Chapter 3
Chapter
The stone walls of the palace gleamed beneath the morning sun, as if they wished to remind all who truly ruled this world. White City, the biggest metropolis on the continent, had its own pulse. And now that heart beat faster and stronger, for the Gathering of the Ten Families was about to begin.
I passed beneath the wrought iron gate, my boots striking against the worn stones of the courtyard. I stopped for a breath. This place had always carried a chill, even when the city sweltered in heat.
The last time I had stood here, I was six.
I remembered clutching my father’s hand, lost among the sea of silk gowns, tunics, and polished armor.
The palace had seemed endless, a labyrinth from a fairy tale.
The circle of the main building, perfect and majestic, had made my own heart race.
Each of the Ten Families possessed its own quarter within those walls, a slice of the circle, private chambers they could claim whenever they came to the capital.
Now I returned not as a child, but as the representative of Family Veymaris. And I felt the unwanted weight of that name heavy upon my shoulders.
I crossed a long corridor and emerged onto the Inner Court, a vast square at the center of the palace’s ring.
Here, everything happened: councils, alliances, public quarrels, and the quieter bargains struck in the shadow of pillars.
Today it was near empty, save for servants hurrying with chairs and decorations, preparing for the arrival of the Families.
But even in its silence the square whispered, as if the stones themselves remembered every betrayal, every marriage forged, every drop of blood spilled.
At least the fountain still flowed at its center, a tribute to the element of water.
I paused beneath the open sky, tilting my head upward at the marble towers that ringed the square like sentinels. A voice, cold as tempered steel, sliced through the air.
“And so, the rumors prove true. The Veymaris still draw a breath.”
I turned and saw her. Cassandra Cavareth.
Her gown shimmered in hues of gray and gold, rich enough to blind, and a heavy diamond collar lay upon her neck like a crown.
Each stone glimmered with deliberate power, marking not only wealth but also the ancestral heritage of the element of air.
She was beautiful in a cold, inhuman way, time had hardly touched her.
Not a woman, but a statue carved from perfection.
Her long blond, almost white, hair fell like silk down to her waist.
She stood before me, her gaze sweeping from my boots to my hair, studying me as one might examine an unwanted creature that had strayed into royal grounds.
“Lady Cassandra.” I inclined my head slightly, just enough to acknowledge her rank. Every Family had its pride. None were born to kneel.
“Is your Family truly so desperate that it must send a woman?” Her lips curved faintly. “How old are you, child? Nineteen? Twenty?”
“Twenty-one,” I said evenly, meeting her gaze without flinching.
“How curious. I can barely remember your father bringing you here once, such a frail little thing. But that fiery hair of yours... hard to forget.” She said it with a trace of amusement that made my blood stir.
Then, with a sigh as if bored already, she added, “I cannot fathom why Victor sent you here. Your father ought to preserve what little dignity remains to him and handle his own affairs. Why not send your brother?”
I drew a slow breath, steadying my voice. “I am here as a member of my Family, as any other. I came to attend the Gathering and to see to our business. My brother... could not appear.”
Cassandra’s brows arched, surprise flickering for an instant.
But at the word Gathering, her eyes sharpened, turning to frost. The Gathering of the Ten Families.
Institution older than any rule in the Dominium.
Every five years, the heirs and heads of the noble lines gathered in the capital to deliberate over matters of trade and authority.
And most importantly, to choose a new Regent.
To maintain order in that careful chaos, the Families elected a Regent from ten noble Families.
Not a king, but a mediator and keeper of balance, so they say.
The truth was, it was one of the few ways to have more power and control over others.
And that’s what the Families were looking for the most.
The current Regent was Nicolas Cavareth, Cassandra’s husband. Which made her an even greater bitch than she already was.
She stepped closer, “Oh, I am certain you came on business,” she whispered, her voice low yet carrying across the empty court. “But do not deceive yourself, child. The business of Family Veymaris ended long ago. You are here only to find yourself a husband. For that alone will spare you from ruin.”
My fists tightened, and the water in the fountain rippled in answer. Behind her, I caught sight of Cavareth servants lowering their heads. They must have known that tone very well, every word struck like a dagger. Her lips curved into a glacial smile.
“You better stay in the shadows. This place belongs to Families that still have something to offer. Not to ghosts clinging to the memory of their former glory. Leave politics to the elders.”
Before I could reply, she turned in a swirl of gray and gold and walked away. Leaving me standing in the center of the square like a lone pawn on a chessboard where I had yet to learn the rules.
I walked beneath the arcades to calm myself, though fury burned beneath my skin. I sat in a shadowed alcove, trying to collect my thoughts. The high vaults carried every sound, turning whispers into echoes that lingered.
Then I heard a rough, smoke-stained male voice.
“…I tell you, something is wrong. My men keep bringing back dead beasts, rotten through, unfit to eat. And worse, last week they saw a stag in the Freeforest, its hide cracked and leaking black filth, its eyes full of blood. They shot it five times with arrows. It still moved. Had to take its head before it ceased.”
I froze. So it was true. The Plague was spreading.
Freeforest, those must be the Mermont lands to the east. Rumors spoke of sick animals, tainted rivers, and dead soil.
Thalrock remained untouched for now, though even our fishermen sometimes returned with empty nets, or worse, with fish dripping in black sludge.
“And now the Regent lies in his strange slumber. Of all times to fall ill... And Cassandra, only busy pushing her arrogant son before the Election with promises of lowering the price of palladium.”
