Chapter 6
Myriad lights flicker from the buildings’ windows as we follow Magnus and his soldiers away from the river, and even though we’re deep in the centre of the city, that beam of gold is still visible, stretching up into the sky, though it’s now diffused into a soft glow by a gentle flurry of snow that has begun to fall.
‘They can’t possibly feel the cold,’ Caz says beside me. ‘Look at what they’re wearing.’
She’s right. The men and women of Isthyr are dressed mostly in trousers and long-sleeved tops, with very few heavy furs.
Only a handful of people are sporting hooded cloaks, muffs, or gloves.
Given how bitter the cold is and the light snow that drifts down in swirls, masking the stars, they should be freezing, but clearly they are not.
It’s primarily women present, because the men are off at war, I assume – fighting against us.
Morathkian killers, they called us. An uneasy feeling has crept its way into the pit of my stomach, but before I can question the others to see if they feel it too, a flash of ash-coloured fur makes me stop short. My heart somersaults.
There is no denying it. No pretending my mind is playing tricks on me. Though perhaps part of being accepted into the Veil is that you start seeing things? But if that’s the case, it’s happening to my friends too, as they are also standing slack-jawed and wide-eyed.
There, in the middle of the street, are two dire wolves, and they appear to be playing with some children, allowing the little ones to tug on their ears and brush their fur. One even goes as far as rolling onto its back, exposing its belly.
This is … highly unusual, Fen says to me, his tone disconcerted.
‘That’s one way of putting it,’ I murmur. I could just imagine Fen’s response if one of these children decided they wanted to braid his fur.
I cannot see how the wolves survive here, Fen adds. It is a bare, barren place. What do they hunt? I have seen nothing since the hare on the other side of the illusion.
Maybe they’re vegetarians? I offer.
Bite your tongue! he says in abject horror, making me snicker.
As we continue walking, a large building looms in front of us, and that niggling feeling of wrongness worms its way deeper. It’s not just the lack of greenery or wildlife that I’m noticing, but what—
‘There are no slums here,’ I say aloud as I realise what’s bothering me.
Wrohelm and Galreck both have slums I’ve experienced firsthand, and I’ve no doubt that Rowell and Dorain are in similar states. So where are they? Where do they keep their poor? Further out of the city? Or perhaps they send their poverty-stricken to the front lines to die?
An even more alien thought strikes me – something far more unbelievable. Perhaps they simply don’t have that level of poverty here?
‘Stomp. Stomp. Stomp,’ says Loch in a sing-song voice, like he’s reciting a child’s rhyme. Then he starts to rock. ‘Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.’ His eyes widen, and he begins to pant in panic.
Ruben gives him a squeeze around the shoulders. ‘Take a deep breath, and look at where we are, Loch,’ he says, trying to ground Loch in the here and now. Ruben points to an intricate structure that towers into view. ‘That’s one heck of a palace.’
He’s not wrong.
The building features one of the narrow spires that I spotted from high on the ravine, and below said spire are smaller turrets – though they’re still immense in height – and over half of the walls appear to be glass windows.
Just as in the High Hold in Wrohelm, the biggest, most ostentatious structure houses royalty, allowing them to look down on the rest of the city.
At least that much is the same the world over.
But as I take a step towards the structure, with its intricate carvings around the doorways, Magnus speaks. ‘That is not the palace,’ he says. ‘It is the library.’
‘The library?’ I parrot in surprise.
‘Yes. The library is the biggest building in Isthyr. Nothing is more important than knowledge, do you not think?’
‘Oh absolutely.’ Caz bustles forward, her eyes bugging in excitement. ‘You’re seriously telling me that entire building is filled with books?’
Thessa slides her an amused look and pats her hand silently. We all know of Caz’s enduring love for books. If I thought it was hard to find Caz in the palace library back in Wrohelm, I’m pretty sure I’m about to lose her for days on end.
She begins to edge towards it, only for Magnus to speak again.
‘That is the palace there.’ He gestures to another building that’s notably smaller than the library, yet anything but ordinary.
It’s made from a mixture of white marble and what may be glass, though it could just as easily be ice.
Clear steps lead up to an arched doorway at least twelve feet high, while rounded turrets stand at each corner of the building.
Though only half the height of the library, the building is truly beautiful, etched with ornate swirls and whorls that remind me of the lacy patterns marking the skin of the Issen … not to mention my own arms.
