18. The Envy of the Population
The Envy of the Population
The universe seemed to take a twisted delight in watching my eyes pop out of my head and my heart falter over and over again.
Griffon spun, already coiled to strike, then saw the knife at my throat and let his fists fall. His gaze flicked past me, up to the rocky outcropping above the tunnel gate.
The man dragged me sideways, twisting us until the soldiers with arrows drawn had an unobstructed shot at Griffon. Three of them, dressed in linen the color of dry sand dunes under their leather armor, clambered down the boulders, swords gleaming as they spread out and boxed him in.
Griffon took in my predicament. Was he deciding whether I was worth it? He had a pretty good shot at taking on all those men if he wanted to.
The man at my back tightened his hold on me and pressed the blade into my neck. I didn’t dare breathe. I felt a slight burn and then the tickle of something running down onto my collarbone.
“Don’t hurt her.” It was a plea more than a command. A muscle ticked in Griffon’s jaw.
“Your actions will decide her fate,” the man growled next to my ear.
Griffon raised his hands, allowing them to guide him along the outer city wall. His gaze flicked back to me several times, as if searching for an opening. Yet, strangely, his expression wasn’t calculating. His wide eyes seemed almost… concerned. Huh. That was interesting.
When we re-entered the city, I only vaguely registered the residents pausing to point and whisper, the vibrant green of palm trees and gardens, and the intricate mosaic tile work, interlacing motifs, and lambrequin arches.
But what really caught my attention was the enormous equatorial bow sundial in the center of the courtyard.
Rivaling the size of the armillary sphere in the Citadel’s Celestial Library, its gold gleamed in the piercing mid-morning rays.
Pointing toward the celestial poles, the long, polished gnomon arrow slashed through the circular ring dial plate.
I was so enamored, I had to remind myself that this wasn’t the most opportune time to drool over astronomical instruments.
You know, considering the rude piece of cutlery at my throat and the impending doom situation.
Call me distractible, but a girl has priorities, and that sundial was magnificent.
We climbed the palace steps before passing under a broad, towering alabaster arch.
From there, they led us along a walled courtyard garden of palms and gurgling fountains, before entering wide corridors adorned with floor to ceiling tile mosaics in geometric and floral patterns of cobalt, turquoise, and gold.
The knife pressed against my neck never wavered. Not at the palace gate, not through the bustling city center, nor through the inner courtyard and into the lavish halls of the palace itself.
The throne room was a cavernous, striking space.
Fires burned in copper braziers, hung from the ceilings at even intervals, while streaks of sunlight sliced through the hall from the many windows high on the walls under the domed ceiling.
The shadows danced off the tile mosaics, intricate tapestries, and low cushioned sofas in cream and gold damask lining either side of the hall.
A large tapestry on the center of the back wall drew my attention as we passed. I wondered why it hung sideways, but quickly directed my attention to more pressing matters. Like not dying, for instance.
They escorted us to the front of the hall, where a dais held not a throne but a comfortable-looking, highly cushioned cabriole couch with a curved back and short legs. Extending from the couch’s back rose a carved gold panel, depicting an expansive relief of the sun.
A man, clearly channeling the ‘casually handsome ruler’ look, was reclining effortlessly on the overstuffed monstrosity that belonged in a parlor instead of a throne room.
In robes of rich purple and gold, I assumed this was King Faisal.
His refined and neatly trimmed beard contradicted the roguish disarray of thick, dark hair framing his face.
Beside him, perched on her own oversized cushion, was an extraordinarily beautiful woman with long hair, dark as midnight, that cascaded like a silken waterfall, and a piercing gaze that was fixed on me as we approached.
Enormously imposing guards stood at attention on either side of the royal pair and then stepped forward as we approached.
The soldiers escorting us fell back, forming a barrier behind us.
Even though the very persuasive piece of metal was no longer pressed to my throat, the danger we were in only multiplied.
I rubbed the skin on my neck and then pulled away to find blood on my fingers. Not much. He only broke the skin, but it was still enough to spark my temper.
“I’m so done with pointy objects invading my personal space,” I grumbled.
Griffon winced.
