”
They did.
“Please,” I said in a low voice. “Just pretend it’s not there. Everything is fine.”
He nodded reluctantly, but his gaze remained glued to the brutal marks. “If I must.”
“When did you become this?” I asked, motioning to his extravagant clothes. Letters couldn’t convey that.
He smiled, “While they were hiding me away in the crown’s wing. What about you? I swore the last time we met, you were as intimidating as the bell tower.”
I raised myself until I was on my toes, yet still not as tall as he. “I’m quite intimidating, don’t you think?”
He laughed. “But of course, Lorelana, you’re so terrifying. Almost as scary as the coming day.”
The day he’d be taking Father’s place.
I twisted my skirts uneasily. “Your work with Father—how is he? I hardly see him anymore.”
Now it was his turn to shift uneasily, and he was sure to lower his voice.
“Not well. He’s taken to his bedchambers, but there’s more to it.
Something is going on with him…” He motioned to his head.
“He hides in his chambers, and only requests me on occasion. The few times he does, he seems to go in circles, speaking of poisonings and collusion in the court. Something’s wrong.
” He halted, staring at the wound across my cheeks.
It still burned, but not as much as his gaze did.
“Stop looking at it. You know where and why it happened.”
His concern flipped to a scowl, and he gripped the banister until his knuckles went white as winter. “I’ve despised that room ever since you dragged me there with your horror stories.”
I bit my lip. “Sorry.”
He gave me a knowing half-grin. “But I enjoyed the songs. You’ve always had a lovely voice, Lorelana.
Be careful where you use it, you may catch the wrong sort of attention.
” Now his gaze went to the moving, living mass of nobles.
It was no secret my mother had been trying to shackle me to an ancient noble for years.
I’d done everything in my power to stop it, but one could only stop that inevitability for so long.
The idea of having to share a bed with one of those decrepit corpses replaced the pulsating pain with ice.
“Against my will,” I added.
He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re my sister, I won’t let them marry you off like some prized sow. Your future isn’t for sale.”
I loosed a long sigh and the dress seemed to release, finally allowing me to take a full breath. “You have my eternal thanks.” I hesitated, but couldn’t bite my tongue any longer. “I’d heard you’d taken ill, but you seem to be standing just fine.”
He laughed, but broke into a small cough halfway through.
He must have read the terror that crossed my face because he placed a kind hand on my shoulder.
“I’m fine, it’s nothing but the early summer croaking, where the blasted Lowerquarter trees release their horrid pollen and clog up the lungs.
I’m fine.” But he stopped to cough again into his elbow.
“I’m grateful, but worried about you.”
Something changed in his hazelnut eyes. They were the same color as Mother’s, of warm summer, and the forest just beyond the wall.
“Don’t worry about me. Focus on your duties after the coronation.
I’ve heard of your trips to the Underquarter.
I won’t force you to marry a noble, but you shouldn’t be seen around men of that stature. You have other things to attend to.”
He meant Tennith. Hrothgir must have been gossiping, but I doubted he’d show his face for a while. “I don’t go for the men, I use it for a release, just some dicing and relaxing,” I stuttered. “The people there—” Need me. But he cut me off before I could finish with a firm hand on my shoulder.
“We’ll discuss it after. Father won’t be making rules anymore or his ornery guard. Come to the wing and we’ll speak then.”
I nodded, but the jeering crowd below cut me off. The noise muffled me and any thoughts I might have, as he slipped away, hopping down the stairs with far more grace than I’d ever been able to muster. They chose correctly when they picked him.
As we headed outside, time and space went into this blurry in-between, and despite everyone’s joy, it felt more like a funeral march than a ceremony.
We clung to a central area and moved out in lines, like a procession.
The atmosphere hung around us like a dark cloud.
Once we reached the center courtyard, where the oppressive dais and pikes lay, the loud shouts switched to a solemn silence.
To break the quiet, I hummed myself a low dirge—anything to break my brewing gut. Deldren led the way as we made our way to the gallery. This is where they normally held executions, but it was also the same place where my father slowly seeped his life out. Now it would be my brother’s turn.
All eyes were away from me, so the tightness in my chest eased.
But only slightly. The sea of petticoats and formalwear was easy to disappear into.
I became just another face, so long as I kept my torn, aching head down.
I ran my fingers along the lace of my skirts, turning it between my thumb and forefinger.
We were all herded below the dais, where people normally cheered on executions. The violet flags and banners flapped overhead, the knocking of the canvas violating the sacred quiet. I hated beheadings, but they were never this silent.
Scanning the crowd, I searched for any sign of my father. Unfortunately, all I found was my brother standing among the pikes, waiting. Despite his strong stance, his foot tapped endlessly against the stone, matching my drumming heart.
I wished I could be there for him, instead of being thrown into the pit with the rest of the nobility. Their fancy dresses meant nothing, not when I should be up there supporting him. But with my bloodied face, it’s no wonder they tucked me into the crowd. They hoped I’d be quiet and hide away.