Chapter 38
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Adrian
“I have no more words for you. The time has come for action.”
— Rebel Leader Marsh Ackley in his Final Address to the Resistance
The wall seemed to hum to life as we drew near it in the morning sun.
The green woven throughout the stone was even more obvious in the light of day.
I couldn't help but close my eyes and breathe in the power in the air as we passed through it, emerging to a dozen guards bedecked in brocaded burgundy on the other side.
My gaze snapped to them at once, the general tensing at my side as he assessed the threat.
The one on the left, closest to me, reached toward his blade.
He was barely out of puberty, far too young to wield a sword, and yet his fingers twitched over the hilt of one all the same.
Frowning, I watched him from the corner of my eye as Zya and Kane stepped up closer behind me.
"General," someone called out with a tone of welcoming familiarity.
I turned to find a man emerging at the end of the column of soldiers.
He wore a pleasant smile that reached his brown eyes and caused them to sparkle.
He tossed his blonde curls aside as he approached, cheeks dimpling with the effort of his grin.
He held out a hand to Gryfon who took it only after an uncomfortable hesitation.
"Wonderful to see you again," the man beamed, all jovial congeniality. "It's been far too long."
My gaze narrowed and I resisted the urge to brush my fingertips against my own blade. I'd spent enough time around politics now to know precisely what he was; a wolf in sheep's clothing.
"Has it?" Gryfon drawled, clearly unimpressed by the theatrics. "After my last visit, I was under the impression I wouldn't be welcome again."
The man blinked. To his credit, he seemed hardly perturbed by Gryfon's coldness. Though, if he'd ever met the general before, I suspected he knew enough to expect one of his moods. Indeed, a moment later found him smiling once again.
"The past is the past," he announced, waving a hand as if to clear it all away. "Our future, I hear, is to be intertwined."
His eyes slid to me at that and the general tensed again.
"You've brought me a proposal?" he asked, tone cool in a way that informed us he already knew exactly what our proposal would be.
I shot a glare toward the group of three standing on the other side of the guards.
Roman, Ksenia, and Dante remained there, watching us with calm expressions.
Roman kept glancing toward the general, clearly not feeling as welcoming as whoever this man before us was.
Ksenia's gaze seemed to flick around our party, as if attempting to discover whether or not we'd been infiltrated in the last twelve hours since she'd departed our camp.
Dante just stood there, between the Captain and the Spy, as if he were a part of this.
As if he were one of them, welcoming us to his city. But this wasn't his city.
My jaw clenched.
"Your father," the general announced when the man's examination of me had taken longer than was customary. "I've brought your father a proposal. He is still king, is he not?"
The man's eyes snapped back to Gryfon who now had his arms crossed, staring down the bridge of his nose at the man before us as though he were no more than a new recruit, waiting to be broken and bent into whatever shape the general desired.
But, as the man with the blonde curls smiled back at the general, no fear at all in his gaze, I thought he wouldn't be the easiest one to bend.
"He is," the man agreed, unbothered by Gryfon's obvious affront, yet again.
"And I'm sure he would be happy to discuss all that brought you here and more.
But I'm afraid he's quite busy with the various affairs of running a kingdom this morning.
Since we had no warning of your arrival, I'm sure you can hardly expect him to abandon his court for a sudden audience with you.
He has, however, made time in his busy schedule to welcome you in a way that is appropriate for visiting dignitaries. "
"Don't say it—"
"A ball!"
The man clapped his hands together with a wide grin as Gryfon descended into muttered curses. I glanced back at Zya, brow furrowed. She shrugged in response. I turned back to the man before us.
"Don't you think it's rather inappropriate to throw a party in the midst of a war with the gods?" I asked, unable to control the disdain dripping from every word I spoke.
"I think that's precisely the time to throw a party," the man replied, having the audacity to shoot me a wink along with his declaration.
Beside me, Gryfon let out a deep sigh. I could practically feel his eyes rolling.