Oh, right. That’s how we met.
King Faisal observed us while flipping Griffon’s green malachite-handled dagger into the air.
Blade over hilt, before landing safely back into the king’s hand.
Show off. He pointed the Viridis dagger at Griffon and smiled.
“King Killer, it is about time you paid for your crimes against my kingdom. The people will praise Helios for bringing you to justice at last.”
Griffon stood silently.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Apparently he’d taken a vow of brooding, because again, Griffon said nothing.
“Very well. As a spectacle for our people, you will both be executed by fire at dawn during the Festival of Light in five days’ time.”
My heart stopped. Executed by fire? Of all the ways to go, that had to be in my bottom three. Right after being eaten by a sea serpent and death by paper-cuts.
Griffon’s fingers brushed his thigh, only to realize that his dagger wasn’t there.
His eyes flickered to it in the king’s hand, then he rolled his shoulders.
“The girl should not be punished for a crime she didn’t commit.
I take full responsibility.” Why wasn’t he arguing for his own release as well?
Okay, so slim chance considering he killed his brother, but he could at least try. They can’t just kill him.
“You are in no position to make demands.”
“It is not a demand, but a plea. Your people know you to be a fair and honorable king. She is innocent of any wrongdoing.”
“Wait—“ I stepped forward, ready to unleash a torrent of arguments for why burning Griffon alive was a terrible idea, but he halted me with an arm across my chest. The severe look he gave me would have made even those two massive guards wither in fear.
Fine, I’d shut up. For now.
“She is Volanti,” King Faisal countered, ignoring my interruption.
Griffon looked back at the King. “If you believed our existence alone warranted death, you would not have signed the trade agreement. The return to the killing of innocent Volanti would only put that agreement in jeopardy.”
King Faisal considered me for a few moments and then nodded. “She will be returned to the slave trader.”
My heart stopped. Again.
“Set her free, and I’ll make a public apology before my execution,” Griffon offered.
My gaze shot to Griffon. Before my execution? As if it’s inevitable. He stood there as if he were bargaining for an extra piece of pie. Aren’t we going to fight this?
“As tempting as that sounds, Volanti are not free in Solis. She has broken our law by being within our borders.”
“It was through no fault of her own. I will do anything you ask if you allow her to return to Volantia.”
The king leaned forward. “I want nothing from you except your silence and your death. Return her to the slave trader.”
Griffon stepped in front of me and widened his stance. “You’ll have to kill me first.” He rolled his shoulders. “So much for your spectacle.”
The air flooded with tension as the guards drew their blades and stepped forward. Twin gods, he would fight them all. I mentally calculated our odds of survival. The math was not encouraging.
“I want her.”
We both whipped our eyes back to the dais. It came from the woman sitting next to the king.
“Mali?” the king questioned.
Her high cheekbones added an elegant sharpness to her bronzed face as her lips curled into the faintest, knowing smile. She rose from her cushion and took a step toward me before looking back at the king.
“She’s so exotic. Have you ever seen such big blue eyes? By Helios, she has freckles, Faisal. Imagine what she would look like cleaned up. Please, my King.”
I blinked. Since when did I have freckles?
King Faisal hesitated and then sighed. “Very well, then.”
Did two days in the sun just save me from being sold as a slave? I was thoroughly confused.
All I knew for sure was when Griffon nodded and stepped forward, I was powerless to do anything but stare at his back as they led him away. Without even a glance back in my direction, his broad shoulders and shock of blonde waves disappeared out the door.
The feeling of loss was so profound that I couldn’t breathe.
I had to find a way to free him. Somehow. Even if he was emotionally unavailable and statistically more dangerous than anyone I’d ever met.
“Forget about him,” Mali advised as she approached in a flourish of burgundy silk. “You are mine now. Come.”
Not knowing what else to do, I numbly followed her out of the hall to become nothing more than a collectible with exotic face confetti.
Sitting under the low, domed ceiling of the dim, steamy bathing chamber was a tiled, octagonal pool built into the floor. Two servants with scrubbing sponges abandoned me to bathe alone after I backed myself into a corner and had a panic attack when they attempted to assist me into the water.