Page 73 of The Awakening of Essensia

The guard blanched. “A thousand apologies, sir.”

“Not to me, you fool. Apologise to her.”

The guard turned and bowed. “My sincerest regrets, Lady Lucille. Please forgive me.”

Vaelira took a moment to compose herself, then let out a loud, theatrical humph and turned her face away. “My feet hurt from standing so long,” she said, eyes flicking to Elijah. “Can we go now?”

Elijah tilted his head at the guard, and the man stepped aside, eyes downcast.

Elijah continued ahead, pulling Vaelira with him. A narrow door creaked open on the left side of the gate. Elijah led her through and it shut behind them with a deep, echoing thud.

The space opened into a vast courtyard, so wide she couldn’t see the end to where the high stone wall curved behind them and out of sight on either side. The cold air bit at her skin and gooseflesh pricked her arms.

Low gardens unfurled across the courtyard at intervals. Neatly tended beds lay among silver barked trees, their branches creaking in the breeze. The cobbled streets of the Noble Quarter were gone, replaced by smooth, pale stone, the wide squares fitting together so precisely that it looked like the ground had been carved from one unbroken slab. Narrow waterways less than half the width of a palm, traced straight lines through the stone, their surface glassy and gently rippling. Vaelira tracked them to where they disappeared beneath the palace, towards the mountain that loomed beyond.

The palace itself was all glass and stone, its spires clawing at the sky, grey towers blending seamlessly into the mountain at its back. Moonlight caught on the high windows, making them shimmer like sheets of silver. The great double doors at its base glinted gold in torchlight. Guards stood along the paths and walls, their armour gleaming so brightly she was certain it had never seen combat. Armour was too restrictive in the streets amongst the civilians, yet here it seemed to serve merely as decoration rather than necessity. The walls that surrounded the palace grounds were far too tall and far too well guarded for anyone to ever hope to infiltrate them.

Vaelira couldn’t help but wonder how many of these guards would report their arrival to the Queen. Elijah must have known she would hear of her son bringing a noble girl to the palace, and the idea that this would raise no suspicion vexed her more than it should.

Elijah’s hand pressed gently against her back, guiding her forward. “You were rather charming back there,” he said, a glint in his eyes.

“Be serious.”

His mouth twitched. “I am. I could get used to you fawning over me.”

She smacked his arm and stepped away, but his grin didn’t fade. She looked around, taking note of the eyes on them, and stepped closer, letting Elijah take her hand and hook it around his arm. She forced a smile as they crossed the threshold.

Inside, the palace was shimmering marble and candlelight. The floors shone, every polished tile catching and reflecting the light in soft golds and ivories. Crystal chandeliers glowed softly overhead, and love seats upholstered in pale blues and creams sat neatly along the walls, flanked by intricately carved tables that held vases of winter blooming lilies and heartviolets. The grandeur made the silence all the stranger. It hung like a storm cloud, heavy, and threatening to break with each step they took.

Elijah led her through a series of corridors. Tall windows lined one side, their velvet curtains drawn back with braided gold cords, revealing small moonlit courtyards with water fountains and neatly trimmed shrubbery.

Soon, the windows vanished, the hallways becoming sparse. Paintings lined the walls, older and larger than those at the manor in Allen, and far more severe. The faces stared down in solemn judgement, their eyes following her as she passed.

Elijah said nothing as he guided her down corridor after corridor, until they reached a pair of dark stained oak doors. He slipped through, and Vaelira followed, stepping into a narrow, dimly lit hallway. The path angled upwards and disappeared around a bend.

Vaelira had to lift the skirts of her dress as they climbed, and she lost track of how many times the path curved back on itself. Her legs began to ache as another set of doors appeared ahead. Elijah withdrew a key from his pocket and turned it in the lock. The doors opened and Vaelira stopped in her tracks.

“Welcome to the Royal Library,” he said.

They stood atop a wide spiralling walkway that wound along the chamber walls and descended at least fifty feet. Every level was rimmed with balconies, each one lined from floor to ceiling with books. Ladders clung to rails along the shelves, and one whipped past as a figure leapt onto it, gliding away like a bird.

Vaelira laughed, a hand going to her mouth. She had expected gold and glass, polished floors, velvet cushions, but this place was carved from the mountain itself. Here, knowledge was its power.

A two-story building rose like a giant anthill in the centre of the library, sculpted from the mountain itself rather than constructed. Windows had been cut into its walls and warm candlelight glowed inside.

Elijah followed her gaze. “The Index,” he said, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. “Come. He will be waiting.”

They descended the walkway, and Vaelira caught glimpses of people tucked between the shelves, flicking through books or shelving tomes.

“Surely all these people didn’t come through the palace?” she asked.

Elijah smiled knowingly. “Of course not.”

“There are other entrances?”

“Several.”

“And remind me again why we didn’t use one of those?”