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Dalya curtsied.
I did so in return. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Oracle Dalya.” I could be polite, even while my heart was breaking at the realization that Lumeria was now lost to the king, my pseudo-husband, in front of me.
“And you, Mizrah.”
She seemed genuinely pleased to meet me.
“I hoped that perhaps you can be a guide to her,” he said to Dalya. “As she adjusts to her new life here in Northgall.”
“Of course, Sire. And when should I plan for the Rite of Servium?” Dalya asked, turning her golden gaze up to him.
“Three days.”
I stiffened, not ever having heard of this rite, but sensing its importance.
Dalya blinked in surprise. “That is soon. Should we not give the princess time to acclimate, to prepare—”
“Three, Dalya,” he declared sharply and a bit too familiarly when speaking to an oracle in public.
“As you wish, Sire.” She bowed as Goll placed a hand at the center of my back and urged me forward beside him.
The people of Silvantis erupted again as he guided me at his side to face the crowd. I couldn’t help but glance up at him, noting the pride on his face. He’d gotten what he wanted. The crown, both kingdoms, and apparently me.
As we descended the steps and he urged me toward his horse, I knew that I was merely a pawn in his plans, to secure his reign over Lumeria, and future reign through our child, his heir. But wished I was more than a means to an end, that my life was worth more to him than being his breeder.
Without even asking, he wrapped his hands around my waist from behind and lifted me to sit sideways on his saddle. I grabbed the pommel to balance myself as he hoisted himself behind me. Then he turned his steed toward the road leading to Näkt Mir.
“You could wave to the people, Una,” he whispered in my ear as they cheered when we passed. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be cordial to them.”
“They aren’t cheering for me. This is your kingdom, not mine.”
He exhaled a breath of frustration, and we were quiet the rest of the way to the palace.
While the entrance to the fortress of the Palace of Black Glass was intimidating with the steep drop on either side into what was once the crater of the volcano Vixet Krone, in the distance there were lush blue-leaved trees. Esher was the name I’d discovered from Hava.
Eshers only grew in Northgall, their shiny blue leaves thick and silvery, glistening under the mid-day sun. And though the sun was currently covered by a gray pall, there was light enough to see that the esher woodland behind the palace was incredibly beautiful.
I’d been curious about them because I’d never seen white trunks with peeling bark before. And because I associated those naked white trees with my escape from this place, like sentinels guarding us as we fled Northgall, the sight of them gave me hope. I smiled.
The swift clip-clopping of horses’ hooves trotting up behind us had me turning to see Soryn, Keffa with Hava riding behind him on his horse, and a number of the Culled catching up to us, including Meck and Ferryn. They fell in line as we wound the sinuous path up to another gate.
The road ahead ended where a giant gap dropped into the terrifying chasm below. Goll pulled our mount to a stop.
A crank sounded, and the black iron gate opened as a bridge slowly lowered.
A deep, loud horn bellowed from somewhere high in the palace, echoing across the keep, announcing their king’s return. Goll led the others across the iron bridge. The guards saluted their king from the watch towers at the top of the gate on either side.
I had no idea what to expect from his people here in Silvantis. His warriors had treated me with nothing but respect. So far, I’d received wary, watchful gazes from the villagers.
As we wound closer to the palace, now inside the keep, the rocky obsidian gave way to vegetation. I was even surprised to see manicured shrubs and grass spreading wide around the back of the palace. Apparently, it was only the entrance that was dressed to intimidate visitors.
My gaze followed the lines of the palace, the intricate and ornate spires, sweeping lines stretching toward the sky. The windows were arched to a point with decorative designs—wraith fae, nymphs, and sprites amongst vines and trees.
The front entrance and doorway were wide enough for ten fae males to walk through side by side, and the stone steps were gray marble leading up to black doors decorated with carvings of a wraith king. No, it looked more like the statue of their god Vix in front of their temple, his dragon carved on one side of him. On the other was a beautiful fae with pointed ears. Was that his main consort, Mizrah? It must be.
I frowned, confused why they’d acknowledge her on the palace door. After all, she wasn’t his queen, only the female he chose to bear his children.
Standing at the foot of the front were seven wraith fae in a long line. They were draped in robes of black, gray, and red silk, varying in design and ornamentation, but their formal attire united them as one.