‘Where are the guards?’ Kyor murmurs to me with obvious unease. ‘There should be soldiers guarding the palace. Especially if they have dire wolves.’
He’s right. I see no soldiers with their weapons ready to defend their king.
Not having palace guards doesn’t feel like a good sign. It feels like whatever power Magnus has, it is so mighty, so terrifying, that anyone would be a fool to challenge it.
Now that the shock of the Rite of the Veil is over, I’m once again shivering from the cold and so grateful to be heading into the palace. It feels like weeks ago that Ruben gave me my last warming hug, and cold has saturated my bones.
In fact, this morning feels like a whole lifetime ago. I wasn’t a princess when I woke up. Hell, I was barely a functioning human.
As we step inside, I eagerly brace myself for the rush of heat, only for my breath to continue to fog in the palace air.
As I stare at my breath in open dismay, I note that we are standing beneath a chandelier of impressive proportions.
About ten feet wide, it has to be made of at least a thousand individual pieces of glass.
No – ice. Each icicle is carved with an intricate snowflake design, which reflects and refracts the light, and though I can’t say for certain, something tells me that, like the snowflakes that threatened to freeze us on the way here, each etching is entirely unique.
The sight of yet more ice causes an involuntary shiver to grip me.
‘I will see that there are fires placed in your rooms,’ Magnus promises, no doubt reading my less-than-subtle reaction. ‘You can get cleaned up and dressed in the clothes we will provide – they should be a little warmer – and we will let you know when dinner is ready.’
‘Thank you,’ I reply.
After the promise of warmth, we’re introduced to a woman who Magnus names as his housekeeper and our chaperone.
Ylva shows us up to our rooms. ‘There are four bedrooms for you to use,’ she explains.
‘The wolves are welcome inside the palace and up here too, but we prefer them not to be in the bedrooms. If you require it, I will, of course, ask King Magnus if an exception can be made.’
I relay the instruction to Fen.
Tell her we will stay in the corridors, Fen responds immediately. We can better keep an eye on you all that way.
‘The wolves will be happy in the corridor,’ I confirm.
‘Excellent. They are also free to wander outside if they wish. I’m sure they will find adequate room to stretch their legs.’
I smile gratefully, though I can’t help but notice the contradiction inherent in our situation. They may not trust us to wander around without a chaperone, but they are perfectly happy to have our giant wolves strolling their hallways and city.
‘I shall leave you now, but please, if you need anything, I will only be at the end of the corridor.’ She gestures back towards the staircase, where a large armchair has clearly just been placed.
I guess we really are being guarded around the clock then.
Pushing the nervousness of a watchful eye aside, I refocus my attention on the matter at hand. Sleeping arrangements.
Four rooms. Seven of us. With three semi-couples, in one form or another.
Logic would suggest that Caz and Thessa should share a room together, and Kyor and me, so that Ruben and Benny can also share, but that would leave Loch alone, and none of us would be happy with that.
‘Ben and I will share with Loch,’ Caz says decisively.
‘Company is best for him, and if we can have the biggest room, it means we can take turns being awake with him during the night if he needs that. Then Thessa and Ruben can have their own rooms, and you two can share,’ she adds, looking at Kyor and me. ‘If that’s okay with you?’
A comfortable bed in a room with Kyor? I’m not going to say no to that. Even if it’s just to talk to him. It feels like moons since we’ve had real privacy.
‘Fine by me,’ Benny says, though I don’t miss the way he glances at Ruben. I sense some sneaking down the corridor in his future.
‘I am sure it will be more than adequate,’ Thessa agrees.
‘Well then,’ I say, looking at the wolves and then at my friends. ‘I guess we’ll get washed up and stay in our bedrooms until dinner.’
‘How on earth will we spend the time, Thorn?’ Kyor whispers to me as soon as we’re alone, his breath hot on my ear.
This entire journey back from the sacred lands, my mind’s been jumping from one thought to another: from William and Kay to the Rottings to the new lines on my hands and arms, and everything else in between.
It would be great to have a moment’s respite from the constant rumination, and some time alone with Kyor would provide exactly that.
Maybe our time would be better spent talking, but I don’t think I have that in me.
But running my hands over Kyor’s body and letting him do the same? That’s a different matter entirely.