Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
The smell hit Thea first.
Not the pleasant scent of cooking fires or horses or even the bitter tang of the tea she’d grown accustomed to over the past five days. This was different—a complex assault of fish and salt water and human waste, overlaid with expensive perfume and incense that failed to mask the rot underneath.
The city stank of contradiction.
She pressed closer to Khorrek’s chest as they rode through the gates, trying to process everything at once with the methodical observation that had served her well in archaeological digs. She needed to categorize and analyze so she could understand.
The gates themselves were a statement of power—massive wooden doors reinforced with iron bands, each one easily twenty feet tall.
Defensive architecture designed to intimidate as much as protect.
The guards wore matching armor, black and silver, their formation precise enough to make her think of honor guards at state functions.
Was Lasseran responsible for that strict military discipline?
Beyond the gates, the city sprawled in terraced levels climbing toward that dark tower complex that Khorrek called the Obsidian Keep.
Dark stone buildings crowded together, a mixture of elegant archways and thick stone fortifications, from which balconies jutted like broken bones.
A few windows glittered with actual glass—no doubt rare and expensive—while others gaped dark and empty.
People filled the streets—more humans than she had seen since arriving in this world.
Their presence was both comforting and disturbing.
They moved with purpose, but she caught the careful glances, the awareness of their surroundings, and the speed with which they moved through certain areas. They were afraid.
A woman in silk robes stepped out of a shop. Jewelry glinted at her throat and wrists—gold, rubies, and emeralds the size of Thea’s thumbnail. Behind her, a servant carried packages wrapped in expensive fabric.
Twenty feet away, a child sat in the gutter, barefoot and hollow-eyed. The child watched the wealthy woman pass with the flat expression of someone who’d already learned that wanting was pointless.
The obscene contrast made her shudder.
“Look,” Khorrek said quietly, pointing at a building they were passing. It was large and imposing, with barred windows and guards at the entrance. Through those bars, she caught glimpses of faces—dirty, desperate faces. Chained faces.
Oh.
“Slaves?” The word came out in English, but his jaw tightened as if he understood. “Yes.”
They rode on. She forced herself to keep looking, even though every observation made her stomach twist tighter.
Much of the city was beautiful, but it was beautiful in a way that made her think the people cared more for aesthetics than ethics.
They climbed through districts that grew progressively wealthier with larger homes and cleaner streets.
The people were better-dressed but that undercurrent of fear remained constant, visible in the way people’s eyes tracked their passage, in the speed with which they cleared the road when Khorrek approached.
They were afraid. Of him or what he represented? Or perhaps both.
The thought sent an uncomfortable chill through her. She’d spent five days learning to see him as… what? A protector. A teacher. Someone who made her feel safer than she’d had any right to feel in this situation.
But to these people, he was something else—something threatening.
Which is he really?
The question felt dangerous so she pushed it aside, focusing instead on the massive structure looming ahead.
Up close, the Obsidian Keep was even more imposing than from a distance.
Black stone that seemed to swallow light rather than reflect it rose in sharp angles that had more in common with weapons than architecture.
There were no decorative elements or softening touches.
It was pure, brutal dominance made manifest—the physical embodiment of power.
Whoever built this wanted everyone to know exactly where they stood in the hierarchy.
They entered through another gate, this one guarded by even more soldiers, but once again they simply stepped aside to let Khorrek pass.
The gate opened into a courtyard with cobblestones so perfectly fitted she couldn’t see the seams, flowering trees in massive planters, and a fountain featuring what looked like a victory scene carved in marble.
It was beautiful, elegant, and undoubtedly built on the backs of those slaves she’d seen.
Khorrek dismounted. As always, he reached for her, lifting her down with that casual strength that still startled her. For a moment they were close together with her hands on his shoulders for balance and his grip on her waist steady and warm.
Then he stepped back and… changed. He turned into the cold, controlled warrior she’d first met at the stone circle.
No, she thought immediately. That’s not who you are, not really.
