Page 36 of The Awakening of Essensia

Vaelira dismounted, flinching as her boots echoed off the hard ground. She let a hand rest on Millie’s flank and squeezed her eyes shut, focusing on steadying her breath as the all too familiar panic swelled.

Eli exhaled sharply. She found him glaring at her, his mouth pressed into a thin line. They’d be discussing this later then.

Jurah and the man spoke in hushed voices. The man’s long grey hair swept over his shoulders, his eyes darting between Jurah and where she stood with Eli. After a final nod, the man disappeared back through the inner gates and Jurah rejoined them.

“Leave the horses here. They will be taken to the stables,” he said. “Our things will be brought to our rooms.”

“Who was that?” Vaelira asked, trying to keep her tone even as blood thrummed in her ears.

“Lord Laudous Tilbrooke,” Eli said, his voice still hard. “Lord of Allen and third cousin to the King.”

“Quite a mouthful.”

Eli snorted and walked towards the town’s inner gate, not waiting for them to follow.

Lamps hung from high posts on either side of the cobbled road, casting their way in warm light. Vaelira gazed in wonder at the two-story homes lined on either side of them. All of them were attached, like one impossibly long building carved into neat sections. In Anhaven, the only two-story structure was the barracks, if you didn’t count the wall. The sheer size of Allen was unlike anything she had seen before.

They saw only guards as they walked, and Vaelira wondered if the town had a curfew in place. Such measures had been taken in Anhaven before, but usually only when there had been a breach in the wall, and as far as she could tell, these walls were the most secure in all of Eastvale.

Eventually, the rows of homes broke to reveal a meticulously manicured garden surrounding a large house, an iron fence and matching gate separating it from the street.

Eli pushed the gate, and it swung open on silent hinges. He climbed the front steps without looking back.

Vaelira stared up at the giant house. It was almost as large as the barracks back in Anhaven.

“It’s mine,” Jurah said, giving a sheepish smile.

Vaelira narrowed her eyes at him.

“Sometimes the capital gets too hectic. Even for me.”

Vaelira stepped into a grand entrance hall. The walls were built from massive blocks of whitewashed stone, the crystals from the ornate chandelier casting light from high above. An impossibly wide, cream and red-carpeted staircase rose ahead, splitting at the midpoint and curling back on itself as it ascended to the upper floor.

She looked down at her filthy boots, at the polished floor of smooth white tiles. She glanced at Jurah, relieved to find his boots just as dirty.

On either side of the hall, closed double doors muffled the sounds of quiet movement.

“It’s the staff,” Jurah said. “Come, I’ll show you to your room.”

They’d be leaving at first light, yet staff were preparing rooms for them. The Lord Commander of the Royal Guard must be more important than she’d realised.

She eyed him suspiciously as he ascended the staircase. She grimaced at the traces of dirt he was leaving behind. He looked over his shoulder, gave her a guilty smile, and jerked his head for her to follow.

He led her down wide hallways carpeted the same as the stairs, crimson swirls running through the cream. The panelled walls were covered in intricate patterns of soft greens and gold, large paintings covering the upper half and reaching almost to the ceiling.

Jurah stopped in front of a set of double doors with polished gold handles, then pushed them open.

The bedroom was larger than any she’d seen. In fact, it was larger than her entire cottage. Jurah ducked out after showing her which door led to the washroom, an amused smile on his face as she stared slack-jawed at the sheer scale of it all.

An enormous bed dominated the room. Four polished posts of dark wood stood at each corner, pale blue curtains hanging from the carved canopy above. The wall was painted a deeper indigo, with delicate flowers that snaked their way from the floor and up the walls, tapering off before they reached the ceiling. Cream curtains stood drawn across the windows, the fabric so thick it blocked out any torchlight beyond.

She shook her head slowly, as if the movement might help her make sense of it all. But nothing could make sense of this. If this is what the Commander of the Royal Guard called a second home, she could hardly imagine the salary that came with the title. He wasn’t even the highest-ranking Commander in Eastvale. That honour was reserved for Commander of the King’s Guard.

She had known Caerthalyn was a city of wealth, but this was beyond anything she could have imagined.

Shaking her head in disbelief, she removed her boots and left them by the door. The rest of her clothes followed. She locked the door with the twist of a heavy key and padded barefoot across the plush carpet to the washroom, only to come to a stop again.

A gleaming white bathtub stood against the wall. An elegantly curved polished copper pipe arched over its rim. Above that, a lever. She pushed it. There was a gurgle, then a rush of water. She jumped back, peering down. The water drained out of a hole in the bottom. She found a stopper and pushed it into place, watching as the tub began to fill. It was incredible, and far more efficient than heating one pail at a time over the fire.