Chapter 5 #2
The guards stood in complete silence for a few seconds, staring at the crown. Gavin snapped his fingers. “I said we need to speak with the High Sentinel.”
“It’s really her,” one guard whispered to another, clapping him on the back.
The lead guard shook his head as if trying to come back to reality. “I’m afraid that’s not possible today. He’s out on unknown business outside the city, but he will return tomorrow. In the meantime, we’ll search your belongings and then get you settled with rooms, meals, and baths.”
Gavin nodded and helped Imani and Esa out of the cart.
It felt good to stretch her legs after sitting, then standing, for so long.
She glanced up at the estate as it glittered in the sunlight.
It was perfectly white and massive. The kind of place built to last, not just through time but also through conflict.
Every line suggested permanence, as though it had been designed to withstand repeated assaults without weakening its foundation.
Of course, it would need to be large enough to conduct business here and to host other Sentinels, as well as the monarch, if required. She didn’t think a monarch had been here for a hundred years or more, though.
Gardens full of plants she’d never seen lined the edge of the lawn and surrounded the building, with a huge fountain and benches at the center.
She loved it. It was the most beautiful home she’d ever seen.
If she survived long enough, Imani decided she’d build her own home like this one.
Someplace to call her own. Not tied to someone else’s legacy or expectations.
Something built because she chose it and claimed it fully.
The idea lingered longer than she allowed, pressing into something deeper than simple desire.
A pang of pain squeezed her heart because she’d always imagined being with her partner whenever she daydreamed about her own home.
But that wasn’t on the cards for her. Solitude was also comforting, and she pushed such troubling thoughts aside as a steward greeted them at the gates.
“Good afternoon. I’m Ralnor, and I oversee the High Sentinel’s estate. Please follow me as I escort you to your rooms and introduce your ladies’ maids, who will assist you with bathing and bring you a hot meal.”
A no-nonsense man, Ralnor turned on his heel, a silent directive to follow.
Ralnor offered no visible reaction to the crown, the wanted posters, or Gavin’s claims. Whether he believed any of it seemed irrelevant to him. Ellisar would decide what mattered. Until then, Ralnor apparently intended to do his job exactly as he always did.
Esa shrugged, and they both started after him. As they walked, Imani watched a man in an outfit similar to Ralnor’s take Gavin into another wing, and she could almost see the top of her childhood home.
A familiar ache tightened in her chest. The past did not sit quietly. It threaded through everything she touched here; every memory tied to a place she no longer belonged to as she once had. That was the cost of survival, she supposed.
She hung her head.
It was her fault they had to leave this wondrous city after she’d killed her grandfather.
Although she knew it was an accident that her parents had died, too, she still felt partly responsible.
They were escorting her away from the Vathis, after all.
If it weren’t for her, they wouldn’t have even been there.
Back before that mess, when her grandfather was still alive, Ara had been strict but not the tyrant she’d become after her heartmate’s death.
Another sin that seemed to fall on Imani’s shoulders.
Pushing the thoughts away, she gathered her mud-stained skirts and hurried to catch up with Ralnor and Esa.
Again, opulence greeted them, with doors carved from Draswood.
She could feel magic emanating from them, but Ralnor wasn’t afraid.
He pushed one open, held it for the ladies, and kept walking.
Ralnor never slowed or looked back. Ellisar’s household clearly knew where authority rested, and no one here seemed inclined to make decisions that belonged to the High Sentinel.
If she could convince Ellisar that she was the true monarch, she could convince the realm.
* * *
Her assigned room was just as marvelous as the rest of the house.
Pale walls reflected the late-afternoon light streaming through two tall windows overlooking the gardens, and sheer curtains stirred in the breeze from the cracked panes.
A wide bed sat under a carved wooden canopy at the far wall, dressed in layers of white and silver blankets that looked far too expensive to touch with dirty hands.
A low bench stood at its foot, while a pair of upholstered chairs faced a small fireplace built into the opposite wall.
Fresh flowers sat on the mantel, their scent faint under the stronger smell of hot water and soap drifting from the adjoining bathing room.
A wardrobe filled one side of the room, already stocked with several gowns and nightclothes in her approximate size.
Someone had also left a tray of fruit, bread, and cheese beside a pitcher of water on a small table by the windows.
Nothing about the space felt hastily prepared, even though she had arrived unannounced.
That, more than the luxury, impressed her.
Ellisar’s household seemed designed to absorb disruption.
Imani ignored the ladies’ maids waiting for her to call them in and immediately set to work scrubbing the grime and travel dust from her body.
The bathing room held a deep stone tub, large enough for her to stretch her legs, with brass fixtures and shelves crowded with soaps, oils, folded towels, and combs.
Steam filled the room as she scrubbed dried mud from her skin and worked knots from her hair.
Imani had kept her soul-draw dimmed and her brands and scars glamoured, but otherwise it felt freeing to be simply… Imani.
When the maids entered after she’d finished, they fussed over her hair, calling it lovely.
Instead of braiding it as usual, they let the long locks hang free, framing her face and curling just enough to look presentable.
She had to admit that wearing her hair long like this looked quite beautiful… and she might do it again.
After the maids helped her into her nightgown, she crossed the thick rug covering most of the floor and crawled into the huge bed.
The mattress gave beneath her weight, and she immediately hugged one of the oversized pillows to her chest. The sheets smelled faintly of lavender, and the blankets were heavy enough to make the room feel warmer than it was.
Kiran had pillows like these. She loved them. That was why she always went to his room instead of hers for feeding.
Oh!
She bolted upright, heart pounding.
Feeding.
This was going to be a problem again. Imani fell back into the pillow and let out a rush of air. Why couldn’t she have a normal heartmate who loved her, went everywhere with her, and cared for her? Imani was independent, but she could admit the appeal of having such a partner.
But she got Kiran.
He wasn’t a partner or an equal, at least in anything that mattered.
Kiran was far more volatile and bound to her in a way that refused to simplify into a matter she could control.
That complication would follow her wherever she went, which meant she would have to learn to use it rather than escape it.
Imani clenched her fists, thinking of him—that utterly mad bastard.
She turned over and faced the darkening windows.
Beyond the glass, the estate's white stone reflected the last light of evening, while the gardens below disappeared into shadow. Somewhere else in the enormous house, servants moved through halls she did not know, preparing rooms and meals and tending to the High Sentinel’s business as though a fugitive queen’s arrival had changed nothing.
Imani decided feeding would be a problem for another day; she could go another week or two, then beg Esa to help her if needed. As her eyes drifted shut, she pretended she was not alone in the bed, held tight by a warm, powerful body sleeping close to her.