But maybe it was. Maybe the man who’d taught her words by firelight and let her sleep against him in the dark was the facade, and this was the truth.
She didn’t like that possibility at all.
A servant appeared—a human male wearing a tailored uniform that probably cost more than anything she had owned in her previous life.
He spoke in rapid-fire sentences that her still-developing language skills couldn’t follow, but she caught the gist. The High King had been informed of arrival, and would send for her. Rooms had been prepared.
Khorrek nodded, and gestured for her to follow him.
They entered the inner keep through doors that required two men to open. The interior was exactly what she had expected—soaring ceilings, expensive tapestries, and floors so polished she could see her reflection. This was opulence as intimidation, and wealth as weapon.
How many people could be fed with what these decorations cost? How many children pulled from gutters?
The questions were pointless. This wasn’t a place that cared about such things.
They climbed several sets of stairs and walked along corridors that seemed designed to confuse and disorient, each one identical to the last. More servants appeared and disappeared, all expensively dressed and wearing the same bland expression of professional invisibility.
Finally, Khorrek stopped before a door and opened it.
The rooms beyond made her breath catch despite herself. She’d been sleeping on the ground for five days, washing in streams, and eating dried meat and porridge from a shared pot.
This was something else entirely.
The main room was larger than her entire apartment in Cambridge had been.
The furniture was carved from dark wood, upholstered in deep blue velvet.
A fireplace dominated one wall, cold now but ready to be lit.
Fresh flowers—fresh flowers—sat in a crystal vase on a side table.
Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the city as lights began to appear in the dusk.
Through an open doorway, she could see a massive bed with more pillows than any reasonable person needed. It was beautiful, luxurious, and expensive, but she’d already noted the elegant ironwork barring the windows and the ornate lock on the heavy door.
It was a cage, wrapped in silk perhaps, but a cage nonetheless.
She turned to find Khorrek with his hand on the door, preparing to leave.
No.
She crossed back to him in three quick steps, and caught his arm before he could open the door
“Wait.”
He stopped, looking down at her hand on his forearm and then at her face, his expression so carefully blank that she wanted to shake him.
“Why am I here?” she asked in his language. The grammar felt shaky, but she pushed through. “Why did the High King bring me to this place?”
“Tharak koreth nash.”
“Liar.” The word came out sharper than she intended.
Something flickered across his face. “Lasseran gives me orders, not reasons. He wanted you in Kel’Vara so I brought you.”
“Will I see you again?”
The words came out small and vulnerable. She hated how they sounded but couldn’t change them.
“Tharak koreth nash.” Again. I don’t know.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it is true.” His voice was absolutely flat. “I obey the High King’s commands. If he orders me to guard you, I will guard you. If he sends me away, I will go. I do not question.”
“Why not?”
He didn’t respond, just looked at her with that blank expression that gave away nothing.
Frustration built in her chest, hot and uncomfortable. Five days. Five days of learning to read his moods, of sleeping beside him, of feeling safe in his presence, and now he was retreating behind walls she didn’t know how to breach.
“You’re just going to leave me here.” It wasn’t a question.
“You will be cared for. You will have rooms, food, servants—”
“It’s a prison,” she interrupted. “A luxurious prison, but still a prison.”
“It’s better than the alternative.”
“Which is what?”
His jaw tightened. “The cells I showed you. The ones with bars.”
Oh.
The implication settled over her like a lead blanket. She should be grateful. She should stay quiet and not cause trouble. Unfortunately, she’d never been good at those things.
But looking up at his carefully controlled face, she realized that pushing right now would get her nowhere. He had already retreated, separating himself from whatever had developed between them over the past days.
She should be practical and let him go. She should focus on survival and figuring out her situation instead of her confusing feelings about him. But she’d never been particularly good at “should,” either.
“Thank you,” she said instead. “For taking care of me. For… everything.”
His expression softened fractionally, and she rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
It was impulsive, reckless, and probably incredibly stupid given everything she didn’t know about this world and its customs and his position in it.