"We're fighting the gods, dear," he continued, grinning like a lunatic. "There's all the chance in the world we'll all be dead by tomorrow. Might as well drink tonight!"
Some of the guards chuckled, outright smiling at this madman, while our party just stared at him. Gryfon was hardly holding himself together. Irritation radiated off of him in waves so strong I was certain the others couldn't possibly ignore it. When he spoke again, his voice was a deep growl.
"If we're to fritter away our evening, perhaps you'd allow us a productive morning, at least."
The man chuckled before nodding deeply in further welcome, stepping aside and holding out a hand in a wide gesture toward the city.
Servants scurried forward then, each of them claiming one of us, and harried us along through the busy streets toward the looming palace in the distance.
Half of the welcome party's guards split off and followed us, keeping to the perimeters of our group to deter the citizens of the city from getting in our way.
Though, I thought, perhaps they were more intending to keep the citizens safe from us.
I shook my head at the thought, the insanity of that possibility driving me onward through the street.
The palace was made of grand stone, a beige behemoth decorating in shining gold and deep velvet burgundy. It reminded me much of House Lynx and I wondered if the colors had meant something long ago.
More guards met us at the gates of the palace, joining our group as we descended upon the stone halls.
Torches set at regular intervals lit the way as we made our way through the foyer, past several lavishly decorated halls and chambers, and through an arch in the east wing.
As we went, more and more of our group began to peel off, following their assigned servants into bedrooms off on the sides.
Zya and Kane paused only long enough to give me meaningful glances before stepping into their own rooms, across the hall from one another.
It took until we reached the end of the hall for me to notice the general and I were the only ones remaining, along with our own servants.
Two women who kept their heads bowed as they shuffled along beside us.
Tensing, I glanced back at the empty hall.
His own warriors had been placed closest to us, the last to peel away from our group for their own rooms. They would be close if anything went awry but, still, I couldn't help but glance up at Gryfon as the servants stopped at the end, slotting golden keys into two doors opposite each other.
The general frowned back at me, a slight nod the only encouragement I was likely to receive.
Taking a breath, I turned and followed the servant into the room, noting the fact that our rooms had been the only ones locked.
Unease spread throughout my body and I felt the prickle of power in my limbs, the Darkness pooling at my fingertips, begging to be loosed on some unseen threat.
I kept it in check, curling my fingers into fists until my nails cut little half moons into my palms.
The servant seemed unaware of the tension in every muscle of my body.
She placed the key carefully on a table by the door before striding through a small foyer.
I heard the distinct sound of water running through rattling pipes a moment later and rounded the corner to find her bent over a wide golden tub.
She poured some fragrant soap into the steaming bath and floral aromas filled the air around us.
I dragged my gaze from the bath to the wider room beyond the bathing chamber.
A golden, four poster bed with rich burgundy sheets and plush pillows, a soft, luxurious rug covering a majority of the cold stone floor, gauzy maroon drapes, dressers and end tables and a full length golden mirror set into the corner.
"Would you like some assistance with the armor, my lady?" the servant asked, shattering my thoughts.
I turned toward her and found her bowing low in submission. Nose wrinkling in disgust, I reached for her.
"Don't do that," I said, gripping her shoulders and helping her gently back to her feet. I lowered my gaze to meet hers. "I've never been bowed to before. I don't intend to start now."
Her lips parted in surprise for a brief moment before they stretched into a grin.
"My lady—" she began.
"Adrian," I corrected, "please."
Her smile grew as she nodded.
"And yes," I told her. "I would really appreciate some help getting this thing off. I swear those lecherous blacksmiths made it skin tight for their own viewing pleasure."
She let out a surprised snort and I grinned down at her.
Then she shuffled around until she found the clasps in the back.
I let out an exaggerated breath when I was released from my metal prison.
I'd complained nearly the whole way here about how uncomfortable the metal contraption was, even if I did internally marvel at the maneuverability of the armor at the same time.
Gryfon had only grunted that if I preferred the discomfort of an arrowhead through my spine, that could be arranged.