“Do not speak to me of that harpy,” another voice replied, deeper and smoother.
“She struts like a peacock, though her husband lies near death. She is so sure of the win… I wonder how many promises she had made to secure the Election. I bet she would even sleep with Eric Salvadore if it got her the final vote.”
The two men chuckled. “Come, let us drink. Better to numb ourselves before the storm.” Their footsteps faded down the corridor.
I leaned out from behind the column and caught a glimpse of them, two men in finely embroidered cloaks.
One bore lilies upon his chest, the mark of Family Mermont, as I suspected.
The other wore an over-elegant outfit decorated with various green stones from top to bottom.
Both of them wore heavy rings set with emeralds.
I decided I had heard enough for one morning. It was time to retreat to my chambers and prepare for the Gathering.
I wanted nothing more than to hide away in peace and flee prying eyes.
But a young heiress in a palace, whether she wished it or not, drew attention.
Among the Families, children were of many ages, and when a scion reached a suitable year, all began to scheme and count whether some profit might be made from the match.
For me, it was the last thing on my mind.
After a long walk along the stone halls I reached our chambers. In the living room, trunks were piled in a chaotic heap, but no one remained. They had likely gone to the meal. I breathed out a heavy sigh and dreamed only of silence and solitude.
I pushed open the door to my bedchamber. The hinges shrieked as if no hand had turned them for a long while. Relief filled me, and then, instead of the quiet and emptiness I had hoped for, moans and tittering greeted me.
And then I saw him.
A muscular, broad-shouldered blond sat upon my bed, shirtless, his pants gaped enough that little imagination was needed to divine his intent. Straddling him was a half-clad wench whose breasts shone far too boldly in the morning light.
I froze. Then a sound escaped me, loud and involuntary.
“What the fuck!”
The girl squealed like a beaten rat, suddenly covered her breasts with her hands, and almost fell off the bed as she tried to quickly put on a thin dress. The blond did not flinch. He smiled broadly, silver eyes flashing like steel, and his nonchalance only fueled my fury.
“I thought these chambers were empty,” he said, as calm as if he were an old friend and not an intruder in my bed.
“They are not any longer,” I hissed, fingers clenched about the latch as though I might hurl a shoe at him. “Get out. Now.”
The wench stumbled into the corridor, hair unbound and wild. He did not move. He ran a hand down his neck, leaned back against the headboard, and smiled wider, as if this was his chamber and I the unexpected guest.
“A pity,” he sighed with theatrical regret, tilting his head. “You have robbed me of a quite pleasant diversion.” His gaze slid over me with a new, assessing interest. “You are more than welcome to take her place.”
He sat there, unruffled, with sun glinting off the diamonds in his necklace. I began to suspect he belonged to one of the Families. None but them would have such brazen boldness. But I cared not for his Family or his name. I wanted him out of my bed.
“Whoever the fuck you are, get out.”
He propped himself on his elbow and went on, unbothered. “I have a feeling you are beginning to like me.”
My hands clenched and I felt the familiar prickling of magic under my skin. Instead of calling on it, I reached for my belt. In an instant a blade flashed in the sunlight and cut the air.
The steel sank into the headboard an inch from his head, so near that a fraction less care would have left blood on my hands that very morning.
He did not move. He only widened his eyes at me, then smiled slowly, as if fate had set before him a new toy.
“Hm.” His voice dropped, rough and promising. “So you do like to play.”
“Move or the next blade will not find wood,” I snarled, chin raised.
“Dangerous,” he purred, easing himself from the bed. “I like that.” He laughed shortly, an insolent spark yet oddly pulling.
“So, instead of telling me thank you for warming your bed, you chase me off? Ungrateful, are you not?”
“Warming my bed?” I scoffed. “You defiled it, and with the first harlot you found, as though you had nowhere else to set your lust.”
He feigned outrage, pressing a hand to his heart. “First harlot? I am wounded. My standards are exceedingly high.”
“So high you cannot even find your own chambers?” I cut in.
His smile lengthened, dangerous and languid. He stepped close, deliberately slow, like a predator toying with its quarry.
“Perhaps I was not mistaken in my chambers’ choice,” he said. “Perhaps it was your bed that chose me.”
“My bed?” I lifted an eyebrow and fixed him with my gaze. I drew another dagger from the sheath at my thigh.
“And again you would try to stab me?” he asked, tilting his head as if it amused him. “Surely that is not fitting for an heiress.”
“Then forgive me if I disappoint you, but I pay no heed to what heiresses should do,” I said.
He halted so near I felt the warmth of him and that clean, storm-swept scent. He smirked and I gripped the dagger tighter to keep from stepping back.
“In that case,” he whispered, “maybe we are not so unlike. Veymaris? Am I right?”
I ground my teeth to keep from falling into his snare.
“Enter my chambers uninvited once more, and you will sleep not in my bed, but in the crypt.”
Instead of fear, he only skimmed past me, no more than inches away, and left the room in his open shirt and tousled hair. I heard his heavy footfalls on the stone as he walked away.
In the doorway stood Roderick, his face the very picture of astonishment. After the stranger had gone, Roderick said, “The Lady’s father had spoken of finding a suitor. I did not think the Lady would take to the matter so swiftly.”
I was going to lose my mind.
“Roderick, one more word and I will drown you in a basin,” I told him, and went to draw the knife from the headboard. Roderick, watching me, merely chuckled softly.
“Ah, the youth of today.”